I shall never forget the Christmas when our lives turned around for the better. Or how I met our families "guardian angel" as we know him now. Father reminds me of it often in teasing, that I could have ruined the family forever by having a hearty aim with a snowball and the gall to throw it. We can laugh about it now but it had father in a total panic whence his boss came into the counting house the place in between his back and shoulder blades covered in snow as he cursed the milliners' young apprentice; the one with the shabby dress and haughty heir to her. I think papa was wishing to God that day that I was not his daughter.

But the fact was he had called me "Emma" instead of "Martha" one to many times and with the stories my dad relayed to us back home and with his own arrogance in check, he had it coming to him. At times he will still call me "Emma" when he is in a teasing or affectionate mood and I still get as angry with him now as I did then, depending on his tone.

"My name is Martha!" I retort again and again. "Not Emma!" the first time I had said that it was between gritted teeth and he wasn't meant to hear it, but he did and he replied with a bite. "Martha, Emma, Jane, Queen Elizabeth, no matter what your name is you are of no more worth to me than a nail in my coffin, now where is my hat you stupid girl."

I thought to oblige him by saying "If I were a nail in your coffin you old miserly git, I would be doing the world a great service!" but I knew that my employer Mrs. Hogan was no more kind than he was generous so I bit my tongue. I could feel the eyes of the two other girls I worked with Nan and Edna watching me from the back room and I could hear their frighten whispers as Mrs. Hogan's heavy footfall came booming up behind me.

"Now, now, now I know we can work quicker Martha, especially for the likes of Mr. Scrooge." She grumbled in her husky voice as she planted her elbows on the counter and batted her cow like eyes in an act of flirtation. I rolled my eyes and met Edna in the door way as she gave me the hats. "Look at her!" Edna gawked. "Flirting away like the devil were at her heels."

Nan chimed in next. "After his money doubtless. Wont do her a lick of good. That man would no more part with a shelling than I would me left arm!"

It was my turn to speak again as I made a few last adjustments. "And dont I know it." I scoff. "Me poor dad…" I trailed off and cast my eyes back up at the pitiful scene. I shook my head and sighed as I thought of my father working for the bastard, trying to save our Tiny Tim. "The very birth of Christ couldnt move that man." I hiss and then squinted my eyes deep in thought. "I hope they do marry." I swore at the two employers. "A match made in heaven that. Maybe she could lay on him on their wedding night and crush him like the bug that he is."

"And her?" Edna asked indulging in the same fantasy as the three of us crowed the doorway. "Her? why, she would likely freeze to death, I know how stingy he is about coals."

My two friends begun to laugh. "I'll fetch the parson, if you'll bring the rice." On this note I headed back to assume the role of clerk as Mrs. Hogan toddled her big-boned self away with a scornful look as I saw Mr. Scrooge writing in his little debt journal. "Here are your hats sir." I say patiently. He takes them. "Well, you certainly took your dear sweet time with it, girl."

I felt my chest tighten as I went to turn away. "Happy Christmas sir." I breathed but with the hook of his walking stick he caught my wrist and drew me back. "Hum bug." Was his first statement, but then he begun to study me carefully. "Your eyes." He mused. "I know those eyes from somewhere." for the first time I felt an element of fear that he might have marked my fathers round hazel eyes on me. The Cratchit family eyes. Deep, deep hazel almost unmistakable. "What did you say your last name was?" he pondered.

I thought quickly but spoke softly. "Coffin-nail. Emma Coffin-nail"

He shot me a look that would chill the devil. He was going to say something but my own employer beat him to it. "Martha do you want to spend your Christmas without a job to come back to?!" she nearly shrilled rushing over. I felt like a fool standing there as he smirked. "Mrs. Hogan I was thinking about closing your shop here due to your debt but seeing what you have to work with as a clerk, I will spare you the insult. I know how hard it is to find good help." I could not curve my tongue at this.

"Maybe because Bob Cratchit has been nothing but good to you and you've never had to find anyone else who was willing to deal with the like of you!"

His face was expressionless as my hand flew to my lips as if to try and stop them. What had I just done? I had insulted the man who had the power to make my father's work even more horrid than what it was. or make his wages less, or god forbid give him the sack. I looked away. "I am sorry Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge sir, my mouth ran away with me."

"I suggest you run with it next time."

I curtsied. "I shall sir thank you." Mrs. Hogan then cleared her throat in warning. "And the hats are no charge sir. It will come out of my wages personally sir." Another curtsy. "Happy Christmas sir." And with a grin of satisfaction for being able to worm away with his cash he left. I waited but a moment, before the idea hit me on how to get in the last word by running out to the steps of the shop, scooping up what snow was on the railing and beaming him with a well formed snowball. "Why, you insufferable little sprite!" he growled trying to brush himself off. "Devil take you."

"If he does, I suppose we will see each other in hell then."

"Bah, humbug." And those were our parting words.

I went back into the shop trying to rub warmth back into my hands and kicking myself for practically loosing my Christmas bonus and knowing Mrs. Hogan as I did half my wages too just because she hadn't won Mr. Scrooges heart as she had hoped.

I would spend the rest of my day until lunch hour wondering which area of my life could possibly afford the money loss more; my immediate family who was in dire need of it or the ever allusive wedding Tom Jenkins and I had been trying to save up for since forever. I could almost hear the church bells rusting in the chapel.

As the girls and I prepared for lunch we discussed our holiday plans and luncheon plans. Nan was going to buy her sister a doll from the toy shop after they went caroling and Edna was going to have lunch at the Marks hotel with her mother and father on lunch hour. "Not me." I said as I tied on my bonnet. "For luncheon I need to go down to the Royal Exchange and see if Tom had any luck getting an extra two weeks to pay his debt."

Edna begun to snort. "Well, if old Scrooge has any notion that Tom is aiming to marry you he will probably charge for the snowball you threw!"

Nan luckily was a little more sensitive to my situation and asked "Are you still thinking of a honeymoon in Paris Martha?"

I shook my head pitifully. "At this rate Tom and I could hardly afford a honeymoon in Soho. Paris is a pipedream now. Perhaps the whole wedding is a pipedream now. It has been seven years. I dunno. But no matter what, me brother comes first."

And with that I set off towards the Royal Exchange through the ruthless flurries of snow that paid no heed to what amount of bundles of rags and skirts I seemed to adorn; chilling me to the bone. I had hoped to find my dear soup seller and theater performer outside the Exchange but no such luck. He was selling to the wealthy as a last attempt doubtless. I would have to dive in among the higher ranks of society to find my dear run-of-the-mill fiancé. Something I never liked to do. I never liked to feel stupid. Granted, I wasn't well-read like the ladies who could shop careless at the exchange but I was not a stupid girl by any means, but oh, I felt quite stupid among their lot I can tell you. Why do the rich always acquit knowledge to wealth and fashion? I can show you an old begger who is wiser than any dolly lama you could ever hope to meet that no one would pay a bleeding never mind to, then I could show a young heiress in pretty laces and bows who doesn't know nothing about nothing and suddenly she is the most sought out creature in all England. Now as a Cratchit my philosophy was to love all, but I could not manage it. I frowned upon the rich, not out of envy but out of experience. I had not met one wealthy person that I had an inkling of liking too, nor did I hope too. They look at kindness as if it is a favor and not a necessity. Father often called me cynical and narrow minded in this way, grouping all wealthy people and labeling them as if they were all one being, but he had never truly given me a concrete example to think to the contrary. No one had!

"Ms. Cratchit?" a tiny voice called me back to the moment at hand. I turned to see another of my class. It was a man holding the hand of a young girl in black. The Smives, I knew them well. They were our neighbors and in mourning too the wife and mother of that family had just recently died. "Mr. Smive." I greeted before kneeling down to be eye-level with the girl, I offered her a smile. "Ello Grace, you get lovelier and lovelier each time I see you. A Happy Christmas to you love."

I gave her cheek a light stroke and she gave a small curtsy and I stood back up to shake Mr. Smive's hand. "Are you ere to visit your father on Christmas eve Ms. Cratchit."

I shook my head. "Heavens no, Mr. Scrooge would have his hide if he ever had visitors at work. No, actually I'm here for Tom have you seen him?"

Mr. Smive looked tired and nervous as he dabbed sweat from his brow, despite the cold. "No, but I must find Mr. Scrooge myself and implore money for funeral expenses." He said this with a glimmer of tears in his eyes and choked them back for sake of his daughter and my heart pealed for him. I put a hand on his shoulder and replied softly. "God bless you Mr. Smive and your family. If you need anything, anything at all you need but knock at our door. I know our Lucy and Tim would be delighted to see and play with Grace again, anytime."

"Thank ye Martha." He replied. "Happy Christmas." He walked away and for a moment my heart was in mourning as well. So much sadness at such a happy season. Suddenly, I was clasped from behind and twirled around violently and I shrieked as a deep hearty laugh rang in my ear. He spun me to face him and kept laughing before he hastily captured my lips in a kiss. "There she is!" Tom roared out in his lion of a voice. "And how is the prettiest girl in England?"

I slapped his shoulder still coming down from my fright, but I giggled too. "Bloody hell you horses arse! You will send me to hospital, you frightened me half to death!" still laughing he wrapped his arms around my waist and drew me near, ignoring my false anger. "You did not answer me question Martha Elizabeth Cratchit, I asked you how the prettiest girl in England was!"

My arms slinked up around his strong neck and I smiled up at him lovingly. "I will have to tell you when I meet her." I tease him softly with a small kiss of my own and then look away. "As for me, I am not so well. I lost half my wages love." I look back into his eyes. "I am sorry. Try not to hate me too much."

He took my hands and led me a small distance back to his cart which was too the side of the hustle and bustle. "Hate you? I could never hate you my Martha not even if there were gain in it." He assured before crossing his arms. "Now what did old Mrs. Hogan find wrong with you this time?" his tone was almost condescending, but I didn't mind.

"It wasn't so much her as it was Ebenezer Scrooge." Tom rolled his eyes at this and walked around his cart and I followed at his heels using my hands to express myself. "Tom, I couldn't hold me tongue, not on this. Tom, a girl can only take so much! He has been ruining our lives left and right. What with dad and you and all! Its not right to keep silent about it, its just not right!"

Tom picked up a mug of soup, examined it, sighed and put it back down. "I wish you wouldn't get so bloody passionate about every little thing Martha, your mouth runs way with you when you do." At this I looked him square in the face, hands on hips and asked. "And what would you have me be passionate about Tom?"

Tom shrugged. "Mending me socks, wearing pretty things, wifely things, womanly things!" he pauses and takes me in his arms once more. "Me and me alone. Well anyway, we shall have nothing to put towards our wedding funds this month my love. He has hit me too, with interest."

My heart drops at this and I pull away unable to speak, but Tom continues. "Less you want me to put some of the pageant money towards our wedding-"

"No-no-no-no! God no that money is for the hospital, I would never be able to live with myself." I retort quickly, horrified at the idea. I then take to adjusting his old tattered scarf to change my mindset. I sigh heavily. "Maybe I can work something with Mrs. Hogan, sleep in the shop maybe and work extra. I'm too old for Christmas mornings anyhow." I was lying even to me own heart, one is never too old for Christmas mornings. Tom smiled gently and kissed my brow. "That's my girl." I revel in the moment. He was always so bright, so jolly, so present.

And after that moment suddenly I was off again, back to the shop but I was not alone. Two portly collectors proceeded me walking at a steady waddle and another man proceeded them just as briskly as if trying to escape. I could hear what they were saying, I clutched my shawl to my person and listened.

"Are there no prisons?" asked none other Scrooge.

"Plenty of prisons," said the gentleman, laying down the pen again.

"And the Union workhouses?" demanded Scrooge. "Are they still in operation?"

"They are. Still," returned the gentleman, "I wish I could say they were not."

"The Treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigour, then?" said Scrooge.

"Both very busy, sir."

"Oh! I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful course," said Scrooge. "I'm very glad to hear it."

"Under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian cheer of mind or body to the multitude," returned the gentleman, "a few of us are endeavouring to raise a fund to buy the Poor some meat and drink and means of warmth. We choose this time, because it is a time, of all others, when Want is keenly felt, and Abundance rejoices. What shall I put you down for?"

"Nothing!" Scrooge replied.

"You wish to be anonymous?"

"I wish to be left alone," said Scrooge. "Since you ask me what I wish, gentlemen, that is my answer. I don't make merry myself at Christmas and I can't afford to make idle people merry. I help to support the establishments I have mentioned - they cost enough; and those who are badly off must go there."

"Many can't go there; and many would rather die."

"If they would rather die," said Scrooge, "they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population. Besides - excuse me - I don't know that."

"But you might know it," observed the gentleman.

"It's not my business," Scrooge returned. "It's enough for a man to understand his own business, and not to interfere with other people's. Mine occupies me constantly. Good afternoon, gentlemen."

And with that the two men retired there cause with more decency than I could ever manage. Thrice this day Ebenezer Scrooge had made my heart lurch with a hatred that was so vile I could taste it in my mouth. I was impassioned again to say something, had he noticed me behind him at all I might have. I might have told him to make good on his own advice and decrease the surplus population himself by dying, God help my soul. That the cold words might have sprung forward like a snowball and hit him and the iciness might have spread to his bones and heart, that they might have helped him, change him, make even the slightest difference!

I watched him go on his way and then looked up to the flame of the street lamp. What sort of past had molded such a creature? What tragedies had he undergone? I wish I knew. For just as quickly as my hatred had come pity followed. You had to pity a man like that, limp and all. He must have heartaches something terrible to end up as he was. I wish I knew the past, I wish…