Christmas morn came like clockwork. I woke on the hard wood floor of the shop in front of the dying embers of the fire. my back and neck stiff. I stood and looked round me at the empty little shop as the sun streamed in. I had managed by God's good graces to clear the work away that I had set out to do. All was so still. My pay lay glimmering on the front counter, as tempting as if it were solid gold but I was unsettled. The dreams I had that night unsettled me and I had never been moved by dreams before. I stretched, my neck swirling round like a goose. I cleaned myself up as best I could in front of one of the mirrors as I tried to recount the dream the best I could.
It had been like I was floating with someone, but I couldn't remember who? It was as if I were watching a unfamiliar life unfold before my eyes. I saw a boy change into a man, heavily abused and abandon by his father, I saw his sister live and die, I saw his love gained and lost, a friendship lost. His joys, his sadness but God help me I could not remember who it was. I remembered hearing my own voice in the dream but not my own words as if…as if I were possessed but not in a bad way. And there was a voice, a woman's voice I had never heard before, a airy voice that told me simply "Look after him, be his guide". And that was the only part of the dream I could remember clear as day, as if the voice were still in my head. "Look after him"
I grabbed my wrap still shaken by all of this but yet the sense that I was homeward bound soon overtook it as well as all the greetings of "Happy Christmas" from everyone around. I was ready to be home and stay home, be in the arms of my family, see my Tiny Tim, my Belinda, mum and dad,
Peter and Mathew and Lucy. I was ready for the pudding, the Christmas punch, the carols, the paper decorations. My God I was ready to be home! Yet whenever I seemed too jovial the voice came back to me "look after him!" and it bothered me. not so much that it was there, it meant me no ill-will but that I could not obey it. That I had no inkling of who she or it wanted me to take charge over.
I kept looking around for a boy or man as if I would know him when I saw him and no sooner. I went on this way all the way home. the house was how I left it, battered and standing on its last legs, proof that it was well loved. I beheld it from a small distance away shrouded in virgin white snow, glorious! I had been expecting to be met with a flooding group of Cratchits, but none came. No little brothers or sisters came to pull at my garments excitedly, no Belinda to sport at my lateness, no mum to peal away my bonnet, feel my hands and tell me how cold they felt and no father to kiss me to his hearts content. I felt troubled by this and went in.
"Hello? Happy Christmas! Is anyone home?" I asked as I opened the door slowly, my first thoughts were immediately that something had happened to Tim and my heart wretched. But no, there he was God bless him on his little crutch with the rest of our family surrounding our table; the expression on their faces was that of awe, like the 8th wonder of the world lie there.
"It's a wonder that the table hasn't broken." Said Belinda.
"I don't think we have a pan big enough to roast it in." added mum in a voice laced with calculation. "Bless my soul alive." While all this took place they had never averted their eyes from whatever was on the table. I had managed to hang up my bonnet and wrap considerably unnoticed. Were they sporting with me? It would be very much like Belinda to play such a trick and get mum and Lucy in it but certainly not Peter and Tim and dad. But they certainly couldn't have been this fussy over the annual chicken- or goose if we were lucky. I mean there had always been some fuss over Christmas dinner, but never before it was cooked and never to this extent. I stepped behind my littlest sister Lucy and rested my hand on her shoulder, suddenly I understood.
"Ave you ever seen anything so big in your life Martha?" she asked looking back and up at me. I let out a cry of surprise that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. "What is this?" I questioned, but I knew exactly what it was. I had passed it in the poultry shop window a thousand times before, making my mouth water each. "It's a turkey Martha!" exclaimed Belinda as she clung to dad. "a real turkey!"
"But how did it get here?"
They then explained to me that the poultrer had brought just as it Tim and dad were about to go caroling himself in a cab from a friend who wished to remain anonymous and with turkey came gifts for each of us. I tell you never before was a turkey so fussed over! Mum and dad took turns circling the turkey round and round nearly arguing on how they might possibly cook such a bird and if they should cut it prematurely to do so. In fact, mum was nearly in a tizzy to not have enough sage and onion stuffingand Tim suggested that we might invite the Smives to mix their stuffing with ours since there was certainly enough food to share.
We were jovial, all of us like we had never been before. We had food, food for weeks perhaps and when it came time to toast the founder of our feast we had no name to give except "bless the guardian angel who had provided us with this bounty." We toasted and ate, and the Smives made merry with us and stayed late into the night. Dad, having been so tired and so stuffed with turkey napped heavily in his chair. Lucy and Mathew bolted for the unopened presents having been good and patient to wait until the Smives had left. They handed Belinda and I our gifts from our guardian angel swiftly before returning to Tim to help him open his first.
Belinda and I held our gifts on our laps as we sat in the corner and watched and talked among ourselves being the two closest in age discounting Peter. Belinda was 16 and I 23 and we got along as if our minds and souls were one. "Look at that!" she gawked pointing at the blonde porcelain doll that Lucy was now twirling round with. "I never had a dolly as nice as that! Hell, I've never hads anything nice as that!"
"Of course not!" I chuckled. "You got my old doll from when I was small, and I dragged that thing with me everywhere." I recounted the memory fondly, dad had been so proud when he had saved up enough money to buy me a toy. Of course I was an only child back then, that was when he first started working for Mr. Scrooge. I do not remember having any problems passing down my dolly to Belinda, perhaps it was because I had excepted her as my own real living dolly more than a baby sister. Which was not the case when it came time for Belinda to pass down the doll (or what was left of it) to Lucy, but Luckily Lucy took after me and preferred living, breathing baby Tim to the doll. But still this new doll was so beauteous even I felt a pang of envy.
Mathew had received a cricket set and was already engulfed in trying to plot alternate ways to include his lame younger brother in on the game. Handing him balls and gaging the force of his pitches. A very smart lad our Mathew, nearly a philosopher at that.
Our Tim received a set of fine tin soldiers, that were perhaps finer then the Queen's own guards. They all stood at attention with duty shining through their painted eyes. They looked as their only wish in life was to protect and guard that little boy with all their might and that they might carry him through anything, small as they were. They were cherished already! We all knew by the look on Tim's face that no toy in the world would ever be more loved by a child, not ever.
Mum had watched the event with tears brimming in her eyes not wanting to open her own gift. "Having a family with full bellies and happy children" she said "what decent mother could ask for more?" but with some prompting from us she did open her gift. Her eyes glistened when she removed a ruffled silk shawl from the box and she put on all most instantly waking dad up to model it for him, and then laughing sat on his lap and gave him a kiss.
"Lets open ours together!" said Belinda to me eagerly. I nodded at the idea and we tore away the paper, noting that whoever they were from knew us by name because our names were on the gift. Belinda and I both braced ourselves to remove the box top. "A gilded mirror!" Belinda shrilled with happiness as she lifted the gift by its elegant handle and held it up to admire her pretty round face, turning it from side to side. I chuckled. "I cannot decide which is prettier, the mirror or the girl in it."
I then turn my attention to my own gift as I parted the sea of tissue paper. A beautiful, diamond studded broach caressed my fingertips. I gasped and withdrew it into the light. It rendered me absolutely speechless. I had never seen anything so fine. It looked so out of place in my rough hands, shaped like a delicate snowflake. I felt unworthy of such a kindness and treasure. Had I ever lost my faith in mankind I only need but remember this day, this broach. "Oh, I love it!"
Those of us who shared a room; that is, Belinda, Lucy, Tim and I lay in our beds that night for a long span of time taking guesses at who our guardian angel might be, but none of us knew in the slightest.
The next morning I was woken by the sound of my mother's voice rather earlier than I had hoped to be up, given the night before and the fact that it was back to work the next day. "Rise and shine Martha my love! We are going to market and church today!" she announced in a sing-song as she ripped back the curtains.
I sat up slightly and put my hands up to my eyes to block them from the glaring sun. "Oh mum must we?" I moaned. "We went to market last weekend and with all the food from yesterday we couldn't possibly be in need of anything."
Once my eyes adjusted to the light I could see that she was in her best gown with her new shawl draped upon her and she spun happily. "I want to show off what a fine family I ave." she stated before clapping her hands. "Wash your face and hands, and wear that new broach of yours eh!" she strutted out of the room like a peacock and I fell back into my bed cupping my face and laughing, I was so bleedin tired and she wanted to go to market. I could only imagine dad would feel the same. I then spurred myself to roll over and kiss little Tim until he woke up too. "Mum says we're going to market today, may I have the honor of carrying you there?" I ask him gently. He cheers and consents and I get up and dress him.
We were already and lined up at the door to go. Incidentally, dad was still asleep in his chair and day clothes and all. He must have never went to bed. Mum went over and thrummed on his legs a little. "Bob. Bob!" she called and he began to stir awake. "Wake up. We're going to market!" and with that she paraded the rest of the family out.
Tim and I stayed behind and waited. Dad got up like a shot and looked at the clock as what must have been a horrible realization dawned on him by his expression. "Bloody hell!" he wailed before a look of sheer panicked washed over him. He spun around in a frantic circle before whatever cause had spooked him subsided and left only a look of forlorn.
Dad walked thusly all the way to town. Dejected-like and eyes downcast at his feet, trailing behind, hands in his pockets. I eventually passed Tim off to Peter so that I could inquire after dad. "Whats the matter?" I asked cocking my head to try and meet his gaze as we walked. "Shh, don't make a ruckus, I do not wish to disturb your mother or the others, at least not yet. After all they are still so appy from yesterday." Something was terribly amiss, I knew, dad had always been straight with me this way, with serious matters.
My father then relayed to me the terms in which he had gotten the previous day off. That he was to be at the counting house at 9:00 and when he had woken it was 9:05. Father was sure right then that he was going to get the sack. He said to me as he pressed my hand against the crook of his arm "Martha, I know this is a heavy burden I ask you to bare my love but do not let on to your mother. When we get to town I will break away so that I might get it over with. If anyone asks say I met up with some chums for a drink. I can tell them tomorrow."
I made the promise with a somber nod and he kissed my temple. And indeed the knowledge was a heavy cross to bare. It was 9:15 by the time we got to town and father skidded off. There was no hope, not even if he begged. Yet I acted merry and natural with my family for his sake as mum showed us off. Smiling when people remarked on my broach, saying "lord that must have cost a fortune!" it was a heavy, heavy reminder that we would soon have nothing. In fact, the broach itself seemed to get heavier and heavier with each passing remark.
When we all finally went our separate was I unpinned the delicate trinket and cradled it in my hand, feeling its full weight. It was the only thing I had that I could truly call mine. It was my dowry and my livelihood. Some kind, kind stranger had thought of me as worthy enough to bestow a gift on me. I sighed as I thought of what it meant to me and then I thought of Tim and how sick he was, and what a handsome some of money a broach like this would fetch. Maybe even enough to survive a month of unemployment.
The jeweler confirmed this when I presented the broach to him, but would not take it back because the like of me had tainted it somehow. He turned me away and I only had one other option.
I walked into the counting house with tentative steps, rotating my broach in my hand as if to try to commit the feel of the diamonds to memory somehow. My heart felt numb when I heard the bell above the door announce me and I did not see my father which only confirmed my biggest fear, he was sacked for being late.
Life felt almost cruel to me; that the jeweler would not take the broach back and I had to give it up to the man who had already taken so much and try and be tactful so that the family name may at least maintain pride.
I sat down in one of the waiting chairs that was against the far left wall which was at such an angle that I could partly see into Mr. Scrooge's office. I heard rustling and the sickening chink of money. "Be with you in a minute, whoever it is!" he called. In the moments to come which felt like hours the door felt like it was miles away, as his footsteps drew nearer my stomach lurched so that I bounded upwards as if my body had its own agenda to see its self out the front door before Scrooge could see himself into the front office. There had to be another way to get cash value for the broach, there had to.
"I know you!" his voice suddenly stilted me in the act of opening the door. It was too late, I was done for. "You're the merciless imp I met at the milliners yesterday!"
"Yes, and I am sorry." I turned slightly and nodded to confirm, biting at the irony that he would call me merciless! He spoke again, no tremor or emotion in his voice. "Well come in then. Tell me what you want."
I turned myself all the way around and my breath hitched, there was something remarkably different about the man who stood at the counter before me; more pigmented, he stood straighter, better groomed, this man looked almost young but I still marked coldness. I approached the counter with shallow breath, had I held the broach any tighter I think it might have left an imprint upon my hand. I held it out to him. "Can you appraise this?" I ask, fighting back a sob and swallowing it hard. "Please."
He looked at the diamonds as if uninterested. "You wish me to appraise this broach to sell?" he questioned taking it from me to examine it with a magnified glass, my soul felt hollow. "Yes."
"Where did you steal it from?" he accused ever so calmly. My passions were stirred and I lunged to grab it away from him in a fit of insult. "What? How dare you!" I cried. "I didnt! I would never!" he now eyed me as if I were the thing he were appraising with an arched-eyebrow and what? Was that a hint of a smile I saw? "It was a gift!" I finally conclude evenly, putting myself back in my place. "I received it yesterday."
Mr. Scrooge took a small turn around the office as he still examined the broach. "And it does not suit ye? Shame really, it is such a pretty bauble. Shaped like a snowflake I think. But in my day young ladies seemed to drool over pretty things." He eyes me again. "You do not like pretty things, Emma?"
I was stern in my next reply not wanting to play these torturous games. "My name is Martha sir and I like pretty things as well as any other woman rich or poor and I adore this broach more than I could possibly express or at least more than I feel you would care to hear me express, but I will have the memory of the kind thoughtfulness placed behind it, and I feel that the money will benefit my family much more than my vanity. In short, I ask only for the true value of the broach, no more than that."
"No less either I imagine?" he cocked an eyebrow and I felt once more irritated by what he seemed to be implying. "Sir, do not think that because me clothes are tattered and that I do not speak as well as you that I am any less sensible at arithmetic. I am a clerk after all and I did go to the jeweler before I come. He told me what the price was though he would not take it back, therefore I will know if you cheat me! Can you please appraise this so that I may leave? I fear my father has lost his situation due to a miserly employer, I wish to be there to comfort him."
"Lost his situation?" he seemed puzzled but then straightened. "So that's what this is about!" He snorted at this and then placed his hands on the counter, speaking very fast. "Well, I suppose you think you are very clever missy? Very clever indeed and my lord are you always this passionate when speaking? I would think it would be exhausting to have such vigor between today and yesterday. So chatty with lengthy explanations. No matter, how much did the jeweler tell you it was worth?"
I relayed the information I received to him and his eyes grew surprisingly large. "And you believed him?" he asked. All I could do was nod. Mr. Scrooge seemed to get a trifle mift. "I'm sure you can find another jeweler Mr. Scrooge that would give you twice that." I tried to assure him. But he ignored me and what occurred next astonished me. "I would thank my lucky stars that he did not trade it back! He would have swindled you terribly my dear! I did not pay even half that much, though I would for you to have it."
I must have stumbled back a bit with my shock and my hand flew up to me heart. He smiled; a kind genuine smile, no coldness. Now it were truly as if I were looking upon a stranger. My mouth hung slack and he laughed coming around the counter placing the broach back in my hand. "That's right Martha Cratchit, the gifts, the turkey, all of it was from myself. Christmas gifts to a deserving employee and his family from an admirer and hopeful friend." He then took my free hand and gave it a kiss before cradling it in both of his. "Ooh your hands are so cold my dear! Perhaps I should have bought mittens for all of you as well! I think I shall!" he chuckled and I was speechless, as he led me to the shop fire to get warm. "You shall never have to pawn anything of yours to provide for your family! I will take care of it, all of it!" I stared up at him in disbelief. I went to say something when the door opened again and in stepped my father.
"Ah Martha my darling, Mr. Scrooge has told you the good news then?" I then looked between the two men who smiled at me questioningly. "What? That he has gone mad? Yes, I think we were getting round to that!" I gawked stepping away from my father's employer. They both laughed as my dad took me by the shoulders. "No my love, I am a partner in this firm now, my wages raised and all. I just went to tell your mother and the others. When I saw you in the window here I would have thought Mr. Scrooge would have told you." I shook my head, still feeling as if I had stepped through the looking glass. "Ave you gone round the bend too father?" I ask caressing his cheek concernedly.
"No my dear, your father speaks in earnest. This firm hence fourth will be known as Scrooge and Cratchit." Mr. Scrooge admitted. "And with the money we make we plan to make your brother well."
My eyes filled with tears and I touched my burning cheek. "Bless me, do I dream this?" my father shook his head with a smile, without any warning or conscious thought I threw myself into Mr. Scrooge's arms and whispered through my tears. "Thank you! Thank you so much! Bless ye, God bless you Mr. Scrooge! God bless you!" I then pulled away, for a moment he held my hands in his before he and my father shook hands. Everything changed after that, everything.