A Chelsie Christmas

P – Pudding

December 16th, 1926

"Rest day," Elsie had instructed, with a kiss to his lips and a wave as she got down the path. He waved in return then stuffed his hands in his pockets and sulked for the next hour about being confined to their cottage for another day.

She was right, in a way, he had perhaps moved too quickly the day before and, she was also right, he could spend the time catching up on correspondence and writing the last of their Christmas cards. It was still something of a joy to him to scrawl Mr. and Mrs. Carson and he enjoyed each and every card he signed.

Realising he had less than a week to go, he made a makeshift mask out of new dishcloth – and hoped Elsie wouldn't miss it – and went to put a final coat of paint onto the rocking chair.

It was whilst locking up the shed that he heard a rattle of the gate behind him, the rough drag of wheels over gravel. He was keenly aware of the paint on his hands, the dishcloth scrunched in his pocket.

"Mr. Carson," Anna said, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Whatever are you doing out here in the cold?"

"Mrs. Bates," he met her on the path, "and little John I see."

"Today is my day off, we thought we'd take a walk and drop by to see you." She glanced down, ever curious, "Goodness, what's on your hands?"

"Let's get inside," he said, "I'll explain."

"The tree looks wonderful," Anna said, taking off her coat. "In fact, all of the decorations."

"Elsie wanted to make an effort."

Anna smiled, watching as Charles put water on to boil.

"I didn't mean to disturb you, only to drop something off."

"I don't mind, it's good to see people. And the little lad, should I get him anything?"

"He'll have a go at pretty much anything you put in front of him these days, food wise I mean. Got his father's appetite."

Charles watched as Anna lifted him from his pram and sat down in Elsie's chair, the boy wriggled in her lap, seeking freedom, and so Anna placed him on the floor and watched as he crawled across the rug.

"He can move."

"His muscles are so much stronger now, and he's so aware of things, already." Anna took a teddy bear from the pram and placed it down on the floor along with a soft ball. "Should entertain him."

Charles wasn't entirely sure how he felt about baby things taking over his lounge but there was little he could do now that she was in and, seemingly, comfortable.

He made tea, put out slices of the fruit cake Mrs. Greenwood had sent, along with cheese and an apple. Elsie would never forgive him if he didn't appear welcoming.

"So, may I ask what was happening in the shed?"

"Well, you might be able to help, actually."

"Oh?"

She watched as he carried the tray across, thinking how disturbingly odd it was to have Mr. Carson serving her.

"The thing is it is Elsie's Christmas present, one of them, a rocking chair and I've been painting it green."

"Oh, how lovely."

"Yes, but I need cushions, you see. I haven't quite gotten around to it, what with being ill."

Anna sipped her tea, perfecting that motherly of all tasks by keeping one eye on her child and the other on Charles. "You quite surprised us all, Mr. Carson."

"I quite surprised myself," he said. "I should visit the boy really… but… well."

Anna frowned, "Why wouldn't you?"

"Oh well, it doesn't matter really. I did what I did. It doesn't matter now."

"I think it matters an awful lot, if my boy was ever in any kind of danger and you did what you did I would never find enough words to thank you."

John had turned at the edge of the carpet and rolled the ball to Charles' foot; he bent his arm down, took the ball and rolled it back. John delighted in the contact and smiled gleefully, crawling quickly across the rug with the ball squashed in one hand.

"What kind of cushions?" Anna asked.

"Red ones, I thought, perhaps some kind of decoration – I don't know, this is not my kind of thing. Perhaps I should just allow Elsie to choose her own."

"You could. Or I could help."

"Can you?"

"Of course, I'm sure I could manage something between now and Christmas morning. I may have to purchase material."

"I will happily reimburse you for your time and efforts."

"Oh no, Mr. Carson, just the cost of materials. You did take care of John yesterday. Which is, in fact, why we're here." She got up from her seat and fussed in a bag until she produced a pudding bowl. "Christmas pudding. I made a batch a while ago, Mr. Bates enjoys them, but I know you like them too and I wanted to thank you for taking John yesterday. I know it was not at all a professional position and you'd have your doubts about hiring me, I'm sure, had I just arrived."

"My dear, you have proved yourself time and again, I have not one doubt over your skills."

She smiled sweetly handing the pudding across.

"But I do thank you for this." He popped it onto the table and turned to see John looking up at him, large curious eyes. "Right then, what are you doing little man?"

When Elsie got home there was the sound of laughter in the lounge and the warmth of the fire had spread through the house. She hung her hat and coat and headed down the hallway, surprised to find Charles on the floor playing with a baby.

She folded her arms, pursing her lips and staring at him as he rolled onto his back and John crawled over his chest.

"Elsie," he exclaimed.

"Good afternoon, you look quite comfortable down there." She chuckled as he scrambled to his knees, holding onto the baby. "Hello Anna dear, very nice of you to pop round."

"She brought pudding," Charles said, his cheeks reddening.

"Did she now? Now I understand the appeal." She smiled discreetly at Anna. "Has he made you quite welcome?"

"Absolutely, he's been sharing his ideas for the fundraising evening in the Grantham Arms. It sounds wonderful."

"It does, but I don't want him to push himself."

"Not an invalid," Charles said bobbing John about on his arm in front of the mirror.

"I'm sure Mr. Bates and I could assist, I will discuss it with him tonight."

"You have a full time job and a child," Elsie said, "But thank you. And thank you for the pudding, I'm sure we'll enjoy that later."

"You're welcome, we best get going, I didn't realise it had gotten so late."

"I'll walk you," Charles offered, handing John across to her. "Wouldn't want you on your own in the dark."

"Thank you, Mr. Carson." She knew better than to try and refuse his offer.

"Dinner will be ready when you return," Elsie said, tying his scarf around his neck. "Be careful," she whispered, "I mean that."

"Do you think I'm foolish?" Charles asked as Elsie placed bowls on the table and handed him a serving spoon.

She raised her eyebrows, "This is a loaded question."

"Elsie, please, be serious."

"Well, foolish over what? If you mean John then no, I think the role suits you perfectly, even if you don't want to admit it." She used a towel to carry the steaming pudding to the table, and watched as Charles lit the brandy on top. "Oh well done, lovely touch."

He spooned pudding into their bowls and Elsie poured brandy sauce over the top, "This is a real treat."

"Isn't it just."

She went to sit at the other end of the table but stopped when he touched her arm, "Sit next to me."

"I mean foolish over the Irish lad."

"Oh, him," she put her spoon down, a little annoyed he would ask this just as she was about to eat.

"I have my views."

"You do."

"You think they're foolish, that I am?"

She folded her hands, rested her chin on her knuckles, "I think your views are outdated in some ways. I think you saved his life and you deserve to at least meet him once and see what you did. Regardless of his parents' lifestyle choices or heritage. How would it be if you didn't like Scottish people when I arrived at the Abbey?"

"That's silly, we aren't involved in conflict."

"No, but we were once."

"Hundreds of years ago," he said, exasperated.

"Conflict is conflict, and you're too good a man really to let your outdated views get in the way of something important."

"And you think this is?"

"Absolutely," she lifted her spoon again. "You're a wonderful man, my darling, it just took you at while to let him out."

"I find it easier when you call me an old grump."

"Well, I'm sure he won't have disappeared entirely."