Flurries of snowflakes rained softly from behind the tall arched windows on a landscape that was hazy. London was full of Christmas bustle, which did not resemble Dickens's time at all, although children and choirs sang carols enthusiastically. In one military hospital, the corridors smelled like sharp chlorine, and the metallic smell of blood almost covered it up. A few Christmas holly wreaths and vines decorated the tall rooms.
Faith Meredith, looked up from her letter, and fixed her small VAD cap with her other hand, her legs were aching, there were still a few hours left in her shift. Determined, Faith walked forward through the echoing corridors, towards her duties, and as she did so she thought, as she so often did of Jem, how happily he had smiled at her when they had spent Faith's previous day off, in the back alleys of London, in a hotel whose landlady hadn't asked too many questions, seeing Jem's worn uniform and Faith's VAD pin in her over-coat.
Jem had been worn, and very tired, but in spite of that he had still been Jem, whose hazel eyes had twinkled with the joie de vivre, and though his vibrant red, military shorn hair had a few streaks of gray, and his slender long fingers had seemed even narrower than usual, as he had tied his shoelaces, and remarked playfully, "Say, Faith, how about we don't go sight-seeing, but just be here in peace?"
For a little while, Faith had wavered, but then, as always, Jem's eye-catching look had spun its spell, and with a light laugh, Faith had agreed and remarked, "But I'm sitting in this chair, because I don't want to go back to my shift covered in lice."
A little spark of humor had kindled in Jem's shadowy eyes as he had said, "I defeated my little fellows with louse-powder before I arrived, no worries, so come on." Faith had bitten her plump bottom lip, remembering the daring whispers of her VAD mates, and shaking her golden-brown curls had carefully settled down next to Jem on the narrow, creaking iron bed. This close Jem had been so very thin, but his hand had softly stroked Faith's hair, and slowly Jem had murmured in a low voice, "My love, your countless of letters and the rose you gave and your photographs have kept me sane in hell, but I am in my right place. There are whispers that there will be changes soon, when the year turns, perhaps new trench raids that I may be able to lead. For as you may know, our Canadian Corps has a certain reputation to uphold."
Faith, silently squeezed Jem's hardened palm, and thought about what she had seen in her own VAD time, the other side of the war, the white gauze cloths colored, blood, pain, screams, truncated limbs, and undisguised pain naked, where there was nothing brave, just a bare human - a pile of bones, flesh, ligiments, and blood, which flowed on the floor like a slaughtered pig, might. Thin, worn-out soldiers, with split lips and feverish eyes, grasped Faith's hands, muttering curses, or prayers, names of loved ones or mothers, but mostly there was just a constant, continuous circulation, from bed to bed, so that the patients mingled with each other, but the assisted operations, those Faith remembered. The sweet smell of the ether, the flash of the scalpel, and the rush, and the sense of unhurriedness, for there was time until it wasn't.
Faith took a deep breath, intending to speak her mind to Jem, but found she dared not, for Jem knew as they had written about their own experiences in the field. Faith pressed a light kiss to Jem's forehead, noticing how the act relaxed Jem. He melted almost bonelessly to Faith's side, still keeping one hand firmly at the nape of Faith's neck, over the oval-shaped necklace, - golden brown translucent amber in an old-fashioned Victorian frame - Mumsy's necklace.
Faith watched, as Jem's breathing, slowed, he flinched, and mumbled, stiff, and ever so slowly Faith coaxed Jem back to sleep. And then a few hours later, Faith was still blushing as she remembered what they had done in that same bed, but luckily Jem had come prepared - with stacks of thin french letters, they had used up almost the entire stash.
And strangely enough, they had still managed to see a few sights, walk hand in hand through the gray, bustling streets of London, on Waterloo Bridge, where the fog was rolling in. And looking around, Jem had said in a low whisper, "How many love scenes this bridge has seen." Faith had laughed brightly, and nodded a short distance away, where a tall, well-to-do captain in a Rendleshire Fusiliers uniform had walked beside a slender dark-haired girl with a graceful figure and a winged step. Jem had done the honors, and the captain, with a smile in his eyes, had nodded back in Jem's direction, but his whole attention was fixed on the darkhaired lass, who said with a clear as glass voice, "Dearest Roy, I must go soon, I must not be late for tonight's performance, otherwise the lines will be ruined."
The captain had smiled, and said something in a low voice, Faith held back her smile, because the result of the words, whatever they were, was clear, the dark-haired girl blushed like a rose, her complexion was like skimmed milk, with pure refined features with a pointed chin, with the fastest steps she walked away. Jem offered Faith his arm, and leaning on each other they had taken a few steps when a polished voice inquired, "Dear comrade in CEF and Miss, if you have no plans tonight. Please come and see my Myra. Naturally, all costs will be mine. "
With politely Blythe-like determination, Jem tried to demur, but the captain wouldn't listen to the protests, so finally Faith whispered, "Let's go, then at least we'll have something to write to Manse and Ingelside."
And after about hour or so, Faith found herself sitting in the auditorium of the Olympia Theater, and romantic music was playing in the recess of the stage, and on the stage, surrounded by vague Roman columns and tropical palms, the ballet troupe danced in their hazy white tulle half-length dresses. Amused, Faith thought that surely Una would know what song orchester was playing, even if it was certain that it wasn't anything that had been played at the Manse. The note of the trembling waltz shimmered bright, and changeable, like a mountain stream.
After the ballet Jem and Faith followed the sweetly serious and charming, Myra and Roy to a restaurant where the BEF soldiers danced with their sweethearts by candlelight, and joyfully Jem and Faith joined them. Calmly, Jem and Faith walked along the bridge, London humming around them - indifferent, as only a metropolis could be.
Startled, Faith shook her head, as so vivid memories of Jem and their lovely loving time in London faded into the background, as responsibilities came into sharp focus again. With a sweet smile, Faith set to work, as she entered large room with occupied beds side by side, and everywhere the light enamel gleamed, there were cornished at the shadowy corners.
Faith heard head matron's stern voice, "Miss Meredith, I expect efficiency, even if it is soon to be Christmas, and as such there will be amusements to be had, to all. Carols, charades and the like. Few of the privates will want to help with their correspondance, see to it, please." And slowly, as the evening went on, colorful paper chains were attached to fir branches and hyacinths smelled everywhere, in the corridors, as the spirit of Christmas season slowly arrived. So, Faith exchanged bloody bandages, for clean and sterile ones, wrote countless letters from dictation, and answered the soldiers' jokes, even the off-color-ones, kindly, while she thought of Glen, the tranquility of the Manse, the scents of Rosemary's kitchen, traditional Westian fishdishes, sweet and savoury cooking. Una's piano playing, as music was as ever panacea to her sister, amid turbulence, Bruce's light laughter, and her father's absent-mindedness, he always sharpened in the pulpit. Her beloved brothers at the front, sharply clever Jerry, who had seemed to find some new source of illumination form his fellow comrades, and of Nan´s love, or so it seemed. Day by day Jerry seemed to become more like John, as he struggled to help his fellow men, so perhaps it would be that afterwards, theology could call her elder brother instead of world of law, as there also was law in the words of God, Faith mused in irreverent way. Then there was animal loving Carl who wrote serene missives that were full of observations of behaviors of trench rats, and few other animals, dogs and horses mostly. In deep, in the trenches, where only the packages brought a little change to the cold, muddy, bloody conditions, but surely Christmas carols sparkled there too, like everywhere. Faith wrapped her free hand around Mumsy's necklace and recited a small prayer in undertone.
Strengthen our hearts, and hands, and minds,
O Lord, to work together for peace;
to see you in one another;
and to seek your kingdom above all things;
that your will may be seen to be done
and your kingdom come through Jesus Christ,
the Lord of Lords and King of kings.
Amen.
That all her beloveds would stay safe, in this godless armageddon that reaped whole known world. Suddenly a ragged chorus was all around her as soliders, patients, mumbeld the same verses, spark of hope in their sunken mien.
Bruce Meredith sniffed the Manse air with delight, because among the usual Advent scents, of holly and ivy, and spices of mince pies, there was now a soft, buttery soft scent, that perhaps indicated a fresh batch of biscuits to be had soon. Stripey circled Bruce's ankles, and absentmindedly he stroked the ears of the still handsome half-grown cat. In the distance he heard his mother's voice rising to a non-Presbyterian Advent hymn, and a slight suspicion of confusion in the normal order of things arose in Bruce's soul, for Una had not played Christmas carols, not even in church lately. On the small claw-footed table was a pile of Christmas cards. Bruce slipped into the kitchen and in passing heard his mother inquire of Una, "Dearest, you seem tired lately."
Una, rolled small pale yellow cookies, on a baking sheet, with mechanical efficiency, and her slight form was clad in stern voluminous apron. The kitchen smelled like almonds and cinnamon, with a slight hint of something stronger, than a spice cake spices and ingredients. Without looking up, Una murmured a reply, " Oh, you know, these last few days leading up to the fourth Advent are always busy. Rilla Blythe handles her part of the Junior Reds extremely efficiently, so the final arrangements for the Christmas event will fall to the rest of us. Fortunately, Mary Vance has promised to help, as does the Blythe twins and Alice too."
Cautiously, Bruce heard Mother say gently, "Una, if today is the last practice, as I heard rumors, while I was at Carter Flagg's store, leave your apron in the corner and go to the town hall, for I think your presence may be needed, for although Mary Vance is clever about many things , her sharp tongue combined with Irene Howard's superiority and Diana Blythe's snappy temperament can be explosive, and Alice Parker can't placate Mary, she never could do that. I'll do the baking."
A slightly stressed expression rose in Una's dark blue eyes, as she glanced at the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall, where it was written in Una's neat handwriting, final-run- 16.00, Town Hall. With a nod, Una dashed upstairs, and soon Bruce saw her slide her blue skirts tumbling down the icy hill, her braid shining blue-black on her back.
And humming Advent hymns, Bruce climbed to the piano and began to play, Silent Night, the gentle notes of that song sparkled in the rooms of the Manse, as a reminder that the birth of the Savior was near.
Out of breath, Una opened the large heavy door of the Glen town hall. The atmosphere in that beautifully seasonally decorated hall was bleak. Gertrude Oliver played scales as if to do something, Diana Blythe glared at Irene Howard, in a fierce way, and Mary Vance remarked audibly, "Irene, dear, last I heard Rilla was the president of the junior Reds, not you. You've been only a nominal member of all the on committees, whether they've been on the Lowbridge side or here in the Glen. And Rilla has lent her authority behind her sister, she wants Di to help get this concert program right. You've been scurrying at every rehearsal like a louse afraid of a thick comb."
Di, nodded vigorously and said passionately, "Those changes I've suggested aren't too challenging. I´d think you'll like them, Irene, because you have a chance to shine." Irene, frowned and said in her honey-sweet voice, "It's not about that, dear Diana, it's about the rhythm of the rest of the evening, it's skewed. But of course orphans can't understand the inner compositions of the charity glaala."
Una saw Mary Vance's eyes narrow, and the blond girl took a step forward and said sharply, "Irene, I remark that I understand more about the charity of men than you will in your whole life, for I have lived by it."
Una, walked quickly to the stage, and said soothingly, "Mary, how about we go plan the rest of the decorations, unless Gertrude wants to hand over the piano to me or Di?"
The scales had changed to old Victorian Christmas carols, and Gertrude Oliver said calmly, "I don't mind, for I think I'll have to accompany soon, though, better keep my fingers warm."
Diana Blythe, glancing over the messy pile of papers full of notes in Alice's direction in a wistfully pensive style, Una noted.
Irene, sniffed, scornfully, and turned to Alice Parker, who said emphatically, in her everlastingly serene way, with a slight command, however, hidden under a careful politeness. "Irene, I have a suggestion if you would like to give your opinion on it." Soon, both blonde girls were talking in low voices, and they seemed to be eagerly studying a selection of sheet music on one of the benches. And the hours passed, and the rest of the decorations were hung in place, and the program was figured out, finally.
That same evening, in the cozy warmth of Ingelside, Rilla cheerfully inquired, "Di, was Irene very challenging today?" Di, gray-green eyes half closed, just groaned, and said with italics "You really do have the patience of a saint when you've had to deal with Junior Red's internal politics, even Perennial magazine doesn't quite match it. It's exhausting, but I know tomorrow will be a success."
Anne Blythe looked out into the velvety soft winter evening and slipped Leslie's latest letter into her pocket, it was like a delicious secret, and quietly she whispered to Gilbert, who was reading the Lancet in an armchair, "Do you remember how lovely our first Christmas was at the House of Dreams? How bright and beautiful was the air, and how excited Davy and Dora were and how proud darling Marilla was of my housekeeping, she did not say it, but I saw her eyes. Dear Captain Jim and Cornelia were taking jabs at each other, so that I was almost despairing, at times."
Gilbert pressed a soft kiss to Anne's forehead, and said quietly, "New Year, at the Lighthouse, how Jim played his fiddle, and Marshall Elliot danced with Leslie, a fresh, wild, charming dance, remember, my love?"
Gilbert, noticed how Anne stiffened a little, and she replied in a distant voice, "I do remember, very vividly, in fact, but why did you bring up that memory just now?" Gilbert, smiled and said lightly, "You've been in a bit of a pensive mood for the past few weeks, and you've often walked in the direction of Four Winds, at first I thought you went to see Joy, but Susan said you didn't take flowers with you, and you sent the package to Toronto, so I figured that your mood is somehow related to Leslie."
Anne bowed her head slightly, and a hint of lily of the valley perfume flooded Gilbert's nose, as she put her hand on Gilbert's shoulder, and half nodded and said quietly, "In one of her letters, Leslie asked me to do one thing, and I did it, and since then I've been reflecting on our past and our years of friendship. There's so much we don't know, still, she is happy now, but.."
Gilbert nodded, and thought of the painful, frenzied letters Owen had written to him in the early days of the Ford marriage, trusting the doctor's silence, of Leslie's stiff silence, of her evasion, of intimate matters, and of the burn scars, which had been startling in their abundance. But time and love had reaped, a bountiful harvest.
The fire cast dancing shadows over Gog and Magog, and the light verses of Acadia's Christmas carols shimmered in the living room as Di played the piano lightly and Nan and Rilla's warm laughter echoed brightly in the living room, as Susan brought Christmas cake and fresh tea into the living room and said in a satisfied tone, "I'm sure our boys in the trenches will get quite a few parcels this Christmas too, for at least there's a really big pile going from here to the Over Seas post. Mrs. Doctor Dear, is it now that the Merediths coming here after the Reverend's Christmas Day service for a meal?"
In Lowbridge, there was a quiet bustle in Dr. Parker's house, the candles were burning, and sweet scents were wafting through the kitchen. Dick Parker looked up from his reservation book, which had very few entries.
A red-cheeked Alice entered the study and said gravely, "Should I, bake Vanochka this year or not, and what about biscuits, for I think perhaps I should, for mother does not seem very well, though her letters have been the same as always." Dick looked at Alice gravely, and said quietly, "Your brothers being wounded and the fate of Lotte's children upset your mother a lot, and it hasn't been easy here since we got back, I can say that frankly. I've even thought about moving to Ottawa, closer to Cora, it might help. "
Alice, glanced at her father's neat study and noticed a remarkably empty desk, and how tired and gray the vigorous Dick Parker seemed. Alice, said cautiously, "I see, has she got recently her old severe turns then?"
Silently, Dick nodded.
Teresa Parker's quiet voice came from the living room, "What are you whispering over there, come and listen, my sons' letters, and Cora's too Alice, I guess you want to hear your sister's news, this Christmas time?"
In a thoughtful manner Alice embroidered a muslin handkerchief while listening to her elder siblings' letters, to be read aloud, the usual roughhousing way of her brothers, and Cora´s polished way of social gliding of unwelcome issues were dealt with.
And then into the silence she said, "I'm performing tomorrow at Junior Red's Christmas Benefit Occasion in the Glen, it would be nice if you could come and see me. I've made progress and I haven't neglected my BA my studies."
Dick Parker, looked gravely into the strained face of his dear wife, and said gently, in his gruff way, "Our dear nightingale, I believe so, but it is better if we stay here." Therese Parker touched Alice's fingers with her cold hand, as she implored, "Would you sing something, just for me, my dear?"
Alice, thought for a moment, and dismissed several seasonal favorites, and by innate impulse, the bright verses of Strauss's Morgen shimmered.
Despite the bitterly cold weather, Glen's Junior Reds' Benefit Occasion was a success, the hall was completely full, and the audience enthusiastically participated in the performances. Smooth Irene Howard once again conquered new admirers with her brilliant performance of In the Bleak Midwinter, Diana Blythe's piano playing was admired, as was Nan Blythe's clear, skillful rendition of poetry of Shelley and Tennyson. Then there was Alice Parker's vivid rendition of Ave Maria, with wild applause.
Afterwards, as the bakesales and raffles had been done, Norman Douglas remarked to John Meredith "Dear brother-in-law, I never thought I'd see your second daughter perform anywhere, especially without the protection of the piano, but Una did very well."
John Meredith wiped his eyes, unabashadly, because Una, standing on the stage, without her piano, was momentarily like Cecilia reborn, all that vividness and serene gracefulness, without the impishness that had been an integral part of his late wife.
Rosemary squeezed John's hand gently, as she said quietly, "Una wanted to surprise you, darling with her english rendition of un bel di vendremo." Cornelia Elliot, remarked to Anne Blythe, "Latin nonsense, of course Alice Parker would do something strange. Nan and Di performed excellently."
Christmas Day dawned bright and clear. Ingelside was peaceful as evening came, the Merediths and Blythes sat together and reminisced. Gertrude Olivier and John Meredith argued fiercely. Nan talked for a long time by the fragrant fir with John Meredith, her cheeks burning, Anne noticed. Di and Una were sitting in one of the ingelnooks, with piles of sheet music next to them.
Beside Walter's photograph was a beautiful vase full of sparkling white Christmas hyacinths, and a few candles, and Una's gaze swept over that little altar, extremely quickly, as she passed between the living room and the kitchen. Her blue hems rustled quietly, and Rilla adjusted her own tortoiseshell hair comb, as she remarked in a soft voice, " Una, what a beautiful hair comb, it really fits you like a glove." Una, avoided Rilla's observant dark gaze, as she carried the teacups to the table, and nodded barely perceptibly to younger girls compliment.
Gertrude Oliver, put her teacup on the table, and opened the little present that Alice Parker had given her earlier in Lowbridge, when she met Gertrude in the high street. The frost had reddened Alice's cheeks, and there had been a faint scent of incense about her, as Alice had said gravely, "Merry Christmas, Gertrude, here's a little token." Gertrude had glanced curiously at Alice and pointedly remarked, "I'll probably run into you again during this holiday at Ingelside, I wager?"
The bright sun had glimmered on the snow, and Alice had turned her face half into the shadow, as she had said softly, "No, this time. I'll spend my time at home, I'll be needed there."
A sharp glint in her eyes, Gertrude had nodded, for Lowbridge was full of conflicting rumors about the health of Dick Parker's wife, some saying Therese Parker was dying, others saying there was something wrong with her heart or lungs.
Gentle chaos of Ingelside all around her, Gertrude carefully opened the little package, white and tied with gold ribbons, and gave an exclamation of delight, for into her hand fell a narrow, heavy, antique rosary, set with garnets, and with a narrow oval image of St. Gertrude etched in silver. And the modest card read in Alice's handwriting,
"Gertrude, when I saw this I thought of you, may this gift be a comfort to you, in these times.
Seasons Blessings."
Alice.
Raising her eyes, Gertrude saw that Di Blythe seemed to be watching her warily, and concealing the emotion that brought the unpresbyterian gift had caused Gertrude, rose from her seat, and said only in her half-fatal style, "Shall we sing something, or play checkers, a game or two?"
After vivid, very competive game of checkers, both twins had exelled, at it, Rilla smiled contentedly, glancing at the small table where there were several packages, one of them had clear handwriting on it. Christmas hyacinths smelled and the chestnuts were roasted and the mince pies were eaten, with relish, and Bruce even managed to capture the piano from Di once, during that homely quiet evening.
With the stars twinkling in the sky, as the clock approached midnight Ingelside was still lit, with candles, Rilla crept wrapped in a thick coat and scarves, eager for the snowy slpendor of Rainbow Valley.
In the snowy peace of Manitoba´s most affluent neigborhoods in a house upon a small artifical hill over wide prirarie skyline with purple coulds gathering in damson tinted sky. Andrew Dawson tasted his whisky, and looked around, satisfied. The colorful and sensuous carpets were a bit wrinkled, because all the dogs had run in a happy mess from room to room. The narrow, shiny rosewood furniture glistened in the firelight, and in another armchair sat Christine, in a sumptuous amethyst robe. On the wall, dim frames of paintings shimmered.
In silence, Andrew looked at his wife, and then said, "I have a surprise for you downstairs, I think it will be pleasant. By the way, how long are you thinking of staying here?" A neat dark eyebrow rose, as Christine nodded, lightly, as she said, "My schedules are open, as ever. Have you already chosen the new roses for spring planting?"
The room smelled intoxicating patchouli and rose water as Andrew began to eagerly tell of his future plans, and Christine touched her fingers, which no longer had narrow gold rings, - they had gone to the Halifax Restoration fund - collection container that memorable evening, when the green silk had rustled in the shadows, Alice's expression had been soliciting , so Christine's guarded self-control had wavered. The silence of Redmond's corridors had guaranteed privacy, to a certain cabinet room, so she had imagined.
A little pointedly, Andrew repeated, "Go downstairs, please, Chrissie." Slightly ironically, Christine stood up as she did so, she remarked, with sleekness, "I wish you wouldn't call me that." Unrepentant, Andrew grinned with a still peculiarly boyish charm and said lightly, "I have very few requirements, and this is one of them."
Downstairs on the white fireplace rug, Renata lifted her muzzle from her paw, and her tail swished once, and then the dog stretched out blissfully lazily, as only a pampered dog can. On the large table was a huge crystal vase filled with fragrant bouquets of Lily of the Valley flowers. Their light scent was intoxicatingly romantic, but as always they reminded Christine of Anne Shirley.
There was a large package next to the wall. Surprised, Christine glanced at it, as she had been expecting jewelry. The paper was thick and marbled, with purple and greenish lines, and was bound with a blood-red silk ribbon. Carefully, Christine took the cat-shaped letterknife in her hand, and cut precisely through the handmade paper with one stroke. The package revealed luminous in an antique gold leaf finish with beveled mirror. Looking at the details, Christine noticed that in the Art Noveau frame were a playful and flowing motif of stylized cat-o'-nine-tails twisting and bending, very sophisticated and almost imperceptible unless one knew what one were looking at. A slight smile appeared on Christine's lips. Andrew remarked lightly, "Happy anniversary, I thought you had enough jewelry and it was time for something a little more intimate."
Christine, took out a narrow box from her pocket, and the paper rustled, and soon an amethyst tie-pin shone in Andrew's burgundy tie, in a silver elegant frame. Light footsteps could be heard from the staircase and Renata gave happy bark, once. Soon Oscar's cheerful voice was heard declaring, "Merry Christmas, I brought more wine." Smiling lightly, Andrew climbed upstairs, stroking Renata between the ears once.
Soon muffled notes of the gramophone echoed in the splendid rooms of that pale house with decorative stained glass windows, and in the spring and summer the most wonderful garden full of roses.
A/N:
Myra and Roy are borrowed from Merwyn LeRoy's romantic film Waterloo Bridge, from (1940) which takes place during the First World War, 1917 in London. Commitment to Peace which Faith utters, was common during the Great War. The songs performed in Glen's Junior Reds Occasion are common, and well-known, usual staple of Christmas season, even nowadays. The only exception is Puccini's Un bel Di (1904)