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Valérie

Christmas 1942

Their last Christmas together was a fun filled, if frugal occasion. Valérie called it their make do and mend Christmas. They were a family on that special day – her mum Winnie, her dad Phillipe, and her little daughter Marianne. Her Aunt Ethel with her cousin Martin, who was home on leave, arrived with his wife Jean and their son David. The sound of excited children chattering and playing rang around the house. It brought a smile to the adults’ faces as the war was forgotten about for a few hours. It pleased Valérie that Marianne had someone to play with: it was good for her in these frightening times.

Valérie asked Martin and Jean to bring some coal and some extra seats with them. That Christmas morning her father lit a blazing fire in the grate and kept it going in the front sitting room all day with the extra fuel in the bucket. The room was usually a rather cold and damp place through under use. The coal sparked and cracked as it heated the room through. Next Phillipe had busied himself constructing a makeshift trestle table in the centre of the room. He kept popping in and out to make sure that the fire kept burning. It was a proper occasion to use the front room in those days. It was only kept for special events or if they had visitors. The fire radiated warmth and joy into all the rooms as good cheer crept through the house and into their hearts.

There were fewer presents to open that year, but Marianne’s new toy from grandpa Phillipe and grandma Winnie was a real hit. She was ecstatic as she unwrapped the rag doll with blue button eyes and a calico dress. They had wrapped it up in some crinkled reused paper and string. Winnie had kept it since the beginning of the war. The child was not aware that the scarcities of war extended even to a Ministry of Supply decree that ‘no retailer shall provide any paper for the packing or wrapping of goods except for foodstuffs or articles which the shopkeeper has agreed to deliver.’ Nor did the little blue-eyed girl care. The new doll found herself hugged and played with all day long.

“So what are you going to call her?” Phillipe asked Marianne as she discarded the paper, not knowing that it would survive to be used again, another day.

“She’s called Sammy.”

“But that’s a boy’s name,” said David.

“I want her to be Sammy.” Valérie recognised her daughter’s growing stubborn streak about making her own decisions.

“You call her whatever you like Marianne,” said Valérie, “She’s your doll and your friend.”

“Do you want to come and play with me and Sammy, David?”

“Yeh, alright... my cowboys and Indians can try to shoot your doll and you can run away,” said her cousin. The children scampered into the hallway and set up camp at the foot of the stairs.

“When the war is over, we will have the lovely things we used to have before - some oranges and nuts and a bigger Christmas tree. But in the meantime, we’ll make do and enjoy the fact that we’re all together when so many are away from home this Christmas. It was a good idea when your father planted the tree from a few years ago and then to dig it up every year. Heaven knows we couldn’t have afforded one now, even if we could have got hold of one,” said Winnie.

“Thank you for inviting us all, I know our contributions are small, but if we share everything out, then we should be able to make a decent meal, Winnie.”

“Ethel, there’ll be enough to create a feast, I’m sure... you must be on friendly terms with your butcher though, to have got us a chicken. Thank you, it’ll do the children good to have a hearty meal. Right now Val, you can come and help me prepare the dinner. Jean, would you set the table, please? You’ll find the best china and cutlery in the sideboard there and the tablecloth is in the drawer... you could help too our Martin and give Ethel a day off.” Winnie winked at Ethel.

“Of course we can.”

“And she’ll find me another job to do if I sit still too long,” said Phillipe.

“You can keep the fire going, Mr Bouchard, if it’s not too much like hard work.”

Valérie smiled at the easy chatter between her parents. They never shouted or argued with each other, well not that she ever saw. Their marriage was a solid working partnership and as she watched them together, she knew she had truly tested them over recent years. They had supported her when she had dropped the bombshell of her unmarried pregnancy. And she knew she could never repay them for their help and provision of a roof over hers and Marianne’s heads. Their love for each other stretched out and held her and Marianne in its circle too.

“And after dinner lets sing some carols and play some games before the King makes his Christmas speech on the wireless set.”

As each family member busied themselves with their chores, Valérie knew that her family would make the best of what they had today. And that the memory of it would carry them through this seemingly never ending war for a few more weeks. The one thing that they had was an abundance of family love. Not even Hitler, his army and his bombs could take that away from them today. She hoped that there wouldn’t be any wailing air raid sirens and hiding in the shelter in the garden to interrupt their day together.

The smell of cooking permeated the house, and morning soon turned into afternoon. The children ran around and argued and shouted in their excitement.

“Rightio, I will serve dinner up in five minutes Val, will you sort the children out?”

Her mother was always in control in her kitchen. It was her world, her kingdom. Valérie doubted she would ever learn the knack of having all the ingredients of a hot dinner ready at the same time.

“Come on Marianne, David – wash your hands before your dinner, it’s nearly ready,” ordered Valérie.

“But Mummy, my hands aren’t dirty, I haven’t been playing outside... just with Sammy and David.”

“Wash them before your dinner silly because they have germs on them, and they might go in your mouth and poison you, and then you’ll die.” David took a delighted devilment in scaring his slightly younger cousin.

“You probably won’t die from germs David, don’t exaggerate, but you’d be poorly,” said Valérie to her nephew, “Don’t frighten her like that, David.”

The children’s hands eventually washed, everyone took their seats at the table. A flushed and proud Winnie served their Christmas dinner with the help of Valérie.

Phillipe cleared his throat. “We will have a toast,” he said as he raised his glass, “Happy Christmas.”

A resounding “Happy Christmas” rang around the warm room.

“And to our family,” said Valérie.

The grown-ups all lifted their glasses again.

“Now then, let’s forget the war today and enjoy our dinner,” Winnie urged them.

“Mummy, this is the best dinner I’ve ever had, shall I save some for tomorrow?”

Marianne’s question stopped Valérie in her tracks, her fork suspended in mid-air. She saw the reality of her four-year-old daughter’s world. That she was learning so young about not having enough food stabbed at her heart. She placed her fork on her plate and put her arm around her daughter.

“No, you eat it all today if you want to, we will have enough for tomorrow.”

Valérie looked across the table to her mother and then her father. Silently they nodded their heads to her. They had sealed a pact.

“So Valérie,” said Martin at the same time as devouring some mashed potato, “Aunty Win tells me you’ve joined the WAAF... the Co-op will miss you, I’m sure.”

“Mmm, did she now? I didn’t think that I’d actually decided, but it appears I have.”

Valérie laughed and glanced at her mother and father.

“Of course you have cherie - the Government needs people like you Val. We need to clear France of the invaders. They are uninvited and not welcome in my homeland. I would return home and I’d fight them myself if I could, but I’m too old now and my family needs me here.”

“Phillipe, I said no talk of the war and politics today please.”

Winnie scolded him. Phillipe winked at his daughter. He’d always been on her side and devoted himself to her causes too. Valérie sometimes felt sorry for her mother, as she and her father always got their own way with Winnie by joining forces.

“Yes, they can make use of my French skills to listen to the messages coming from the Continent... I can be more useful doing that than listening to women moaning about the price of things and the shortages in the shop.”

“Have they replaced you at the Co-op Val? I’d really like to go out and do some work, do my bit.”

Valérie noticed the tentativeness in Jean’s voice.

Martin looked at his wife in surprise, “I don’t know about that Jean, I mean, who’ll look after David if you’re out all day working? And who’ll look after me when I come home?”

“But I’m not doing my bit Martin, stuck at home in the house... women are out working now, the world has changed with nearly all the men away in the war... If I can get someone to help look after David for a while then I’ll be able to get a job.”

The echo of frustration was loud and clear in Jean’s voice. And she understood Jean’s need to contribute something,...