Christmas Child: an absolutely heartbreaking and emotional Victorian romance Carol Rivers (great books for teens .TXT) 📖

Lily placed a wooden basket on the cabinet. ‘Cold meats, pickles, plums baked in syrup, tarts and biscuits. And of course, a little green fairy.’

Without further ado, the two girls linked their arms through Ettie’s. ‘Show us the way to a nice fire, won’t you?’

A little uncertainly Ettie led them down the passage to the drawing room. She would never have taken such a liberty if Lucas and Clara were here. But since they weren’t and Gwen and Lily were being so generous and kind as to call on her, Ettie felt obliged to respond.

‘This is a very nice room,’ Gwen said, looking round. ‘But so cold! Where is the fire?’

‘I lit one,’ Ettie apologized, ‘but it went out.’

‘Let’s make another.’

‘There isn’t much coal …’

‘We’ll burn something else then,’ Lily said, untroubled. ‘Have you any wood?’

Ettie shook her head, then remembered the broken crates that were to be returned to the Tobacco Dock company. She led the way through the kitchen, a room which drew cries of approval from her friends.

By the light of an oil lantern, they searched the yard. Soon there was laughter and giggling as Gwen and Lily made short work of the crates. Ettie laughed too as they lifted their skirts, kicked and showed off their bloomers, as the scent of aniseed curled in the air.

With arms full of broken pieces, they returned to the house. Gathered by the drawing room hearth, they piled the wood in the grate. Taking a newspaper package from the wooden basket, Gwen unwrapped a green bottle.

‘Say bonsoir to the fairy, Ettie!’ She waved the bottle in the air. ‘It’s your birthday after all.’

Ettie gasped. ‘How do you know?’

‘You told me when we met,’ Gwen chuckled. ‘Remember?’

Ettie thought back to that first day when she had gone to the market. ‘Yes, I remember.’

‘I have a good memory. Now find us some tumblers – à votre santé.’

Ettie went to the kitchen. She felt a curl of happiness inside her. Gwen had remembered her birthday after all this time. Together with the lit candle, she placed three glass tumblers and Terence’s egg and ham pie on a tray. Slicing the pie thinly, she added a half loaf of bread and the very last thimbleful of butter.

When she returned, Gwen and Lily were making balls of the newspaper. They pushed them into the wood and Lily lowered the candle’s flame. Wax dropped in melting pearls on the grate. The taper sent scarlet flames leaping upward. Heat flooded the room.

‘Qu’est-ce que vous voulez boire?’ teased Lily into Ettie’s ear.

Ettie tried to remember her French. ’Non, merci, Lily,’ she refused politely.

‘Just one sip,’ persuaded Gwen, putting her arm around Ettie’s shoulders.

Ettie began to smile at the funny faces her friends were making. She didn’t see what harm could come of taking one small sip. After all, this was her birthday.

The aniseed rolled over her tongue like cream. It soared into her belly like fire. It brought back the happy memories of Gwen’s house and the afternoon she had spent there.

‘You see, that wasn’t so bad,’ urged Gwen.

‘Happy birthday, sister,’ sang Lily.

‘Thank you,’ said Ettie elatedly. She felt light and floaty. Her legs were tingling and her insides were warm with pleasure.

‘If Gino was here, he would recite to you,’ Gwen said, a coy smile in her eyes. ‘He thought you were enchanting, Ettie.’

‘Did he?’

‘A princess,’ added Lily. ‘He was smitten.’

Ettie blushed deeply.

‘Another toast,’ said Gwen, as she filled the tumblers.

‘To Gwen’s little beauty and Gino’s princess,’ Lily cried.

Ettie drank again and Lily snuggled beside her.

Gwen leant her blonde head on a cushion and kicked off her boots. She swirled the green fairy in her glass. ‘We love you, Ettie O’Reilly.’

Lily put her tumbler to Ettie’s lips. ‘Drink from mine and I’ll drink from yours. Then we’ll truly be sisters.’

Ettie looked into Lily’s dark eyes. They were round, deep and very mysterious. In Gwen and Lily’s company she felt truly alive.

‘Our little beauty,’ whispered Lily, licking her lips.

Chapter 23

‘The people of France adore the cirque,’ Gwen reminisced hours later as they lay outstretched beside the fire. ‘They come to watch us! Every night after our dancing we drank champagne.’

Ettie listened in wonder. To her, the life that Lily, Gino and Gwen had led was a fantasy. Once again, she had that floating, dreamy feeling. All her loneliness had disappeared.

‘Look, we shall show you!’ Gwen stood up and pulled Lily to her feet. They pushed back the chairs while Ettie curled up on the couch. Gwen clapped her hands and sung a little melody. Lily snatched the ends of her skirt. Twirling round and round, she bounced up and down kicking her legs high. The higher her legs went, the higher the skirt lifted.

‘Bravo,’ cried Gwen turning to Ettie. ‘Sing for us, Ettie.’

‘But I don’t know any songs.’

‘Let the music come from your heart.’ Gwen grasped a tumbler from the mantle and pushed it into Ettie’s hands. ‘The green fairy will help you.’

Ettie could only remember the hymns and the carols that had once been so much a part of her life at the orphanage. But she knew they wouldn’t do at all, even if she tried to sing them faster. No, they wouldn’t do at all for Gwen and Lily. She took a small drink and with a deep breath she sang a few notes.

‘Keep in time with us,’ cried Lily as she waved her skirts in the air.

Ettie sipped again and this time a song began to flow. It was wordless and formless, but the joy burst tunefully out of her throat. Lily and Gwen threw themselves around the room. Ettie could see the tops of their stockings. Legs were stretched and raised, half-crossed, then uncrossed. Feet kicked and petticoats flounced. In a flurry of cartwheels, Gwen and Lily sank to the floor, their legs stretched wide.

‘Our finale,’ cried Lily triumphantly, ‘le grand écart.’

Ettie was astonished at their suppleness. She applauded fiercely.

Some more green fairy was poured. More songs were sung