The Nightingale Girls - By Donna Douglas Page 0,49
his hand fixed on the back of his brother’s neck.
‘And Happy Christmas to you too, Nick,’ she called.
He didn’t reply.
Chapter Fifteen
CHRISTMAS DAY WAS as bleak as any other for the Riley boys.
Danny had wet the bed again. Nick woke up to find him whimpering in the corner, tears running down his face.
‘S-sorry, Nick,’ he sniffed, wiping his nose on the frayed cuff of his pyjamas. ‘It was a accident.’
‘I know, mate. Don’t take on about it, there’s no harm done. We’ll get this lot washed in no time.’ He forced a smile for his brother’s sake.
As he dragged the sodden sheets off his brother’s mattress, Danny whispered, ‘Y-you won’t t-tell Mum, will you?’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t disturb her beauty sleep.’
Nick hauled the washing into the sink and ran the cold tap, barely able to contain his anger. It was Christmas Day, but you’d never know it. There were no decorations, no tree, no presents. The old Ovaltine tin where his mother kept the housekeeping money was empty, but there wasn’t a scrap of food in the house apart from half a stale loaf and a sweating lump of cheese in the cupboard.
He thought about the Doyles’ warm, cheery kitchen, so full of laughter and happiness. They would be next door unwrapping their presents now, all excited about the day ahead. Rose Doyle would probably already have a chicken in the oven, its delicious aroma drifting through the house.
And where was his mum? Still in bed, sleeping off last night’s bender.
He rolled up his sleeves and plunged the sheets into the freezing water. This was all his mother’s doing. She hadn’t come home until the early hours, even though she knew it upset Danny.
‘Sh-she will come home, won’t she, Nick?’ he’d asked, over and over again, as they lay side by side on their mattresses in front of the dying fire.
‘’Course she will, mate,’ he’d replied cheerfully, while inside he seethed with anger. His mother had gone out yesterday and left Danny on his own again. She’d promised faithfully she wouldn’t, not after the last time he’d gone wandering and that policeman had picked him up near the canal.
Nick shuddered to think about what might have happened if his brother hadn’t been found then. Now he worried every time he went to work, spending all his shift with his stomach churning. Every time he turned the corner into Griffin Street he expected to find a policeman waiting for him.
It won’t always be like this, he told himself as he wrung out the sheets and draped them on a clothes horse in front of the dying embers of the fire. As soon as I’ve saved up the money, we’re getting out of this dump.
As if he could read his thoughts, Danny said, ‘D-do they have Christmas in America, Nick?’
‘’Course they do, mate. Better than we have over here, I reckon.’
Danny emerged timidly from his corner to watch as Nick stoked up the fire with the last of the coal. ‘Can we have a Christmas tree when we live there?’
‘The biggest one you’ve ever seen. With presents piled high under it.’
Danny’s eyes shone. ‘What kind of presents?’
‘What do you fancy?’
His brother thought about it for a moment. ‘A motor car,’ he said.
Nick poked at the fire, stirring it back into life. ‘Not sure we’d be able to fit one of those under the tree. But maybe Father Christmas could leave it outside with a ribbon round it, eh?’
Danny sighed with pleasure. ‘I reckon Mum would like a motor car.’
Nick straightened up, massaging the aching muscles in his back. ‘What did I tell you, Danny? This is meant to be a secret, all right? We’re not going to tell Mum about it, are we?’
Danny nodded. ‘It’s going to be a surprise for her.’
‘It will that, mate.’ You don’t know the half of it, he thought. With any luck, by the time she found out about it they’d be long gone.
He’d heard a lot about what life was like in America, and he’d also heard they had doctors over there who might be able to help Danny. If there was even the slightest chance his brother might be right again one day, he had to take it.
Every week Nick saved some money out of his wages to get them to America. And the cash prizes he won from his fights went into his savings, too. His trainer Jimmy reckoned he was good enough to make the big time as a boxer, and Nick was determined