‘Do ye have any childre?’ I asked, lookin aroun te see if any appeared.
He went quiet an looked at the fire. I said nothin, feelin he was a bit hurt. ‘Yes, I did once,’ he said slowly, thinkin. ‘Two ... a boy and a girl, but they died with my wife. A terrible car accident took them away from me,’ an he sat starin at the fire.
‘I’m very sorry, Mister,’ I whispered. ‘Ye’re still missin them, aren’t ye?’
Then he looked at me an said slowly, very quietly, ‘Yes, I do. Very much!’ An he put his knife an fork down, not finishin his dinner, an looked at me ma, eatin her dinner. ‘Is that hot enough for you, my dear?’
‘Ah! It’s grand,’ me ma said, smilin an puttin down her knife an fork, feelin shy.
‘Did everything go well for you today?’
‘Ah, yeah! I have her back,’ an she nodded te me.
‘Yes! That’s all that matters,’ he said, jumpin up. ‘Pudding!’ he said te me. I looked at him wonderin did he mean black an white puddin. ‘Chocolate pudding! Always a favourite with children. Hm! Yes?’
‘Eh, yeah!’ I said happily.
‘Sir will be back with Madam’s order in a jiffy,’ he bowed, rushin off wit the trolley.
I laughed. ‘Ye’re a funny man!’ I said.
‘Oh! You ain’t seen nothing yet!’ he said, soundin like Humphrey Bogart. An he swung the cart out the door, closin it behind him. I wanted te run after him. But he was gone, an I didn’t want him te think I was runnin loose aroun his house. So I watched the door, waitin fer him te come back.
The room was a bit dead without him. I looked at some of the photographs sittin on the piano. There was one of him in an army uniform wit wings on the shoulders, an he was holdin his hat under his arm an standin very straight. He looked a lot younger, an his face hadn’t a mark, an his two eyes were perfect. An he was lovely lookin altogether, wit black curly hair an gorgeous eyes. Then there was another of him half sittin on a table wit his arms wrapped aroun a blonde woman wit wavy hair, an wearin a skirt an jumper wit a matchin cardigan an a pearl necklace. An another one of an old woman wit a blouse buttoned up te her neck. It was all frilly. An she had a brooch at her throat, an her hair was gathered up in a bun, wit soft waves at the front, an she was holdin a little girl of about three wit blond curls. An a little boy of about five or six was standin beside the granny’s chair. ‘Look, Ma! Tha must be the man’s family, there’s his wife! An I bet ye tha’s his childre. An tha’s their granny,’ I said, gettin a closer look.
‘Yeah!’ me ma said, not movin from her chair. ‘He’s a lovely man altogether.’ An I could see me ma was tired an noddin off from the good food an the heat off the fire. I heard him comin, an I rushed back te me stool.
The door pushed in, an the man rushed in wit the cart again an stopped. ‘Bad news, little lady, no choc pud!’ Me face dropped! ‘But no fear!’ An he waved his finger in the air. ‘I managed to save us some smelly cheese from our resident mouse.’
‘Oh!’ I said, gettin worried, cos I don’t think I like the sound of smelly cheese. An I watched his face an kept me eye on the bowls wit the cover on them.
‘But some would think me a magician! So ...’ an he waved his hands over the bowls, sayin foreign words, an then whipped the cover off te get a look an shouted, ‘It worked!’ wavin the lid in the air. I looked, an it was hot apple tart an ice cream wit melted chocolate on top. ‘You must be very special,’ he said, shakin his head at me, lookin very serious. ‘My magic only works for special people.’
I wonder if tha’s true! He’s lookin at me so seriously, an I know he wouldn’t tell lies. But I don’t believe in Santa, or anythin like tha, I never did. Only once fer a little while a few years ago. But tha came te nothin, an I learnt very quickly not te be kiddin meself. No! James is only messin. I dipped me spoon in an it slid down me neck, makin me face shiver, it was so sweet, an landed in me belly before I could stop it. ‘Yum! Delicious!’ James said, smackin his lips an laughin at me makin faces. It was so gorgeous.
‘Were you fightin in the war, James?’
‘Yes,’ he said, lookin at me. ‘Royal Air Force.’
‘An wha did ye have te do?’ I asked him.
‘Oh!’ he said, lettin out his breath an thinkin. ‘I flew ahead, marking out the spots for the other chaps coming behind me to show them the way and where to drop their bombs. They called us “The Pathfinders”!’
‘So you were a fighter pilot?’ I asked him, shocked with surprise.