The Christmas Miracle
The wireless was playing that song again “…away… away in a manger,” Jilly listened, who was away, who had gone away? Then it played the little drummer boy song, “… par rump a pum pum, me and my drum.”
“Mummy, why has the little boy gone away?”
Mummy was cleaning the brass candle stick that had lived in Granny’s house, “… rub a dub dub, par rump a pum pum,” she sang
“What little boy?” she asked
“The little boy, he’s gone away, and he doesn’t have anything to bring, was he naughty?”
“Oh, Jilly, that is the little drummer boy in the song, he wants to bring a gift to Jesus, in the manger, it’s just a Christmas song.”
“Is it Christmas now?”
Daddy put down his newspaper, “No, that’s just a superstitious celebration” he said crossly, snapping off the wireless, “and we won’t be doing Christmas in this house”
Jilly looked at him, Daddy was sometimes scary. He had only recently come home from the WAR, very handsome in his smart blue uniform, but it was uncomfortable having him around. He took up all Mummy’s time, and shouted and got very cross if things weren’t right. Now he was cross about Christmas. Usually they went to Granny’s for Christmas dinner; once they had chicken and little sausages. Jilly loved the little sausages, and the bread sauce, and sometimes the aunties made mince pies – Jilly didn’t like those, but the grown-ups did, and after the mince pies Granny got out her knitting and they told stories and sang songs and shared little presents. That was Christmas she thought, the aunties and Mummy and Granny and Jilly, cozy together round the fire. All the men were away at the War, in their blue and brown uniforms, they didn’t bother Christmas; but now it was going to be different.
“Well, aren’t we going to have chicken,” she asked, “and little sausages?”
Daddy shook his paper and growled, Mummy put the candle stick back on the mantelpiece, “We’ll see,” she said, “why don’t you run outside and play with Sheila and Betty?”
Sheila and Betty were playing on the wall, balancing along it, singing ‘Away in a manger’, Jilly joined them, “Who went away,” she asked, “was it the little boy?”
“Don’t you know anything?” said Betty, “No one went away, someone came, to save the world … Baby Jesus,”
“And everyone brought him gifts,” said Sheila, “they followed the star and brought him gifts, but the little drummer boy didn’t have anything to bring so he just brought himself. Did you put your tree up yet?
“What tree?”
“For the gifts”, said Betty, “and the star, ours is up, come and see.”
In Betty’s house the couch was pushed back along the wall and a big green pine tree was standing in the corner, it had a star on the top, but nothing else was on it.
“We are going to decorate it tonight,” said Betty, “with paper chains and silver tinsel, and candles”
“We have a candle,” said Jilly, “on the mantelpiece, Mummy polished it today, it’s all shiny, for Christmas.”
“Well, do you have your tree up?” asked Sheila, “Our daddy is bringing ours tonight.”
Jilly didn’t want to be left out so she said, “Ours is coming tonight too”, and she ran home to ask her Mummy about the tree and the star. At home Mummy was talking to Daddy in the kitchen, Jilly could hear them mumble, mumble, mumble… she looked around the living room, there was not much space, but maybe if she rearranged the chairs they could put a tree in front of the window. She began to drag the chairs across the room, the rugs bunched up and it was hard work. She knocked over the big lamp and Mummy came in,
“Jilly, what are you doing?”
“Making room for the Christmas tree,” said Jilly, “Betty and Sheila have got theirs already.”
Daddy growled, “There’ll be no tree in this house, I told you we don’t do Christmas.”
Jilly was sad, she helped Mummy pull the rugs straight and put the chairs back. “I really wanted a tree,” she said, “and Christmas.”
“We’ll see,” said Mummy.
The next day Jilly went to play with Katherine and Patricia across the street. They showed Jilly their crèche. Jilly looked at the little wooden figures, made from smooth, nice smelling wood. She wanted to play with the dear little donkey and the sheep, but Katherine and Patricia said the crèche wasn’t to play with, it was special, it told the Christmas story; they showed her Joseph and Mary and the kings on their camels coming with their gifts, and the shepherds standing at the back.
“Where is Jesus?” asked Jilly.
“He hasn’t come yet,” said Katherine.
Their Mummy was busy baking, mince pies she said, and stuffing ready for a turkey and bread sauce with onions. It all smelled delicious.
“Hello, Jilly,” she said, “Have you got your stocking ready?”
“What stocking?” said Jilly.
Katherine and Patricia screamed, “Your stocking, silly, for Father Christmas to put presents in, tonight, it’s Christmas Eve. We are going to church and then when we come home we are going to put Baby Jesus in the crib, and hang our stockings on our beds, and Father Christmas will come in the night and put presents in our stockings.”
“Jilly said “That’s stupid, no one can come in your house in the night, and anyway my Daddy says we don’t do Christmas.”
“He comes down the chimney,” said Katherine, “and everyone does Christmas round here.”
Jilly went home, Mummy and Daddy were having a cup of tea, there were no cooking smells, no tree or star. It wasn’t very cheerful in her house.
“When shall I hang my stocking up?” she asked.
“What’s this about a stocking?” said Daddy, and he looked cross again.
“For Father Christmas,” said Jilly, “to put presents in, he comes in the night down the chimney.”
“We’re having no flying saints in this house, and no tree, no star, nothing, we don’t do Christmas, do you hear me?” and he thumped the table and stamped off into the kitchen. Mummy went after him and Jilly could hear them, mumble, mumble, mumble ….
She played by herself in the living room, with her cut out dolls; she made them a tree out of newspaper and a star out of a shiny sweet paper she had been saving. She told them about Christmas; Jesus came to save the world, she knew that must be right because the big War was over and the daddies had come home, so the world was safe now; and Father Christmas would be able to come. Perhaps he hadn’t come before because the world was a bad world. Now he could bring presents, and put them in the stockings.
Mummy came in, “Come on, Jilly, time for your tea, and then bed – it’s getting quite dark already.”
Jilly picked up her dolls, “Never mind,” she told them, “it probably couldn’t really happen anyway.”
Later after her bath and a story Mummy tucked Jilly into bed, “Here,” she said, “let’s put this on the end of the bed.” She gave Jilly a long white woolen stocking.
“That’s Daddy’s,” said Jilly, “out of his big flying boots. Won’t he be cross? He said no Christmas.”
“We’ll see,” said Mummy, “you never know, maybe there will be a miracle.”
“What’s a miracle,” said Jilly
“Something amazing that happens that you can’t explain.” said Mummy. She kissed Jilly goodnight and went out. Jilly snuggled down in bed, Mummy had spread Daddy’s greatcoat over the bed to keep her warm; she liked to think of the greatcoat flying high in the sky with Daddy in the airplanes. She pretended it was a magic coat that it would take her to Father Christmas, where ever he was.
Drifting into sleep she could hear mumble, mumble, mumble in the kitchen, and then the back door rattled and someone wiped his feet on the raspy mat, who was that? ‘Away in a Manger’ floated in her head and something rustled and crinkled on the bed, was it the magic coat bringing her back?
“Wake up, Jilly, wake up!” That was Mummy. Jilly sat up and looked for her dressing gown on the end of the bed…… what was this, the flying stocking had grown fat and lumpy in the night and it rustled and crinkled when she moved.
Mummy came in, “Well, well,” she said laughing, “he’s been, aren’t you going to look inside?”
Jilly carefully pulled out the rustling parcels. There was a red notebook just like the one Mummy kept her shopping lists in, which Jilly wasn’t allowed to write in… and two lovely long shiny pencils, whole pencils, not stumpy broken ones … there was a book, Alice in Wonderland, it had beautiful colored pictures of animals and a little girl with long fair hair, Jilly had seen the same book in Granny’s house, but no one would read it to her, they were too busy … now she had her own … and what was this squishy package? Mittens, striped green and brown, the same colors as the jumper Grandma had been knitting for her. She put them on, then opened the next package, it was hard and it had a funny smell … inside was a red and gold wrapper, chocolate? Only the soldiers and airmen were given chocolate, Jilly had only ever tasted one piece, now she had a whole bar …
“Keep going,” said Mummy, and down at the very toe of the stocking were some hard little lumps, nuts, and a big sweet smelling thing wrapped in tissue paper … an orange…
Jilly grabbed up all the packages and ran into the living room. It was warm and cosy with the smell of bacon and hot toast. The brass candlestick glowed on the mantelpiece. Daddy was sitting in his big chair by the fire, with a cup of tea, he didn’t seem so cross today.
“It’s Christmas, Daddy, it’s Christmas and look, Father Christmas came! Did you let him in?”
“I don’t know anything about Father Christmas,” said Daddy smiling, “you’d better ask your mother.”
“It must be a miracle,” said Jilly.
“Yes,” said Mummy, “a Christmas miracle, especially for you,” and she smiled at Daddy.
‘What’s Christmas?
The Christmas Miracle
The wireless was playing that song again “…away… away in a manger,” Jilly listened, who was away, who had gone away? Then it played the little drummer boy song, “… par rump a pum pum, me and my drum.”
“Mummy, why has the little boy gone away?”
Mummy was cleaning the brass candle stick that had lived in Granny’s house, “… rub a dub dub, par rump a pum pum,” she sang
“What little boy?” she asked
“The little boy, he’s gone away, and he doesn’t have anything to bring, was he naughty?”
“Oh, Jilly, that is the little drummer boy in the song, he wants to bring a gift to Jesus, in the manger, it’s just a Christmas song.”
“Is it Christmas now?”
Daddy put down his newspaper, “No, that’s just a superstitious celebration” he said crossly, snapping off the wireless, “and we won’t be doing Christmas in this house”
Jilly looked at him, Daddy was sometimes scary. He had only recently come home from the WAR, very handsome in his smart blue uniform, but it was uncomfortable having him around. He took up all Mummy’s time, and shouted and got very cross if things weren’t right. Now he was cross about Christmas. Usually they went to Granny’s for Christmas dinner; once they had chicken and little sausages. Jilly loved the little sausages, and the bread sauce, and sometimes the aunties made mince pies – Jilly didn’t like those, but the grown-ups did, and after the mince pies Granny got out her knitting and they told stories and sang songs and shared little presents. That was Christmas she thought, the aunties and Mummy and Granny and Jilly, cozy together round the fire. All the men were away at the War, in their blue and brown uniforms, they didn’t bother Christmas; but now it was going to be different.
“Well, aren’t we going to have chicken,” she asked, “and little sausages?”
Daddy shook his paper and growled, Mummy put the candle stick back on the mantelpiece, “We’ll see,” she said, “why don’t you run outside and play with Sheila and Betty?”
Sheila and Betty were playing on the wall, balancing along it, singing ‘Away in a manger’, Jilly joined them, “Who went away,” she asked, “was it the little boy?”
“Don’t you know anything?” said Betty, “No one went away, someone came, to save the world … Baby Jesus,”
“And everyone brought him gifts,” said Sheila, “they followed the star and brought him gifts, but the little drummer boy didn’t have anything to bring so he just brought himself. Did you put your tree up yet?
“What tree?”
“For the gifts”, said Betty, “and the star, ours is up, come and see.”
In Betty’s house the couch was pushed back along the wall and a big green pine tree was standing in the corner, it had a star on the top, but nothing else was on it.
“We are going to decorate it tonight,” said Betty, “with paper chains and silver tinsel, and candles”
“We have a candle,” said Jilly, “on the mantelpiece, Mummy polished it today, it’s all shiny, for Christmas.”
“Well, do you have your tree up?” asked Sheila, “Our daddy is bringing ours tonight.”
Jilly didn’t want to be left out so she said, “Ours is coming tonight too”, and she ran home to ask her Mummy about the tree and the star. At home Mummy was talking to Daddy in the kitchen, Jilly could hear them mumble, mumble, mumble… she looked around the living room, there was not much space, but maybe if she rearranged the chairs they could put a tree in front of the window. She began to drag the chairs across the room, the rugs bunched up and it was hard work. She knocked over the big lamp and Mummy came in,
“Jilly, what are you doing?”
“Making room for the Christmas tree,” said Jilly, “Betty and Sheila have got theirs already.”
Daddy growled, “There’ll be no tree in this house, I told you we don’t do Christmas.”
Gilly was sad, she helped Mummy pull the rugs straight and put the chairs back. “I really wanted a tree,” she said, “and Christmas.”
“We’ll see,” said Mummy.
The next day Jilly went to play with Katherine and Patricia across the street. They showed Jilly their crèche. Jilly looked at the little wooden figures, made from smooth, nice smelling wood. She wanted to play with the dear little donkey and the sheep, but Katherine and Patricia said the crèche wasn’t to play with, it was special, it told the Christmas story; they showed her Joseph and Mary and the kings on their camels coming with their gifts, and the shepherds standing at the back.
“Where is Jesus?” asked Jilly.
“He hasn’t come yet,” said Katherine.
Their Mummy was busy baking, mince pies she said, and stuffing ready for a turkey and bread sauce with onions. It all smelled delicious.
“Hello, Jilly,” she said, “Have you got your stocking ready?”
“What stocking?” said Jilly.
Katherine and Patricia screamed, “Your stocking, silly, for Father Christmas to put presents in, tonight, it’s Christmas Eve. We are going to church and then when we come home we are going to put Baby Jesus in the crib, and hang our stockings on our beds, and Father Christmas will come in the night and put presents in our stockings.”
“Jilly said “That’s stupid, no one can come in your house in the night, and anyway my Daddy says we don’t do Christmas.”
“He comes down the chimney,” said Katherine, “and everyone does Christmas round here.”
Jilly went home, Mummy and Daddy were having a cup of tea, there were no cooking smells, no tree or star. It wasn’t very cheerful in her house.
“When shall I hang my stocking up?” she asked.
“What’s this about a stocking?” said Daddy, and he looked cross again.
“For Father Christmas,” said Jilly, “to put presents in, he comes in the night down the chimney.”
“We’re having no flying saints in this house, and no tree, no star, nothing, we don’t do Christmas, do you hear me?” and he thumped the table and stamped off into the kitchen. Mummy went after him and Jilly could hear them, mumble, mumble, mumble ….
She played by herself in the living room, with her cut out dolls; she made them a tree out of newspaper and a star out of a shiny sweet paper she had been saving. She told them about Christmas; Jesus came to save the world, she knew that must be right because the big War was over and the daddies had come home, so the world was safe now; and Father Christmas would be able to come. Perhaps he hadn’t come before because the world was a bad world. Now he could bring presents, and put them in the stockings.
Mummy came in, “Come on, Jilly, time for your tea, and then bed – it’s getting quite dark already.”
Jilly picked up her dolls, “Never mind,” she told them, “it probably couldn’t really happen anyway.”
Later after her bath and a story Mummy tucked Jilly into bed, “Here,” she said, “let’s put this on the end of the bed.” She gave Jilly a long white woolen stocking.
“That’s Daddy’s,” said Jilly, “out of his big flying boots. Won’t he be cross? He said no Christmas.”
“We’ll see,” said Mummy, “you never know, maybe there will be a miracle.”
“What’s a miracle,” said Jilly
“Something amazing that happens that you can’t explain.” said Mummy. She kissed Jilly goodnight and went out. Jilly snuggled down in bed, Mummy had spread Daddy’s greatcoat over the bed to keep her warm; she liked to think of the greatcoat flying high in the sky with Daddy in the airplanes. She pretended it was a magic coat that it would take her to Father Christmas, where ever he was.
Drifting into sleep she could hear mumble, mumble, mumble in the kitchen, and then the back door rattled and someone wiped his feet on the raspy mat, who was that? ‘Away in a Manger’ floated in her head and something rustled and crinkled on the bed, was it the magic coat bringing her back?
“Wake up, Jilly, wake up!” That was Mummy. Jilly sat up and looked for her dressing gown on the end of the bed…… what was this, the flying stocking had grown fat and lumpy in the night and it rustled and crinkled when she moved.
Mummy came in, “Well, well,” she said laughing, “he’s been, aren’t you going to look inside?”
Jilly carefully pulled out the rustling parcels. There was a red notebook just like the one Mummy kept her shopping lists in, which Jilly wasn’t allowed to write in… and two lovely long shiny pencils, whole pencils, not stumpy broken ones … there was a book, Alice in Wonderland, it had beautiful colored pictures of animals and a little girl with long fair hair, Jilly had seen the same book in Granny’s house, but no one would read it to her, they were too busy … now she had her own … and what was this squishy package? Mittens, striped green and brown, the same colors as the jumper Grandma had been knitting for her. She put them on, then opened the next package, it was hard and it had a funny smell … inside was a red and gold wrapper, chocolate? Only the soldiers and airmen were given chocolate, Jilly had only ever tasted one piece, now she had a whole bar …
“Keep going,” said Mummy, and down at the very toe of the stocking were some hard little lumps, nuts, and a big sweet smelling thing wrapped in tissue paper … an orange…
Jilly grabbed up all the packages and ran into the living room. It was warm and cosy with the smell of bacon and hot toast. The brass candlestick glowed on the mantelpiece. Daddy was sitting in his big chair by the fire, with a cup of tea, he didn’t seem so cross today.
“It’s Christmas, Daddy, it’s Christmas and look, Father Christmas came! Did you let him in?”
“I don’t know anything about Father Christmas,” said Daddy smiling, “you’d better ask your mother.”
“It must be a miracle,” said Jilly.
“Yes,” said Mummy, “a Christmas miracle, especially for you,” and she smiled at Daddy.
‘What’s Christmas?
The Christmas Miracle
The wireless was playing that song again “…away… away in a manger,” Jilly listened, who was away, who had gone away? Then it played the little drummer boy song, “… par rump a pum pum, me and my drum.”
“Mummy, why has the little boy gone away?”
Mummy was cleaning the brass candle stick that had lived in Granny’s house, “… rub a dub dub, par rump a pum pum,” she sang
“What little boy?” she asked
“The little boy, he’s gone away, and he doesn’t have anything to bring, was he naughty?”
“Oh, Jilly, that is the little drummer boy in the song, he wants to bring a gift to Jesus, in the manger, it’s just a Christmas song.”
“Is it Christmas now?”
Daddy put down his newspaper, “No, that’s just a superstitious celebration” he said crossly, snapping off the wireless, “and we won’t be doing Christmas in this house”
Jilly looked at him, Daddy was sometimes scary. He had only recently come home from the WAR, very handsome in his smart blue uniform, but it was uncomfortable having him around. He took up all Mummy’s time, and shouted and got very cross if things weren’t right. Now he was cross about Christmas. Usually they went to Granny’s for Christmas dinner; once they had chicken and little sausages. Jilly loved the little sausages, and the bread sauce, and sometimes the aunties made mince pies – Jilly didn’t like those, but the grown-ups did, and after the mince pies Granny got out her knitting and they told stories and sang songs and shared little presents. That was Christmas she thought, the aunties and Mummy and Granny and Jilly, cozy together round the fire. All the men were away at the War, in their blue and brown uniforms, they didn’t bother Christmas; but now it was going to be different.
“Well, aren’t we going to have chicken,” she asked, “and little sausages?”
Daddy shook his paper and growled, Mummy put the candle stick back on the mantelpiece, “We’ll see,” she said, “why don’t you run outside and play with Sheila and Betty?”
Sheila and Betty were playing on the wall, balancing along it, singing ‘Away in a manger’, Jilly joined them, “Who went away,” she asked, “was it the little boy?”
“Don’t you know anything?” said Betty, “No one went away, someone came, to save the world … Baby Jesus,”
“And everyone brought him gifts,” said Sheila, “they followed the star and brought him gifts, but the little drummer boy didn’t have anything to bring so he just brought himself. Did you put your tree up yet?
“What tree?”
“For the gifts”, said Betty, “and the star, ours is up, come and see.”
In Betty’s house the couch was pushed back along the wall and a big green pine tree was standing in the corner, it had a star on the top, but nothing else was on it.
“We are going to decorate it tonight,” said Betty, “with paper chains and silver tinsel, and candles”
“We have a candle,” said Jilly, “on the mantelpiece, Mummy polished it today, it’s all shiny, for Christmas.”
“Well, do you have your tree up?” asked Sheila, “Our daddy is bringing ours tonight.”
Jilly didn’t want to be left out so she said, “Ours is coming tonight too”, and she ran home to ask her Mummy about the tree and the star. At home Mummy was talking to Daddy in the kitchen, Jilly could hear them mumble, mumble, mumble… she looked around the living room, there was not much space, but maybe if she rearranged the chairs they could put a tree in front of the window. She began to drag the chairs across the room, the rugs bunched up and it was hard work. She knocked over the big lamp and Mummy came in,
“Jilly, what are you doing?”
“Making room for the Christmas tree,” said Jilly, “Betty and Sheila have got theirs already.”
Daddy growled, “There’ll be no tree in this house, I told you we don’t do Christmas.”
Gilly was sad, she helped Mummy pull the rugs straight and put the chairs back. “I really wanted a tree,” she said, “and Christmas.”
“We’ll see,” said Mummy.
The next day Jilly went to play with Katherine and Patricia across the street. They showed Jilly their crèche. Jilly looked at the little wooden figures, made from smooth, nice smelling wood. She wanted to play with the dear little donkey and the sheep, but Katherine and Patricia said the crèche wasn’t to play with, it was special, it told the Christmas story; they showed her Joseph and Mary and the kings on their camels coming with their gifts, and the shepherds standing at the back.
“Where is Jesus?” asked Jilly.
“He hasn’t come yet,” said Katherine.
Their Mummy was busy baking, mince pies she said, and stuffing ready for a turkey and bread sauce with onions. It all smelled delicious.
“Hello, Jilly,” she said, “Have you got your stocking ready?”
“What stocking?” said Jilly.
Katherine and Patricia screamed, “Your stocking, silly, for Father Christmas to put presents in, tonight, it’s Christmas Eve. We are going to church and then when we come home we are going to put Baby Jesus in the crib, and hang our stockings on our beds, and Father Christmas will come in the night and put presents in our stockings.”
“Jilly said “That’s stupid, no one can come in your house in the night, and anyway my Daddy says we don’t do Christmas.”
“He comes down the chimney,” said Katherine, “and everyone does Christmas round here.”
Jilly went home, Mummy and Daddy were having a cup of tea, there were no cooking smells, no tree or star. It wasn’t very cheerful in her house.
“When shall I hang my stocking up?” she asked.
“What’s this about a stocking?” said Daddy, and he looked cross again.
“For Father Christmas,” said Jilly, “to put presents in, he comes in the night down the chimney.”
“We’re having no flying saints in this house, and no tree, no star, nothing, we don’t do Christmas, do you hear me?” and he thumped the table and stamped off into the kitchen. Mummy went after him and Jilly could hear them, mumble, mumble, mumble ….
She played by herself in the living room, with her cut out dolls; she made them a tree out of newspaper and a star out of a shiny sweet paper she had been saving. She told them about Christmas; Jesus came to save the world, she knew that must be right because the big War was over and the daddies had come home, so the world was safe now; and Father Christmas would be able to come. Perhaps he hadn’t come before because the world was a bad world. Now he could bring presents, and put them in the stockings.
Mummy came in, “Come on, Jilly, time for your tea, and then bed – it’s getting quite dark already.”
Jilly picked up her dolls, “Never mind,” she told them, “it probably couldn’t really happen anyway.”
Later after her bath and a story Mummy tucked Jilly into bed, “Here,” she said, “let’s put this on the end of the bed.” She gave Jilly a long white woolen stocking.
“That’s Daddy’s,” said Jilly, “out of his big flying boots. Won’t he be cross? He said no Christmas.”
“We’ll see,” said Mummy, “you never know, maybe there will be a miracle.”
“What’s a miracle,” said Jilly
“Something amazing that happens that you can’t explain.” said Mummy. She kissed Jilly goodnight and went out. Jilly snuggled down in bed, Mummy had spread Daddy’s greatcoat over the bed to keep her warm; she liked to think of the greatcoat flying high in the sky with Daddy in the airplanes. She pretended it was a magic coat that it would take her to Father Christmas, where ever he was.
Drifting into sleep she could hear mumble, mumble, mumble in the kitchen, and then the back door rattled and someone wiped his feet on the raspy mat, who was that? ‘Away in a Manger’ floated in her head and something rustled and crinkled on the bed, was it the magic coat bringing her back?
“Wake up, Jilly, wake up!” That was Mummy. Jilly sat up and looked for her dressing gown on the end of the bed…… what was this, the flying stocking had grown fat and lumpy in the night and it rustled and crinkled when she moved.
Mummy came in, “Well, well,” she said laughing, “he’s been, aren’t you going to look inside?”
Jilly carefully pulled out the rustling parcels. There was a red notebook just like the one Mummy kept her shopping lists in, which Jilly wasn’t allowed to write in… and two lovely long shiny pencils, whole pencils, not stumpy broken ones … there was a book, Alice in Wonderland, it had beautiful colored pictures of animals and a little girl with long fair hair, Jilly had seen the same book in Granny’s house, but no one would read it to her, they were too busy … now she had her own … and what was this squishy package? Mittens, striped green and brown, the same colors as the jumper Grandma had been knitting for her. She put them on, then opened the next package, it was hard and it had a funny smell … inside was a red and gold wrapper, chocolate? Only the soldiers and airmen were given chocolate, Jilly had only ever tasted one piece, now she had a whole bar …
“Keep going,” said Mummy, and down at the very toe of the stocking were some hard little lumps, nuts, and a big sweet smelling thing wrapped in tissue paper … an orange…
Jilly grabbed up all the packages and ran into the living room. It was warm and cosy with the smell of bacon and hot toast. The brass candlestick glowed on the mantelpiece. Daddy was sitting in his big chair by the fire, with a cup of tea, he didn’t seem so cross today.
“It’s Christmas, Daddy, it’s Christmas and look, Father Christmas came! Did you let him in?”
“I don’t know anything about Father Christmas,” said Daddy smiling, “you’d better ask your mother.”
“It must be a miracle,” said Jilly.
“Yes,” said Mummy, “a Christmas miracle, especially for you,” and she smiled at Daddy.
The Christmas Miracle
The wireless was playing that song again “…away… away in a manger,” Jilly listened, who was away, who had gone away? Then it played the little drummer boy song, “… par rump a pum pum, me and my drum.”
“Mummy, why has the little boy gone away?”
Mummy was cleaning the brass candle stick that had lived in Granny’s house, “… rub a dub dub, par rump a pum pum,” she sang
“What little boy?” she asked
“The little boy, he’s gone away, and he doesn’t have anything to bring, was he naughty?”
“Oh, Jilly, that is the little drummer boy in the song, he wants to bring a gift to Jesus, in the manger, it’s just a Christmas song.”
“Is it Christmas now?”
Daddy put down his newspaper, “No, that’s just a superstitious celebration” he said crossly, snapping off the wireless, “and we won’t be doing Christmas in this house”
Jilly looked at him, Daddy was sometimes scary. He had only recently come home from the WAR, very handsome in his smart blue uniform, but it was uncomfortable having him around. He took up all Mummy’s time, and shouted and got very cross if things weren’t right. Now he was cross about Christmas. Usually they went to Granny’s for Christmas dinner; once they had chicken and little sausages. Jilly loved the little sausages, and the bread sauce, and sometimes the aunties made mince pies – Jilly didn’t like those, but the grown-ups did, and after the mince pies Granny got out her knitting and they told stories and sang songs and shared little presents. That was Christmas she thought, the aunties and Mummy and Granny and Jilly, cozy together round the fire. All the men were away at the War, in their blue and brown uniforms, they didn’t bother Christmas; but now it was going to be different.
“Well, aren’t we going to have chicken,” she asked, “and little sausages?”
Daddy shook his paper and growled, Mummy put the candle stick back on the mantelpiece, “We’ll see,” she said, “why don’t you run outside and play with Sheila and Betty?”
Sheila and Betty were playing on the wall, balancing along it, singing ‘Away in a manger’, Jilly joined them, “Who went away,” she asked, “was it the little boy?”
“Don’t you know anything?” said Betty, “No one went away, someone came, to save the world … Baby Jesus,”
“And everyone brought him gifts,” said Sheila, “they followed the star and brought him gifts, but the little drummer boy didn’t have anything to bring so he just brought himself. Did you put your tree up yet?
“What tree?”
“For the gifts”, said Betty, “and the star, ours is up, come and see.”
In Betty’s house the couch was pushed back along the wall and a big green pine tree was standing in the corner, it had a star on the top, but nothing else was on it.
“We are going to decorate it tonight,” said Betty, “with paper chains and silver tinsel, and candles”
“We have a candle,” said Jilly, “on the mantelpiece, Mummy polished it today, it’s all shiny, for Christmas.”
“Well, do you have your tree up?” asked Sheila, “Our daddy is bringing ours tonight.”
Jilly didn’t want to be left out so she said, “Ours is coming tonight too”, and she ran home to ask her Mummy about the tree and the star. At home Mummy was talking to Daddy in the kitchen, Jilly could hear them mumble, mumble, mumble… she looked around the living room, there was not much space, but maybe if she rearranged the chairs they could put a tree in front of the window. She began to drag the chairs across the room, the rugs bunched up and it was hard work. She knocked over the big lamp and Mummy came in,
“Jilly, what are you doing?”
“Making room for the Christmas tree,” said Jilly, “Betty and Sheila have got theirs already.”
Daddy growled, “There’ll be no tree in this house, I told you we don’t do Christmas.”
Gilly was sad, she helped Mummy pull the rugs straight and put the chairs back. “I really wanted a tree,” she said, “and Christmas.”
“We’ll see,” said Mummy.
The next day Jilly went to play with Katherine and Patricia across the street. They showed Jilly their crèche. Jilly looked at the little wooden figures, made from smooth, nice smelling wood. She wanted to play with the dear little donkey and the sheep, but Katherine and Patricia said the crèche wasn’t to play with, it was special, it told the Christmas story; they showed her Joseph and Mary and the kings on their camels coming with their gifts, and the shepherds standing at the back.
“Where is Jesus?” asked Jilly.
“He hasn’t come yet,” said Katherine.
Their Mummy was busy baking, mince pies she said, and stuffing ready for a turkey and bread sauce with onions. It all smelled delicious.
“Hello, Jilly,” she said, “Have you got your stocking ready?”
“What stocking?” said Jilly.
Katherine and Patricia screamed, “Your stocking, silly, for Father Christmas to put presents in, tonight, it’s Christmas Eve. We are going to church and then when we come home we are going to put Baby Jesus in the crib, and hang our stockings on our beds, and Father Christmas will come in the night and put presents in our stockings.”
“Jilly said “That’s stupid, no one can come in your house in the night, and anyway my Daddy says we don’t do Christmas.”
“He comes down the chimney,” said Katherine, “and everyone does Christmas round here.”
Jilly went home, Mummy and Daddy were having a cup of tea, there were no cooking smells, no tree or star. It wasn’t very cheerful in her house.
“When shall I hang my stocking up?” she asked.
“What’s this about a stocking?” said Daddy, and he looked cross again.
“For Father Christmas,” said Jilly, “to put presents in, he comes in the night down the chimney.”
“We’re having no flying saints in this house, and no tree, no star, nothing, we don’t do Christmas, do you hear me?” and he thumped the table and stamped off into the kitchen. Mummy went after him and Jilly could hear them, mumble, mumble, mumble ….
She played by herself in the living room, with her cut out dolls; she made them a tree out of newspaper and a star out of a shiny sweet paper she had been saving. She told them about Christmas; Jesus came to save the world, she knew that must be right because the big War was over and the daddies had come home, so the world was safe now; and Father Christmas would be able to come. Perhaps he hadn’t come before because the world was a bad world. Now he could bring presents, and put them in the stockings.
Mummy came in, “Come on, Jilly, time for your tea, and then bed – it’s getting quite dark already.”
Jilly picked up her dolls, “Never mind,” she told them, “it probably couldn’t really happen anyway.”
Later after her bath and a story Mummy tucked Jilly into bed, “Here,” she said, “let’s put this on the end of the bed.” She gave Jilly a long white woolen stocking.
“That’s Daddy’s,” said Jilly, “out of his big flying boots. Won’t he be cross? He said no Christmas.”
“We’ll see,” said Mummy, “you never know, maybe there will be a miracle.”
“What’s a miracle,” said Jilly
“Something amazing that happens that you can’t explain.” said Mummy. She kissed Jilly goodnight and went out. Jilly snuggled down in bed, Mummy had spread Daddy’s greatcoat over the bed to keep her warm; she liked to think of the greatcoat flying high in the sky with Daddy in the airplanes. She pretended it was a magic coat that it would take her to Father Christmas, where ever he was.
Drifting into sleep she could hear mumble, mumble, mumble in the kitchen, and then the back door rattled and someone wiped his feet on the raspy mat, who was that? ‘Away in a Manger’ floated in her head and something rustled and crinkled on the bed, was it the magic coat bringing her back?
“Wake up, Jilly, wake up!” That was Mummy. Jilly sat up and looked for her dressing gown on the end of the bed…… what was this, the flying stocking had grown fat and lumpy in the night and it rustled and crinkled when she moved.
Mummy came in, “Well, well,” she said laughing, “he’s been, aren’t you going to look inside?”
Jilly carefully pulled out the rustling parcels. There was a red notebook just like the one Mummy kept her shopping lists in, which Jilly wasn’t allowed to write in… and two lovely long shiny pencils, whole pencils, not stumpy broken ones … there was a book, Alice in Wonderland, it had beautiful colored pictures of animals and a little girl with long fair hair, Jilly had seen the same book in Granny’s house, but no one would read it to her, they were too busy … now she had her own … and what was this squishy package? Mittens, striped green and brown, the same colors as the jumper Grandma had been knitting for her. She put them on, then opened the next package, it was hard and it had a funny smell … inside was a red and gold wrapper, chocolate? Only the soldiers and airmen were given chocolate, Jilly had only ever tasted one piece, now she had a whole bar …
“Keep going,” said Mummy, and down at the very toe of the stocking were some hard little lumps, nuts, and a big sweet smelling thing wrapped in tissue paper … an orange…
Jilly grabbed up all the packages and ran into the living room. It was warm and cosy with the smell of bacon and hot toast. The brass candlestick glowed on the mantelpiece. Daddy was sitting in his big chair by the fire, with a cup of tea, he didn’t seem so cross today.
“It’s Christmas, Daddy, it’s Christmas and look, Father Christmas came! Did you let him in?”
“I don’t know anything about Father Christmas,” said Daddy smiling, “you’d better ask your mother.”
“It must be a miracle,” said Jilly.
“Yes,” said Mummy, “a Christmas miracle, especially for you,” and she smiled at Daddy.
The Christmas Miracle
The wireless was playing that song again “…away… away in a manger,” Jilly listened, who was away, who had gone away? Then it played the little drummer boy song, “… par rump a pum pum, me and my drum.”
“Mummy, why has the little boy gone away?”
Mummy was cleaning the brass candle stick that had lived in Granny’s house, “… rub a dub dub, par rump a pum pum,” she sang
“What little boy?” she asked
“The little boy, he’s gone away, and he doesn’t have anything to bring, was he naughty?”
“Oh, Jilly, that is the little drummer boy in the song, he wants to bring a gift to Jesus, in the manger, it’s just a Christmas song.”
“Is it Christmas now?”
Daddy put down his newspaper, “No, that’s just a superstitious celebration” he said crossly, snapping off the wireless, “and we won’t be doing Christmas in this house”
Jilly looked at him, Daddy was sometimes scary. He had only recently come home from the WAR, very handsome in his smart blue uniform, but it was uncomfortable having him around. He took up all Mummy’s time, and shouted and got very cross if things weren’t right. Now he was cross about Christmas. Usually they went to Granny’s for Christmas dinner; once they had chicken and little sausages. Jilly loved the little sausages, and the bread sauce, and sometimes the aunties made mince pies – Jilly didn’t like those, but the grown-ups did, and after the mince pies Granny got out her knitting and they told stories and sang songs and shared little presents. That was Christmas she thought, the aunties and Mummy and Granny and Jilly, cozy together round the fire. All the men were away at the War, in their blue and brown uniforms, they didn’t bother Christmas; but now it was going to be different.
“Well, aren’t we going to have chicken,” she asked, “and little sausages?”
Daddy shook his paper and growled, Mummy put the candle stick back on the mantelpiece, “We’ll see,” she said, “why don’t you run outside and play with Sheila and Betty?”
Sheila and Betty were playing on the wall, balancing along it, singing ‘Away in a manger’, Jilly joined them, “Who went away,” she asked, “was it the little boy?”
“Don’t you know anything?” said Betty, “No one went away, someone came, to save the world … Baby Jesus,”
“And everyone brought him gifts,” said Sheila, “they followed the star and brought him gifts, but the little drummer boy didn’t have anything to bring so he just brought himself. Did you put your tree up yet?
“What tree?”
“For the gifts”, said Betty, “and the star, ours is up, come and see.”
In Betty’s house the couch was pushed back along the wall and a big green pine tree was standing in the corner, it had a star on the top, but nothing else was on it.
“We are going to decorate it tonight,” said Betty, “with paper chains and silver tinsel, and candles”
“We have a candle,” said Jilly, “on the mantelpiece, Mummy polished it today, it’s all shiny, for Christmas.”
“Well, do you have your tree up?” asked Sheila, “Our daddy is bringing ours tonight.”
Jilly didn’t want to be left out so she said, “Ours is coming tonight too”, and she ran home to ask her Mummy about the tree and the star. At home Mummy was talking to Daddy in the kitchen, Jilly could hear them mumble, mumble, mumble… she looked around the living room, there was not much space, but maybe if she rearranged the chairs they could put a tree in front of the window. She began to drag the chairs across the room, the rugs bunched up and it was hard work. She knocked over the big lamp and Mummy came in,
“Jilly, what are you doing?”
“Making room for the Christmas tree,” said Jilly, “Betty and Sheila have got theirs already.”
Daddy growled, “There’ll be no tree in this house, I told you we don’t do Christmas.”
Gilly was sad, she helped Mummy pull the rugs straight and put the chairs back. “I really wanted a tree,” she said, “and Christmas.”
“We’ll see,” said Mummy.
The next day Jilly went to play with Katherine and Patricia across the street. They showed Jilly their crèche. Jilly looked at the little wooden figures, made from smooth, nice smelling wood. She wanted to play with the dear little donkey and the sheep, but Katherine and Patricia said the crèche wasn’t to play with, it was special, it told the Christmas story; they showed her Joseph and Mary and the kings on their camels coming with their gifts, and the shepherds standing at the back.
“Where is Jesus?” asked Jilly.
“He hasn’t come yet,” said Katherine.
Their Mummy was busy baking, mince pies she said, and stuffing ready for a turkey and bread sauce with onions. It all smelled delicious.
“Hello, Jilly,” she said, “Have you got your stocking ready?”
“What stocking?” said Jilly.
Katherine and Patricia screamed, “Your stocking, silly, for Father Christmas to put presents in, tonight, it’s Christmas Eve. We are going to church and then when we come home we are going to put Baby Jesus in the crib, and hang our stockings on our beds, and Father Christmas will come in the night and put presents in our stockings.”
“Jilly said “That’s stupid, no one can come in your house in the night, and anyway my Daddy says we don’t do Christmas.”
“He comes down the chimney,” said Katherine, “and everyone does Christmas round here.”
Jilly went home, Mummy and Daddy were having a cup of tea, there were no cooking smells, no tree or star. It wasn’t very cheerful in her house.
“When shall I hang my stocking up?” she asked.
“What’s this about a stocking?” said Daddy, and he looked cross again.
“For Father Christmas,” said Jilly, “to put presents in, he comes in the night down the chimney.”
“We’re having no flying saints in this house, and no tree, no star, nothing, we don’t do Christmas, do you hear me?” and he thumped the table and stamped off into the kitchen. Mummy went after him and Jilly could hear them, mumble, mumble, mumble ….
She played by herself in the living room, with her cut out dolls; she made them a tree out of newspaper and a star out of a shiny sweet paper she had been saving. She told them about Christmas; Jesus came to save the world, she knew that must be right because the big War was over and the daddies had come home, so the world was safe now; and Father Christmas would be able to come. Perhaps he hadn’t come before because the world was a bad world. Now he could bring presents, and put them in the stockings.
Mummy came in, “Come on, Jilly, time for your tea, and then bed – it’s getting quite dark already.”
Jilly picked up her dolls, “Never mind,” she told them, “it probably couldn’t really happen anyway.”
Later after her bath and a story Mummy tucked Jilly into bed, “Here,” she said, “let’s put this on the end of the bed.” She gave Jilly a long white woolen stocking.
“That’s Daddy’s,” said Jilly, “out of his big flying boots. Won’t he be cross? He said no Christmas.”
“We’ll see,” said Mummy, “you never know, maybe there will be a miracle.”
“What’s a miracle,” said Jilly
“Something amazing that happens that you can’t explain.” said Mummy. She kissed Jilly goodnight and went out. Jilly snuggled down in bed, Mummy had spread Daddy’s greatcoat over the bed to keep her warm; she liked to think of the greatcoat flying high in the sky with Daddy in the airplanes. She pretended it was a magic coat that it would take her to Father Christmas, where ever he was.
Drifting into sleep she could hear mumble, mumble, mumble in the kitchen, and then the back door rattled and someone wiped his feet on the raspy mat, who was that? ‘Away in a Manger’ floated in her head and something rustled and crinkled on the bed, was it the magic coat bringing her back?
“Wake up, Jilly, wake up!” That was Mummy. Jilly sat up and looked for her dressing gown on the end of the bed…… what was this, the flying stocking had grown fat and lumpy in the night and it rustled and crinkled when she moved.
Mummy came in, “Well, well,” she said laughing, “he’s been, aren’t you going to look inside?”
Jilly carefully pulled out the rustling parcels. There was a red notebook just like the one Mummy kept her shopping lists in, which Jilly wasn’t allowed to write in… and two lovely long shiny pencils, whole pencils, not stumpy broken ones … there was a book, Alice in Wonderland, it had beautiful colored pictures of animals and a little girl with long fair hair, Jilly had seen the same book in Granny’s house, but no one would read it to her, they were too busy … now she had her own … and what was this squishy package? Mittens, striped green and brown, the same colors as the jumper Grandma had been knitting for her. She put them on, then opened the next package, it was hard and it had a funny smell … inside was a red and gold wrapper, chocolate? Only the soldiers and airmen were given chocolate, Jilly had only ever tasted one piece, now she had a whole bar …
“Keep going,” said Mummy, and down at the very toe of the stocking were some hard little lumps, nuts, and a big sweet smelling thing wrapped in tissue paper … an orange…
Jilly grabbed up all the packages and ran into the living room. It was warm and cosy with the smell of bacon and hot toast. The brass candlestick glowed on the mantelpiece. Daddy was sitting in his big chair by the fire, with a cup of tea, he didn’t seem so cross today.
“It’s Christmas, Daddy, it’s Christmas and look, Father Christmas came! Did you let him in?”
“I don’t know anything about Father Christmas,” said Daddy smiling, “you’d better ask your mother.”
“It must be a miracle,” said Jilly.
“Yes,” said Mummy, “a Christmas miracle, especially for you,” and she smiled at Daddy.
‘What’s Christmas?
The Christmas Miracle
The wireless was playing that song again “…away… away in a manger,” Jilly listened, who was away, who had gone away? Then it played the little drummer boy song, “… par rump a pum pum, me and my drum.”
“Mummy, why has the little boy gone away?”
Mummy was cleaning the brass candle stick that had lived in Granny’s house, “… rub a dub dub, par rump a pum pum,” she sang
“What little boy?” she asked
“The little boy, he’s gone away, and he doesn’t have anything to bring, was he naughty?”
“Oh, Jilly, that is the little drummer boy in the song, he wants to bring a gift to Jesus, in the manger, it’s just a Christmas song.”
“Is it Christmas now?”
Daddy put down his newspaper, “No, that’s just a superstitious celebration” he said crossly, snapping off the wireless, “and we won’t be doing Christmas in this house”
Jilly looked at him, Daddy was sometimes scary. He had only recently come home from the WAR, very handsome in his smart blue uniform, but it was uncomfortable having him around. He took up all Mummy’s time, and shouted and got very cross if things weren’t right. Now he was cross about Christmas. Usually they went to Granny’s for Christmas dinner; once they had chicken and little sausages. Jilly loved the little sausages, and the bread sauce, and sometimes the aunties made mince pies – Jilly didn’t like those, but the grown-ups did, and after the mince pies Granny got out her knitting and they told stories and sang songs and shared little presents. That was Christmas she thought, the aunties and Mummy and Granny and Jilly, cozy together round the fire. All the men were away at the War, in their blue and brown uniforms, they didn’t bother Christmas; but now it was going to be different.
“Well, aren’t we going to have chicken,” she asked, “and little sausages?”
Daddy shook his paper and growled, Mummy put the candle stick back on the mantelpiece, “We’ll see,” she said, “why don’t you run outside and play with Sheila and Betty?”
Sheila and Betty were playing on the wall, balancing along it, singing ‘Away in a manger’, Jilly joined them, “Who went away,” she asked, “was it the little boy?”
“Don’t you know anything?” said Betty, “No one went away, someone came, to save the world … Baby Jesus,”
“And everyone brought him gifts,” said Sheila, “they followed the star and brought him gifts, but the little drummer boy didn’t have anything to bring so he just brought himself. Did you put your tree up yet?
“What tree?”
“For the gifts”, said Betty, “and the star, ours is up, come and see.”
In Betty’s house the couch was pushed back along the wall and a big green pine tree was standing in the corner, it had a star on the top, but nothing else was on it.
“We are going to decorate it tonight,” said Betty, “with paper chains and silver tinsel, and candles”
“We have a candle,” said Jilly, “on the mantelpiece, Mummy polished it today, it’s all shiny, for Christmas.”
“Well, do you have your tree up?” asked Sheila, “Our daddy is bringing ours tonight.”
Jilly didn’t want to be left out so she said, “Ours is coming tonight too”, and she ran home to ask her Mummy about the tree and the star. At home Mummy was talking to Daddy in the kitchen, Jilly could hear them mumble, mumble, mumble… she looked around the living room, there was not much space, but maybe if she rearranged the chairs they could put a tree in front of the window. She began to drag the chairs across the room, the rugs bunched up and it was hard work. She knocked over the big lamp and Mummy came in,
“Jilly, what are you doing?”
“Making room for the Christmas tree,” said Jilly, “Betty and Sheila have got theirs already.”
Daddy growled, “There’ll be no tree in this house, I told you we don’t do Christmas.”
Gilly was sad, she helped Mummy pull the rugs straight and put the chairs back. “I really wanted a tree,” she said, “and Christmas.”
“We’ll see,” said Mummy.
The next day Jilly went to play with Katherine and Patricia across the street. They showed Jilly their crèche. Jilly looked at the little wooden figures, made from smooth, nice smelling wood. She wanted to play with the dear little donkey and the sheep, but Katherine and Patricia said the crèche wasn’t to play with, it was special, it told the Christmas story; they showed her Joseph and Mary and the kings on their camels coming with their gifts, and the shepherds standing at the back.
“Where is Jesus?” asked Jilly.
“He hasn’t come yet,” said Katherine.
Their Mummy was busy baking, mince pies she said, and stuffing ready for a turkey and bread sauce with onions. It all smelled delicious.
“Hello, Jilly,” she said, “Have you got your stocking ready?”
“What stocking?” said Jilly.
Katherine and Patricia screamed, “Your stocking, silly, for Father Christmas to put presents in, tonight, it’s Christmas Eve. We are going to church and then when we come home we are going to put Baby Jesus in the crib, and hang our stockings on our beds, and Father Christmas will come in the night and put presents in our stockings.”
“Jilly said “That’s stupid, no one can come in your house in the night, and anyway my Daddy says we don’t do Christmas.”
“He comes down the chimney,” said Katherine, “and everyone does Christmas round here.”
Jilly went home, Mummy and Daddy were having a cup of tea, there were no cooking smells, no tree or star. It wasn’t very cheerful in her house.
“When shall I hang my stocking up?” she asked.
“What’s this about a stocking?” said Daddy, and he looked cross again.
“For Father Christmas,” said Jilly, “to put presents in, he comes in the night down the chimney.”
“We’re having no flying saints in this house, and no tree, no star, nothing, we don’t do Christmas, do you hear me?” and he thumped the table and stamped off into the kitchen. Mummy went after him and Jilly could hear them, mumble, mumble, mumble ….
She played by herself in the living room, with her cut out dolls; she made them a tree out of newspaper and a star out of a shiny sweet paper she had been saving. She told them about Christmas; Jesus came to save the world, she knew that must be right because the big War was over and the daddies had come home, so the world was safe now; and Father Christmas would be able to come. Perhaps he hadn’t come before because the world was a bad world. Now he could bring presents, and put them in the stockings.
Mummy came in, “Come on, Jilly, time for your tea, and then bed – it’s getting quite dark already.”
Jilly picked up her dolls, “Never mind,” she told them, “it probably couldn’t really happen anyway.”
Later after her bath and a story Mummy tucked Jilly into bed, “Here,” she said, “let’s put this on the end of the bed.” She gave Jilly a long white woolen stocking.
“That’s Daddy’s,” said Jilly, “out of his big flying boots. Won’t he be cross? He said no Christmas.”
“We’ll see,” said Mummy, “you never know, maybe there will be a miracle.”
“What’s a miracle,” said Jilly
“Something amazing that happens that you can’t explain.” said Mummy. She kissed Jilly goodnight and went out. Jilly snuggled down in bed, Mummy had spread Daddy’s greatcoat over the bed to keep her warm; she liked to think of the greatcoat flying high in the sky with Daddy in the airplanes. She pretended it was a magic coat that it would take her to Father Christmas, where ever he was.
Drifting into sleep she could hear mumble, mumble, mumble in the kitchen, and then the back door rattled and someone wiped his feet on the raspy mat, who was that? ‘Away in a Manger’ floated in her head and something rustled and crinkled on the bed, was it the magic coat bringing her back?
“Wake up, Jilly, wake up!” That was Mummy. Jilly sat up and looked for her dressing gown on the end of the bed…… what was this, the flying stocking had grown fat and lumpy in the night and it rustled and crinkled when she moved.
Mummy came in, “Well, well,” she said laughing, “he’s been, aren’t you going to look inside?”
Jilly carefully pulled out the rustling parcels. There was a red notebook just like the one Mummy kept her shopping lists in, which Jilly wasn’t allowed to write in… and two lovely long shiny pencils, whole pencils, not stumpy broken ones … there was a book, Alice in Wonderland, it had beautiful colored pictures of animals and a little girl with long fair hair, Jilly had seen the same book in Granny’s house, but no one would read it to her, they were too busy … now she had her own … and what was this squishy package? Mittens, striped green and brown, the same colors as the jumper Grandma had been knitting for her. She put them on, then opened the next package, it was hard and it had a funny smell … inside was a red and gold wrapper, chocolate? Only the soldiers and airmen were given chocolate, Jilly had only ever tasted one piece, now she had a whole bar …
“Keep going,” said Mummy, and down at the very toe of the stocking were some hard little lumps, nuts, and a big sweet smelling thing wrapped in tissue paper … an orange…
Jilly grabbed up all the packages and ran into the living room. It was warm and cosy with the smell of bacon and hot toast. The brass candlestick glowed on the mantelpiece. Daddy was sitting in his big chair by the fire, with a cup of tea, he didn’t seem so cross today.
“It’s Christmas, Daddy, it’s Christmas and look, Father Christmas came! Did you let him in?”
“I don’t know anything about Father Christmas,” said Daddy smiling, “you’d better ask your mother.”
“It must be a miracle,” said Jilly.
“Yes,” said Mummy, “a Christmas miracle, especially for you,” and she smiled at Daddy.
The Christmas Miracle
The wireless was playing that song again “…away… away in a manger,” Jilly listened, who was away, who had gone away? Then it played the little drummer boy song, “… par rump a pum pum, me and my drum.”
“Mummy, why has the little boy gone away?”
Mummy was cleaning the brass candle stick that had lived in Granny’s house, “… rub a dub dub, par rump a pum pum,” she sang
“What little boy?” she asked
“The little boy, he’s gone away, and he doesn’t have anything to bring, was he naughty?”
“Oh, Jilly, that is the little drummer boy in the song, he wants to bring a gift to Jesus, in the manger, it’s just a Christmas song.”
“Is it Christmas now?”
Daddy put down his newspaper, “No, that’s just a superstitious celebration” he said crossly, snapping off the wireless, “and we won’t be doing Christmas in this house”
Jilly looked at him, Daddy was sometimes scary. He had only recently come home from the WAR, very handsome in his smart blue uniform, but it was uncomfortable having him around. He took up all Mummy’s time, and shouted and got very cross if things weren’t right. Now he was cross about Christmas. Usually they went to Granny’s for Christmas dinner; once they had chicken and little sausages. Jilly loved the little sausages, and the bread sauce, and sometimes the aunties made mince pies – Jilly didn’t like those, but the grown-ups did, and after the mince pies Granny got out her knitting and they told stories and sang songs and shared little presents. That was Christmas she thought, the aunties and Mummy and Granny and Jilly, cozy together round the fire. All the men were away at the War, in their blue and brown uniforms, they didn’t bother Christmas; but now it was going to be different.
“Well, aren’t we going to have chicken,” she asked, “and little sausages?”
Daddy shook his paper and growled, Mummy put the candle stick back on the mantelpiece, “We’ll see,” she said, “why don’t you run outside and play with Sheila and Betty?”
Sheila and Betty were playing on the wall, balancing along it, singing ‘Away in a manger’, Jilly joined them, “Who went away,” she asked, “was it the little boy?”
“Don’t you know anything?” said Betty, “No one went away, someone came, to save the world … Baby Jesus,”
“And everyone brought him gifts,” said Sheila, “they followed the star and brought him gifts, but the little drummer boy didn’t have anything to bring so he just brought himself. Did you put your tree up yet?
“What tree?”
“For the gifts”, said Betty, “and the star, ours is up, come and see.”
In Betty’s house the couch was pushed back along the wall and a big green pine tree was standing in the corner, it had a star on the top, but nothing else was on it.
“We are going to decorate it tonight,” said Betty, “with paper chains and silver tinsel, and candles”
“We have a candle,” said Jilly, “on the mantelpiece, Mummy polished it today, it’s all shiny, for Christmas.”
“Well, do you have your tree up?” asked Sheila, “Our daddy is bringing ours tonight.”
Jilly didn’t want to be left out so she said, “Ours is coming tonight too”, and she ran home to ask her Mummy about the tree and the star. At home Mummy was talking to Daddy in the kitchen, Jilly could hear them mumble, mumble, mumble… she looked around the living room, there was not much space, but maybe if she rearranged the chairs they could put a tree in front of the window. She began to drag the chairs across the room, the rugs bunched up and it was hard work. She knocked over the big lamp and Mummy came in,
“Jilly, what are you doing?”
“Making room for the Christmas tree,” said Jilly, “Betty and Sheila have got theirs already.”
Daddy growled, “There’ll be no tree in this house, I told you we don’t do Christmas.”
Gilly was sad, she helped Mummy pull the rugs straight and put the chairs back. “I really wanted a tree,” she said, “and Christmas.”
“We’ll see,” said Mummy.
The next day Jilly went to play with Katherine and Patricia across the street. They showed Jilly their crèche. Jilly looked at the little wooden figures, made from smooth, nice smelling wood. She wanted to play with the dear little donkey and the sheep, but Katherine and Patricia said the crèche wasn’t to play with, it was special, it told the Christmas story; they showed her Joseph and Mary and the kings on their camels coming with their gifts, and the shepherds standing at the back.
“Where is Jesus?” asked Jilly.
“He hasn’t come yet,” said Katherine.
Their Mummy was busy baking, mince pies she said, and stuffing ready for a turkey and bread sauce with onions. It all smelled delicious.
“Hello, Jilly,” she said, “Have you got your stocking ready?”
“What stocking?” said Jilly.
Katherine and Patricia screamed, “Your stocking, silly, for Father Christmas to put presents in, tonight, it’s Christmas Eve. We are going to church and then when we come home we are going to put Baby Jesus in the crib, and hang our stockings on our beds, and Father Christmas will come in the night and put presents in our stockings.”
“Jilly said “That’s stupid, no one can come in your house in the night, and anyway my Daddy says we don’t do Christmas.”
“He comes down the chimney,” said Katherine, “and everyone does Christmas round here.”
Jilly went home, Mummy and Daddy were having a cup of tea, there were no cooking smells, no tree or star. It wasn’t very cheerful in her house.
“When shall I hang my stocking up?” she asked.
“What’s this about a stocking?” said Daddy, and he looked cross again.
“For Father Christmas,” said Jilly, “to put presents in, he comes in the night down the chimney.”
“We’re having no flying saints in this house, and no tree, no star, nothing, we don’t do Christmas, do you hear me?” and he thumped the table and stamped off into the kitchen. Mummy went after him and Jilly could hear them, mumble, mumble, mumble ….
She played by herself in the living room, with her cut out dolls; she made them a tree out of newspaper and a star out of a shiny sweet paper she had been saving. She told them about Christmas; Jesus came to save the world, she knew that must be right because the big War was over and the daddies had come home, so the world was safe now; and Father Christmas would be able to come. Perhaps he hadn’t come before because the world was a bad world. Now he could bring presents, and put them in the stockings.
Mummy came in, “Come on, Jilly, time for your tea, and then bed – it’s getting quite dark already.”
Jilly picked up her dolls, “Never mind,” she told them, “it probably couldn’t really happen anyway.”
Later after her bath and a story Mummy tucked Jilly into bed, “Here,” she said, “let’s put this on the end of the bed.” She gave Jilly a long white woolen stocking.
“That’s Daddy’s,” said Jilly, “out of his big flying boots. Won’t he be cross? He said no Christmas.”
“We’ll see,” said Mummy, “you never know, maybe there will be a miracle.”
“What’s a miracle,” said Jilly
“Something amazing that happens that you can’t explain.” said Mummy. She kissed Jilly goodnight and went out. Jilly snuggled down in bed, Mummy had spread Daddy’s greatcoat over the bed to keep her warm; she liked to think of the greatcoat flying high in the sky with Daddy in the airplanes. She pretended it was a magic coat that it would take her to Father Christmas, where ever he was.
Drifting into sleep she could hear mumble, mumble, mumble in the kitchen, and then the back door rattled and someone wiped his feet on the raspy mat, who was that? ‘Away in a Manger’ floated in her head and something rustled and crinkled on the bed, was it the magic coat bringing her back?
“Wake up, Jilly, wake up!” That was Mummy. Jilly sat up and looked for her dressing gown on the end of the bed…… what was this, the flying stocking had grown fat and lumpy in the night and it rustled and crinkled when she moved.
Mummy came in, “Well, well,” she said laughing, “he’s been, aren’t you going to look inside?”
Jilly carefully pulled out the rustling parcels. There was a red notebook just like the one Mummy kept her shopping lists in, which Jilly wasn’t allowed to write in… and two lovely long shiny pencils, whole pencils, not stumpy broken ones … there was a book, Alice in Wonderland, it had beautiful colored pictures of animals and a little girl with long fair hair, Jilly had seen the same book in Granny’s house, but no one would read it to her, they were too busy … now she had her own … and what was this squishy package? Mittens, striped green and brown, the same colors as the jumper Grandma had been knitting for her. She put them on, then opened the next package, it was hard and it had a funny smell … inside was a red and gold wrapper, chocolate? Only the soldiers and airmen were given chocolate, Jilly had only ever tasted one piece, now she had a whole bar …
“Keep going,” said Mummy, and down at the very toe of the stocking were some hard little lumps, nuts, and a big sweet smelling thing wrapped in tissue paper … an orange…
Jilly grabbed up all the packages and ran into the living room. It was warm and cosy with the smell of bacon and hot toast. The brass candlestick glowed on the mantelpiece. Daddy was sitting in his big chair by the fire, with a cup of tea, he didn’t seem so cross today.
“It’s Christmas, Daddy, it’s Christmas and look, Father Christmas came! Did you let him in?”
“I don’t know anything about Father Christmas,” said Daddy smiling, “you’d better ask your mother.”
“It must be a miracle,” said Jilly.
“Yes,” said Mummy, “a Christmas miracle, especially for you,” and she smiled at Daddy.
‘What’s Christmas?
The Christmas Miracle
The wireless was playing that song again “…away… away in a manger,” Jilly listened, who was away, who had gone away? Then it played the little drummer boy song, “… par rump a pum pum, me and my drum.”
“Mummy, why has the little boy gone away?”
Mummy was cleaning the brass candle stick that had lived in Granny’s house, “… rub a dub dub, par rump a pum pum,” she sang
“What little boy?” she asked
“The little boy, he’s gone away, and he doesn’t have anything to bring, was he naughty?”
“Oh, Jilly, that is the little drummer boy in the song, he wants to bring a gift to Jesus, in the manger, it’s just a Christmas song.”
“Is it Christmas now?”
Daddy put down his newspaper, “No, that’s just a superstitious celebration” he said crossly, snapping off the wireless, “and we won’t be doing Christmas in this house”
Jilly looked at him, Daddy was sometimes scary. He had only recently come home from the WAR, very handsome in his smart blue uniform, but it was uncomfortable having him around. He took up all Mummy’s time, and shouted and got very cross if things weren’t right. Now he was cross about Christmas. Usually they went to Granny’s for Christmas dinner; once they had chicken and little sausages. Jilly loved the little sausages, and the bread sauce, and sometimes the aunties made mince pies – Jilly didn’t like those, but the grown-ups did, and after the mince pies Granny got out her knitting and they told stories and sang songs and shared little presents. That was Christmas she thought, the aunties and Mummy and Granny and Jilly, cozy together round the fire. All the men were away at the War, in their blue and brown uniforms, they didn’t bother Christmas; but now it was going to be different.
“Well, aren’t we going to have chicken,” she asked, “and little sausages?”
Daddy shook his paper and growled, Mummy put the candle stick back on the mantelpiece, “We’ll see,” she said, “why don’t you run outside and play with Sheila and Betty?”
Sheila and Betty were playing on the wall, balancing along it, singing ‘Away in a manger’, Jilly joined them, “Who went away,” she asked, “was it the little boy?”
“Don’t you know anything?” said Betty, “No one went away, someone came, to save the world … Baby Jesus,”
“And everyone brought him gifts,” said Sheila, “they followed the star and brought him gifts, but the little drummer boy didn’t have anything to bring so he just brought himself. Did you put your tree up yet?
“What tree?”
“For the gifts”, said Betty, “and the star, ours is up, come and see.”
In Betty’s house the couch was pushed back along the wall and a big green pine tree was standing in the corner, it had a star on the top, but nothing else was on it.
“We are going to decorate it tonight,” said Betty, “with paper chains and silver tinsel, and candles”
“We have a candle,” said Jilly, “on the mantelpiece, Mummy polished it today, it’s all shiny, for Christmas.”
“Well, do you have your tree up?” asked Sheila, “Our daddy is bringing ours tonight.”
Jilly didn’t want to be left out so she said, “Ours is coming tonight too”, and she ran home to ask her Mummy about the tree and the star. At home Mummy was talking to Daddy in the kitchen, Jilly could hear them mumble, mumble, mumble… she looked around the living room, there was not much space, but maybe if she rearranged the chairs they could put a tree in front of the window. She began to drag the chairs across the room, the rugs bunched up and it was hard work. She knocked over the big lamp and Mummy came in,
“Jilly, what are you doing?”
“Making room for the Christmas tree,” said Jilly, “Betty and Sheila have got theirs already.”
Daddy growled, “There’ll be no tree in this house, I told you we don’t do Christmas.”
Gilly was sad, she helped Mummy pull the rugs straight and put the chairs back. “I really wanted a tree,” she said, “and Christmas.”
“We’ll see,” said Mummy.
The next day Jilly went to play with Katherine and Patricia across the street. They showed Jilly their crèche. Jilly looked at the little wooden figures, made from smooth, nice smelling wood. She wanted to play with the dear little donkey and the sheep, but Katherine and Patricia said the crèche wasn’t to play with, it was special, it told the Christmas story; they showed her Joseph and Mary and the kings on their camels coming with their gifts, and the shepherds standing at the back.
“Where is Jesus?” asked Jilly.
“He hasn’t come yet,” said Katherine.
Their Mummy was busy baking, mince pies she said, and stuffing ready for a turkey and bread sauce with onions. It all smelled delicious.
“Hello, Jilly,” she said, “Have you got your stocking ready?”
“What stocking?” said Jilly.
Katherine and Patricia screamed, “Your stocking, silly, for Father Christmas to put presents in, tonight, it’s Christmas Eve. We are going to church and then when we come home we are going to put Baby Jesus in the crib, and hang our stockings on our beds, and Father Christmas will come in the night and put presents in our stockings.”
“Jilly said “That’s stupid, no one can come in your house in the night, and anyway my Daddy says we don’t do Christmas.”
“He comes down the chimney,” said Katherine, “and everyone does Christmas round here.”
Jilly went home, Mummy and Daddy were having a cup of tea, there were no cooking smells, no tree or star. It wasn’t very cheerful in her house.
“When shall I hang my stocking up?” she asked.
“What’s this about a stocking?” said Daddy, and he looked cross again.
“For Father Christmas,” said Jilly, “to put presents in, he comes in the night down the chimney.”
“We’re having no flying saints in this house, and no tree, no star, nothing, we don’t do Christmas, do you hear me?” and he thumped the table and stamped off into the kitchen. Mummy went after him and Jilly could hear them, mumble, mumble, mumble ….
She played by herself in the living room, with her cut out dolls; she made them a tree out of newspaper and a star out of a shiny sweet paper she had been saving. She told them about Christmas; Jesus came to save the world, she knew that must be right because the big War was over and the daddies had come home, so the world was safe now; and Father Christmas would be able to come. Perhaps he hadn’t come before because the world was a bad world. Now he could bring presents, and put them in the stockings.
Mummy came in, “Come on, Jilly, time for your tea, and then bed – it’s getting quite dark already.”
Jilly picked up her dolls, “Never mind,” she told them, “it probably couldn’t really happen anyway.”
Later after her bath and a story Mummy tucked Jilly into bed, “Here,” she said, “let’s put this on the end of the bed.” She gave Jilly a long white woolen stocking.
“That’s Daddy’s,” said Jilly, “out of his big flying boots. Won’t he be cross? He said no Christmas.”
“We’ll see,” said Mummy, “you never know, maybe there will be a miracle.”
“What’s a miracle,” said Jilly
“Something amazing that happens that you can’t explain.” said Mummy. She kissed Jilly goodnight and went out. Jilly snuggled down in bed, Mummy had spread Daddy’s greatcoat over the bed to keep her warm; she liked to think of the greatcoat flying high in the sky with Daddy in the airplanes. She pretended it was a magic coat that it would take her to Father Christmas, where ever he was.
Drifting into sleep she could hear mumble, mumble, mumble in the kitchen, and then the back door rattled and someone wiped his feet on the raspy mat, who was that? ‘Away in a Manger’ floated in her head and something rustled and crinkled on the bed, was it the magic coat bringing her back?
“Wake up, Jilly, wake up!” That was Mummy. Jilly sat up and looked for her dressing gown on the end of the bed…… what was this, the flying stocking had grown fat and lumpy in the night and it rustled and crinkled when she moved.
Mummy came in, “Well, well,” she said laughing, “he’s been, aren’t you going to look inside?”
Jilly carefully pulled out the rustling parcels. There was a red notebook just like the one Mummy kept her shopping lists in, which Jilly wasn’t allowed to write in… and two lovely long shiny pencils, whole pencils, not stumpy broken ones … there was a book, Alice in Wonderland, it had beautiful colored pictures of animals and a little girl with long fair hair, Jilly had seen the same book in Granny’s house, but no one would read it to her, they were too busy … now she had her own … and what was this squishy package? Mittens, striped green and brown, the same colors as the jumper Grandma had been knitting for her. She put them on, then opened the next package, it was hard and it had a funny smell … inside was a red and gold wrapper, chocolate? Only the soldiers and airmen were given chocolate, Jilly had only ever tasted one piece, now she had a whole bar …
“Keep going,” said Mummy, and down at the very toe of the stocking were some hard little lumps, nuts, and a big sweet smelling thing wrapped in tissue paper … an orange…
Jilly grabbed up all the packages and ran into the living room. It was warm and cosy with the smell of bacon and hot toast. The brass candlestick glowed on the mantelpiece. Daddy was sitting in his big chair by the fire, with a cup of tea, he didn’t seem so cross today.
“It’s Christmas, Daddy, it’s Christmas and look, Father Christmas came! Did you let him in?”
“I don’t know anything about Father Christmas,” said Daddy smiling, “you’d better ask your mother.”
“It must be a miracle,” said Jilly.
“Yes,” said Mummy, “a Christmas miracle, especially for you,” and she smiled at Daddy.
‘What’s Christmas?