Some Christmas Cheer for Thespian15
Title: Never Too Soon
Genre: Are You Being Served
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1978
Prompt: Write a love letter to spring, as if the season were your love interest and you’re anxiously awaiting their return.
thespian15, I hope you will enjoy this bit of fun. My thanks to Sparky955 for her beta
Oh, the weather outside is frightful,
But the fire is so delightful.
Since we've no place to go,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
Mrs. Slocomb shot a smoldering look at the loudspeaker. Her knees were frozen, she had snow melting down her back and her hair looked as if had been done by a drunk person. If there was any justice in the world, the speaker would have fallen from the wall and silence would reign supreme.
“Not in the holiday spirit, dear?” Mr. Humphries was brushing snow from his hat.
“How’d you like a spring of holly stuffed down your pants?” she snapped and stomped off to her counter. Mr. Humphries was dumbstruck. His mouth worked, but nothing came out.
“Have you ever heard--” Mr. Lucas started, but he paused to remove his own outwear.
“Are you all right, Mrs. Slocomb?” Miss Brahms was almost afraid to say anything, but suddenly Mrs. Slocomb burst into tears and disappeared through to the women changing booth. She shot a look of desperation at her colleagues and hurried after her.
There was a muffled chime and Captain Peacock appeared as if by magic. However, even he was sniffling and wiping his nose. He coughed into his handkerchief and tucked it away.
“Stations, please.” He glanced around at the empty department floor, then added, “Not that it makes much difference.”
“Captain Peacock, you’re management, so you must know how they think. Why is it they make us slog our way to work in the middle of a snow storm and a traffic strike, knowing full well there will be no customers to serve?”
“Hope springs eternal,” was the man’s dry answer. “Where are the ladies?”
“Changing booth. Mrs. Slocomb is in a state.”
Peacock managed to get his handkerchief out just in time to catch his sneeze. “As are we all.”
Miss Brahms appeared and looked very glum. “I haven’t seen her this low since Mr. Rumbold took away her blow tickler at the party.”
“What’s wrong?”
“She’s fed up with winter.”
“Who isn’t?” Lucas tossed his overcoat into a corner behind the counters. “I can’t remember a winter this bad… or the commissions.”
“She keeps going on and on about how blue she is and not having no one to spend Christmas with.”
“I thought she and Mrs. Axelby always had the holiday together.”
“She’s been invited to her sister’s and Mrs. Slocomb wasn’t.” Miss Brahms tapped the side of her nose and nodded.”
“Well, she can have dinner with me and my mother. There’s always room at our table. May not have food, but there will be room.”
“Even after I said that horrible thing to you?” Mrs. Slocomb stood there, looking so miserable that all but the hardest heart would melt. Immediately. Miss Brahms went to her and wrapped a supportive arm about her.
“I know you didn’t mean it, dear.” Mr. Humphries glanced quickly at Peacock, who nodded. Thus assured, Humphries hurried to her side. “Now I tell you what. When I was a little boy--”
“Please don’t say you sang carols.”
“Well, that, too, but no. When I would get blue during the holidays, my mother would have me write a love letter to Spring.”
“Was it that hard for you to get a bird when you were a boy, then?” Lucas joked.
“Just the opposite. She would stand at the bedroom window and shoo them away.”
“Were they pigeons?” Miss Brahms asked, her arm still around Mrs. Slocomb.
“No, the triplets from next door.” Mr. Humphries didn’t miss a beat. He dug a pad of paper from his pocket. “Now why don’t you jot down all the lovely things you are looking forward to and on our break, we’ll compose a letter to her.”
Mrs. Slocomb shot a look of pure adoration at him and hurried back to her counter.
““That sounds like a remarkable idea, Mr. Humphries.” Captain Peacock murmured. “And it looks like that bought you a couple of hours.”
“And hopefully enough time to convince my mother about having a guest for Christmas.”
The staff of the Men’s Ready Wear and Ladies Intimate Apparel sat staring at the table in front of them. It was covered with dishes of food not easily identified.
“What is this?”
“I’m just glad that Mr. Granger isn’t here to see this.” Mr. Humphries’s voice crackled with dismay.
“I wish I wasn’t,” Lucas muttered. He poked at something that looked like meat. “What is this?”
“I don’t know, but don’t annoy it.”
Mr. Rumbold entered, slapping his hands together. “Ah, good you are all here. Mr. Grace has decided, owing to the inclement weather,”
“He’s closing the store and giving us a day off!” Lucas was on his feet and halfway to the door.
“Sit down, Mr. Lucas.” Captain Peacock’s voice was firm. “Pray continue, Mr. Rumbold?”
“He feared you become lost in the storm if you were to try and leave the store, so he was most generously laid out this sumptuous feast before you.”
“In short, they’re cleaning out the freezer,” Lucas muttered. “I don’t even know what some of this is.”
“Well, there are one or two items that defy identifying because their labels fell off.”
Mr. Humphries poked at something. “It’s probably just as well, since none of us read Latin anyhow.”
“Latin, Mr. Humphries?” Mrs. Slocomb was trying to put a brave face on things.
“Makes sense since the Romans probably carried the cans over.”
“Well, I will leave you to it.”
“Won’t you join us, Mr. Rumbold?”
“No, I’m going through to Executive Dining room.” He sounds relieved and a bit embarrassed.
The moment he disappeared, Mr. Humphries pushed his plate away and spread out a piece of paper. “Now, Mrs. Slocomb, what would you like your letter to say?”
Mrs. Slocomb pulled the paper she’d been scribbling on all morning and flattened it out on the table. “Well, that we miss her and long to hear her singing to us.”
“Singing?” Miss Brahms braved a forkful of a pudding like substance. “This isn’t bad.”
“The birds. All the birds are singing and they invite us to join them in song. Spring is full of hope and promise, a promise of deliverance from the snow and ice, freedom from the heavy coats, mufflers, boots, and gloves.”
“Try the green stuff. It’s pretty good.” Lucas said. “Still, it’s nice we’re in a position to be able to afford all that stuff. And we’ve got a steady paycheck, such as it is. And it’s warm, most of the time.”
“Yes, thank the stars for that.” Captain Peacock, made bold by his co-workers’ success tried a brownish dish closest to him. “My word, that takes me back. I haven’t had Everything in Wartime Stew since I was a boy.”
“And this reminds me of Meaty Gravy,” Mrs. Slocomb said. “It’s delicious. All you have to do is not look directly at it while you’re eating it.”
“You should say something about the flowers,” Miss Brahms took a roll and broke it open. “Ooo, these are more dessert like.”
“We used to call those rock buns,” Mr. Humphries said. “And just think, if the weather wasn’t so awful outside, we’d never had discovered these.”
“I suppose I’m not all that much in a hurry for Spring.” The paper was tucked away. “And we do have an extra day off for Christmas this year.” She took a helping of vegetable and oatmeal goulash. “What can I bring?”
Mr. Humphries smiled. “What’s your specialty?”
“Split pea soup with homemade croutons.”
“That will be fine. And maybe something for dessert.”
They were so busy with their merrymaking that they didn’t see a disgruntled Rumbold as he passed.
“Something wrong, sir?” Peacock finally noticed their brooding manager.
“The food was hideous. Something went wrong with the freezer and the pilcher was off.”
Mr. Grace appeared, supported by his nurse and his secretary. Immediately, the department was on their feet.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Grace,” they sand in unison.
“How was the feast?” He waved towards the table with his cane.
“Very good, sir.” Captain Peacock offered his chair. “Perhaps you would like to join us?”
“Really?” They guided him to it and he surveyed the dishes. “I don’t think very much of these.”
“But appearances can be deceiving, Mr. Grace.”
“You have certainly proven that, Mr. Humphries.” Mr. Grace tried to serve himself, but the spoon had a mind of its own. Mrs. Slocomb slipped in and placed a small amount of everything on his plate.
“There you are, sir.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Slocomb.” He poised his fork and then added. “Word on the vine is that you have been feeling a bit blue.”
“Well, yes,” Mrs. Slocomb dropped her attention to her lap. “Mr. Humphries suggested that we write a letter to Spring and let her know that her return is anxiously anticipated.”
“Is that the young lady from Novelty Candles? You know, THAT one?”
“No, that is Miss Havashaff.” Captain Peacock said.
Aside to his nurse, Mr. Grace murmured, “Trust him to know.” He managed a few spoonfuls of food, even as Mr. Rumbold hovered in the background, desperate to be part of the action. Then he wiped his mouth on a napkin and got shakily to his feet. “Thank you for permitting me to join you. You’ve all done very well. Expect a little thank you after work tonight.”
“Thank you, Mr. Grace.” The members of the departments stood and then looked at each other eagerly as he left.
The afternoon saw a surge of customers and it sped by.
“I’ve been rushed off my feet all afternoon. I think I made more in commission today than I have in the last two weeks.” Mrs. Slocomb dropped to a chair and eased her feet out of his shoes.
Even Mr. Lucas was feeling flush with success. “I can’t remember a Christmas Eve eve eve quite this busy. I wonder what old Mr. Grace was talking about at lunch.”
“Oh, I’d quite forgotten about that,” Mr. Humphries rang up one last sale and closed the register. “I’m just glad we’ll be getting paid before we close on the 24th.”
“Surely you don’t put off your Christmas shopping, Mr. Humphries.” Captain Peacock had already fetched his hat and coat when Mr. Harmon arrived, carrying a tray with several glasses on it.”
“Compliments of the Management,” he announced formally. “On account of we got too much of the stuff and can’t send it back.”
“You’d never find this happening in the Spring,” Miss Brahms said as she eagerly collected a glass for her and Mrs. Slocomb.
Music started playing and Captain Peacock swept forward, bowing to Mrs. Slocomb. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?”
Mrs. Slocomb giggled and got to her feet. “Would you mind if I kept my shoes off? My bunions are right killing me.”
“Just like the old days, meeting up in a hall, dancing the night away to keep from thinking about those back home and we have you to thank for it.”
“Me? I don’t understand.”
“Well, if you hadn’t been in a bad mood, Mr. Humphries wouldn’t have suggested the letter, which meant we’d have missed that eventually lovely luncheon in the canteen and then to this.” He guided her around the sales floor. “And for that, dear lady, thank you. Who needs Spring when we have each other?”
“Why, thank you, kind sir.”
Mr. Lucas took Miss Brahms’s hand and they started circling as well.
Outside Grace Bros., the snow came down, but the staff danced and laughed and knew that Spring when it came would be welcomed, but for now winter suited them just fine.
For the record, all these recipes and many more are available here:
*200+ Wartime Recipes – The 1940's Experiment
Genre: Are You Being Served
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1978
Prompt: Write a love letter to spring, as if the season were your love interest and you’re anxiously awaiting their return.
thespian15, I hope you will enjoy this bit of fun. My thanks to Sparky955 for her betaOh, the weather outside is frightful,
But the fire is so delightful.
Since we've no place to go,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
Mrs. Slocomb shot a smoldering look at the loudspeaker. Her knees were frozen, she had snow melting down her back and her hair looked as if had been done by a drunk person. If there was any justice in the world, the speaker would have fallen from the wall and silence would reign supreme.
“Not in the holiday spirit, dear?” Mr. Humphries was brushing snow from his hat.
“How’d you like a spring of holly stuffed down your pants?” she snapped and stomped off to her counter. Mr. Humphries was dumbstruck. His mouth worked, but nothing came out.
“Have you ever heard--” Mr. Lucas started, but he paused to remove his own outwear.
“Are you all right, Mrs. Slocomb?” Miss Brahms was almost afraid to say anything, but suddenly Mrs. Slocomb burst into tears and disappeared through to the women changing booth. She shot a look of desperation at her colleagues and hurried after her.
There was a muffled chime and Captain Peacock appeared as if by magic. However, even he was sniffling and wiping his nose. He coughed into his handkerchief and tucked it away.
“Stations, please.” He glanced around at the empty department floor, then added, “Not that it makes much difference.”
“Captain Peacock, you’re management, so you must know how they think. Why is it they make us slog our way to work in the middle of a snow storm and a traffic strike, knowing full well there will be no customers to serve?”
“Hope springs eternal,” was the man’s dry answer. “Where are the ladies?”
“Changing booth. Mrs. Slocomb is in a state.”
Peacock managed to get his handkerchief out just in time to catch his sneeze. “As are we all.”
Miss Brahms appeared and looked very glum. “I haven’t seen her this low since Mr. Rumbold took away her blow tickler at the party.”
“What’s wrong?”
“She’s fed up with winter.”
“Who isn’t?” Lucas tossed his overcoat into a corner behind the counters. “I can’t remember a winter this bad… or the commissions.”
“She keeps going on and on about how blue she is and not having no one to spend Christmas with.”
“I thought she and Mrs. Axelby always had the holiday together.”
“She’s been invited to her sister’s and Mrs. Slocomb wasn’t.” Miss Brahms tapped the side of her nose and nodded.”
“Well, she can have dinner with me and my mother. There’s always room at our table. May not have food, but there will be room.”
“Even after I said that horrible thing to you?” Mrs. Slocomb stood there, looking so miserable that all but the hardest heart would melt. Immediately. Miss Brahms went to her and wrapped a supportive arm about her.
“I know you didn’t mean it, dear.” Mr. Humphries glanced quickly at Peacock, who nodded. Thus assured, Humphries hurried to her side. “Now I tell you what. When I was a little boy--”
“Please don’t say you sang carols.”
“Well, that, too, but no. When I would get blue during the holidays, my mother would have me write a love letter to Spring.”
“Was it that hard for you to get a bird when you were a boy, then?” Lucas joked.
“Just the opposite. She would stand at the bedroom window and shoo them away.”
“Were they pigeons?” Miss Brahms asked, her arm still around Mrs. Slocomb.
“No, the triplets from next door.” Mr. Humphries didn’t miss a beat. He dug a pad of paper from his pocket. “Now why don’t you jot down all the lovely things you are looking forward to and on our break, we’ll compose a letter to her.”
Mrs. Slocomb shot a look of pure adoration at him and hurried back to her counter.
““That sounds like a remarkable idea, Mr. Humphries.” Captain Peacock murmured. “And it looks like that bought you a couple of hours.”
“And hopefully enough time to convince my mother about having a guest for Christmas.”
The staff of the Men’s Ready Wear and Ladies Intimate Apparel sat staring at the table in front of them. It was covered with dishes of food not easily identified.
“What is this?”
“I’m just glad that Mr. Granger isn’t here to see this.” Mr. Humphries’s voice crackled with dismay.
“I wish I wasn’t,” Lucas muttered. He poked at something that looked like meat. “What is this?”
“I don’t know, but don’t annoy it.”
Mr. Rumbold entered, slapping his hands together. “Ah, good you are all here. Mr. Grace has decided, owing to the inclement weather,”
“He’s closing the store and giving us a day off!” Lucas was on his feet and halfway to the door.
“Sit down, Mr. Lucas.” Captain Peacock’s voice was firm. “Pray continue, Mr. Rumbold?”
“He feared you become lost in the storm if you were to try and leave the store, so he was most generously laid out this sumptuous feast before you.”
“In short, they’re cleaning out the freezer,” Lucas muttered. “I don’t even know what some of this is.”
“Well, there are one or two items that defy identifying because their labels fell off.”
Mr. Humphries poked at something. “It’s probably just as well, since none of us read Latin anyhow.”
“Latin, Mr. Humphries?” Mrs. Slocomb was trying to put a brave face on things.
“Makes sense since the Romans probably carried the cans over.”
“Well, I will leave you to it.”
“Won’t you join us, Mr. Rumbold?”
“No, I’m going through to Executive Dining room.” He sounds relieved and a bit embarrassed.
The moment he disappeared, Mr. Humphries pushed his plate away and spread out a piece of paper. “Now, Mrs. Slocomb, what would you like your letter to say?”
Mrs. Slocomb pulled the paper she’d been scribbling on all morning and flattened it out on the table. “Well, that we miss her and long to hear her singing to us.”
“Singing?” Miss Brahms braved a forkful of a pudding like substance. “This isn’t bad.”
“The birds. All the birds are singing and they invite us to join them in song. Spring is full of hope and promise, a promise of deliverance from the snow and ice, freedom from the heavy coats, mufflers, boots, and gloves.”
“Try the green stuff. It’s pretty good.” Lucas said. “Still, it’s nice we’re in a position to be able to afford all that stuff. And we’ve got a steady paycheck, such as it is. And it’s warm, most of the time.”
“Yes, thank the stars for that.” Captain Peacock, made bold by his co-workers’ success tried a brownish dish closest to him. “My word, that takes me back. I haven’t had Everything in Wartime Stew since I was a boy.”
“And this reminds me of Meaty Gravy,” Mrs. Slocomb said. “It’s delicious. All you have to do is not look directly at it while you’re eating it.”
“You should say something about the flowers,” Miss Brahms took a roll and broke it open. “Ooo, these are more dessert like.”
“We used to call those rock buns,” Mr. Humphries said. “And just think, if the weather wasn’t so awful outside, we’d never had discovered these.”
“I suppose I’m not all that much in a hurry for Spring.” The paper was tucked away. “And we do have an extra day off for Christmas this year.” She took a helping of vegetable and oatmeal goulash. “What can I bring?”
Mr. Humphries smiled. “What’s your specialty?”
“Split pea soup with homemade croutons.”
“That will be fine. And maybe something for dessert.”
They were so busy with their merrymaking that they didn’t see a disgruntled Rumbold as he passed.
“Something wrong, sir?” Peacock finally noticed their brooding manager.
“The food was hideous. Something went wrong with the freezer and the pilcher was off.”
Mr. Grace appeared, supported by his nurse and his secretary. Immediately, the department was on their feet.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Grace,” they sand in unison.
“How was the feast?” He waved towards the table with his cane.
“Very good, sir.” Captain Peacock offered his chair. “Perhaps you would like to join us?”
“Really?” They guided him to it and he surveyed the dishes. “I don’t think very much of these.”
“But appearances can be deceiving, Mr. Grace.”
“You have certainly proven that, Mr. Humphries.” Mr. Grace tried to serve himself, but the spoon had a mind of its own. Mrs. Slocomb slipped in and placed a small amount of everything on his plate.
“There you are, sir.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Slocomb.” He poised his fork and then added. “Word on the vine is that you have been feeling a bit blue.”
“Well, yes,” Mrs. Slocomb dropped her attention to her lap. “Mr. Humphries suggested that we write a letter to Spring and let her know that her return is anxiously anticipated.”
“Is that the young lady from Novelty Candles? You know, THAT one?”
“No, that is Miss Havashaff.” Captain Peacock said.
Aside to his nurse, Mr. Grace murmured, “Trust him to know.” He managed a few spoonfuls of food, even as Mr. Rumbold hovered in the background, desperate to be part of the action. Then he wiped his mouth on a napkin and got shakily to his feet. “Thank you for permitting me to join you. You’ve all done very well. Expect a little thank you after work tonight.”
“Thank you, Mr. Grace.” The members of the departments stood and then looked at each other eagerly as he left.
The afternoon saw a surge of customers and it sped by.
“I’ve been rushed off my feet all afternoon. I think I made more in commission today than I have in the last two weeks.” Mrs. Slocomb dropped to a chair and eased her feet out of his shoes.
Even Mr. Lucas was feeling flush with success. “I can’t remember a Christmas Eve eve eve quite this busy. I wonder what old Mr. Grace was talking about at lunch.”
“Oh, I’d quite forgotten about that,” Mr. Humphries rang up one last sale and closed the register. “I’m just glad we’ll be getting paid before we close on the 24th.”
“Surely you don’t put off your Christmas shopping, Mr. Humphries.” Captain Peacock had already fetched his hat and coat when Mr. Harmon arrived, carrying a tray with several glasses on it.”
“Compliments of the Management,” he announced formally. “On account of we got too much of the stuff and can’t send it back.”
“You’d never find this happening in the Spring,” Miss Brahms said as she eagerly collected a glass for her and Mrs. Slocomb.
Music started playing and Captain Peacock swept forward, bowing to Mrs. Slocomb. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?”
Mrs. Slocomb giggled and got to her feet. “Would you mind if I kept my shoes off? My bunions are right killing me.”
“Just like the old days, meeting up in a hall, dancing the night away to keep from thinking about those back home and we have you to thank for it.”
“Me? I don’t understand.”
“Well, if you hadn’t been in a bad mood, Mr. Humphries wouldn’t have suggested the letter, which meant we’d have missed that eventually lovely luncheon in the canteen and then to this.” He guided her around the sales floor. “And for that, dear lady, thank you. Who needs Spring when we have each other?”
“Why, thank you, kind sir.”
Mr. Lucas took Miss Brahms’s hand and they started circling as well.
Outside Grace Bros., the snow came down, but the staff danced and laughed and knew that Spring when it came would be welcomed, but for now winter suited them just fine.
For the record, all these recipes and many more are available here:
*200+ Wartime Recipes – The 1940's Experiment