THE SHILLING

Christmas time, is anything more exciting? Not when you’re eight years old and in love with Santa Claus!

In just a couple of days, all the waiting would be over. Mum and Dad had put the tree up, and how pretty it was, all shiny and sparkling. There weren't many presents under the tree yet, but hopefully that would change soon!

We were at the end of the last day at school, and we all know what that means……….Christmas vacation! The bus ride home seemed long on this day,  and I was impatient and getting hungry too. 

The houses and shops were all blurry as we rode through the town on our way home, as it was getting dark already. 

We lived in a coal mining town in England, and most of the time even the snow had a layer of coal dust on it. It was so pretty when it first came down, but the clouds of dust would just settle on everything, mixed with the soot from all the chimneys. 

How Santa did it without any of the black coal dust on his beautiful red suit, I’ll never know.

When the bus stopped at the corner near our house, we all jumped off and scattered in different directions, eager to get home! There would be something good to eat, and best of all…..no school for two whole weeks! 

My Dad worked a lot, he always had, and Mum was always busy with us kids and school stuff. Like, making sure our homework got done, and we had clean clothes for school the next day. So on our Christmas break, she would get a break too.

A couple of days later, we were just hanging around the house, planning on heading outside to play. I had one older brother and a younger sister, so we always had someone to play with.

There was lots of snow down, it seemed like it snowed every day, and we loved it! We dragged our old sleds out and spent hours coasting on a hill behind our house, with our Mum able to keep an eye on us through the kitchen window. We had so much fun and got so tired. Our mitts would be soaking wet and dragging off us as we trudged back to the house for supper, we were starving! Mum might have had time to bake some toasted bacon and cheese fingers for us! Hopefully we’d all got back with no hats or scarves missing.

The next day was a Monday and Mum needed to go to the store to “pick up a few things” whatever that meant, and since Dad was working, she took all of us with her.

We soon got tired of following her around  from one store to the next and she soon got tired of listening to us whine. She looked at us, then looked out the window, then back at us. It was still snowing, although it looked to be letting up a little.

We could see she was a little torn, but she shook her head and said, “I’ll soon be finished here, so I guess you can’t get into too much trouble.”

She checked her watch then rummaged around in her purse.

She handed each of us a shilling! We couldn’t believe it! One each, we never had any money, and what that could buy was endless. Well, to us kids it was.

She bent down and looked at us sternly.

“It’s almost 6:00, and I’m almost done. Now the pharmacy next door will be open a little longer, if you want to pop in there and spend your money. They have a big candy counter. You’ve all been good and it’s almost Christmas, so think about what you want to buy.”

“As soon as I’m finished here, I’ll go next door and pick you up.”

Little did we know she was trying to buy a few things for us for Christmas and needed us to get out of her hair for a minute.

My older brother was only older than me by two years, he was ten, so he felt quite grown up as he herded us out the door to the next shop. He held our hands and watched that we were behaving. He didn’t want to let us out of his sight.

But we were kids, right?

As he and our little sister strolled around the aisles, hand in hand, I checked out the toys on display. I couldn’t touch them, and they cost too much for me to pay, but how I was mesmerized. The glass show cases contained all the games and toys a kid could want. Trucks that made real sounds, cap guns all shiny in their almost-leather holsters. I wondered what Santa would bring!

I heard the heavy door behind me open, thinking it was Mum, and then close, so I glanced in that direction and caught the sight of twinkling colored lights from a store across the street. They were so pretty, especially with the way the snow was falling, covering everything in billows of fluff. Just the right kind for sledding!

So I got distracted and forgot about my mother’s warnings and my brother and sister, and slipped across the street to stand in front of the shop window and just stare. I couldn’t take my eyes off the strands of blinking red, green, yellow and blue lights. 

The snow was dry and fluffy and coming down harder, and a little wind was puffing it around, and it was becoming a little deep. When I looked around, the shop must have closed, because the beautiful lights were shut off, and the “CLOSED” sign was swiftly flipped over, still dangling by its string. It was so quiet outside, there were no cars, no family, and no one watching a little boy all alone on the streets, with nightfall coming.

I scuffled through the snow on the sidewalk until I stood outside the shop where I’d left my brother and sister. At least I thought it was. But the lights were shut off, the window was dark now. It looked different.

Where was I? Where was my Mum? She would be so mad, we were all supposed to stay together. I didn’t even have a chance to spend my shilling.

I didn’t want to shout, but how else would I be found?

“Mum! Mum! Here I am! I’m on the street. Where is everybody?” My voice sounded strange to me, echoing and muffled at the same time. By then I was getting cold. And scared. Too scared to even be hungry. It must be getting late now. Where am I?

I walked back the way I had come, but the snow was making it hard to see. My little boots weren’t very high and snow was getting in. My feet would soon be wet and Mum would be upset with me, I only had that one pair. So I just kept walking.

I think I ended up in an alley between two tall brick buildings, but I wasn’t sure, and the snow was gathering up there, deeper than the streets. I found some steps, and sat down for a while. I leaned against the railing, as I was getting awfully tired. Maybe I slept a little, I'm not sure. 

I slid slowly off the steps one by one on my bum until I reached the street, where I kept walking.

And then I saw a light at the very end of the street……….thank you god. It was a red telephone booth, the kind you see everywhere in England. And I knew how to use it, because my Dad made sure each of us children knew how to put a coin in and ask the operator for help. Or to dial home, if we ever got lost. 

The glass was clear and bright and I could see the telephone hanging on the wall. And although I didn’t want to think about it, if someone didn’t come looking for me soon, I’d have to use my precious shilling to make a call for help.

By now I couldn’t feel my feet and my fingers were stiff inside my wet mitts. My whole body felt funny, stiff, hard to move. 

So I tugged on the heavy telephone booth door and slipped inside, and it was warm and sheltered from the wind and snow. The drifts had piled up almost halfway on the outsides of the glass walls. 

I sat down wearily and wondered what to do. I could hardly stay awake, and it was so cozy inside the telephone booth.

I was scared now, scared enough to barter my money for someone to come and get me. So I stood up and pulled my precious coin out of my coat pocket, looked at it for a minute, then pushed it inside the little slot to pay for a call.

The operator came on the line, and I was so happy to hear her voice. 

“Number please.” were her first words.

I had to think for a minute.

“44-56 87322008” That was a lot of numbers to remember. We never had to call anyone, not home or otherwise, I hoped I’d gotten it right.

I could hear some sounds and clinks and beeps coming from the heavy phone receiver I had clutched in my hands.

Then a man’s voice.

“Hello?”

“Oh hello, Dad! It’s me, Henry, I’m lost! Can you come and get me?”

“Whoa, wait a minute, this isn't your Dad, it’s your Uncle Kevin. Where are you buddy? Where are you calling from?”

I must have not remembered my phone number correctly and gotten my uncle instead. But that was okay, I knew he’d be there in a flash.

“I don’t know where I am, Uncle Kevin, I was in the stores with Mum, then I went outside by myself and started walking and now I’m lost.”

I wanted to start crying and tell him how scared I was, but I didn’t. 

Uncle Kevin was quiet for a second. 

“Should I start walking again?”

“No! Don’t start walking. The snow is coming down heavy now, and no one will be able to even follow your footsteps. Just listen…….can you sit down? You must be so tired. Just stay in the phone booth, at least you will be warm, poor little mite, you must be so cold and scared and hungry. I’m going to hang up now, and phone your house to get your Dad. We’ll find you, we’ll search every single phone booth in England until we do! So stay there! Promise me……”

“I will, Uncle Kevin.”

I was so glad to hear his voice, he sounded just like my Dad. So I slid down and curled up in my coat, and fell asleep so fast that the telephone receiver was still clutched to my chest. I was so relieved.

But little did Henry know the desperate search that his family was frantically organizing. When Mum had come out of the shop and walked next door, just in time to see the “CLOSED” sign, and no children waiting for her, panic set in. Her oldest son appeared around the corner dragging his little sister, and she shouted, “Oh thank god, you scared me! Where’s Henry?”

“I don’t know Mum, he just kind of disappeared. We don’t know where he is.” And at this admission, he began to wail at the top of his lungs, so relieved to see his mother. 

“What do you mean? You were supposed to all stay together. What am I going to do, it’s storming outside. Oh my god…..”

So as quickly as she could she walked the kids home, raced in and set her parcels down. The lights were on, thank god her husband was home. She relayed all the information, and he set off to a neighbor’s house to get some help. She called the police to report her little boy lost in this storm, and crews were sent out to begin the search.

No one knew where to start, no footsteps were visible, the shops were closed, and the unexpected storm raged on, blanketing the city. Indeed, you wouldn’t notice any coal dust tonight.

They searched for hours, until nearly dawn. Then one of the policemen noticed something strange. 

“Did any of you think to look inside of the phone booths?” he said to his men.

“Yes, of course, you can see from the outside no one’s in them. They’re all lit up, you’d see the boy.”

“Maybe not. Look at the one on the end of the street. It’s all steamed up. Someone’s in it.”

And sure enough. Upon closer inspection, all curled up on the floor, was a little boy. He was sound asleep, with the receiver still clutched firmly in his hand. The snow drifts outside were piled just high enough to hide his shaking little body.

The police blew their whistles, and all gathered around, his Dad included to wake him up and get him home to his mother. How relieved they all were, the outcome would have been grim, in other circumstances.

Dad burst in the door carrying his son, and he set him down on the couch and smothered him in hugs and kisses. Between he and Mum, they removed his wet boots and socks and mitts, took off his coat, and got clean warm clothes and blankets on him. Everybody was talking at once, and Mum of course wanted to get some warm toast and cocoa into him. 

While Henry was eating and his siblings were petting him and asking questions, Mum motioned to her husband. 

“While you were gone, I got a phone call. There was no way to find you and I knew you wouldn’t come home anyway. “

“Kevin’s wife called. I’m so sorry honey, he was found dead in his office. She’s not sure what happened, maybe a heart attack. She’s just devastated.”

After the workload this week and a son missing in a blizzard, this news was certainly overwhelming. It comes in threes. He needed a minute to absorb it all. 

“Can I have a pot of tea, please? I’ll call her to get the details. My god this can’t be real, he’s so young. My little brother. God, no....”

Henry was sitting up on the couch, a hot cocoa moustache all over his little face, happily munching his toast. In between bites, they heard him say, “I was talking to Uncle Kevin.”

“What? What did you say, Henry? When were you talking to Kevin?"

Dad’s voice had some hope in it, there must have  been some mistake after all.

“In the phone booth, Dad. When I got lost. Mum gave us a shilling each and I left the shop to look for somewhere else to spend it and I started walking and the snow was coming down and I got lost.” His sentences all rolled together and he had a big yawn.

“I used my shilling to call home like you taught us, but I guess I used the wrong number, because instead of you or Mum answering the phone, Uncle Kevin did. He was worried about me when I told him what happened. He told me to stay where I was, not to leave the phone booth. I would only get lost again if I did. He said, sit down or lay down and keep the phone on you in case I need to talk to you again.”

“He wasn’t fooling, he meant it. He made me promise”

Mum looked at Dad and Dad looked at Mum.

“Do you know what time that was Henry? Can you guess?”

He yawned again and thought about it.

“Well, Mum, you said it was almost 6:00 when you gave us the shillings. I only looked in the shop windows for a few minutes. I walked for a while, maybe a half hour? Then I found the phone booth and fell asleep.”

How could anyone expect an eight year old to judge time like that, in the middle of a snowstorm? Disoriented, cold and wet and lost in the dark? But they knew what time it was when that bobby was observant enough to notice the steam inside that phone booth. Thank god for him. So a best guess was Henry was lost for about two hours when he made the phone call, give or take. Then he fell asleep until he was found, about six hours later. An eternity for a little boy and a shocking waiting game for his family.

A couple of days later, after much planning for a sad duty, Kevin’s funeral, the two policemen most active in finding Henry dropped in to see how he was doing. They brought him a little Christmas gift, one of their caps that they wore on duty. They tousled his hair and popped it on his head, and said, “Now don’t lose it or we’ll catch trouble from our Boss. You were such a brave boy, so we wanted you to have one to remind you……..mind your Mother!!”

He turned to Henry’s parents to speak privately while the three siblings bickered over having a turn to wear that hat. What a special gift!

“He looks fine, no worse for the wear. So happy when a case turns out like this. He could have walked all the way out of town and gotten lost in the woods………well, no need to scare you. And we are so sorry to hear about your brother. Kevin was a fine bloke.”

“Thank you officer, he sure was. And we are so grateful for his telephone conversation with Henry that night. He saved his life. Told him to stay put, not to leave the booth. And Henry listened. It must have been the last phone call he had, because with the time difference between here and Canada, it puts the call right about the time Kevin was found in his office”

The two officers looked at each other. Neither seemed to want to speak. But they had something to say.

“Henry might believe he had been talking to his Uncle. But he wasn’t talking to him or anyone else.”

“That phone booth has been disconnected for weeks, waiting for a crew to repair it.”

“He was clutching the receiver to his little chest when we found him, but the phone was dead.”

The parents were shocked and speechless. How could this be?

On a hunch, Mum grabbed Henry’s coat, hanging behind the warmth of the coal stove, still a little damp. She went through the pockets, but found no shilling.

Where was it, he’d had no chance to spend it. She looked at her husband. 

“You don’t suppose…..”

“I’m on my way.” was his response. He was already out the door to the phone booth where Henry had been found.

And sure enough, in the coin slot, was the shilling. How do you explain that?

Later on, after all the  Christmas excitement was done and Kevin’s burial over, the family sat down to talk about Henry’s adventure and how faith in Uncle Kevin was involved in his safe return. They pressed the shilling into Henry’s little hand, and for the rest of his life, he was never without that coin. He carried it somewhere on his person. In later years, on a fishing trip with buddies, he fell overboard, but had no fear.  He had it in his pocket on his wedding day, and again in a uniform pocket as he served duty in the Armed Forces overseas. He had faith that it always brought about his safe return. And his first puppy? You guessed it, Henry named him "Shilling."

The family never forgot this Christmas. They were reminded of it every time they found a shilling in their change. It seemed to signify hope and faith and safety.

A telephone booth that saved their son’s life from perishing in the storm?

A phone call to someone who answered, but clearly had already passed away?

And that same phone booth was disconnected?

In the back of their minds was the constant belief......

Perhaps there is such a thing as a Christmas Miracle.