Harriet and the Twelve Bears
I haven’t written anything lately, but as I was spring cleaning my old files I came across this story, which must be I think, the very first one I ever tried to write. So here it is, warts and all, in the hope that it will get me going again.
Everything organised, that’s how she liked things. Everything arranged just so, straight lines, clear labels. Dust? Don’t even think about it. Harriet stood behind the shiny glass counter of her card shop surrounded by bright orderliness; row after row of neatly categorised goodwill. But the cheerfulness stopped with the displays, as she was quite alone. Business was bad. Too late she was realising that this end of the High Street was not the place to sell exclusive art cards, boxes, papers and ribbons. The primary school provided a steady stream of mothers and children passing by, but not coming in.
Just watching that daily procession made Harriet uneasy. Did she really want them in her shop? Sticky fingers and noise, ugh! And there was something else, the ghost of the sad little girl of twenty years ago with her little brother in tow, the little brother she struggled to look after and protect from the shouting and the blows. Bitter memories roused by the sight of the happy groups of mothers and children flowing past her door.
“The quality customers will find me”, she said to herself “they must”.
Jamie, the rep. from Brightmark Giftco., suggested she should lower her sights and stock more popular cards and some humour. Their new lines of gift toys, he said, were selling well. Money was getting tight, but she couldn’t help being drawn to his selection of teddy bears. His salesman’s instinct quickly sniffed out a weak spot here, as he placed one in her hands. She felt its soft fur, looked into its sad dark eyes, and she had to have them. She took the whole dozen, and then guiltily lined them up in a neat row, limbs out stiffly, staring at her with their teddy eyes, reminding her that she couldn’t afford them. And still nobody came. Things were getting desperate.
At the end of a long and dismal Saturday she heard the shop bell ring and saw without much hope the wet dejected pair who had come in.
“Let’s choose a card for Nana’s Birthday” the young man said with forced cheerfulness, and the child turned listlessly to the card displays. Then she saw the teddy bears.
“Oh! Bears! Mummy says I am too big for one now. She‘s given my Mr. Edward to baby James.” The man brightened and told her to pick whichever one she wanted. Without hesitation she pointed to Seraphima. Harriet in spite of herself had given them all a name. This one had long creamy silky fur, and was definitely a lady bear. She gave her to the little girl who held her close and pressed her cold cheeks into the soft warm fur. But as the man got out his credit card her face clouded and she pulled at his sleeve
“No Daddy Mummy will only be upset”. Looking uncomfortable the man muttered awkwardly,
“We’re divorced. My wife doesn’t like me buying expensive presents for the children. I’m afraid Emma’s right.”
Harriet groaned inwardly. It would have been the one decent sale of the week, but “Tell you what,” she heard herself saying, “ you can adopt Seraphima, and while she stays with me you can look out for her “I’ll keep her here with the other Teddies, but she’ll know that you are her special friend.” Emma’s eyes brightened.
“I come by every day to school, so could you please put her where I can see her? …… How do you know her name?”
“Oh, they all come with names”, said Harriet brusquely and then more kindly, “you look out for her on Monday morning – and she’ll be looking for you”.
Where would she put Seraphima? The window display had been planned with such care, with cards placed at exact intervals, and co-ordinating ribbons woven between. They would have to go. Carefully she stripped it all out, and began to think. There was wide eyed amazement on the faces of her sister-in-law and two nieces when she appeared on their doorstep asking to borrow a doll and some nursery furniture. Not only that, she pinched some of their big sheets of drawing paper and some poster paints. Aunt Harriet! Now there’s a thing!
Sunday morning she was busy in the window. She was creating Goldilocks and the Three Bears, but would anybody else realise what it was meant to be? Back home she rummaged about for oddments of material and made a flowery pinafore and hat for mummy bear, trousers and braces for daddy bear and a little smock for baby bear. At one o’clock in the morning she felt as if she was breaking and entering as she switched off the shop’s alarm and clambered into the window to set up her teddy bears.
Next morning the shop was a little busier. The window was drawing attention and people were coming in. Not buying much though; still not buying. Heart in her mouth Harriet rang Brightmark and asked if they could supply any other bear items. They could , and Don would call in with a selection by lunch time. Reluctantly she began to clear some of the elegant cards from one of the displays. After Don had been and gone she looked with dismay at the pile of things she had bought. The Bank Manager wasn’t going to like this. There were cards with funny teddies, cuddly teddies, teddies having adventures and lots of teddies falling in love one way or another. The only range she didn’t buy were the ones with the old fashioned teddies with eyes missing and fur worn in patches. None of her children were going to be foisted off with those. “What on earth do I mean?”, she said to herself, “my children?”. She had also bought a selection of teddy novelties at pocket money prices which she set out on their special child height revolving display. Then she waited apprehensively for the children to come out of school.
She tried not to look as if she was watching, but there was a steady little group of faces at the window and a trickle of customers. But now she began to realise that it was people enjoying her shop that mattered most. She hadn’t noticed Emma before, but of course she did today. Her mother was cheaply dressed, and looked tired. As well as Emma she was pushing a toddler and a baby in a double buggy. She walked quickly, but there was no way Emma was going to pass without stopping to take a long and loving look at her Seraphima.
Over the following weeks business really improved. Even her expensive art cards were beginning to move. She had good taste, and now that more people were coming in they were selling. But it was definitely Teddy Power that was pulling them in. She was beginning to know quite a few of her regulars by name now, though Emma’s mum still hadn’t been tempted. But every day Emma stopped longer at the window than any of the other children, and often managed to give Harriet a shy smile, a little wave.
There was even a growing warmth between Harriet and her own family. The frost between herself and her sister-in-law was beginning to thaw, and they all took a lively interest in the preparations for the next window display, a teddy bear wedding. The costumes were more elaborate this time. She wanted them to be particularly good. The tallest, handsomest bear had to be the bridegroom. There was a tubby golden bear for the vicar, two cheeky little bridesmaid bears, and Seraphima in white satin and lace, the bride. Quite a jolly little family party went on in the back of the shop when it was finished on Sunday evening.
This time she couldn’t resist opening the shop early. She wanted to see the children’s faces and watch their reaction to the new display. She was not disappointed. The school procession called out and waved their approval as they hurried in to the school, and quite a few of the mums called in on their way back to chat. Best of all was Emma’s smiling face.
Soon after that Emma’s mum came in to the shop. The weather was cold with a sharp bite in the East wind, and she looked pinched and white in her thin anorak. She wasn’t choosing anything, but didn’t seem to want to leave. “My little girl,” she said eventually, “has really fallen for the lady teddy bear – the Bride. She talks about nothing else. How much would a bear like that cost?” Harriet could see the disappointment in her face when she told her. Then she heard this voice of hers, which seemed to have taken on a quite independent life of its own saying “I couldn’t sell them now as they’ve been on display, so I’ve decided to have a little raffle for the children at the end of Christmas term, Tickets are ten pence, would you like to enter?”
Harriet carefully wrote the number eleven twice, tore the paper into halves and gave one to the young woman. Vaguely she thought that you had to use proper tickets and be licensed to have raffles but it seemed unlikely that the local Police would be raiding her little shop. On the day of the raffle quite a crowd arrived. Harriet drew the winning tickets from a large biscuit tin. As she called out the numbers her voice was shaky with nerves. “Six”, and “Twenty two” she heard herself call and the two bridesmaids were won. “Thirteen”, and the tubby vicar found a home. “Thirty” and the handsome bridegroom had a proud new owner. Emma was paying no attention to them. Her eyes were fixed on the tin anxiously willing her number to come out in the last draw. , Miss Ross the class four teacher, came in to the shop and was asked to draw for Seraphima. The miracle happened. Out came ticket number eleven, Emma’s number. She was almost in tears as she held her. Harriet’s sister in law, couldn’t help smiling as she noticed that instead of relaxing and enjoying the moment, fuss pot spinster Harriet was busily tipping out the remaining tickets into a bin bag and tightly knotting the neck. Harriet really wasn’t too bothered about tidying up she just didn’t want anybody to find out that all the tickets in the tin had the same number on them – the number eleven