Three top Scottish comedians gave The Courier their take on the classic Christmas tale. Gary McNair, Farmer Jim Smith and Janey Godley all took up the challenge of writing their own Christmas story for Courier readers. Here is Janey Godley’s story, as Gillian Lord says, it’s reflective of her compassion, astute social commentary and her desire to make the world a better place.
“Mammy, look there’s Santa” the wee girl said as she stared at the big tinsel-dressed window. Her mitten fell off and she struggled to pick it up, a red mitten trampled into the slush and snow. She shook it fiercely, ‘don’t let mammy know it’s wet’ she thought, mammy is sad today. Her mother was struggling with the big pram with William wrapped up inside, through the crushing city centre, full of Christmas shoppers. Wee Julia wanted to run up to Lewis’s window, look at the dancing toys, the Tippy Tumble dolls, the Hula Hoops, the lights.
“Come on, Julia” her mammy shouted, as the wheels of the big pram slipped through the dirty snow. Red and green lights glinted off the chrome suspension of the pram. Secretly Julia hoped they were going to see Santa, but she knew they weren’t.
She knew something bad was happening. Last week when her daddy never came home and the women up the same close hugged mammy and made her tea, in her stomach there was that tight feeling, it was the same feeling when she wet the bed in the night, a slow, scary feeling of life draining away. It was her daddy and “the drinking”.
She heard Mrs Woods say so. Mrs Woods was a nice woman who made big dumplings and gave them to mammy; now she was holding mammy as she cried.
All the blankets and bags were making the pram hard for Julia’s mammy to push in the snow. Julia was scared of the busy traffic. After what felt like hours, they made their way right up into the West End of Glasgow. Julia’s Granny McClure lived up here, her daddy’s mammy, in a big-front-door house with a garden. She was scared of her Granny McClure, she wasn’t like Mrs Woods. Granny was skinny, angry and wore fancy shoes.
Julia’s mum bumped the big pram up the stairs at the front of the house. A tall tree twinkled in the bay window. Julia clapped her damp mittens in excitement, watching her mammy fix her brown coat and drag a hair grip through the escaped brown curls. Her mammy knocked.
The door was flung open wide and a thin woman stared at them. She wore a pink two-piece cardigan set and calf-length tweed skirt, with her hair in tight curls and glasses perched on her sharp nose.
“You need to call me before you visit, Eileen, I have the church ladies round for tea.” She quickly stepped outside and closed the door behind her.
“Donald has left me and the kids are hungry, Elizabeth. He is your son and these are your own grandchildren, we have nowhere to go. He spent the last of his wages on the drink; we have been evicted.”
Julia’s mammy spoke more firmly than Julia had ever heard her speak to Granny McClure. Julia reached out one damp mitten, took her granny’s hand and said: “Can I see your big tree, granny?”
The thin woman recoiled. “You listen to me, Eileen,” she hissed, “I told him not to marry you and get involved in your drunken Irish family; this is not my problem. Donald is up in Inverness now, staying with my sister, he deserves a better start in life. Go back to Donegal and find your own kind.” Then she slammed the door.
The little family walked their pram through the streets of Glasgow until night came. The Christmas lights twinkled and the people spilled out of pubs. Julia watched her mammy make some phone calls from the big train station. She wrapped the children in the blankets and Julia climbed into the pram with her brother even though she was too big.
Eileen sat homeless and cold in Central Station that night, and as the Salvation Army played Christmas carols she pulled out the dumplings wrapped in greaseproof paper to feed the kids in the pram.
“Excuse me, you can’t sleep here with your pram, missus” the policeman said. Eileen blinked and pulled herself to her feet, quickly grabbing her bags.
“Sorry, sir” she muttered and pushed the pram back out of its shelter from the driving snow. “Hang on” he said as she tried to stop the pram from slipping from her grip into the main road.
Eileen didn’t want to hang on, she knew full well a homeless Irish woman with two kids would only get the authorities on to her case and take her precious babies away. She slipped, and tried to make off with grace and speed, with a lumbering pram. The policeman put his hand on her shoulder and Eileen froze; she wept silently and turned to face him.
****
When Julia woke up she was in a bus in the frozen morning light.
“Where are we, mammy?” The bus bumped along through the frozen countryside. William was sitting on her mammy’s lap eating a big slice of cold ham. Her mammy was smiling at her. “We will be going on a big boat to Ireland and you are going to meet your Granny Coyle; she will be so happy to see you both.”
“Does she have a big tree like Granny McClure?” Julia asked. Her mammy smiled and hugged her close.
****
On a frozen night in Glasgow in December 2013; a young woman with brown curly hair pulled on her red mittens and crunched into the frozen snow, headed towards the West End. The snow came at her sideways but her strong legs kept her going. She walked up to the big brown door and smiled at the glittering tinsel covering the white portico. She knocked.
A wee elderly woman with curly hair and soft round cheeks opened the door holding a plate of steaming dumpling.
“Granny Eileen, I’m here to help out,” the young woman said as her granny pulled her in the warm hallway. “We’ve got a full house tonight, Maggie, lots of people needing a hot meal and a warm bed.”
“Can I see the big tree first, granny?” Young Maggie’s face lit up just as her mother’s had done all those years ago.
“Through in the big room, I’ve left the angel for you… away up that ladder and stick it on.” Eileen smiled as she watched her tall granddaughter bounce, all long limbs and a daft grin, through the crowd of strangers to put the angel on the tree.
Then Eileen pulled a duster from her apron and carefully rubbed the lettering of a brass plaque: “The Elizabeth McClure Homeless shelter, in honour of a Christian woman.”
She gave a small, devious chuckle: “Merry Christmas, you old cow,” she said. Then she turned back to her house full of “guests”.
“Right, who wants dumplings?”
About Janey Godley
Besides being one of Scotland’s most loved comedians, multi-award-winning Janey Godley is a sharp-tongued, warm-hearted social activist who is not afraid to speak truth to power, even if that power happens to be US President Donald Trump.
An astute political observer, her soup pot sketches are a popular fixture on social media. She’s also a playwright, award-winning blogger, best-selling author and former Scotsman newspaper columnist and has performed her comedy shows and one-woman play around the world, including off-Broadway in New York.
For more, including details of her 2020 tour, see janeygodley.com