Carol singing: A bleak midwinter for carol singer

THE other day I was singing along to my Christmas carol CD, much to the disgust of my daughter, Steff.

She wanted to play some other music, but I stuck to my guns, singing away merrily. When the carol, In the Bleak Midwinter, came on, I started to sing again.

Half way through, I stopped, my voice faltering with a memory from my childhood, sparked by the song, filtering through my mind. It was of a young girl singing that carol.

It was Christmas Eve, back in the 1950s, and I was living at 41 Nuns Street in Derby’s West End. With my three sisters, Susan, Wendy and Beryl, I was eagerly anticipating Christmas Day.

Our dear Mam, Gladys (nee Needham), had just finished baking and Sue and I were helping her to clear away and wash up. The two younger sisters were in bed.

Then we heard this girl singing at our back door. Mam stopped our childish chatter, gently shushing us as the voice started to sing In the Bleak Midwinter. Then we saw tears running down her face.

We opened the door to reveal the singer, a young girl whose family lived locally. Giving her a hug, Mam gave her a half-a-crown (12½p, equivalent of about £5 pro rata, today), plus some mince pies and lemon tarts she had just made.

Telling her to go straight home out of the cold, she shut the door and told us that, several days earlier, the young girl’s mother had walked out on their family home, leaving her children.

Being very family-orientated, it upset my Mam to think the girl and her family weren’t going to have a happy Christmas.

It was a very subdued Christmas Eve in our house that evening. I was still looking forward to Christmas Day and was even more thankful that our own dear mother and dad, Horace, would be there, sharing the festivities with us four girls.

I remember that evening so well, even though it’s a good 47 years since that young girl sang at our door.

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