The Christmas Penny
As the summer approaches, it’s the perfect time to indulge in heart-warming stories that inspire kindness and generosity. “A Christmas Penny,” written by Maxwell Grantly, is a beautiful tale that reminds us of the joy of giving, no matter the season. This short story is set in a bustling city during the Victorian era, and takes us on a journey of hope and compassion that can be appreciated all year round.
I hope that you may enjoy this excerpt. If you want to read the entire story, you can download the eBook for free. It is available for download on various platforms and is the perfect addition to your summer reading list. Don’t miss out on this uplifting story that reminds us of the power of generosity and kindness.
“It’s Christmas and I’m skint,” Jack moaned.
The two of us ambled through the streets of New Babbage, kicking small furrows of snow into the gutter with the toes of our shoes. My empty stomach rumbled as the smell of freshly baked pastries wafted from a nearby bakery, through the crisp winter’s air.
“It’s been a whole day since I’ve eaten,” I confessed, “and I’m famished! Let’s return to Canal Street and see if we can beg for some scraps there.”
The corner of Canal Street and Emerson Way, outside the old Imperial Theatre, was a good location for a couple of street urchins to gain sympathy from the many passers-by. Occasionally, some rich gentleman would drop a farthing or ha’penny into our upturned caps, enough for a crust of bread or a slither of cheese, and we would relish every mouthful of our cache.
Jack and I turned and we headed back from the docks, towards the centre of New Babbage, through the shivering winter winds that funnelled their way down the long narrow streets. As we passed the shops, hanging turkeys, plucked pheasants and all sorts of other festive delights teased our senses and created dreams of lavish Christmas feasts in our impoverished minds.
Jack halted abruptly and pointed down into the gutter.
“Good grief!” he exclaimed. “I don’t believe our luck. Look at that!”
There, nestled within the folds of snow and grit, shone a single penny like a precious jewel. Jack glanced around quickly and then stole the moment, diving down and retrieving the treasure from its freezing roadside prison.
“A whole penny!” he exclaimed. “What luck! That’s a ha’penny each. Perhaps this Christmas might not be so miserable after all!”
Jack rubbed the coin onto the folds of his grubby shirt and the penny caught a sparkle from the weak December sun, causing faint glints of light to flash and dance within his hand.
“Let’s get something to eat,” he suggested and he pulled my arm towards a nearby alleyway.
The two of us headed through a narrow passage between two imposing buildings, into a grubby cluster of miserable-looking shops and grimy terraces. Jack strode out confidently into one dingy bakery and, within seconds, he reappeared with a crust of warm bread and the change of a ha’penny coin. He broke an edge from his meal and handed it to me, with the coin too.
“Have a bite of this,” he suggested cheerfully, “and here’s your half of our loot. What do you want to buy with this?”
I smiled, scoffed the scrap of warm bread into my mouth and looked down at the treasure that laid within my palm. It was Christmas and I really wanted to do something special with my half of our loot.
“Let’s wander further along,” I suggested. “I can think what to spend it on as we pass these shops.”
I curled my fingers around the coin and thoughts of childhood delights danced in my mind. Perhaps I might buy a glass marble: the coloured swirls of glass within each orb had often tempted me in my dreamtime desires. Maybe I might buy a small bag of hot roasted chestnuts and share my Christmas treat with Jack. The endless possibilities seemed delightful to my innocent mind.
At the far end of the shops, a small crowd had began to gather around an upturned crate. A man (holding a suitcase and dressed in a dark top hat) climbed up upon its upper surface and he began to call out to the assembling throng of people.
“Roll up – Roll up! Come and witness the greatest little show in New Babbage. I’ll show you delights and marvels that will captivate and fascinate you!”
My fingers tightened around my ha’penny and I turned to face my friend.
“Come on, Jack,” I exclaimed excitedly. “Let’s see what’s happening there.”
The two of us raced across to the forming crowd and we pushed our way to the front of the adults, easing ourselves through the forest of legs and bodies. We wiggled our way to the front, just as the top-hatted gentleman stepped down from the crate and took up his position behind, laying his suitcase flat upon its surface.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” continued the man. “My name is The Amazing Professor Jiggers and I have made my way here to New Babbage this Christmas, to show you a delight that will mesmerize and intrigue you. Within this suitcase, I have the greatest little show in New Babbage, nay, the greatest little show upon the very face of this earth!”
He pounded the palms of his hands upon the surface of the case and a drone echoed around the crowd, like a reverberating drum roll.
“Behold! The Amazing Professor Jiggers’ Performing Flea Circus!”
Maxwell Grantly 