‘Yes, and the least you’ll risk if you try it again with someone else is a punch on the nose from an irate boyfriend, brother or father.’
‘I’ve never been beaten in a fight.’
The look in Peter’s eyes told Charlie he was lying but he let it pass. ‘And if you beat someone here, the police may arrest you for assault. Next time you meet a girl you like, try saying, Can I buy you a coffee and talk to you? Or Would you like to come for a walk in the park with me? or May I take you to the pictures?’
‘And afterwards the girl will go to bed?’
‘No, it doesn’t work that way. Most couples in this country only go to bed together after they’re married.’
‘Then I’ll have to ask a girl to marry me.’
‘Not until you know her really well and never the first time you meet her. Courtship takes a long time. If you go too fast with the right kind of girl, you’ll frighten her off.’
‘I didn’t frighten Liza Clark.’
‘Because she’s a nice girl who knows you’ve been in camps all your life and made allowances for your behaviour. You were very lucky to choose her out of all the women in the town to talk to tonight.’ Checking round the room Charlie opened the door. ‘Coming to bed?’
‘Later. I want to read a magazine.’ Peter felt he had to make a stand for independence.
‘See you in the morning.’
Peter sat in his chair and listened as his father walked up the stairs, he heard the floorboards creak on the landing, looked up at the ceiling and knew with absolute certainty that his father had gone into his mother’s bedroom.
All he could think of was, she couldn’t have any pride. To take him back into her life – and her bed – the very first night in his house. No pride at all.
Chapter Seventeen
Tony spent all morning leaning against the wall that separated the café from the kitchen. One half of it backed on to the staircase that led upstairs, and he listened intently for the sound of Gabrielle stirring. As soon as he heard the creak of a tread, he heated up the coffee he’d prepared for her, flung open the door and picked up the breakfast tray he’d set out with bread, a sliver of real butter, jam, coffee jug and cup and saucer.
She was just walking back into the kitchen from the outside ty bach. A light sprinkling of raindrops glistening on her long, red woollen dressing gown and fair hair, plaited loosely into a rope that fell almost to her waist. She looked tired, sleepy and to his eyes – very beautiful.
‘Good morning, Gabrielle,’ he murmured, not at all sure of the reception she’d give him after the arguments of the previous night.
‘Good morning, Tony.’ Her reply was terse. Any frostier and he’d have turned to ice.
‘Here you go, miss, hot water.’ The cook handed her a china jug full of hot water.
‘I’ve made you breakfast,’ Tony held up the tray.
‘I prefer to eat breakfast after I’ve washed and dressed.’
‘Of course. I’ll bring it up later. When would you like it? In ten minutes, quarter of an hour or do you need more time?’
Taking the jug she turned and walked back up the stairs without answering him. Hearing shouting, Tony rushed into the café.
‘Be glad we’re honest,’ a bus conductor griped. ‘We could have walked off with everything behind here, including the till if we’d wanted.’
‘You wouldn’t have found much in it if you had.’ Taking the money the man offered, Tony rang up the cash register. The conductor was right, there was no way he could manage the café without a waitress. Opening the door into the kitchen he called to the cook’s boy, ‘Run down to the restaurant and ask Mr Angelo if he’s had any luck finding a replacement waitress for this place.’
‘Still can’t get anyone to work for you, Tony.’
He turned to see Judy Crofter sitting on a stool she’d pulled up to the counter, her dyed blonde hair scraped back under a black beret, her pale face highlighted with layers of garishly coloured face paint.
‘I told you not to come back in here,’ he said, very conscious of Gabrielle upstairs.
‘You did, but I’ve been to see a solicitor since then.’ She smiled and nodded to a railway porter as he came up to pay for his second breakfast. ‘I’ll have a tea, please, Tony, weak and black and a slice of toast and Marmite.’ There was a quiet confidence in her demeanour that unnerved Tony. He took the porter’s money, rang it into the till and poured her tea.
‘Are you going to tell me why you went to see a solicitor or do I have to drag it out of you?’
‘I’m pregnant and I’m naming you as the father.’
‘A likely bloody story.’ His face darkened as he confronted her.
‘All I have to do after the baby’s born is demand a blood test. It is yours, Tony.’ Her voice was low but it held more menace than if she’d screamed and shouted at the top of her voice. ‘Since you, I’ve only gone out with Glan Richards, and there’s been no hanky-panky there. He’d swear it on a stack of Bibles because although he’s tried every trick in the book to get my knickers down I wouldn’t play with him. You see, Tony, you’ve ruined it for me with every other man.’ She reached for her handkerchief.
‘You can stop the theatricals, you silly cow. And what about before Glan? How many were there then?’
‘I’ll not lie. There were a couple of Yanks, nice lads, but they went back months ago. Before you, Tony, there wasn’t a soul for six months. I told the solicitor about your small-minded threat to tell the police that I’m a prostitute but he said you’d have to find half-a-dozen men who’d paid to have sex with me, and your brothers wouldn’t do. The police are getting a bit wary of men denouncing their girlfriends as prostitutes when they get pregnant. And let’s face it, when the baby comes I’ll be able to prove you’re the father.’
‘No you won’t. All a blood test can prove is that someone is not the father.’
‘There’s too much evidence against you, Tony. You said it yourself. Everyone in the Graig Hotel knows you took me home that night. You were found drunk and naked outside my door. I showed my father your underwear …’
‘You what!’
‘I had no choice; he’s seen me being sick in the morning. He wanted to know who the father was. I told him.’
‘Great, now it will be all over the bloody Graig that I slept with you.’
‘My father doesn’t want the news broadcast any more than I do. It’s a disgrace enough having a bastard, without it being fathered by a Nazi-lover who wants to marry a German. But my father has agreed that I can carry on living at home and bring the baby up there if I keep house for him and my brothers.’
‘They’re home?’ Tony’s blood ran cold. He was acquainted with two of Judy’s brothers, burly six-footers who’d been local heavyweight boxing champions before the war.
‘They will be soon. As the solicitor told me, and as I see it, you can go one of two ways. Either you accept this baby as yours, and pay me maintenance, or I’ll take you to court and drag your name through the mud. One thing’s for sure: I’m not footing the bill for bringing your brat up on my own. And I’m not going into no workhouse either. You had your fun, I don’t see why you shouldn’t pay for it.’ Taking a cigarette from her handbag she lit it. ‘Are you going to make me my toast and Marmite?’
Tony reached for the bread. ‘How much maintenance do you want?’
‘Fifteen bob a week.’
‘I can’t afford that. I’m getting married.’
‘You should have thought about that before you put it about with me. Poor bitch, even if she is German. I feel sorry for her getting lumbered with a swine like you.’
‘Look, tell you what I’ll do. I’ll give you your old job back.’
‘Twilight shift, thanks but no thanks.’
‘You can have the daytime shift here. I’ll pay …’ he made a few rapid calculations, ‘one pound fifteen shillings a week. That’s five bob above the odds.’
‘Haven’t you heard a
word I’ve said? I’m having your baby. I should be taking it easy, not working.’
Gabrielle opened the connecting door and joined Tony behind the counter. She was wearing a knitted, belted brown dress embellished with circles of embroidered yellow daisies at the yoke and hem. It accentuated her bust, trim waist and smoothly rounded hips. With her hair neatly coiled into a plaited bun at the nape of her neck, she looked cool, elegant, and in comparison to Judy, a lady who’d inadvertently wandered into the company of a chorus girl.
‘Good morning.’ She smiled at Judy. ‘Would you introduce me to your friend please, Tony?’
‘Judy Crofter, she used to waitress here.’
‘And you must be Tony’s German fiancée.’
‘Gabrielle von Stettin, I am pleased to meet you.’ Gabrielle held out her hand and Judy touched the tips of her fingers.
‘Judy Crofter and I’m pleased to meet you too, I’m sure. Well, Tony, seeing as how you’ve no one here at the moment, I’ll start back immediately but it will be an extra ten bob a week not five. What do you say?’
‘Five,’ he growled.
‘I don’t see anyone else here who can do the job.’
‘Ten for this week, we’ll discuss it again before Sunday.’
‘Too true, I don’t work Sundays.’ She smiled at Gabrielle. ‘I hope you will be very happy, Fraulein von Stettin. Would you like me to get you breakfast?’
‘Did you enjoy your lie-in?’
‘It was absolute heaven. Although Polly and Nell complained when my alarm went off at six.’
‘You set it?’ Bethan asked in surprise.
‘Always when I have a day off so I can switch it off and turn over. An extra couple of hours in bed is my idea of absolute bliss, and there’s no point in having them unless you’re aware of the luxury. Shall I make some tea?’
‘Yes, please, and some breakfast for yourself.’
‘Toast will be fine. I’m meeting Angelo in the restaurant at one when it closes for the afternoon. He’s going to cook for me.’
‘You’re lucky he and Alfredo are running the restaurant, not the café.’
‘Angelo warned that he won’t get every Thursday afternoon and Sunday off. Although the restaurant keeps to shop hours, Tony will expect him and Alfredo to relieve him now and again.’
‘Tony will need it. Tina was always complaining about being on call eighteen hours a day when she lived over the café.’
‘And Tony’s girlfriend arrived last night.’
‘What is she like?’
‘I didn’t see her but there was a big row between Gina, Angelo and Tony. Angelo didn’t say much about it but I gather Tony had told the girl that he, not the family, owned the café. Angelo said she took one look at the rooms Gina had worked hard on all day and asked Tony if they could sell the place and buy something better.’
‘Poor girl.’ Bethan pushed a pin into the hem of a skirt she’d cut for Rachel from one of her old ones.
‘Why poor girl? Angelo said she was stuck up.’
‘She might have been exhausted rather than stuck up, considering she’d just travelled for days to get here.’
‘I suppose so. As I said I didn’t see her, only heard the row between Angelo and Tony.’ Liza went to the pantry and opened the bread bin. Taking out a loaf she cut two neat slices and speared one on a toasting fork before filling the kettle. ‘Auntie Beth, when did you know that you were in love with Dr John?’
Taken aback by the question, Bethan wondered if the gossip about her and David Ford had reached Liza, then realised the girl was probably talking about her own relationship with Angelo.
‘I’ve never really thought about it.’
‘You must have.’
‘I’m not trying to avoid answering,’ she said quickly, suspecting that it couldn’t have been easy for Liza to ask such a personal question. ‘I suppose I just accepted the way things worked out between us. He came to the Graig Hospital when I was training. He was young, newly qualified, and by far and away the best-looking doctor in Pontypridd. He’d also lived in London, had a car and his own flat. And those things alone were enough to set every nurse in the hospital after him.’
‘So you chased him?’
‘No, oddly enough I didn’t. Not because I didn’t like the look of him but because I assumed he wouldn’t want to know me. Our families and backgrounds were completely different. When Andrew noticed me at the hospital dance and asked me to go out with him, I did, but only because all the other nurses persuaded me I would have had to be mad to refuse. I never thought for one minute that it would last longer than that first outing. But Andrew put up with a lot – not just from me, but my family. Once we started going out together on a regular basis my mother, father and brothers assumed he was only after one thing.’
‘Your body.’ Liza spooned tea into the pot.
Bethan smiled. ‘Definitely my body, not that my figure was ever that wonderful.’
‘So you only went out with him at first because he was young, handsome, had a car, flat and a good job?’
‘That makes me sound like a gold-digger. I went out with him because he asked me, was prepared to organise outings on my days off, and because by then I liked him and we had fun together. He took me to places few people could afford to go to in those days – theatres, circuses, drives in his car. The pits were closed; no one had any money. I handed most of my wages over to my father to keep the family, not that I’m complaining – nearly all the nurses in the Graig had to do the same. I was no different or any harder done by. It was just a bad time.’
‘But there must have been one moment, one special moment when you realised you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him?’ Liza urged.
‘Have you had that moment with Angelo?’ Bethan asked intuitively, deliberately turning the conversation around.
‘No, that’s why I’m asking. Like you with Dr John, when we first started going out together, I liked him a lot. He’s young, handsome, earns good money, takes me places – when we both can get time off …’
‘And he makes you wonderful meals in the restaurant.’
‘Yes.’ Liza laughed as she poured boiling water on to the leaves in the pot. ‘And given the food in the nurses’ hostel and Royal Infirmary, that’s something not to be sneezed at. I admit it, Angelo’s a fantastic cook and I enjoy eating the meals he makes for me.’
‘More than his company?’
‘No.’
‘But something’s not right.’
‘It’s probably me. I always thought that when I fell in love it would be momentous, huge, like Cinderella at the ball.’
‘And it was like that between you and Maurice?’
‘You saw me, Auntie Beth, you know what I was like. I couldn’t breathe when he was around. I couldn’t wait to see him and when I did, all I wanted to do – all I was capable of doing, was just sitting and staring at him.’
‘We all noticed. But both of you were very young.’
‘So, was it that way between us because we were young and it was the first time either of us had felt that way? Or was it because of the war and we both knew that he could be killed as soon as he got sent overseas? Or was it because I loved him more than I do Angelo?’
‘That’s a lot of questions and I can’t help you on the last one. Only you can know whether you loved Maurice more than you do Angelo. But I do know that when you’re young everything seems that much more intense. Everything is new, not just each other but even the idea that you can fall in love …’ Bethan paused, remembering what it had been like when she and Andrew had first begun to make love. She looked across at Liza. ‘Are you and Angelo … ?’
‘You won’t be angry if I tell you we have – are.’
‘I’m not angry. You’re nineteen, Liza. You’ve been going out with Angelo for nearly a year.’
‘And I’m very careful. A girl doesn’t have to get pregnant these days.’
‘No. One good thing that came out of the w
ar was all the publicity about French letters. Before the war doctors would only prescribe them to married couples, and then only if the woman’s health would be endangered by pregnancy.’ Bethan couldn’t help recalling her hasty, hole-in-the-corner, registry office wedding in London when she had been six months pregnant with her first child.
‘And I do like Angelo very much. He’s asked me to marry him but …’
‘You’re not sure.’
‘I can’t stop thinking about Maurice and wishing we’d made love just once, and then there’s my training. I want to finish it and become a nurse.’
‘That, I think, is a very good idea. You’re too bright to hide all that talent away in domestic drudgery just yet.’
‘That’s what I keep telling Angelo. The problem is –’ she looked at the toast she was browning over the fire, pulled it from the fork and turned it over to toast the other side – ‘I want you to tell me if Angelo is my Mr Right when, as you said, no one can possibly know the answer to that question except me.’
‘Have you considered the reason you’re asking is that you already know Angelo isn’t the one for you?’
‘Or is he, and I’m crying for the moon because I want Maurice back and I can’t have him?’
‘Have you met anyone else?’ Bethan asked perceptively.
‘Where would I meet someone else?’
‘In the hospital. You’re a nurse, you must meet lots of young doctors, just as I met Dr John.’
‘The doctors in Cardiff Infirmary treat nurses like lepers. They’d never dream of considering any of us as human, let alone women with feelings.’
‘Come on .. .’
‘Have you ever picked a towel up off the floor after a doctor’s dried his hands on it in front of you and dropped it, sooner than contaminate his fingers by touching yours?’
‘Unfortunately, yes. And now you mention it I can even remember what it felt like.’
‘And every free moment I get away from the hospital I spend in Pontypridd, and as Angelo’s here, there’s no chance of meeting anyone else.’ She slipped the first piece of toast from the fork on to a plate and buttered it.
‘Perhaps you should make a point of going to other places.’
Pontypridd 07 - Spoils of War Page 30