*
Lucy was in a chair, wrapped up and dosed with lot lemon juice and blackcurrant jam – delivered earlier by Stella. Meriel was listening to the wireless turned low and the fire was slowly sifting down to its end. A peaceful scene and what Leo had to say would probably ruin it.
He was offered a cup of tea and when they were seated, he said, ‘Meriel, are you sure you want to find your first family? They might not want to find you, remember. You could cause them a great deal of hurt. And you could find the truth upsetting, too. Wouldn’t you be happier just living with vague dreams? After all, you could invent a family and make them what you want them to be. Rich, poor, clever, successful or the village idiots, happy or miserable, town or country, tall or short, fat or thin, knock-kneed, toothless—’ He stopped and looked at her, hoping his words had raised her spirits.
‘Leo, I have tried to forget it, I really have, but I must know. Even if they are the worst people I can imagine, I need to know where I came from and why I was abandoned.’ She lifted her head and looked at him, her eyes filled with suspicion. ‘You know, don’t you! You know!’
He carefully explained his reasons and the way the investigation had taken him. Then he told her of the slip made by her father that his mother couldn’t quite cover up.
‘Who are they?’ she whispered and he held her close, her heart beating wildly against his own.
‘I’m whistling in the wind here, I’m not at all convinced,’ he began, ‘I haven’t spoken to them, faced them with it.’
‘Tell me!’
‘It was Teifion’s initial idea that you are the daughter of the Roberts-Price family and I’m now beginning to believe he was right. I have no proof, just a few odd hints, their behaviour when they see you, their leaving Church Cottage so soon after moving there, and making their daughter move with them, give up her job and start again. They’re running away from something, at least, he is, but I have nothing more concrete than that. I wish I hadn’t started this. All I’ve done is upset you and your parents and none of you deserve it.’
She gave a groan and whispered. ‘I believe I knew. There was always something odd about the way he was with me. He avoided me and ran off whenever I appeared, or pedalled off on that creaky old bike, and there was the strangeness of them all. Belonging to them, being their dark unspoken secret, was one of my worst dreams. I was the explanation of their oddness. I was the reason they lived surrounded by secrecy. They suffered shame and guilt from my being born which was made worse by then giving me away.’
‘None of the shame rests with you, remember that. You are innocent of anything sad or shameful. You are Meriel Evans and that baby was the end of a tragedy and the beginning of something wonderful.’
A knock at the door and Walter walked in. ‘So he’s told you then?’
Still clinging to Leo, Meriel could only nod.
‘Then let this be an end to it. I pray you’ll never learn the rest. If you have any feelings for us at all, finish this now. Forget the Roberts-Price family and let it go. If you carry on with this you will destroy your mother. Is that what you want?’
‘There’s more?’ Meriel gasped.
‘For heaven’s sake, Meriel, let it rest!’
Walter turned and went out, running down the path to the lane. Through the open door they heard the sound of the engine as he drove away.
Lucy, wrapped like a cocoon, forgotten by them all, peered out from the blankets.
‘That wasn’t very sensible, was it? Telling you there’s more and demanding you don’t try to find out what it might be. Red rag to a bull, that is!’
Eleven
Leo was at the office waiting for Walter the following morning. He had been unable to sleep and at five thirty had gone for a walk to Watchtower Bay and around the lake. He had met no one and was thankful he hadn’t needed to make polite, inane comments on the hour or the weather. He valued the silence as he tried to decide what he would say to his boss.
Should he offer to resign? That was the worst thing; his loyalty and support for Meriel might result in him leaving the job he had enjoyed since leaving school. He didn’t regret supporting Meriel but wished the outcome had been a failure to find her first family instead of her having to face the sad Roberts-Price family and search for echoes of herself in them.
He stood when Walter walked in and began to apologize. ‘I’m so sorry about this. I had no idea it would be so painful. I so wanted to help her and I thought that if I made enquiries. and assured her there was no connection between the Roberts-Prices and her, that she’d give up, but now she insists on seeing them for herself. I honestly thought any enquiries I made would come to nothing. I’m truly sorry.’ When Walter took off his jacket and began to look through the mail without saying a word, he went on, ‘I’ll quite understand if you want me to leave. I don’t want to, but if it’s what you and Mrs Evans would like – if it would help.’
‘How would it help me to lose an able assistant? Have you any idea how difficult it is to find experienced staff?’
‘Then I can stay?’
‘Of course,’ Walter said gruffly. He attempted a smile and added, ‘Meriel would kill me if I sacked you, wouldn’t she?’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’d better take some more unofficial holiday and go and see if she’s all right.’
‘What d’you want me to say – to do?’
‘Leo, I’ve known you since you were a toddler. If I can’t trust you to do the right thing now, when will I ever?’
‘She will want to meet them.’
‘Then go with her. Help her to understand, will you?’
Still stricken with guilt, seeing the strain on Walter’s face and knowing he was at least partly responsible, made the prospect of talking to Meriel difficult. Should he discourage her from trying to talk to the Roberts-Price family? Or would that make her go there alone and face whatever happened without support?
When he reached Cwm Derw he didn’t go straight to the office but sat in the café, nursing a cup of tea he didn’t really want, playing with a scone he couldn’t eat, trying to clear his mind, calm himself for the difficult interview ahead. He reached Evans and Calloway as Meriel was making a cup of coffee in the room behind the office. ‘Make that two, will you?’ he called.
‘Oh Leo!’ she sighed, coming to greet him. ‘I’m so glad you’ve come. Pandora’s box this certainly is. What can I do to make it all right again?’
‘What d’you want to do?’ he asked, holding her close.
‘Truthfully?’
‘Truthfully,’ he replied.
‘I want to talk to Mr and Mrs Roberts-Price.’
‘Then that’s what we’ll do.’
Leo phoned the Ship and spoke to Teifion, who arrived at two thirty and after a brief explanation agreed to stay until five o’clock. Meriel and Leo drove to Bridgend and went into the shop selling religious literature and asked to speak to Mr Roberts-Price. The assistant came out of the back room and told them the boss was out. ‘He won’t be back today,’ she said after acknowledging Leo with a smile. ‘There’s a publishers’ conference or something. Can I give him a message?’
‘You don’t know where his daughter is working, I suppose?’ Leo asked.
‘In a shoe shop – and hating it! It’s next to the cinema. There’s a musical on there this week.’ Leo thanked her and they left.
‘I think we should try and find the daughter,’ Leo said. ‘Her name is Martha, she’s nineteen but looks about fifteen.’
‘What is she like?’
‘Old-fashioned and childlike, very much under her father’s thumb I’d guess. But under that subdued and obedient appearance I think there’s quiet defiance.’ He told her about the time he had peered into the cottage near the church and saw her dancing and singing to lively music from her gramophone. ‘She obviously has some spirit, in spite of her parents’ rigid upbringing.’ He saw her hopeful look and wished he’d said nothing. To build up her dreams
, probably falsely, would add to her distress.
‘I’d better ring Teifion in case we aren’t back,’ she told him, still smiling as she imagined the girl who might be her half-sister. ‘We might be a long time, so I’ll tell him to close the office at five.’ She turned to Leo walking beside her, his hand under her arm, and pointed to a phone box. ‘He’s been very kind to us, hasn’t he? It’s as though he’s trying to make up for his father’s behaviour. Being your father doesn’t make a man perfect, does it?’
‘You don’t have many complaints about your own, do you?’
‘None at all. I couldn’t have asked for more. He and Mam have given me a wonderful life. I love them and I’m grateful.’
‘So why are you going on with this, knowing it’s hurting them?’
She pushed his hand from her arm and linked arms. ‘It probably sounds silly, but for one thing I’d be afraid to marry, because I don’t know what I’ve inherited, perhaps some dreadful disease I could pass on to my children, or some human weakness that might show itself. Oh, I don’t know! Call it curiosity if you like! I thought I knew who I was, but when George told everyone I was an adopted child, that Walter and Lynne Evans are not my real parents, he took away everything of importance.’
‘Except their love for you.’
‘That isn’t why I’m doing this.’
‘Then what is the real reason for this crusade?’
‘Nothing specific. I just need to know, to see whether I recognize anything of myself in any of them.’
‘If – and it’s a big if – if they are your missing family, the soldier you told me about, who threatened you with the police when you were sorting out his parents’ shed – he could be a half-brother.’
‘And the sad little girl you describe will be my sister.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘Nothing will change my love for my parents, that has never been in doubt, even during those first awful moments. Nor has your friendship been anything but true.’
It wasn’t what she wanted to say and neither was it what he wanted to hear and they went towards the shoe shop a little sadder for it having been said.
They stood outside the shop for a few minutes, both afraid of what they might learn. Looking through the window, the interior was too dark for them to see whether the place was busy, and finally they went inside the rather gloomy shop with its heavy smell of leather.
‘We need to talk to your father,’ Leo said to the brown-haired dull-looking girl who came to assist them. Meriel stared, wide-eyed, at the unattractive stranger who might be a relation. Surely this must be a mistake?
‘Will he be at home this evening?’ Leo asked.
‘Who shall I say is calling?’
‘My name is Leo Hopkins, but he won’t know me. I’d rather not say what it’s about, it’s rather confidential.’
The girl shrugged and walked away. A moment later from the room behind the shop music could be heard and as she stood close to the doorway, watching for a customer, they saw her feet, in their high-heeled sandals, were tapping in time to the music and her lips were moving silently following the words. A wartime favourite, ‘Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree, With Anyone Else But Me’. It seemed they were already forgotten.
Somehow Leo’s hand had wriggled up and was holding hers again. She knew it was only for reassurance, that he was aware of the anxieties she would face very soon. But it felt so right and the warmth of him travelled through her veins and made her feel safe. She wondered if he felt the same or whether, to him, she was still that young girl, his boss’s daughter.
*
Gerald was enjoying his new position. Although he hadn’t actually made a sale, he had been allowed to approach customers and cope with the preliminary chat, admiring the vehicle, telling the customer he was clearly a man of discernment. As soon as a real interest was shown he introduced him to the boss, who gave the practised spiel and told the customer how easy it was to buy using hire-purchase.
He found himself boasting about Lucy quite often. His girlfriend ran her own business, he told anyone he wanted to impress. She was an estate agent and auctioneer. She must be a remarkable woman, was the frequent response, and he agreed with more and more pride. That it saved him admitting his father mended motorbikes was a bonus. Until one day when he gave his name to someone who wanted to meet him for a drink after work. The man was obviously wealthy, buying a new car for his wife.
‘Cook, you say? Not related to Arthur Cook, are you?’
Before Gerald could make up some story about a distant uncle, the man went on, ‘Marvellous man. There isn’t anyone else this side of Birmingham or nearer than London who can do what he does. My first motorbike was offered for scrap, but it was all I could afford. A Norton it was. Nothing more than a wreck to be honest, but Arthur Cook restored it to perfection. The parts he couldn’t find he made in that small workshop of his. The man’s a genius.’
‘He’s my father,’ Gerald said, still with doubts about whether he should admit it. After all, a mechanic wasn’t on the same level as this man with his smart, expensive suit and clean hands.
‘You must be thrilled to have a father like Arthur Cook. Wait till I tell my father. Tell him Peter Drew was asking about him.’
Guilt made Gerald stutter as he promised to tell his father he had met him. It was very confusing. Later, he asked his boss if he had heard of Arthur Cook, a restorer of motor cycles, and the man admitted he hadn’t heard of him. That made Gerald feel much better. The man had been talking rubbish.
He was glad of something to tell his father, though. He had ignored the request to leave home and had continued to use his bedroom, but his parents were making it clear they didn’t want him there. Any attempts at conversation were quickly snubbed and at least this little snippet of his exciting new job would be of interest. He repeated the name for fear he’d forget it.
A few days later his boss suggested he invited Lucy to lunch. ‘I’ll bring the wife and we can get to know each other.’
He wrote to Lucy and asked her to meet him.
*
At five o’clock as Teifion was closing her office door back in Cwm Derw, Meriel stood beside Leo and watched the door at the side of the bakery in Bridgend, for the appearance of William Roberts-Price. He arrived with the girl they knew was his daughter, at a quarter to six and unlocked the front door. Meriel noted that the shoes the girl now wore were heavy brown lace-ups.
As the door was about to shut the sad looking couple inside, they called and ran across. They saw momentary fear shadow the man’s face and he moved the door as though he was about to close it against them. Then he relented and said, ‘You’d better come in.’
They were shown into what the man called the parlour, a cold impersonal room furnished with a polished table around which there were four elegant and precisely placed chairs. An armchair stood on either side of an empty grate, each with a pristine cushion carefully arranged. Heavy dark-green curtains hung at the window almost obliterating the light. Meriel sat on an armchair and Leo stood beside her. Mr Roberts-Price excused himself and said he would be a moment, and left them. Uneasy, unable to sit still, Meriel stood up beside Leo, close together in the cold, comfortless room.
When the door reopened it was his daughter who came in. She held out a hand, saying, ‘I’m Martha. Who are you?’ she asked in a whisper. ‘Father seems very upset by your visit. Is he in trouble?’
‘No trouble, I promise you,’ Leo said, putting an arm around Meriel’s shoulders. ‘Trouble is the last thing we want.’
Martha’s parents came in then and sent her out to make tea.
‘We don’t want to upset you,’ Meriel said hesitantly, ‘I just need to know – can you tell me – is there any truth in the story that I am your daughter?’ They were such a sad couple and living in a sad house that she willed them to say no, the idea was a nonsense.
‘You are our daughter,’ the man said, and his wife nodded agreement, and Meriel felt her whole body begin to shake. The
room spun around her and she would have fallen if Leo hadn’t been holding her. She was shivering violently and Leo lowered her gently into one of the stiff armchairs and wrapped her in his coat. He spoke soothingly to her and kept reassuring her that everything would be all right, he’d take her home and stay with her until she had recovered.
Mr Roberts-Price left the room and came back with a drink of water, his wife knelt down beside Meriel and rubbed warmth into the girl’s hands. Slowly the room righted itself and her eyes focused. She looked properly for the first time at the woman who had given her life. She had the same colour hair as herself but it was carelessly arranged, dragged back into a loose plait that stretched down her back, almost to her waist.
‘I didn’t really think it would be true,’ she whispered to Leo. ‘For all my talk, I wasn’t prepared for this.’
The couple stood near them and said nothing as Leo continued to talk to her in a low voice. Meriel looked at them, he with his old-fashioned clothes like a person from another time, and the woman who was her mother, wearing a homemade cotton dress and apron, dark colours, plain design. Fashion and attractiveness were forbidden strangers in this house, she thought miserably, and happiness too. How could this be true?
The family members she had met were all wrapped in some shameful embarrassment, hiding behind plainness, apologizing to the world, ashamed to be seen. Surely it couldn’t be because of her birth and abandonment? After almost twenty-three years the wounds must have healed?
‘Please don’t discuss this in front or our daughter – our other daughter.’
‘As you wish,’ Leo answered for her.
‘Can we meet somewhere and talk it through?’
Having heard the last remark and seeing an opportunity, Martha put the tea tray down and asked, ‘May I go to the pictures, Mother? It’s nothing violent or wicked.’
The Heart of the Home Page 24