The Quality of Love

by Rosie Harris

  For a moment Sarah thought Mrs Williams was going to refuse but with a heavy sigh she turned and headed for the kitchen.

  ‘If we have a really good breakfast then we’ll be able to manage with just a sandwich at lunchtime,’ he whispered quietly to Sarah. ‘That will give us more time to explore the seafront and perhaps even go as far as Coney Beach.’

  ‘I think I’ll need one of those wonderful ice-creams if we’re going to walk that far,’ she told him.

  ‘You can only have one of those as a reward if you behave yourself,’ he teased. ‘I think you deserve one after last night, though,’ he added with a devilish smile.

  The rest of their short stay in Porthcawl was spent in walking and exploring the coastline during the day and in blissful lovemaking at night. The time passed so quickly that in no time at all it was over and they were cramming their things back into their suitcases and heading back to Pyle Railway Station.

  They made the journey home in silence, sitting holding hands, happy and contented with their own thoughts. When they reached Cardiff General, though, the realisation that they would soon be parting and that she had no idea at all when she would see Gwyn again was like a physical blow.

  She didn’t want to return home or to be parted from him. She was almost in tears as they clung together in a farewell embrace.

  ‘If I’m going to be working in Cardiff, when can I see you?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t think it will be possible until the new term starts. My father has forbidden me to have anything more to do with you and if he found out that I was meeting you, he’d be terribly angry.’

  ‘So how can we meet, then?’ Gwyn probed with a frown.

  ‘I can always play truant or see you when I haven’t any lectures,’ she explained. ‘If I say I am going out during the holidays they will want to know where I am going. If I say it’s to look around the shops, then my mam will probably say she’ll come with me.’

  ‘Couldn’t you say you were going to the Public Library and I could meet you there?’

  ‘She’d probably come with me.’

  ‘Surely she wouldn’t do that if you said you’d be gone a couple of hours because you wanted to read up about something.’

  Sarah shook her head. ‘You don’t understand. She’d say she was coming and that she’d spend an hour looking round Howell’s or Morgan’s while I was in there.’

  ‘That would be all right, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘She might take it into her head to come into the library looking for me and then if I wasn’t there she’d know I was cheating on them and I’d be in trouble.’

  Gwyn shook his head in disbelief. ‘If you are old enough to go to university then surely you are old enough to go out and about on your own when you want to. I’m amazed they let you go away on your own for a few days.’

  ‘So am I, really. I still dread going home and being cross-questioned about where I’ve been and what I saw and so on. I didn’t even send a postcard like they asked me to, and I’ve already told so many lies that I can hardly remember what I’ve said.’

  ‘Then the best thing you can do is tell them that you and this girl went to Porthcawl. That way you’ll be able to talk about what you’ve seen and done without any fear of being caught out.’

  ‘Yes,’ Sarah brightened, ‘you’re probably right. That does sound like a good idea.’

  ‘Providing you don’t tell them about being with me and everything we’ve been doing, of course,’ Gwyn teased as he gave her a final kiss.

  ‘I certainly won’t be doing that!’ She smiled.

  ‘You do love me, though, don’t you?’ he challenged as he handed her suitcase to her.

  Chapter Nine

  The rest of the summer holiday dragged by so slowly that sometimes Sarah thought she would go mad. She buried herself in her studies but, although she appeared to be working hard, her mind was not really on the books in front of her. She studied as a way of making the days pass more quickly and in order to stop herself dwelling on what had happened between her and Gwyn.

  What she really wanted was to see him, to find out if he had enjoyed their time together as much as she had. She wanted to feel his warm breath on her face as he whispered sweet endearments to her and to feel his arms around her, holding her close. More than anything else, though, she wanted to feel their bodies entwined and to relive the blissful feeling of contentment she’d experienced after they’d made love.

  She tried to hide her yearning so as not to let her mother know how discontented she felt and she made an effort to be enthusiastic when they got dressed up and went shopping together or went on an occasional trip to one of the parks because she knew it was her mother’s way of making sure she took some time off to enjoy herself.

  ‘I’m beginning to think that all this studying is no good for you; it’s turning your head, cariad. You need to take some time off, you know. You seem to be in a dream world half the time.’ Her mother sighed as they found a shady spot in Cathays Park and sat there waiting for the band to play. ‘Twice now I’ve asked you what you think about that colourful bed of asters over there, and you don’t even seem to have heard me.’

  ‘Sorry, Mam. They’re lovely. I did hear you, but I was thinking of something else.’

  ‘Your new term will be starting in less than a week and then you really will be hard at it and worrying about exams again.’

  ‘Yes,’ Sarah smiled brightly, ‘it’s not long now and I’m quite looking forward to it.’

  ‘In spite of what your father says and thinks I don’t hold with all this studying – well, not for a girl anyway. Anyone would think you are going to have to be the breadwinner for the rest of your life.’

  As the band started to play Sarah was glad she didn’t need to enter into any further discussion and she merely smiled and patted her mother’s arm.

  As the music filled the air she gave herself up to remembering Porthcawl and wishing she was back there. Was Gwyn missing her, she wondered, and feeling the same, or was he so caught up in his new job on the Western Mail that he’d had no time to think about their holiday together? More to the point, when would she be seeing him? He knew the date she would be back at university, so would he be there waiting for her at the end of the first day?

  To Sarah’s dismay he wasn’t. She hung around for as long as she dared, then reluctantly headed for home hoping she’d manage to get there before her father came home from work and started asking awkward questions about why she was so late.

  She was on tenterhooks all evening, wondering if she should find some excuse to go out in case Gwyn had been late and missed her. Common sense told her that it would be a waste of time since he wouldn’t still be hanging around the university campus.

  The next morning she felt far from well and mentally told herself off for letting the previous evening’s disappointment get to her so much. Although she would have liked to have stayed in bed and taken the day off sick she forced herself to get up and behave as normal because Gwyn would be there tonight, she told herself.

  The feeling wore off during the day and she was glad that she’d made the effort to attend lectures because at the end of the afternoon Gwyn was waiting outside.

  With her heart in her mouth she rushed to greet him; he looked so tall and rugged that she wanted to fling herself into his arms, but she restrained herself because there were so many people about.

  He pecked her cheek, squeezed her arm and, taking her bag of books from her, suggested they went to their usual milk bar.

  ‘Come on, I’m going to spoil you; cake and an ice-cream, although I don’t suppose either of them will be half as good as the ones we had at the Fulgoni’s restaurant in Porthcawl.

  ‘I expected you to come and meet me yesterday afternoon; I waited around for ages,’ she told him as they discreetly held hands under the table while they waited to be served.

  ‘I thought you might, but there was no way of letting you know that I wouldn’t be able to man
age it because I’d been sent to Bristol to cover a story. Are you quite sure that if I wrote to you your father would open the letter even if it was plainly addressed to you?’ he asked, frowning.

  ‘I’m not sure, but he always opens all the letters and if he didn’t open mine he would want to know who it was from.’

  ‘Well, what about if I signed it “Ruth” or “Gwyneth”? Couldn’t you say it was from a girlfriend? Shall we try it and find out what does happen?’ He chuckled.

  There were so many things Sarah wanted to ask Gwyn but she wasn’t sure how to start, so she ate her chocolate cake and ice-cream in silence. They were delicious but still not quite up to the same standard as the ones she’d had in Porthcawl.

  While they were eating Gwyn enthused about his new job and at the same time aired his views about how he would do things differently if he was given a free hand.

  ‘I only go along with the Editor’s ideas in order to keep in his good books because I know I am only there on trial,’ he told her. ‘Once I’m on the permanent staff and able to use my initiative then I’ll soon show them what I can do,’

  ‘What do you mean?’ She frowned. ‘You can’t expect promotion right away.’

  ‘Why ever not? I’ve got a degree, remember. Most of the others have worked their way up from being the copy boy, who’s at everybody’s beck and call, to the junior reporter who covers council meetings and flower shows and things like that. With my background I should be allowed to specialise in politics; one of these days I might even be Foreign Correspondent or move to London as Parliamentary Correspondent.’

  ‘Well, I hope you don’t do that, because then I would never see you,’ Sarah reminded him.

  ‘When you get your degree then you could join the paper as one of the legal staff.’ He grinned. ‘Think about it; we’d probably be able to see each other every day.’

  ‘The way things are going I don’t think I will be getting my degree,’ she confided worriedly. ‘I keep thinking about you when I should be making notes and that always distracts me.’

  He pulled a stern face and shook his head disapprovingly. ‘You’d better do well or your father will have something to say about it,’ he warned.

  ‘I know! As a matter of fact, I think I had better be going because if he gets home from work ahead of me then he’ll wonder why I’m late.’

  ‘And the excuse that you’ve stayed late for a lecture doesn’t wash any more as we very well know,’ Gwyn said, smiling broadly.

  ‘No,’ she shook her head, ‘I’m afraid it doesn’t.’

  ‘So when am I going to see you again?’ he asked as they prepared to leave.

  ‘I don’t know, unless you can meet me the same time tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s going to be possible. I have to do some work, you know. It was quite a wangle getting time off today.’ He frowned. ‘In fact, in order to do so I have had to agree to do a stint tonight and I won’t even have time to walk you home,’ he added apologetically as he pushed back his chair and stood up.

  Outside he kissed her on the cheek; a parting that was more like brother and sister or good friends, it certainly didn’t have the passion she expected him to show towards her after their holiday together.

  ‘Probably the best thing is for me to write and let you know when I can next manage to be here in the afternoon,’ he told her.

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed reluctantly. ‘I suppose that will be all right. I’ll try and make sure I pick up the letters before anyone else does.’

  ‘Don’t worry, my letter will be quite safe. I’ll sign it “Gwyneth” and then you can tell them that I am a friend and perhaps we can meet more often. Surely you’ll be able to get away one evening a week or at the weekend if I let you know in good time?’

  He was gone before she could answer and she felt close to tears of disappointment as she watched him disappearing down St Mary Street. Even when he briefly turned and waved to her it did little to quell the feeling of des ertion that overwhelmed her.

  She turned over in her mind his suggestion of writing to her and wished she’d told him not to do so. If her father did read Gwyn’s letter, he was bound to be suspicious because she’d told them that Gwyneth was her friend at university. She’d been so confused after Gwyn had made that suggestion that she hadn’t been thinking clearly. What she should have done, of course, was ask him for his address and then she could have been the one to write to him. As it was, she didn’t even know where he was living, although she was sure that it must be in Cardiff now that he was working there.

  After a restless night she was up early, feeling sick with worry as she listened for the sound of the letter box, even though she realised that Gwyn wouldn’t yet have had time to arrange anything or write a letter to her.

  The same thing happened the next morning but when her mother placed a plate of sausage and egg on the table for her she had to struggle to eat it and only did so to avoid her mother asking questions. She was sure it was the stress of waiting for a letter that was making her feel unwell, and had no idea how she could explain that to her parents.

  The moment she’d finished eating she hurried up to her room on the pretence of getting ready. She felt so bilious that she lay down on her bed for a while and tried to reason with herself that she was being silly and that she was imagining it. She couldn’t go on making herself feel ill like this every day. It might be a week before Gwyn wrote to her.

  The weekend came and went and no letter arrived and Sarah felt even more tense and unwell.

  As soon as they met again she’d have to tell Gwyn that this arrangement was no good at all because all the worry was upsetting her. She not only felt physically sick but also so disorientated until mid-morning that the lectures in the early part of the day simply passed over her head.

  A letter arrived on Monday morning and because, once again, Sarah was up so early she was able to retrieve it and secret it away without either of her parents noticing it. She still felt sick but this time she attributed it not to stress but to her tremendous feeling of relief.

  The moment she was clear of Cyfartha Street Sarah pulled out the letter that she’d pushed into the pocket of her skirt and eagerly read it. It was so innocuous that she could easily have opened it in front of her parents. All it said was:

  Can you come to the cinema with me Wednesday night? Meet me there at 7 p.m. Gwyneth

  She almost laughed out loud with relief. She’d show it to her parents tonight, she decided, and see what they said. Then she realised she could hardly do this because then they’d know she’d collected it in the morning and hidden it away from them.

  Why did everything have to be so complicated, she wondered? She thought about it all day, reading the few lines over and over again, deriving comfort from the fact that they’d been written by Gwyn. In the end she thought the best thing to do would be to wait until they were eating their evening meal and then tell them she wanted to go to the pictures with Gwyneth and see how they reacted.

  ‘I think that’s a lovely idea,’ her mother agreed. ‘You’ve been working so hard lately that you look quite washed out. An evening out will do you good.’

  Lloyd was not so certain. ‘Is it going to interfere with your studies?’ He frowned. ‘Those sorts of outings should be undertaken during the holidays, not in term time; I thought I had made that quite clear.’

  ‘One exception isn’t going to hurt, surely,’ Lorna insisted. ‘I think it will do her good to have a night off.’

  Sarah stayed silent, concentrating on the food in front of her and letting them argue it out between them. If her mother approved of the idea then she knew that, with a little persuasion, her father would do so as well because he never denied her mother anything. Usually she felt jealous about this but on this occasion she realised that it was going to be to her advantage.

  Sarah thought Wednesday would never arrive. When it did she felt so sick that she couldn’t touch her breakfast.

&nb
sp; ‘You must eat something,’ her mother protested. ‘You’ll only have a snack in the canteen at midday so if you are meeting your friend and going straight to the pictures, you’ll be absolutely starving by the time you get home.’

  ‘We can always have something at a milk bar before the pictures start,’ Sarah told her.

  ‘Fair-do’s; I suppose you could do that, but it’s not the same as sitting down to a proper meal,’ her mother protested. ‘Still, I don’t suppose it will matter for once.’

  As she was leaving her mother pressed a half-crown into her hand. ‘Now mind you buy yourself a bun and have a milk shake before you go into the pictures. Come straight home afterwards because your dad will have an eye on the clock and if you turn up late he’s bound to say you shouldn’t have gone out and that you mustn’t do it again.’

  Sarah nodded, ready to agree to anything now that she knew she would be seeing Gwyn in a few hours’ time.

  ‘What did you say was showing?’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know. It must be something good because my friend particularly wants to see it.’

  ‘You are a dreamer, cariad; you’ve always got your head in the clouds. Fancy not knowing,’ her mother scolded lightly.

  ‘Sorry, Mam. I never thought you’d be interested.’

  ‘Well, just remember what you see because we’ll want to know all about it when you come home,’ her mother said, smiling.

  Although her visit to the pictures with Gwyn was enjoyable and Sarah found it was wonderful to sit there with his arm round her, cuddling her close after the lights went down, somehow it had none of the magic of Porthcawl.

  Afterwards, she was worried about getting back because she knew that if she was late she would have to face questions from her father about why she hadn’t come straight home. This annoyed Gwyn because it meant that there was only time for a brief goodnight kiss.

  ‘There’s not much point in us going out if you have to dash home in such a hurry afterwards,’ he said irritably.