A Shop in the High Street

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by A Shop in the High Street (retail) (epub)


  Megan staggered, saving herself from falling by grabbing the newel post. Then she and Sally were hugging each other, both sobbing, speechless with distress. They jumped as the door slammed shut behind Ryan.

  And then the pains began.

  Chapter Eight

  Ryan knew nothing of the sudden onset of Megan’s labour pains. Distressed more than he had ever been in his life, he lurched around the streets uncaring where he went or whether he fell under the wheels of the cars that passed him. He was so ashamed. How had he reached this dreadful state when he could hit his wife and not care about his daughter when she was in trouble and needed him?

  Crossing the road blindly, he avoided a bus by sheer good luck and found himself outside the hospital. As if his route had been planned for him by some unseen force, he went inside.

  He was unable to talk for several moments, mixed emotions, all of them self-accusing, prevented him controlling his breath. Then as he fought back sobs that threatened to engulf him once again, he choked out his words to the nurse standing waiting for him to explain his problem.

  “Help me. Please help me, I’m ill.” Without waiting for her to ask questions he raised his voice and went on. “I’m ill! I’ve been hitting my wife! Help me, please.” Sobs overcame him and he submitted himself to her care, giving up on the effort of explaining what had brought him there.

  Unaware of what happened next, he came to his senses in the office of the matron, with a policeman standing close by. In a panic, he began to rise.

  “I’m ready to go home now. I need to go home and make sure Sally’s all right.” A restraining hand held him, voices assured him that Sally was safe.

  “Your wife is here, in the maternity ward with your daughter,” Matron said. “We’ll attend to her bruises when she is satisfied your daughter Megan and her child are safe.”

  This sent him back into despair and confusion. “Megan’s having the baby? Isn’t it early? Will Megan be all right? And the baby – will he be all right?”

  “It is a little early. A shock will sometimes start things off before time.” There was censure in the matron’s voice. She had heard from a distraught Sally what had happened before labour began. “But so far as we can tell, your daughter is strong and healthy and is now, please God, out of danger.”

  “Danger?”

  It was a word used deliberately by the firm but kindly matron. The man might be in distress but she saw no reason to let him off lightly. She considered a man who hit his wife, ill or not, undeserving of sympathy.

  “It was my fault,” he muttered and his whole body began to shake uncontrollably.

  “Calm down, Mr Fowler-Weston. Everything is going normally now. Your grandchild will be born in the next few minutes or so.”

  “I hope he’ll be all right,” Ryan muttered, repeating it over and over.

  When they spoke to him after that, he seemed not to take in what was being said. All he could understand was that his daughter was in danger, her child might be harmed and he was responsible.

  He was sitting in the waiting room having been promised an appointment with a psychiatrist, when he saw Sally approach­ ing him along the corridor. He was tempted to run. How could he face her after this?

  “There you are,” she said calmly. “The nurse told me you were here. Come to enquire after your daughter? Pretending that you care?”

  “I’ve come because I need help,” he said, tears threatening again. “I need help.”

  “I hope you find it, because you won’t get any from me. Not after this.” She went to the wall phone and he sank back into confusion, only half registering that she was talking to someone called Edward. Who was Edward he wondered vaguely?

  Ryan was taken to a small office where a man whose name he couldn’t remember asked a lot of questions. He wanted to be helpful and give intelligent replies but with thoughts and words and pictures swimming around in his head completely out of his control, he thought he hadn’t made much sense. Trying to pull himself together he said with great authority, “My name is Ryan Fowler-Weston. How d’you do?”

  * * *

  News of Megan’s labour spread through the family and to others. Sally, the proud grandmother, spoke to her sister Sian, who told Dora. She also called her parents and Arfon handed the phone to Gladys, who burst into tears.

  The baby was born with very little fuss and Megan held her daughter and said to Sally, “Mummy, I don’t think I have ever been happier. She’s so beautiful, and I want to do my very best for her.”

  “She’ll have everything she needs, don’t worry about that,” Sally said, tears falling onto the cot as she leaned over to put her granddaughter down to rest.

  “Now, will you find Edward and tell him I have a daughter?”

  Sally made a few calls but Edward wasn’t to be found.

  * * *

  To Lewis Lewis’s embarrassment, the police had come twice more to question him about his whereabouts at the times of the robberies. That evening, he had been asked to go to the police station where they persisted with the idea that he was part of a team, committing only some of the robberies, making sure he had alibis for others in an attempt to confuse the police and throw them off the scent.

  “With a job like yours you don’t have much of an alibi anyway, do you?”

  “An alibi? I don’t need an alibi!” Lewis snapped. “What on earth makes you think I’m involved in the robberies? Is it the company I keep? Is that it? Living with a criminal who happens to be my son-in-law?”

  After each visit he had stormed over to Dora ready to talk about his humiliation and each time stormed back again having been shouted at for daring to suggest that Charlie was in any way to blame.

  “My life is hell!” he said to Edward Jenkins when they met at the police station, neither aware of Megan’s labour. Lewis was leaving after the latest round of questioning and Edward followed him a few seconds later. They walked together along the road, companions in misery.

  “What is the matter with them? I’ve never even had a fine for forgetting to put my driving lights on!” Lewis said.

  “Apparently, Mr Lewis, we both match the description given by several eyewitnesses.”

  “Both of us?” Lewis looked at Edward; as tall as himself, slim and expensively dressed, but with different colouring and no moustache. Edward, he decided was firmly in the wishy-washy class. Pale and dull looking. He was nowhere near as handsome as he was, even though the man was more than ten years younger. “Rubbish!” he said emphatically.

  “It does seem strange, but they seem to think we’re both involved.”

  “But we hardly know each other.”

  “I think it must have been my sister who mooted the idea that we were working in harness; both involved, taking it in turns to commit the robberies so our alibis were sometimes sound.”

  “I think it’s because my daughter Rhiannon married a thief!”

  “My sister Margaret’s very vindictive, and she almost succeeded in ruining my business before it had even begun.”

  “My daughter’s very stubborn. She can’t really love the man. How could she? A common criminal?”

  “I don’t know much about love, Mr Lewis, so I can’t comment.”

  “Oh? I thought you and Megan Weston were more than friends. Not your baby she’s carrying, is it?”

  “Oh no, not mine.”

  “I see, so there’s no chance of you becoming more than friends.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. It depends whether or not I can convince her that I love them both.”

  Edward hurried away then regretting putting his private thoughts into words, and to someone he hardly knew. He imagined Lewis telling his daughter-in-law, Joan, and Joan and Megan having a laugh over it. Why had he spoken so carelessly?

  When he returned to the shop the phone was ringing. He was surprised to hear Sally’s voice and even more surprised to be told that Megan’s baby had been born and was a girl.

  “Rosemary she
will be called,” Sally said, her voice breath­ less with excitement. “Megan wanted you to be among the first to know.”

  “A girl?” he repeated stupidly. “We’d always referred to it as a he. How wonderful. Is Megan all right? Is the baby all right?”

  “Perhaps you’d like to go and see them tomorrow, although Megan asked me to assure you that she doesn’t mind if you don’t, knowing how uncomfortable some men are in such circumstances.”

  “D’you mean she doesn’t want me to?” he asked predictably.

  “If you can face walking into that ward filled with mothers and their babies, she’d love to see you, Edward. Truly she would.”

  Edward replaced the phone, glowing with the thought of meeting the child he had seen only in his imagination. He was smiling, his whole body glowing with the thought of Megan and her child, and Megan, hopefully, now agreeing to marry him. He walked through the flat, considering the place through fresh eyes. He’d have to furnish it properly, but Megan would choose, and the small bedroom would be a perfect nursery.

  * * *

  When Lewis went back to Sophie Street the news of Megan’s baby was being discussed. His son, Viv, was there with his wife Joan, and Joan was describing her beautiful new niece.

  “It’s ridiculous really, but we all expected a boy. The Lump! As if we’d give a little girl a name like that!”

  “That was used to describe Megan,” Dora laughed, “not the baby. But you’re right, we all referred to the baby as ‘he’.”

  “What will happen to the poor little chap,” Lewis said, “growing up without a father?”

  “Growing up with a father isn’t always a doddle,” Dora said sharply. “And aren’t you listening? It’s a girl.” Charlie touched Rhiannon on the arm and gestured with his head towards Dora. Sharp-eyed as always, Dora looked at her daughter and raised an eyebrow.

  “Charlie and I will be having a baby next year,” Rhiannon said quietly. “A brother or a sister for Gwyn.”

  Amid the congratulations, Lewis said with a theatrical sigh, “Another bedroom to decorate I suppose.”

  When Dora took a deep breath to berate him he laughed and winked at Gwyn. “Only joking, Grannie Lewis! Great news, eh, Gwyn?”

  Lewis told Viv about his most recent interview at the police station. “I met Edward Jenkins, and would you believe they are now considering that he and I are working together, taking turns at the robberies to confuse the police?”

  Charlie said quietly, “It isn’t nice being under suspicion, is it Lewis?”

  “No it isn’t! But at least you deserve it!” At once he regretted his words and he turned to Dora and mouthed, “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

  In a hasty change of subject, Rhiannon began a discussion of Edward’s friendship with Megan.

  Turning to Joan she asked, “Will Edward still be a friend to Megan d’you think? From what I hear of him he’s terribly easily embarrassed. People thinking the child is his would be hard for him to cope with.”

  “Megan has been a great help to him; they get on surprisingly well and I suspect he’ll stay around. I hope so,” Joan said. “My sister needs a caring person in her life.”

  “Are they still looking for William Jones who used to own the shop?” Viv asked.

  “Yes,” Joan said. “Megan and Edward need to find him to return some money they found that must be his.”

  “Willie Jones who was a draper?” Gwyn asked. “He’s the man who’s been wandering around here, the one who frightened Rhiannon. I know where he lives.”

  “You do?”

  Gwyn explained about the man who had frightened Rhiannon by entering the back yard. “I’ll go and tell Mr Jenkins, shall I? Then he can give him back the money he found. Poor dab’s in right need of it by the look of him.”

  They all left then – Viv and Joan, a reluctant Lewis, with Charlie and Rhiannon to go to The Railwayman, while Gwyn and Dora went to tell Edward about the discovery of the missing draper. Everyone was in celebratory mood, but Lewis’s heart was heavy as he went into the public house. His daughter was expecting a baby. There was no chance of her leaving Charlie Bevan now.

  * * *

  Several people called on Sally that day, having heard news of the birth of her granddaughter; they called to bring gifts and good wishes for mother and child. Megan’s Aunt Sian was one of the first, having left Dora alone in the café for an hour, and with her were her son Jack and his wife Victoria.

  Since their wedding, Jack and Victoria saw very little of his family. Victoria was uneasy in the company of the Westons, especially Gladys, for whom she had once worked as a servant. Gladys had trained the young woman to be her maidservant and was now intent on training her into being a suitable wife for Jack!

  Jack was more than satisfied to stay away from his grandparents and allow Victoria to develop any social skills she needed, in her own time. He was utterly content with his shy and loving wife, and was determined that nothing would spoil their life together. As a teacher, he had longer holidays than most and whenever possible, he and Victoria would go away, walking in the breathtakingly beautiful Brecon hills, or the mountains of North Wales. Just the two of them – they needed no one else. He wanted their way of life to go on for ever.

  He watched Victoria as Sally described the new child. Was she yearning for a child of her own? He wouldn’t mind the changes a child would bring. He saw that event as an added joy, so long as he kept the rest of the family from taking over. He smiled, remembering how Gladys and his mother had been outwitted over their wedding. Controlling the family was something at which he was master. He looked across at Victoria and mouthed, “I love you.”

  Sally avoided questions about Ryan: what he thought about being a grandparent, where he was at present and when he would go to visit Megan. Then the hospital phoned and pretence was no longer possible. Alarm showed on her face and the shock was so great that she told Sian and Jack and Victoria the whole story.

  “What did the hospital say that frightened you so much?” Jack asked when the situation had been discussed.

  “Only that he’s on medication and has disappeared from the hospital, presumably to make his way back here. But he isn’t coming in, Sian, I won’t allow him in.”

  * * *

  When Dora and Gwyn had given him their message, Edward went straight away to find William Jones. The address in Sebastopol Street was a dingy house in a dingy street and he knocked on the half open door with trepidation. A young woman came out and when he asked about the man he was seeking, she told him he had lived there but had moved on.

  Disappointed that he wouldn’t have news to share with Megan the following day, Edward went home. He decided that he would forget the idea of finding the man and if he hadn’t turned up after a year had passed, the money would go to a charity. With a sense of relief that the search had been abandoned, he went into the shop from the front entrance and ran up the stairs in a cheerful frame of mind.

  The birth of Megan’s daughter gave him a happy feeling. A new beginning for Megan, a fresh start to a life in which he hoped to share. He had succeeded in his attempt to own a business of his own. And there was Megan. He wanted Megan to marry him. Then he would ask for nothing more.

  He sat in his small kitchen and planned what he would wear and what he would take on his visit the following day. He realised he would have to close the shop for a couple of hours and having willingly accepted that, he then began to wonder whether there was anyone he could ask to look after it instead.

  As his thoughts drifted through the events of the day, he remembered Constable Gregory’s daughter, Mair. She used to work for Gladys and Arfon Weston and on occasions for Margaret at Montague Court. Perhaps she would help?

  He drove to the Gregorys’ house tucked almost out of sight among trees at the edge ofthe wood, not far from the Griffiths’s cottage. She agreed to come at nine the next morning so he could show her the routine.

  Altogether it’s been quite a day, he thought, a
s he went once more into the flat above the sports shop. He was in bed by eleven and as he was dropping off to sleep he heard sounds that jerked him into instant wakefulness. Someone was moving about in the shop.

  He lay there for a moment or two stiffened with shock, but when the sounds continued, he forced himself to rise opening the door carefully and listening. He recognised the sound of someone moving behind the counter in the shop below and opening drawer after drawer. The irony struck him then, that as a suspect for the burglaries he was now a victim.

  He slipped on his gown and made his way slowly down the stairs, keeping to the edge and hoping they wouldn’t creak, although a cowardly part of his mind was praying they would make a noise and frighten the man off.

  Edward slowly opened the door leading into the shop from the passageway and looked around. There was hardly any light, only a glow filtering through from the street lamps, but he moved his head in an attempt to discern a movement. After what seemed an age but which couldn’t have been more than a minute, he switched on the light and stepped into the shop, reaching for a cricket bat from the display and brandishing it, bent in a threatening crouch.

  There was no one there. As he grew more and more confident he moved around, looking behind displays and counters, adding more light to the scene, then going – this time noisily – into the storeroom and kitchen beyond the shop. He felt a draught but when he reached the back door, having checked every window, it was all bolted and locked.

  He couldn’t have imagined it! Angry now, he went methodi­cally through the house, upstairs and down, pulling open every door of every cupboard and upending piles of stock and every other place of concealment. He had to face the fact that he was locked securely in, and quite alone.

 

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