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A Shop in the High Street

Page 16

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


  “Can I see Rosemary?” he asked as he walked into the kitchen.

  “Be quick then, Mummy and I have work to do, and please don’t disturb her.” She knew she was being unkind, but she didn’t want him to find a hint of interest in her attitude towards him. Terrence was part of the past, and her mother’s suggestion that he might be the cause of Edward’s non-appearance added to her determination not to encourage him.

  Megan suspected that Terrence, like her father, was hoping for an easy life and one during which he didn’t need to work very hard. There was no money in the Weston family’s coffers now, but he might think there was.

  She spoke to her mother about her plans to go to work as soon as she was able, so she could earn the money to keep her child. If Sally thought she was talking nonsense she didn’t say so, but following Megan’s lead, listened and added a few suggestions about the careers she might try.

  When Sally offered him the unwanted remains of the beer left from the pie, Terrence drank it and left, with Megan hardly uttering a word to him.

  “I hope he isn’t staying in Pendragon Island for long,” she sighed as the door closed behind him.

  “Unless he’s hoping for frostbite I don’t think he will,” her mother replied wryly.

  * * *

  Edward hadn’t seen very much of his cousin Terrence. He knew he was staying with their grandfather near the pleasure beach and guessed that it was not filial duty that had led him there. He would have called on the old man because he could stay there for free. Terrence was always short of money.

  He hoped Megan wasn’t going to be hurt by him. There had to be a reason for him coming back. Perhaps Terrence thought the Weston family had recovered their lost fortune and he could settle into an easy life being supported by them?

  Edward smiled then, imagining Megan’ s response to such a suggestion. She had more sense than to succumb to tales of woe from a lazy man; even her mother had finally learned that lesson.

  He was re-dressing the window after the shop closed. The evenings were light and the pavement outside was filled with passers-by cheerful in the light-hearted mood and bright colours of summer. Some jokingly stopped and waved a hand to help him adjust a display by an inch or two.

  He had two visitors while he worked: Mair Gregory asking whether he wanted help that week, to which he replied ‘yes’, and Frank Griffiths asking if he wanted him to come and dig over the garden ready for autumn planting, another affirmative reply. Because of their interruptions he hadn’t finished the window when hunger reminded him it was almost nine o’clock.

  Abandoning the display he put down the beach-tennis sets he intended to place on a small area of sand. For the cricket bats and stumps, the tennis rackets and the clothing to go with them, he planned to set out a piece of imitation grass. But he was tired. It was time to find himself some food. He would finish the window in the morning.

  When Edward woke, early the next day, the window display was complete. What was more, the work was considerably better than he would have done it.

  For a moment he thought he must have finished it himself, but then he remembered clearly that he had abandoned it to make his supper. He didn’t find the prospect of someone wandering around finishing off his job in any way eerie. It was puzzling, but there was no ghostly hand at work here. Someone was getting in. He went to a locksmith and had the locks on the back door and the shop entrance changed. He wished he could discuss it with Megan.

  He saw Sally walking past the shop and ran out to ask about Megan and Rosemary. When he had been assured they were well, he almost asked about Terrence, but couldn’t. The disappointment of him turning up and ruining his hopes of a life with Megan was a raw wound. He asked about Ryan instead.

  “I don’t know,” Sally replied, frowning as she spoke.

  Edward said, “But you are concerned?”

  “It isn’t easy to forget someone you’ve lived with, shared your life with for so many years, Edward.”

  “Would you like me to enquire and report back?”

  “Would you?” She looked at him, her head tilted slightly in a way that reminded him of Megan. “You’re such an understanding man, Edward.”

  “Nonsense,” he smiled.

  “Why don’t you call and see the baby?” she asked.

  “I can’t. Not now.”

  He was thinking he’d be unwelcome now Terrence was back. Sally thought he was unable to cope, now Megan’s child was a reality.

  When Edward telephoned the hospital to ask about Ryan he was told he had been discharged.

  * * *

  Released from hospital, and having assured the doctors that he was going home, Ryan had set off for Pendragon Island clutching a bottle of pills and wondering where he would spend that night. He went to his in-laws, Gladys and Arfon Weston, and after a discussion between a hissing, disapproving Gladys and the low ponderous voice of Arfon, it was agreed that he could stay until he found somewhere else.

  On the following day, he called on Edward and asked for a job.

  “Sorry Mr Fowler-Weston, but I don’t have anything. I call Mair Gregory when I need extra help but even that isn’t regular.”

  Edward thought about Ryan throughout the day and decided that, as he was Megan’s father and ill, and obviously in need of help, he could at least try and find him a job. Ringing around to some of the people he dealt with, Ryan was promised a sympathetic hearing by a man needing an invoice clerk. Edward went at once to tell Ryan, who promised to see the man later that day.

  “The wages won’t be high, but you might manage to pay for a room with board,” Edward said.

  “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’ve never really thought that would apply to me, but I have to face facts,” Ryan said sadly.

  Edward was alarmed at the change in the man - once so haughty, and now chastened and defeated. He rang the house in Glebe Lane and told Sally what had happened.

  “I understand you don’t want anything more to do with him,” he explained, “but I suspect you’ll want to know how he’s coping.”

  “Thank you Edward. I am concerned and I’d appreciate you keeping in touch. Do you want to talk to Megan?” she asked. “Well, yes, if she isn’t busy. I want to know how Rosemary is getting on.”

  “Why don’t you call?” Sally asked, lowering her voice. “If you coped with walking into that postnatal ward you can cope with us, surely?”

  “I’d love to, but I don’t want to intrude. I gather—” he was about to say, ‘that my cousin is there’, but changed his mind. “I gather Rosemary is doing well,” he said instead.

  When Megan came to the phone she sounded breathless and he had the feeling he had either interrupted something or that she was embarrasssed by his call, so he made it brief. He asked about the baby, she asked about the shop, then they both replaced their receivers in disappointment.

  * * *

  Barry Martin’s house in Chestnut Road was sold within twenty-four hours of going on the market. Barry had momentary fears that he’d made another wrong decision, but when he counted up how much money the sale would produce, he calmed down. He owned the sweet shop in Sophie Street and the flat above; it was sensible to use it and give himself a second chance to make a name for himself as a photographer.

  He went to tell Rhiannon and explain that he would be living above the shop.

  “I won’t disturb you,” he promised. “I’ll use the back entrance and you won’t know I’m there.”

  “Have you told Caroline what you’re doing?” she asked.

  “She knows I’m selling the house. I haven’t told her I’m trying again to start a photographic business.”

  “Why? She’d be interested to know.”

  “Would she?” He sounded doubtful.

  “She feels guilty that you gave it up because of her,” Rhiannon told him.

  “Then perhaps I shouldn’t mention it; won’t it make her feel worse?”

  “Probably, but better you tell her than some
one else.”

  * * *

  Ernie and Frank Griffiths had always been the closest of friends. But with Ernie engaged to marry Helen Gunner, Frank was feeling out of it all. Their other brother, Basil, was married and had two small boys; now it wouldn’t be long before Ernie had no conversation apart from wallpapering and babies. If only he could persuade Mair Gregory to go out with him he wouldn’t mind so much, but without a girlfriend and no hope of finding one, Frank was miserable.

  That evening was particularly bad as Helen’s parents, Gloria and Wilfred Gunner, had been invited to the house to discuss wedding plans. He was amused for a while listening to the diverse ideas of the Gunners’ extravaganza and the Griffiths’ down-to-earth knees-up style celebration.

  “Come for a pint?” he asked Ernie hopefully when the women disappeared upstairs to talk about wedding dresses.

  “Come off it, Frank. Can’t you see I’m needed here?”

  “What’s up, son?” Hywel asked. “Got a face like a double bass you have.”

  “If you must know, I asked Mair to come out with me and she told me to get lost.”

  “Thank God for that! Her father’s a copper in case you’ve forgotten! He’s never forgiven me for selling him that joint of pork from our illegal pig! Ungrateful old misery-guts.”

  Frank went to talk to the goats.

  The wedding discussion turned into a party when Viv and Joan came with Charlie and Rhiannon and Gwyn, who was carrying some of the Rose Tree Café’s left-over sandwiches and cakes.

  When Barry walked in, hoping to talk privately to Caroline his spirits fell. He groaned as he saw that all the windows were open and the door was standing welcomingly wide, and the place was full. Fat chance of having a quiet word with Caroline in the Griffiths’s house!

  But it was easier than he hoped when he realised that Ernie Griffiths’s fiancée and her parents were there to discuss final arrangements for the young couple’s wedding. It was easy for Caroline and him to go into the garden, tell Frank to clear off, and lean over the fence while Joseph-Hywel admired the goats.

  “Don’t be upset, Caroline,” Barry began, “but I have given notice at the factory.”

  “I’m glad, Barry. You never wanted to take it. What will you do?”

  Again he begged her not to be upset, before he told her, “I intend to restart my business.”

  “Upset? I’m delighted. I felt so dreadful that you gave it all up for us, then we separated so soon after. Such a lot of trouble I’ve caused you, Barry. I’m sorry. And, I wish you luck.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d help, would you? I mean do the books, arrange appointments sometimes, that sort of thing.”

  “Of course I will. I’d be glad to make amends for the—”

  “Not make amends, just helping a friend,” he interrupted. He went home, ignored the chaos of his partly packed up home and slept contentedly for eight hours.

  * * *

  Lewis watched Dora as she set off to visit Megan and the baby and he was filled with resentment. He had offered her a lift but had been told firmly that she would rather walk. In fact she had gone on her bicycle with Rhiannon. Was there ever going to be an end to her bitterness? Out of pique he rang up a lady customer and invited her out for a meal. He’d show Dora he wasn’t waiting around for her for the rest of his life. He was still young enough to start all over again. Why should he put up with her temper any longer?

  It was a warm evening and August was the month when all the world seemed to be holidaymaking. In a mood of pleasurable excitement he drove into Cardiff to meet Diana Keep. She was waiting for him on the corner of St Mary’s Street and wearing a heavy coat in a drab brown, sensible shoes and a hat that could only be described as unfortunate. His optimistic mood faded and when he had parked the car, he went to meet her with a heavy heart.

  She was pleasant company, admiring him with her eyes and obviously flattered to be out with him, and when she removed the coat had on an attractive two-piece in a shade of blue he found appealing. But in spite of the promise in her eyes and in her body movements, Lewis’s mind was at Sally Fowler-Weston’s house, imagining how Dora would look at him if she found out about his date. Paying her back for her unpleasantness by going out with another woman as she so often accused, would rebound on him as usual.

  After the meal he made his excuses, thanked her for her delightful company and drove her home. Declining the invitation to stay for a coffee, he went back to Pendragon Island.

  It had begun to rain and as he drove towards Sophie Street it increased to a vigorous downpour, suiting his mood. On impulse he drove past Sophie Street and went on to Glebe Lane. There, he knocked on Sally’s door.

  “I’ve called to give Dora and Rhiannon a lift home,” he said. “They can call for their bikes tomorrow can’t they?”

  “Come in,” Sally smiled and he stood in the kitchen shedding his coat and trilby, before walking into the lounge and greeting them all. Sally put the kettle on for more tea. She had lost count of how many visitors they’d had or how many cups of tea she had made, since the birth of Rosemary.

  “I’ve been to Cardiff, taking a woman customer out for dinner,” Lewis told Dora at once. “I’m hoping for a big order when she opens a new sweet shop,” he added.

  “Young, is she?” Dora asked pertly.

  “Mum!” Rhiannon whispered.

  Ignoring both comments, Lewis went over to the cot where the baby lay, and pressed a sixpenny piece into the small, perfect hand, before realising she might swallow it. As he retrieved the coin the baby took hold of his finger and he smiled delightedly.

  “Strong grip, and a lovely child. Congratulations, Megan.”

  Dora stood beside him, looking down at the baby. “Remember when ours were this young, Lewis? Lovely they were.”

  “They still are,” Lewis replied, smiling at his daughter. “Our Viv married to Joan and running Old Man Arfon’s business for him. And Rhiannon, married to a man who loves her and soon to be a mother herself. They have grown into wonderful people. And our Lewis who died so tragically, well, he’ll always be young and beautiful, won’t he?” He put an arm around her and led her back to her chair.

  Sally brought a tray of tea and when they left an hour later, Dora and Lewis were talking like friends. Rhiannon’s hands were aching from crossing her fingers so tightly.

  * * *

  Besides the Rose Tree Café, Sian and Dora sometimes catered for parties and other celebrations. One Friday afternoon they were asked to arrange food for a picnic for local children. “Most of them are from poor homes or have suffered neglect,” the woman explained. “I’m so sorry it’s short notice, but we suddenly had to change the day from next week to this Saturday. Can you possibly supply individual plates of food for forty children?”

  A few phonecalls to order supplies and they agreed. This was something worthwhile and neither woman complained about the extra hours involved.

  They had to collect the food they needed that evening from a supplier about seventeen miles from Pendragon Island and unfortunately, Sian’s car failed to start. Dora ran to find Lewis. He wouldn’t refuse to help, not for deprived children. He wasn’t there. The car stood at the kerb but there was no sign of Lewis.

  “Charlie, can you drive Lewis’s car and take us?” Dora pleaded.

  “As long as you explain to Lewis, of course I will.”

  They were gone a lot longer than they expected as they had difficulty finding the address. Lost in country lanes with few people about they used up precious time retracing their way again and again. There were few signposts to help them.

  “They took down the road signs to confuse the Germans during the war,” Dora grumbled, “and ten years on they’re keeping them hidden to confuse us!” They were both feeling frustrated before finally reaching their destination.

  Dora wrote a note for Lewis explaining what had happened, left it on the hall table and she and Sian went back to the café where they had space to work and
an efficient kitchen, to prepare the picnic in time for the following day. It was eleven-thirty before they got to bed, and Dora’s last thought was that she would make a special meal and invite Lewis to share it, to thank him for the use of the car.

  Unfortunately he called at the café during the following Monday afternoon and complained that Charlie had borrowed his car over the weekend without asking and hadn’t replaced the petrol he’d used.

  “I asked him to take me to a place on the way to Newport to collect some supplies we needed. Didn’t you see my note? I didn’t think you’d mind.” She felt her anger rising and turned to her partner, “You tell him, Sian.”

  She busied herself in the kitchen while Sian explained to Lewis about the picnic for the deprived children. What had happened to the note, no one knew. Lewis suggested that Polly might have eaten it.

  When Dora invited him to come for a meal that evening, some quixotic pique made him refuse; Rhiannon and Charlie and Gwyn went instead and he sat in the car and ate chips, wondering why he’d declined the offer.

  * * *

  August was a month for children and the town was filled with families making their way to and from the beautiful sandy bays or the rocky and pebbly beaches; such variety and all just a short distance from the centre of the town.

  Buses and trains brought more and more people in and boarding houses and hotels displayed their ‘No Vacancies’ signs, and still people came. They slept on the beach and washed in the public baths, ate alfresco and enjoyed the freedom.

  Edward was busy with smaller, less expensive items for the beach, a part of the business he enjoyed. Twice during the month the window display was changed during the night and he found the goods displayed found favour with the customers.

  Annie and Leigh Grant filled their rooms at Montague Court and their restaurant kept their staff busy from seven in the morning until eleven-thirty at night.

 

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