A Shop in the High Street

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

  “She’s beautiful,” Edward said, longing to add, ‘and so are you’.

  “Isn’t she just!” Megan replied proudly.

  “Mair is making coffee, why don’t you come in and see what I’ve done to the shop since your last visit?”

  He helped her take the pram into the shop where loud banging could be heard coming from the basement.

  “Sorry about the noise, I’ll ask him to stop, shall I?”

  “No need, a baby has to learn to cope with everything; we can’t cocoon her from noise. I’d go crazy trying, wouldn’t I?”

  Edward found her a chair, then agitatedly asked Mair to hurry with the coffee. She returned with a tray while Edward was leaning over the pram admiring the wide-eyed, curious stare of the baby.

  “I’ll take Frank’s down to him,” she said.

  “Frank? What’s he doing now?” Megan asked.

  “Putting up another wall cupboard. There was need of more storage space so Frank’s doing it while your father is at work. Better for him but not for us, eh!”

  “My father? What’s my father doing in your basement?” she demanded, putting her coffee aside and standing up.

  “Living there,” he said in surprise.

  “What? Are you mad? Helping my father after the way he treated my mother?”

  “But I thought you knew, didn’t your mother tell you?”

  “Tell me what? That you have given my father a home after he beat my mother? That you are supporting him against her? What on earth were you thinking about, Edward? How dare you! Let me out of here!”

  Pushing the pram impatiently, knocking against several counters and display boards, she left the shop and ran up the road without giving him a chance to explain.

  “I thought you knew,” he said lamely, to her departing back.

  * * *

  Margaret and Islwyn had been very busy all day. Besides the meals they served, there had been some decorating to finish and the clearing up afterwards. Both were feeling tired and not a little irritable.

  As the second sitting were reaching the main course stage, Islwyn stepped into the kitchen with empty serving dishes and bumped into Margaret as she lifted freshly fried fish from the deep fat fryer. She shouted in pain as hot fat splashed on her arm, and glared at him, calling him a string of abusive names before cooling it under the tap and reaching for the vaseline, gauze and bangages from the first-aid box. As she did so she continued her abuse of him.

  Islwyn put down the dirty dishes, swivelled on his heel and left the kitchen. To her horror she heard the front door slam, followed by the sound of her car being revved and driven down the drive. He’d left her in the middle of the busiest time of the day. “How could he!” she muttered furiously. “How could he!”

  To add to the difficulties she had a group of awkward customers who thought they were entitled to treatment reserved for royalty. They complained about a spot of grease on the border of a plate; they complained that the napkins were incorrectly folded and the forks less than clean; that the blades of the knifes pointed outwards instead of inwards. She knew they were trying it on, hoping for a reduction in their bill, but she wasn’t playing. She needed the money more than they did and blackmail brought out the worst in her.

  A few raised eyebrows and a sympathetic nod from a few people who were becoming regulars cheered her and she put up with every complaint with a brighter and brighter smile. They left, threatening never to go there again, and she smiled even wider and thanked them for their promise. There was no tip.

  At twelve fifteen Margaret collapsed into a chair, unable to face dealing with the dishes, or even finish clearing the tables. She had managed without Islwyn. But she knew it couldn’t, mustn’t happen again.

  She was so tired that she slept as soon as she got into bed, so she didn’t hear him return. The following morning, stiff and tired, she woke and was alone in the big, white bed. For the first time she wondered if he had gone for good. Frantically, she began to list the people who she might call on to help her. She mustn’t lose all this, not now.

  She went downstairs to make herself a cup of tea, dreading the mess she would find and wondering how she’d find the strength to deal with it. Instead she found Islwyn, wiping down the surfaces, with all the dishes and utensils washed and stacked in their places, the vegetables prepared for lunch and a kettle boiling ready for tea.

  “Oh, Islwyn, how could you,” she said as she fell into his arms.

  “Margaret, I’m sorry, but I’d just about had enough. Did you have to cancel anyone?”

  “I managed, but I don’t think I could do it again. Please, Issy, don’t do that to me ever again.”

  He held her close but didn’t reply; the plea hung in the air, both of them aware of the unanswered threat.

  While Islwyn was at the market, Margaret telephoned her brother. “Edward,” she announced, as if it were sufficient for him to both recognise her voice and understand what she wanted of him.

  “Hello Margaret, what do you want?” He wasn’t pleased to hear her voice. She had tried so hard to ruin the business he now owned that he felt the prickling of suspicion in just hearing that single word.

  “I wondered whether you’d be willing to help out in the restaurant occasionally? Just when I’m stuck. You know the business so well and Islwyn, well, he’s willing enough, but slow to learn. I’m so busy you see,” she went on, not giving him time to reply. “I had two full house bookings last night and Islwyn was out and couldn’t get back in time to help.”

  “Sorry, Margaret. I have no intention of getting involved with catering again.” He replaced the receiver and smiled as he imagined her outrage.

  In despair she rang her grandfather and asked for cousin Terrence’s phone number. Terrence’s response when she reached him was even less kind than her brother’s.

  “You are joking, Margaret, dear! Spend my time pandering to people who aren’t sure which fork to use? Removing their messy dishes? Washing things? I always thought you were crazy to want to do it. No chance. None at all. Sell the place and find a more amenable occupation.”

  Changing tack she said sweetly, “I just thought, with Megan missing you and wanting you back in her life, and her with rich grandparents who indulge her every whim, that you might like to come back to Pendragon Island. A place to live and an addition to your funds… and Megan. Think about it.” This time it was she who replaced the phone.

  Margaret rang Edward again. “I thought you’d like to know, brother dear, that Terrence and Megan are getting together again. He’s desperate to come back to her, and she’s realised that the baby needs his father. Duty, you see. Such a small word but so important. Goodnight. Sleep well.”

  It wasn’t a good night and Edward didn’t sleep well. He lay awake wondering whether Margaret was telling the truth and by morning had convinced himself that she was.

  Chapter Eleven

  Megan called at the shop the following morning and without waiting to speak to Edward, brought the pram in and found herself a chair.

  “I owe you an apology,” she said, as though she were reprimanding him.

  Edward smiled. “Yes, Megan. I believe you do.”

  “I went home in an outrage and told Mummy what you’d done and she explained that it was with her agreement and thanks. She also told me that she’s concerned for Daddy and won’t abandon him completely even after what he did to her.”

  “Loving isn’t just for when everything is going well. It’s a lifetime commitment. The promise made in the marriage ­ceremony isn’t just romantic words. Your mother is responsible for your father’s welfare and always will be.”

  “D’you think she’ll have him back?”

  “It’s more than likely.”

  Mair was in the basement and when she came up and saw Megan, she mimed the making of tea and Edward nodded.

  “Would you like to see what I’ve done with the basement?” he asked.

  The baby was awake and looking aro
und the shop, her clear, intelligent eyes absorbing the new surroundings with apparent interest.

  “We’ll take her with us, shall we?” Edward lifted the child out of her pram and carried her as they went down the stairs into the garden, then through the door into the basement.

  There was a television in one corner and a radio beside it. Magazines and newspapers were scattered across a couch and a coffee cup stood amid the casual abandonment. The place looked comfortable and lived in.

  “Good heavens, Edward, he won’t want to come home!”

  The warm weather had lingered and it was pleasant in the now tamed garden. They sat in the sun and Megan admired the neat garden with its newly painted fence.

  “You’ve worked very hard here, Edward.”

  “No, it’s nothing to do with me, it’s Frank. He’s remarkably keen. I believe it’s something to do with Mair Gregory,” he added in a whisper as Mair appeared with a tray of tea. They relaxed, discussed the baby’s progress, while Mair returned to the shop to attended to customers.

  “Did you know your father has been seeing a doctor?” he asked after a while, unsure of how much Sally had told her daughter.

  “No euphemisms, Edward, he’s seeing a psychiatrist, and Mummy thinks he’s brave to face the fact that he’s ill. Many wouldn’t, she said.”

  “I agree. After you saw them that day, when he was taking his frustration out on your poor mother, he went straight to the doctors at the hospital, told them what had been happening and sought help.”

  “I really don’t know which was worse, my father hitting my mother, or Uncle Islwyn leaving Aunt Sian and going to live with that awful—” Megan broke off, realising she was referring to Edward’s sister.

  “If you’re talking about pride, then I think your mother’s the more fortunate.”

  “Pride is the very devil to cope with; it makes you do things you know are wrong for you.” She turned her head and stared at him, her eyes melting into tenderness. “Like you avoiding me when Terrence came on the scene, presuming I no longer needed your friendship,” she whispered.

  “Margaret told me that you and he were still in love.”

  “What a pain that woman is. I know she’s your sister, Edward, but she’s an absolute pain.”

  Megan picked up the tray and went back up the steps into the kitchen. Edward followed with Rosemary, who had fallen asleep in his arms in the warmth of the September sun and the calm peace of the garden.

  For the rest of the day Edward worked in a fog of confusing thoughts. He attended to customers’ wants but without really becoming involved, worried by the feeling that he had missed an opportunity with Megan, but not sure what he should have done.

  * * *

  Caroline had continued to work in the wool shop in town after her son had been born. Her mother willingly looked after Joseph-Hywel. Janet also made sure that her daughter didn’t have to fill her half-day with chores, by doing as many as she could for her.

  On a sunny afternoon when she was free for the Wednesday half-day closing, Caroline decided the weather was too good to waste it being indoors, so she took Joseph-Hywel on the bus and called at Temptations. As she had guessed, Rhiannon was there, using the time the shop was closed in cleaning glass displays, going through her birthday cards with a view to ordering more and generally sorting things out.

  “Are you fully recovered?” was Caroline’s first question. “I’m sure Barry would continue running things for a while longer.”

  “I’m fine and glad to be back. There isn’t enough to keep me busy at home, with Charlie and Gwyn out all day.”

  Caroline gestured to the stairs, at the top of which was a bolted door leading to the flat. “Is Barry in? I’ve brought a toy wooden lorry with a broken wheel he promised to repair.”

  In reply, Rhiannon ran up the stairs and banged on the door. “Barry? I’m putting the kettle on; come and join Caroline, Joseph-Hywel and me.” She pulled the bolt free and called again.

  Barry thundered down the stairs and burst into the shop with a wide smile on his face. “Caroline! Lovely surprise.” He bent to pick up the three-year-old and hug him.

  Caroline looked almost shy as she greeted him.

  “Tea for three is it? And what about a glass of pop for young Joseph?” Barry took the child and went across to Gertie Jones’s shop to buy lemonade. She was closed for half-day, but opened when she recognised her visitors.

  “How are things with you and Barry?” Rhiannon asked when she and Caroline were alone.

  “We’re friends, getting along in a more relaxed way. Did you know he’s starting his business again?”

  “I’d heard. How d’you feel about that?”

  “Guilty,” Caroline whispered as Barry and her son returned. When Rhiannon had made the tea, she suggested that Barry took Caroline and the little boy up to the flat where Barry could look at the broken toy and leave her to get on with her work.

  Once inside the flat Barry put a hand on Caroline’s shoulder and bent to kiss her. She pulled away and Barry walked to the other end of the room and stared out of the window into the street below, tension in the lie of his shoulders and in the clenching of his hands.

  “I wasn’t going to attack you,” he muttered angrily.

  Caroline knew she had to explain the secret she had hidden away. A secret which kept coming back to haunt her and torment her. It had to be brought out into the open if she were ever to have a contented life.

  “This room is where your brother and I used to meet,” she told him, blushing a furious red.

  Barry turned and saw her glancing at the corner near the fireplace. In a sudden revelation he knew.

  “This is where you and he – where Joseph-Hywel was—” He forced himself to say the words; they had pussyfooted around long enough. “Where you and my brother made love and you conceived Joseph.”

  She nodded.

  Barry walked to the corner, to where her eyes were drawn, and sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall. He spread his arms and Joseph ran to him and he sat him beside his knees; he held out his arms again. “I think it’s time we overlaid old, sweet memories with new ones, don’t you, love?”

  Slowly, she moved towards him and settled down in the crook of his arm. He kissed her, gently at first, then with longing. She lowered her head onto his shoulder and allowed tears to fall.

  Later, Barry drove her home and suggested they met every Wednesday afternoon, making the arrangement a firm one, “Broken only by dire disaster.”

  A few days later, Caroline began to calm down from the mood of hope and happiness, to wonder whether the promise of an assignment to take photographs would persuade Barry to change his mind about their Wednesday afternoons. Feeling a cheat, she telephoned him, and in a disguised voice asked whether he could come on the following Wednesday to photograph about twenty youngsters at a children’s party. She prepared herself for disappointment. Barry was a businessman after all and he’d be a fool to turn down such a profitable afternoon, especially working with children. Could he resist it, for her?

  As she waited for his response she expected him to accept to booking. Sadly, she wondered what excuse he’d give her, whether it would be truth or invention. To her surprise he refused, told the ‘customer’ that any other day he’d be delighted, but that Wednesday afternoons were impossible.

  Tension fell from Caroline like an abandoned cloak and she trembled with relief; she hadn’t realised just how much she’d wanted him to refuse.

  During her spare time, she worked on a dress to wear the following Wednesday. Her mother noticed the difference in her lovely daughter and wished for a happy solution. As Janet watched Caroline sewing the dress one evening she heard a call and Mair Gregory poked her head around the door. At once there was a scramble as Frank, who had been reading the paper, sprawled in a chair, dashed past and went out to comb his hair. He returned a few moments later with a sheepish look on his face and offered Mair a drink.

  “Yo
u aren’t proposing to make a cup of tea, are you?” Janet asked in astonishment.

  “No, no. I thought we’d go down to The Railwayman.”

  Mair declined and showed them the spade with a broken handle that she hoped Hywel would repair for her father.

  “I’ll do it,” Frank said at once. “Bring it back tomorrow, shall I?”

  When Mair left, with Frank in attendance, Caroline and her mother exchanged looks and said together, “Smitten!”

  “With luck I’ll soon be rid of the three of them,” Janet smiled. “Our Basil married to Eleri, Ernie engaged to Helen Gunner and now Frank throwing his hat at Mair.” She wished she hadn’t spoken then, as her daughter’s eyes clouded.

  “You can’t get rid of me though Mam,” Caroline said.

  “And there’s glad I am. Me and your Dad would miss you so much, love. You and little Joseph-Hywel.”

  The wedding of Frank’s brother Ernie was planned for the summer after next, but when Ernie and Helen came in later that evening, they looked upset. They sat at opposite ends of the room, and exchanged several frosty glances without saying a word.

  “You haven’t had a row, have you?” Janet asked finally.

  “Hardly,” Ernie grinned, and was rewarded with a withering frown from Helen.

  “No we haven’t quarrelled, our Mam. We’re going to have to get married sooner than her parents wanted, that’s all,” Ernie said, blushing furiously.

  “The usual reason?” Hywel asked as he entered in time to hear Ernie’s words.

  “Well what d’you think of that?” Caroline said with a smile. “A cousin for Joseph-Hywel.”

  “And when will the wedding be?”

  “Next week?” Ernie said jokingly.

  Helen reached out and grasped Ernie’s hand. “We’re happy about it. In fact we’re glad not to have the fuss that Mam and Dad were planning, but Mam’s so upset, and refusing to even discuss it. So,” she went on hesitantly, “we wondered whether you two would be willing to have it here. It needn’t be a big party but—”

  “—but it had better be, eh?” Hywel laughed. “We’d love it, wouldn’t we Mam?”