‘I remember her,’ Sam said with a frown. ‘We were at school together. She hasn’t anything to be uppity about. She’s feeling important since her daughter married a wealthy businessman, but that sort of success doesn’t rub off on the rest of the family, does it? It can’t change who they are, much as she’d like to think so.’
Zena was glad she had refused to work for the woman. ‘Her daughter Janey is very pleasant.’
‘She takes after her dad, luckily for her!’
Back at Llyn Hir, Sam retrieved her bike from the van, and she thanked him and waved as he drove away. Since her father had been in hospital, Sam called more often to see how he could help. When Lottie’s car was out of action for a few days, he arranged his days to be able to take her to the hospital and often gave Greg and Zena lifts to save them waiting for buses, or struggling with a bicycle when the weather was unkind.
Zena was worried that Lottie was becoming dependent on the kindly farmer, and once her father was home, guessed that Sam would also miss his involvement with the Martin family. Then the reminder came with a jolt that her father’s recovery was less and less certain. So perhaps they would be glad of Uncle Sam’s help for a long time.
Worried about her father, when she reached home she tried to telephone Jake but Madeleine Jones again told her she had no idea where he could be. Madeleine then lowered the phone very slightly, making sure Zena could hear, and said sarcastically that she wasn’t a lonely hearts club for pathetic women clinging to a man who obviously no longer cared. When the phone disconnected, Madeleine looked at her notebook, and marked the call as a wrong number. That was another contact which she had no intention of passing on to Jake.
Zena heard every word, as Madeleine had intended, and was shocked. Did she sound so pathetic having to admit time and again that she had no idea how to get in touch with Jake? She ignored the spiteful comment about Jake no longer caring. She reached for pad and paper and wrote to him, marked the envelope private and confidential and addressed to the office. At least that would get through. The person dealing with the post would put that aside until he saw Jake.
Angry with Jake, and herself, she wrote a short, impatient note asking him to get in touch and give her some way of contacting him apart from the office in case of an emergency. It seemed that only something serious would persuade him to talk to her. Trembling with annoyance at Madeleine’s attitude, she went out and posted it.
The company for whom Jake worked had their offices in a large building that was home to three other companies. All the mail went to a front office where it was sorted into the various piles by an elderly ‘post boy’. It was then delivered to the relevant office. Madeleine had always given the tedious task of sorting it between the members of staff to a junior typist, but since she began taking an interest in Jake and his stupid girlfriend, she did it herself. Zena’s latest letter was opened, read and discarded.
Mabs couldn’t decide what she should do about Greg. Now he knew, the secret of her night café would soon be out. Like a game of Chinese whispers, the story would be passed from ear to ear, distorting and changing as it was repeated. Soon it would be general, and probably inaccurate, knowledge. If she accepted Greg’s help he might try to keep the secret as he had promised, but one day he would be unable to resist sharing it and that would be the end of the valuable oasis of warmth and friendliness for those who needed it. The secret was shared sooner than expected.
When Zena called for lunch on the following Friday, she hesitatingly said, ‘Aunty Mabs, Greg told me about your night café and I think it’s a wonderful thing you are doing. I promise neither Greg nor I will say nothing.’
With a sigh, Mabs said, ‘Tell no one, except, just one?’
‘You mean Jake? No, I won’t tell Jake. He isn’t the most reliable one to hold a secret. Much as I love him, I know him well enough to understand that. He’s so friendly, wants to be everyone’s friend and he’d be boasting about your wonderful generosity within hours! Keeping a secret like that would be impossible for him. So, no, I won’t even tell Mam or Dad. That’s a firm promise. If Greg helps you, and he really wants to, you can trust us.’
It was time to take a chance so when she next saw Greg, she told him she would be glad of his help on the occasions when he was free. Greg had no shifts for two days and he started that night.
He arrived at the same time as Mabs and stood watching as she went to the back room where the food was prepared, to fill plates, fill the heater and turn it on for hot water. The tables were washed then she distributed boxes of games and playing cards. Better not to try and help too soon, he decided, he’d only be in the way or get things wrong.
The regulars came as soon as the lights showed in the café and the door opened to reveal Sid and George followed by Henry and Arthur and two hesitant strangers. They greeted Mabs and nodded politely towards Greg. ‘You used to be a bus driver, didn’t you?’ George asked.
‘No, you must have seen my twin,’ Greg replied. George nodded. Better not to say more. Frankie’s night café wasn’t the place to ask questions.
More men arrived and Greg was soon pouring tea and coffee and handing out cakes, taking the coins and joining in the casual chatter in a joking manner that entertained the regulars.
Henry was very quiet and he stared at Greg, his eyes darting away when Greg saw him staring. Towards the end of the night Greg took a cup of tea and sat beside him. ‘Fancy a game of draughts, mate?’
‘No. Chess is my game.’
‘I’m no good at chess, I can’t think ahead and you have to work out several moves, don’t you? You must be a lot cleverer than me.’
‘What d’you mean by that? Because I come to a place like this, I must be stupid?’
‘Not at all, I was saying that I’m not clever enough to play chess.’
Henry tilted the table and the chess board and pieces fell to the floor. Mabs shouted a warning and Henry went out slamming the door behind him.
‘Oh, heck! Will I be allowed to come again, d’you think?’ Greg said with a sigh.
The customers dispersed soon after and he helped clean up before he and Mabs went to get on the first bus back to Mab’s flat where he had left his bike.
‘Sorry, I didn’t realize how touchy he is.’
‘Forget it. I don’t think it’s the right thing to walk around him on tiptoe; he has to learn to tolerate other people or he’ll never be able to mix with people socially.’
‘Do you know much about him?’
‘Nothing that I want to discuss.’ She smiled to take the sting out of her words but added, ‘We never pry, dear. We listen, but offer no suggestions regarding family problems. We can help sometimes, mind. We can pass them on to the various organizations willing to come and talk to any of them seeking help, but only when they ask.’
‘I’ll be very careful, Aunty Mabs,’ he promised.
He didn’t stay long. Mabs needed to sleep and he too was ready for his bed.
On his next visit to the night café, he had a grudging apology from Henry. Greg smiled and challenged him to a game of draughts, which Henry stared at disparagingly then nodded, and trounced him winning three out of four games.
Greg worked with Mabs over the next few weeks and gradually the regulars and newcomers more or less ignored him, a sign that he had been accepted, according to Mabs. It helped to take his mind off finding Rose, although every day he hoped it would be the day on which she came back to him. He knew he had to let her go, but it was not knowing why. What was it that had caused her to run away? That was stopping him from moving on.
Zena was at the hospital with Lottie one evening when her mother whispered to her father, ‘I think our Greg has forgotten Rose Conelly at last, dear. He’s out so often in the evenings and comes in very late. That must mean a girl, don’t you think?’
A chuckle emanated from the wizened man lying on the bed. ‘Good on him, I say.’
‘So do I, dear. Rose had too many secrets. Better s
he left when she did rather than go through a marriage without Greg being absolutely certain.
‘Not like us.’ Ronald reached for Lottie’s hand. ‘We never had any doubts, did we?’
‘No. Not for a single moment.’
In London, late one night Jake was walking back to his room, having been to the pictures. He was carrying fish and chips and his briefcase which he used to deliver messages and occasionally collect payments. Poking a finger through the soggy newspaper he managed to pull out a few chips and chewed, tossing the hot food from side to side to ease the discomfort as his mouth burned. As he approached his doorway, a couple of figures suddenly ran towards him and for a moment he smiled a greeting but they grabbed his arm pulled the briefcase from him, threw the package of food on the ground and ran off. Angrily he ran after them, demanding his briefcase back. One of the men turned and ran back but before Jake knew what was happening, he had been punched and pushed to the ground. He fell heavily and felt a severe pain in the elbow. Then he was rolled around roughly as the man searched his pockets and gave him a couple of vicious kicks and punches before running off with loose change and his wallet.
There were several payments in there and his first confused thoughts were how he would explain to his boss how he had lost them. Several of the smaller payments had been paid in cash, none large, but together they amounted to more than fifty pounds.
Struggling up, standing still until he was sure of his balance, he wasn’t sure what to do. He had no money and, after a fruitless search no keys either. He was too far away from the flat where his friend Stanley lived but remembered that Madeleine Jones, the secretary, lived much closer. Supporting his painful arm with the other, he walked through the streets, shocked and aching where he had been punched and kicked. He felt blood trickling down his face and wiped it off with a sleeve. Heading for Madeleine, he wondered whether he should go first to the hospital but decided that all he needed was a bit of sympathy then the police.
A few bruises and a cut on his face was all he’d suffered and they would soon mend. He arm ached badly though and he stopped and removed his jacket, and fixed a sling with the sleeves. He leant on a wall for a few minutes then walked on.
Madeleine greeted him at first with delight and then concern. After a cup of hot, sweet tea she went with him to the hospital and from there he reported the assault to the police.
‘I’d better let Zena know what happened,’ he said, as Madeleine led him back to her flat in the early morning. ‘Would you mind if I give her your address?’
‘Best not to worry her,’ she said conveniently ignoring his question. ‘Let’s wait until you’re better. She can’t do anything and would only worry unnecessarily. You can stay with me until you’ve recovered.’
She settled him to sleep on her couch with extra cushions to support his arm and a blanket over him. As he relaxed into sleep she watched him. What a stupid man he was, lying to his fiancée, a young woman who was even more pathetic than he. She smiled. At least she could have a bit of fun, interfering and clouding the waters even more than he was doing already. She loved getting involved and messing up so called happy couples. Her childhood had taught her little, except that men were unreliable and women were fools. Playing with these firmly held beliefs, was a game which she enjoyed.
Mabs was at the hospital one afternoon and she was alarmed when Ronald seemed to be unaware of her being there and was talking in a very confused manner. He was obviously distressed about something but his voice was low, the words unclear. He was convinced he was talking to someone called Billy Dove. Mabs called the nurse who administered to him behind curtains, then said that he was calmer but sleeping, and perhaps it would be better to come back later.
‘My brother is very ill, isn’t he,’ she said to the nurse.
‘Yes, Mrs Bishop, but we never give up hope.’
‘What shall I tell his wife?’
‘That’s for you to decide,’ the nurse said kindly.
Mabs went to the house near the lake and tried to tell Lottie something of what Ronald had been saying. ‘He was very upset, muttering something about how he needed to get everything put right before he ran out of time. He was asking someone called Billy Dove to “get on with it”, and “get everything sorted”. Never heard of Billy Dove, have you?’
Back at the hospital watching over a restless Ronald, they mulled over the words for a long time but came up with nothing to explain them. He called several times for Billy to come and get things finished, but none of it made any sense. They stayed in the hospital until four o’clock in the hope of being told of an improvement but then, advised to go home, they left, still hearing Ronald talking to Billy in a croaking voice unlike his own.
Rose returned to Cold Brook Vale and dealt with the business she had come back for, in a short time. She was tempted to walk around the area before leaving, just one more look at the places which had begun to feel like home. She had made sure no one would recognize her, by wearing a hat, some glasses that made the world a bit hazy and a long, unattractive coat. On an impulse she spent the vouchers she had called to collect then, as shops began to close and the small town emptied of people, she wandered through streets and lanes she had walked with Greg and dreamed that stupid dream of. ‘What if …’ surely the most stupid words in the English language. Nothing would change. Greg’s evil family had destroyed her life completely, her last chance of finding happiness.
It was dark and getting cold and, on the way back to the station with an hour to kill, she saw the café and decided to have a hot drink and something to eat. As she approached the door she peeped inside and was alarmed to see Greg and Mabs behind the counter pouring tea from a large teapot and laughing at something that was being said. What on earth were they doing there? She hurried away, and didn’t feel safe until she had turned several corners.
How easily she could have walked in to face them! She wished she had forgotten the money she was owed and stayed away. She looked around her, fixing scenes and memories firmly into her mind, knowing she must never again come back.
The reason for her return to the town was the Twenty Club that staff at the shop had arranged. Twenty people paid a pound each week and, each week, one of the participants would have a twenty pound, one shilling voucher to spend at one of the local department stores. A draw was made to decide the order of distribution. Rose, having continued to send the weekly payments, had the voucher that week and she had to come back to spend it. She had dreamed of using it to buy things for her wedding. So foolish to have dreamed of the impossible, and having to face heartbreak.
If only she had been brave enough to tell Greg her story, but she knew now that would have led to even more painful heartbreak once the final dreadful truth had been disclosed. He would never understand. In her saddest moments she imagined the horrified expression on his face as she said the awful words.
Spending the money had not been enjoyable. She had imagined buying something beautiful for the cottage Greg owned. Instead, with little real interest, she picked up a random selection of clothes. Then she changed her mind and put them all back on the rails. Instead she bought towels, sheets, pillow cases, adding to the value of the voucher to buy good quality items. Even if she couldn’t live with Greg, she would have a home of her own one day, so why not concentrate on that? Defiantly she added a teapot and some pretty cups and saucers to her packages, struggling as she walked to the station with parcels in her arms and carrier bags dangling from her hands. The porter had looked after them while she wandered until it was time for her train.
After collecting them and giving the porter a tip, she stood on the platform looking down the track. She would find an empty carriage and spend the journey day-dreaming of Greg and what might have been. She felt utterly miserable. This was the final goodbye to what should have been a wonderful future.
Greg saw her when he was on his way to the bus garage to find a hot meal in the canteen and begin his shift. He followed her to the s
tation, where she was standing surrounded by her shopping. He bought a platform ticket and walked to where she stood, all alone, facing away from him. He didn’t speak until he was behind her.
‘Rose? Where have you been? When are you coming back to me?’
She turned, white-faced. It was as though she had conjured him up from her desperate misery.
‘Greg! Please don’t ask me. I have to get back to London. I can’t come back to you.’
‘Why?’
‘I just can’t.’
‘At least tell me why. What did I do to make you leave so suddenly? Did I make demands about our families meeting before you were ready? Tell me and we can put it right.’ Then he picked up one of the parcels and stared at her. ‘Bedding? China? You’ve found someone else? Why couldn’t you tell me?’
‘Greg. I’m sorry.’
The train came, he helped load her shopping and she got on without another word. ‘Tell me, why?’ he shouted, as the train began to puff importantly, belching steam and smoke, sounding its whistle and making juddering movements as it made its slow escape. ‘You owe me that at least!’ He stood as the train moved away faster and faster, staring after it until the last puff of smoke had faded from the sky.
Christmas passed in a confusion of half planned and carelessly executed arrangements. The presents were unwrapped and handed out with little ceremony, the crackers lay unused in their boxes and the food a confusion of hurried meals as and when they could be managed. The whole time was punctuated with visits to the hospital and long anxious discussions about Ronald’s worsening illness. Jake wasn’t there. He had phoned to say he had fallen and hurt his leg and would come once he felt able to manage the journey.
The End of a Journey Page 8