‘Hang on, Rose is here, I’ll ask her.’ Rose shook her head firmly at the question of when she would visit Llyn Hir. ‘I won’t be calling there. Please tell Greg, will you?’ Then Jake mentioned Susie, Greg’s new ‘friend’ and she reacted even more strongly.
‘Why should he change his plans? He’s free to see anyone he pleases, we’re finished and he knows it.’
Still holding the phone, Jake whispered, ‘He’s hoping you’ll have a change of heart, Rose. You know how he feels about you.’
‘I have no desire to marry Greg, not now, not ever. Tell him that, will you, even though he knows it already? I hope he invites this Susie and I wish him nothing but happiness. Greg and I are history! Nothing will change my mind. There, is that clear enough?’
After reporting her response, Jake replaced the phone. ‘Why, Rose? For goodness sake, tell me what happened to make you dislike him so much?’
‘Nothing happened and I don’t dislike him. I just won’t marry him.’
‘Then there’s someone else?’
‘There is no one else, I don’t want to marry him. Why doesn’t he accept that?’
The night café had had extra customers during the weeks leading up to Christmas, including a tall, white-haired man in his sixties, who looked enormous until he shed several layers in the warmth of the café. His name, he told them was Percy and apart from that he told them very little. He chatted in a friendly manner but was adept at avoiding answers to direct questions. Mabs frowned at Sid more than once, who as usual was taking on the responsibility of checking any one who came.
Greg wasn’t certain at first, but, as the man prepared to leave, piling on layer after layer, and found a large hat from his bundle, he recognized him as the man who ran past as he and Zena were hiding at the back of the old house.
It was Mabs’s firm rule that no questions were asked, but Greg walked out with the man called Percy and said, ‘My sister and I were at that old house down towards Edwards’s farm a week ago. D’you know the place? We used to go there as kids and we went back trying to remember how frightening it used to be. Daft, eh?’
‘It’s still frightening. I spend the days there and get out of it at night. I overslept one day and it was dark when I came away, chased by a strange voice when there’s no one there.’
‘But we saw a car, someone must be living there.’
‘That car hasn’t moved in years. I sleep in it sometimes when the rain’s bad. But it smells of mould and mildew and it takes days to get the smell out of my stuff.’
The man was well spoken and Greg dared to ask, ‘Why do you live like this? It’s clearly not the life you’re used to.’
‘Oh, you can get used to anything in time and I have nothing to go back to.’ He walked away to find somewhere to sleep away the daylight hours before returning to spend the night hours with Sid, Will, Albert and Ted and the others.
The atmosphere at Christmas in Llyn Hir was, according to Greg, like a speckled egg, going from light moments to dark moods, dependent on the ebb and flow of their visitors. The most irritating hours were when Madeleine came with Jake as though she had the right to be there, ensconced in the family, taking the seat closest to the fire that had once been their father’s and expecting to be waited on, treated as a valued friend. There was a tension that was difficult to define; it was as though they were waiting for Madeleine to leave but were too polite to even hint at her departing. They all glanced surreptitiously at the clock, willing the hands to move faster.
When extra food treats or surprises were revealed, like extra crackers to pull, to read out stupid jokes and wear the hats, Madeleine squealed with delight and the artificial laughter was a pain to Greg’s heart. ‘Why doesn’t Jake go and take her with him?’ he muttered as he went to the kitchen to help Lottie bring in yet more food at ten o’clock. Jake stood eventually at 11.30 and it was difficult for the family not to stand as one to hand them their coats.
The happiest moments for them all, were when Susie was there. She fitted in so comfortably and was immediately at home with them all.
Rose stayed away from Llyn Hir; Zena didn’t give Jake any opportunity to explain his actions and both situations created tension. Mabs and Lottie talked of Christmases in the past when, through rose-coloured spectacles, everything had been perfect. Madeleine seemed to be the happiest, self-assured, smiling, and frequently thanking Lottie for her welcome. It was only when Jake and Madeleine were at their lodgings and the family were on their own that they could relax and remark about the peculiar atmosphere, at a time that is usually so happy. They all blamed Jake.
Greg’s visit to Susie’s family were the best of all for him. He was enveloped in a house filled with lively, chattering relatives, whose names he didn’t manage to sort out. He called everyone, darlin’, or Butty and no one objected. The evenings were filled with silly party games, sing-songs around a badly played piano, and moments of calm when he and Susie talked about themselves, strengthening their friendship. The time passed quickly and he stayed late into the night on the two visits.
He walked home smiling happily, occasionally bursting into song, revelling at the sudden change in his life. It was only when he got into bed that thoughts of Rose returned to worry him. Somehow he had to achieve a definite end to the problem of Rose before he could relax and enjoy the delights of Susie Crane and her family.
His final thoughts before being claimed by sleep were of Susie and her light-hearted approach to life, free of the worries that held Rose back from relaxed comfortable, happiness.
Jake asked Rose several times when she planned to revisit her stepmother and stay long enough to offer sympathy on the death of her stepfather. She eventually promised to go that evening, one day before they were leaving to return to London.
‘Shall I come with you?’ Jake asked. ‘Not to go in, just to walk with you?’
Rose shook her head. ‘I’ll be fine, it isn’t as though—’ She stopped and shook her head. ‘I’ll be fine.’
He was curious as she set off to make the call, remembering how she had lied about where she lived when Greg walked her home. She was a strange girl; hemming herself in with secrets, cutting other people out of her personal life. He walked in the same direction as Rose for a while, heading for the lodgings where Madeleine would be waiting to go with him to Llyn Hir for an evening meal, an invitation which, true to form, Rose had refused, and also true to form, Madeleine had persuaded Lottie to make.
He hadn’t intended to follow her, but when they reached the main road and he had to turn left, when Rose turned right he did the same. She didn’t seem in any hurry. She stopped to look in shop windows, still with their slightly battered displays of Christmas cheer, then she sat on a bench just inside the park. He almost ran into her but managed to stop and keep out of sight. She sat there for ten minutes and Jake began to get anxious about the meal Zena’s family would have waiting for them. He didn’t want to give Zena another reason to be disappointed in him.
Then it began to rain and he pulled the back of his raincoat up and over his head, his arms uncomfortably raised. Surely she would move now? She seemed unaware of the rain that was quietly increasing in intensity, softly murmuring against the ground. Footsteps were heard in the distance, and laughter as people ran for shelter. Then it was quiet, just the pattering of raindrops in an empty world.
He had to talk to her and hoped he could explain his presence. She was carrying an umbrella yet she sat there getting soaked, wearing only a short jacket, a skirt and a useless felt hat. As he was about to reveal his presence, she stood and slowly, oblivious of the rain that was coming down in a hissing curtain, strolled on through the park.
Unable to leave her, afraid for her, wondering what to say, how to help, he gave up on keeping dry, let his coat slide back down to his shoulders and followed. At the other side of the park she jumped on a bus and he stood watching it making its sibilant way through the flooded gutters, out into the road and disappear in the gloom of the miserab
le evening.
He ran then, back to the lodgings where Madeleine was curious for an explanation when she saw that he was drenched. He told her about Rose and they discussed her as they walked, this time under the shelter of an umbrella, to where another evening with the Martins awaited them.
They left early, anxious about their friend and, when she was not back at the lodgings, they hoped that she had eventually visited her stepmother. Jake couldn’t settle. He kept visualizing her sitting on that lonely park bench oblivious of the rain, and at eleven o’clock he went to try and find her. Unbelievably, she was again sitting on the park bench.
He ran to her, put his arms around her and held her while she clung to him and cried. When she had calmed down, he dared to ask, ‘Did you see your stepmother?’ This made the tears flow again. He put his arms around her ‘Sorry, Rose, I shouldn’t have asked, it isn’t my business.’
‘They aren’t my stepparents! The Conellys never adopted me. They repeatedly reminded me that I was there on sufferance and was an ungrateful child. That I’d have been left in a home with no one to care about me if it hadn’t been for their generosity. Generosity! Then, on my sixteenth birthday they told me to go. Just like that. So suddenly I thought for a moment they were joking, although they never made jokes.’
‘Didn’t they want to help you? See you settled? Make sure you were able to look after yourself?’
‘They found me a room. A lovely room. An expensive room. But with a rent I couldn’t afford, but which would have impressed their friends with the “good start” they had given me. I had to leave after a week as I couldn’t pay it.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Luckily it was summer and I spent the night wandering and sleeping spasmodically on a bench like the one where you found me. A girl at the shop let me share with her for a week, then I found a room. A shabby room.’
‘A room you couldn’t bear Greg to see?’ He felt her nod against his shoulder.
‘Was your step— foster mother pleased that you called tonight?’
‘I didn’t call. I’ve been walking around all evening, sitting on benches, just like that first night on my own.’
Jake kissed her lightly on the cheek then coaxed her to walk on. She was shivering and they were both soaked through to the skin. They went into the lodgings where Madeleine was dozing in front of the grey melancholy remains of the fire. With minimal explanations, and revealing little of what Rose had told him, he helped Madeleine to take Rose to her room and went into his own.
When he went up to see if Rose needed a hot drink, he asked, gently, ‘Is this why you won’t marry Greg? Because you can’t tell him? Surely there’s no shame or embarrassment in your story? The way the Conellys treated you was evil. There’s no shame on your side. Greg would help you to forget your unhappy childhood and you’d build a good life together. The Martins are good people and they’d welcome you, make you understand that you’re wanted and loved.’
‘You think the Martins would understand? The Martins? That’s a sick joke!’ She refused to discuss it again.
At Llyn Hir, the days had passed following the usual traditions of parcel opening, meals and snacks and, as it was the first Christmas without rationing, the fare was unusually generous, but for Lottie there was something lacking. It was two days after Boxing Day and in a couple more most shops would opening, but Lottie and Zena had decided to give themselves an extra few days. ‘No one will want writing-paper and envelopes for a while, we might as well enjoy more time to ourselves.’
‘It has been a strange Christmas,’ Zena mused, as she read through some of the cards on display. ‘You’re right, Mam, there has been something lacking. It was more than Dad not being here. Something of the spirit of Christmas wasn’t here. With the recovery from the awful war years, marked at last with the end of food rationing, it should have been extra special, yet something was missing.’
‘Not so much lacking, as something added,’ Lottie said. ‘We have always had a houseful at Christmas. With Mabs here for the week, people calling, staying for drinks or a meal and your father and I loved it. But I don’t like having people we don’t know thrust upon us. Jake had no right to invite Madeleine then expect us to entertain her. Sorry, dear,’ she added, as she glanced at her daughter. ‘If it were only Jake, well, that would have been fine, wouldn’t it?’
‘I don’t know.’ Zena gave a sigh. ‘When he’s away I relax and I’m happy, my life is full without him, I plan without wondering whether he’ll be included and sometimes I hope he will forget us and stay in London. But when I see him, I realize how much I miss him. Not so much this time,’ she added harshly. ‘I’m well aware that Madeleine is more important to him than me; inviting her to share our Christmas makes that clear, and it changes things. And I don’t think her ankle is as painful as she pretends!’ she added petulantly.
Lottie laughed. ‘That sounds childish, but I admit I think the same.’
‘Mam, let’s go out. We can go and see Nelda; you like spending time with her and the two little girls, don’t you?’
‘But Jake and the girls might come. They aren’t going back until tomorrow. And surely Rose won’t go back to London without at least coming to say hello.’
‘What better reason for going out? She has really hurt Greg and made it worse by refusing to explain why she behaved as she did.’
‘It was very odd. She was never relaxed with us, but that day was different. She was reluctant to go and see your father in hospital that day. Perhaps Greg pushed her into going and, I don’t know, she took offence, maybe? Something changed and she walked away from us all.’
Uninvited but certain of a welcome they went into Nelda’s chaotic house where toys and cards and decorations were spread, higgledy piggledy all around the living rooms and the kitchen. Bobbie and Georgie began to show their presents to them but very soon the six-year-old Georgie brought her favourite books to Lottie, seeing in her the grandmother she sadly lacked. Nelda’s ex-mother-in-law lived too far away for visits, and Nelda’s parents lived in France.
Over cups of tea and cake, Nelda told them that Roy Roberts was ill and instead of going back home, after the couple of hours spent enjoying the lively company, they went from Nelda’s to see him, loaded with cakes and biscuits and even a couple of Christmas crackers Nelda had packed, to cheer him up. His face was still bearing scars from the attack two weeks before, bruises yellow and fading, the scar of a graze across his cheek still visible.
‘I hope you haven’t been fighting again,’ Zena admonished at once. ‘Some of those bruises look new.’
‘They are,’ a voice called from the kitchen, and Kevin appeared waving a teapot. ‘Hello, Zena. Anyone for tea? Or something more interesting? What about you, Popeye, a glass of cider?’ he asked. Zena went into the kitchen to help, although she doubted whether she could drink any more tea that day.
‘He’s been fighting, but he won’t tell me what happened,’ Kevin whispered. ‘I think it was his son, Dick. Tricky Dicky. He rarely comes but when he does there’s a argument or worse.’
‘Attacking his father? An old man?’
Kevin smiled at her, ‘No, not really. Popeye provokes him, trying to make him listen to his side of the story.’
Remembering the letter she had guiltily read, Zena asked, ‘Is it anything to do with someone called Donna?’
‘How did you know about her?’
‘I heard the name somewhere,’ she lied.
‘Donna was the cause of his wife leaving him and the sons have never forgiven him. Dicky has frequently demanded his father helps their mother financially but Popeye refuses, insisting that she left him, so he owes her nothing. Fond of him I am, but he didn’t play fair with his family and I can sympathize with his sons.’
‘But fighting with his father, that’s terrible.’
‘Protecting himself was all the old man was doing. Old Popeye was a boxer in his youth and can still pack a punch. He’d never hit anyone. Not Pop
eye; he’s too afraid of hitting too hard.’
‘But his face? That must have been some retaliation!’
‘No, that happened when I came in to separate them. He ran into the door in a rage. He didn’t raise a hand except to protect himself from his son’s abuse.’
‘What are you two nattering about out there?’ Roy demanded. ‘Where are the drinks?’
Zena felt disappointed. She thought she knew Roy Roberts, believed he was a gentle, kindly old man who was lonely for a family who neglected him. What Kevin had told her was such a shock, that she made excuses and hurried away in case her change of attitude showed on her face. What a poor judge of character she must be.
There was a note beside the door when they got back to Llyn Hir. It was from Jake and Madeleine, telling them they had called but missed them and would call tomorrow before setting off for London.
It was tempting to be out when they came but with no time given that wasn’t possible. It was ten o’clock when Jake arrived and he was alone.
‘Hello, my lovely girl.’ He leaned towards her expecting a kiss, but she moved away to close the door. ‘I want to go to the farm to ask Sam if he’ll sell me a few eggs for the girls to take back to London, see. Will you come with me? He doesn’t like me very much and he’s more likely to say yes if you’re there.’
She reached for her coat and called to her mother, ‘We’re going to see Sam and Neville, will you come with us? The fresh air is what we all need,’
Sam greeted them with delight but the smile faded when he saw Jake. ‘Go and see Dad, he’ll let you have a dozen. Mixed sizes, mind, none of your London nonsense here!’ and, as Jake went off to see Neville, Sam turned and hugged Lottie and Zena.
‘It’s no good, I can’t stand the man,’ he admitted. ‘It’s twelve years now since he left my son to drown but it’s still just like yesterday when I see that man.’
‘Jake didn’t leave Peter to drown, Sam, you know that. He ran to get help as he couldn’t swim and there was no way to save him himself.’ This had all been said many times before but Sam just shook his head. The loss of a son was a lifetime of painful memories. How could he ever forget blaming Jake?
The End of a Journey Page 20