With her heart racing she peered around the kitchen door into the shop. Someone outside was trying to turn the knob, and seemed to be pushing the door. There was nothing she could do. If he managed to force the door she would be trapped. The noise of the storm had lessened slightly and to her relief she heard footsteps walking around to the back of the building. Cautiously she opened the door and ran to the taxi office. ‘Police, and fast,’ she shouted as she jumped in.
The police found nothing suspicious and warned her about being there during the night hours on her own. ‘I’m not usually on my own, but Robert Thomas couldn’t come and Greg was working and—’
‘If that happens again, you must close. Do you understand? You never know who’s about these nights. What you’re doing is wonderful, Mrs Martin, but your safety is more important than having to deprive lonely people of a few hours of company when you can’t get help.’
She went home and started measuring the ingredients for the night’s baking. ‘Always best to keep busy when you’ve got a worry,’ she muttered. She checked the flat doors twice and went to bed.
Lottie was out. Greg and Zena invited Susie to discuss the attempted break-in. They didn’t want the commitment of sharing the work of the night café but Susie suggested asking the rest of the drivers and conductors to stop and check whenever they passed, make people aware of their presence.
They both thought that a good idea. ‘If whoever was responsible sees several people hanging around and checking on things there’s far less chance him trying again.’
‘Then you think it’s a man?’ Zena queried. ‘Not a young woman with problems?’
‘That’s so unlikely we can forget it. Madeleine is obviously quite wealthy, hardly the type to consider this as fun, and Rose, she’s too nervous. The damage that was done, in the shop and the café, smashing things, messing the files and papers, destroying food, that’s a seriously unbalanced thing to do.’
‘Well I hope Madeleine and Rose continue to enjoy London and will forget all about us.’ Zena was still unconvinced. She smiled at Susie then turned to the dog.
‘And do you agree, Betty?’ The little dog barked.
Zena continued to visit Roy, calling often to take some shopping and to make sure he was comfortable. Doris and Kevin were in and out and she felt that between them they could do all he needed to make a good recovery.
He began talking easily about the early years of his marriage and his three sons. ‘It was a very happy time, but then, something so terrible happened and …’ Although he tried to explain something of what had changed everything and ended with his wife leaving and taking his sons away, he stumbled, as though trying not to say the words that were trying to reveal themselves. ‘Best to keep it all locked away, it’s too late.’
It was then, for some inexplicable reason, Zena remembered the purse and the key that the children had found in the lake. She took it out, and explained its appearance. ‘The key’s similar to your back door key, the one you lent me once and I wondered if you knew of other houses with a similar lock. Often a builder will use the same materials for other houses.’ She took out the remnants of the purse from a bag and showed him the key. His face distorted with shock. Alarmed, she ran for Doris. Kevin came and he ran to call an ambulance. Later that day when she telephoned the hospital it was to be told he had died.
Zena grieved for a man she had liked and for the loss of the information he had wanted to pass on. She looked at her scrappy notes and felt she had let him down; about the shock he had shown at the sight of the key, she and Doris thought was nothing more than coincidence. The fatal heart attack would have happened anyway.
The funeral was arranged by Doris and Kevin. Roy had given them details of what he wanted. It was Zena who wrote to his sons and they arrived two days later. The youngest, Jack was the most clearly upset at the loss of a father he hadn’t been allowed to know. William and Dick seemed united in their determination not to be swayed from their anger against him.
Without involving herself in their attitude, Zena read out the words she had written down, including the denial of his guilt and the little she knew about Donna’s accusations. She offered them carbon copies of the pages she had typed and walked away without discussion.
Jack read most of what she had written, then followed her. ‘We didn’t see my father or Aunty Donna after the row. It seems a pity that something so misunderstood could have caused such misery.’
‘What happened to Donna?’ Zena asked.
Jack shrugged. ‘She went away. Norfolk I believe. Mam refuses to talk about her, even now.’
‘It isn’t my business but I don’t think your father deserved losing you.’
As Greg approached, Jack asked, ‘Do either of you know Rose Conelly?’
‘Yes,’ Greg said. ‘I do. She moved to London a while ago. Why?’
‘My mother talked about her several times. I’m curious, that’s all.’
‘What do you know about her?’
‘Only that Mam felt sorry for her. She used Rose to remind us of how lucky we were, you know the sort of thing, “Poor Rose would be glad of a decent coat that was brand new and not an ill-fitting hand-me-down, and there’s you complaining because you don’t like the colour!” I didn’t know Rose, in fact I sometimes thought she was an invention to make us feel guilty,’ he said with a smile. ‘Dick is the oldest, he might remember her.’
Greg didn’t bother to ask. He would never find the solution to Rose’s problem and he might as well accept it. He took out his diary to check on shifts, Susie might be free tonight, he would call in and find out. A much wiser prospect than worrying about Rose.
Chapter Eleven
The sons didn’t stay long and Kevin called to tell Zena that a will had been found. The place would be sold and the proceeds shared between the three sons. The youngest, Jack, called at Llyn Hir to say goodbye to Zena. He knocked tentatively at the door and was already walking away when Zena opened it and invited him in.
‘I just wanted to say thank you for being kind to my father,’ he said. Zena waited, aware he was about to add something more. ‘Do you know anything of what happened when my mother took us away? You see, I don’t think Mam told us the truth about what happened. She is holding something back and will never talk about it, even now we’re old enough to understand.’
‘All I know is that Mr Roberts insisted he wasn’t the guilty one, but guilty of what I don’t know as he never explained. Sorry I can’t be more help. I do know he had a bit of a temper and maybe that was the real reason she left him.’
Jack looked away. ‘No, it was Mam who had the temper. She hit out at him sometimes. A hot temper over in moments. He was carrying on with Mam’s sister, or that’s what she told people, but Aunty Donna left soon after and she’s never been in touch, so I presume that much was true, shame must have kept her away.’
‘Your father started to talk about it but he didn’t get far enough to help you. He insisted he wasn’t the one in the wrong. I doubt whether the truth will ever come out after all this time. If there is a different story it died with your father. Best to forget it, Jack, and accept that a marriage failed as so many others, and leave it at that.’
Zena thought of the letter she had found written by Donna but said nothing. Dick and William had asked if she would sort through the cupboards and dispose of anything she thought was of no value and leave the rest for them to pick up later. She wondered whether any evidence of what had happened so long ago would be revealed. Dick gave her a few pounds which she accepted, and the three of them went back to their lives of which their father had never been a part.
Jake’s neighbour, Vera, who had depended on him for several weeks, recovered from her injury and was well enough to go out unaided. She left a note on his door asking him to call and he went into the room that was comfortable, cosy and so much more of a home than his own. She was smiling and holding out an envelope. A man sat in the armchair and he stood up and offered
his hand.
‘This is my son, Mick,’ Vera said, waiting as they shook hands. ‘And this is for you.’ She pushed the envelope towards him. ‘It’s all I owe for the shopping you’ve done over the past weeks.’
‘No, Vera, there’s no need for this. I did it because I wanted to. It wasn’t a loan, it was a gift.’
‘You’re saving to marry your Zena, aren’t you?’ He shrugged and was about to argue, but she said, ‘Then it isn’t yours to give, is it, dear? It’s savings for you and Zena, lucky girl that she is. You have to take what I owe for her sake. She must always come first, dear. Your time was the greatest gift. Time is harder to give than money and you gave me your precious time generously. ’
Vera’s son thanked him for helping his mother and went on, ‘My wife and I had no idea how difficult life had become for her. We live a long way away and with the children and schools and work, well, months went by and she wrote us such cheerful letters, we let things slide.’
‘Now, Jake, I have to tell you I’m leaving.’ Vera put a hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry, I feel I’m letting you down leaving after your kindness, but it’s best.’ Mick explained that they had found a bedsit close to where he and his family lived, where he and his wife could care for her when needed.
In one of Jake’s impulsive decisions he hugged her and said, ‘That’s perfect, Vera! I’ve decided to leave too and I can move away knowing you’ll be comfortable and cared for.’
‘Back to your Zena?’
‘Of course,’ he said, but he was lying. Then, in a strange revelation, something became very clear. It was time for more than a change of address.
Jake and Rose had slowly reached a better understanding after Rose had told him something of her miserable childhood. The fact that he had lost his parents and coped with being brought up by strangers, surviving without resentment, made her feel more valued, the constant reminders of being abandoned by her unfeeling mother – as described by Mrs Conelly – faded and she relaxed in his company. They still went out to restaurants and to the theatre with Madeleine, but they met for a meal sometimes, just the two of them and she would walk with him, arm in arm and even share a gentle kiss when they said goodnight.
When Jake thought of going back to Wales, the Welsh hiraeth – the longing to be back home – engulfed him in the moment he told Vera he was moving. The flash decision lightened his heart. The image of Zena running into his arms, all the problems caused by separation fading as they declared their love for each other, was there, waiting for him. The tensions, the misunderstandings were not real, more like stories that had happened to someone else, or had been seen in a rather foolish film. Zena and life in Cold Brook Vale were there as they had always been, waiting for him to return. Then he woke to reality and knew it was over, and had been for a long time. The revelation had been nothing more than a fantasy. Zena was no longer a part of his life and would never be again.
One evening as he and Rose were strolling back to her rooms after a visit to the cinema he put an arm round her shoulders and she snuggled closer. ‘Rose, I’m very fond of you. D’you think you could feel anything stronger than friendship for me? I want you to feel safe with me. I’ll never let anything hurt you.’
‘What about Zena?’
‘We’ve both struggled to keep alive something that died a long time ago. Zena and I have known each other since school, I’ve been a part of the Martin family for ever. It was a habit which we are both ready to break. It’s already in the past. I want a future with you, Rose. I know we’ll be happy. You and I had a bad start to life but we can have a wonderful future.’
‘It’s a bit soon to accept that you’re free, but I do feel safe with you and once I can face up to the rest of my story and tell you the worst of it, I think we can be happy together.’
‘That’s good enough for me.’ He kissed her gently and felt her respond. ‘There is one thing I have to do. I have to go and tell Zena, make it clear that we’ll be friends but nothing more. You understand that I have to do that?’
‘No! I don’t want you to see the Martins ever again. Promise me, Jake.’
‘All right, we won’t be friends. We’ll live in London and there won’t be any need for us to visit again, but I have to talk to Zena, just once. Why don’t we both go? You can stay at the lodgings as before and I’ll spend no more than half an hour, before coming back to you. We can both say our goodbyes to the place where we were born.’
She didn’t look very pleased but gave an abrupt nod.
Both Greg and Zena had rent coming in from the properties left to them by their maternal grandmother. It was in the bank and with both of them no longer considering marriage, they decided to spend some to give their mother a treat and they decided on a television. More and more people were talking about what they had watched the previous evening. The weekly drama was a favourite and the music hall style entertainment and comedy programmes sounded like enjoyment for them all. They bought a set and arranged for it to be delivered and tuned in while their mother was at the weekly cattle market with Sam and his father.
A place was decided on and the set was placed on a wooden tea trolley with castors to make it easy to move around. The two men set it up and with one on the roof moving the aerial and the other watching the picture and shouting instructions, they were soon satisfied that the picture was as good as it would get.
When Lottie came home she stared at it, then looked at them, a smile widening on her face, then she hugged them.
‘It’s for you. Our gift for coping with everything like a hero,’ they told her.
‘It’s wonderful, just what we need. Thank you, darlings.’ They handed her a copy of the Radio Times and sat with her discussing the programmes which they would watch that evening.
‘Typical!’ Greg said in mock anger. ‘I’m working the late shift. It’ll be finished for the evening before I get home!’
Sam came a few days later and they all sat, with Mabs, Susie and Kevin who had called unexpectedly, laughing at a comedy. He took photographs of them, and when the photographs were developed he was pleased with the results.
They all looked so happy that Zena took one to send to Jake. She wasn’t sure why, perhaps to show him that she wasn’t grieving his absence any more. Or maybe to remind him of what he was missing? It was still hard to accept life without him; even though she knew that they would never marry, she hoped they would remain friends.
Madeleine opened Zena’s letter and showed the photograph to Rose, who looked upset and then angry. ‘Look at them! How can they be happy after what they did? I hate them and they shouldn’t be happy. They lost the right to that a long time ago.’
‘When, Rose? When did the Martins lose the right to be happy?’
‘A long time ago,’ Rose repeated and refused to add anything more.
Madeleine showed the note and photograph to Jake, explaining that, as usual, it had been opened in the post room. ‘Rose was very angry, she insists that the Martins have no right to be happy but won’t explain why.’
When Jake asked Rose why the photograph made her so angry, Rose shook her hands in front of him, waving away the question. ‘One day I’ll be able to talk about it, but not now.’
‘That’s fine by me. I won’t ask again, but when you want to talk, I’ll be here to listen.’
‘When are you going to talk to Zena?’
‘You understand my wanting to?’
‘Of course. The sooner the better. I’ll spend the weekend you’re away looking for a flat for you, shall I?’
He hugged her and although she moved away, she paused for a moment, slightly more willing to accept the contact.
Zena still helped at SunnyBank, the house called the haunted house for so long. She often met Geraint the paper boy when she set off in the morning. He was no longer afraid to knock on the door and sometimes, Karen would be waiting for him with a cake and a glass of milk, which he willingly accepted. He waved nonchalantly at Zena and she made sure
never to mention his early hesitation. She saw that he now walked past SunnyBank and took a short cut through the wood to deliver newspapers to other cottages. He was confident now, having learned the paths and animal tracks that led him by a shorter route to Sam’s farm and beyond, no longer afraid.
Zena saw Mr Penberthy sometimes and, when she told him her full name, he said, ‘Yes, your father, Ronald Martin was a fine man. He was a good friend when I needed one.’
‘You knew my father? From the war years? Or as a child? I don’t remember him mentioning you.’
‘I would like you all to come for the day a week from Sunday, all of you, your Aunt Mabel too. There’s something I want to tell you all. Come for morning coffee, lunch and stay for afternoon tea. Will you come?’
Zena glanced at Karen, who nodded. ‘Thank you, Mr Penberthy, we’d love to.’ She wondered what he would tell them about their father and couldn’t decide whether or not to tell her mother that their host knew him and spoke well of him. Could they be about learn something to explain the missing money? That was unlikely. She hoped her mother wouldn’t have the same thought only to suffer another disappointment.
Two days later there was a telephone call apologizing for cancelling the Sunday arrangement, ‘Mr Penberthy had to go away unexpectedly, but will you still come?’ Karen asked. ‘Instead of a formal lunch, I can change it to a buffet, so if you like you can invite your friend with the little girls too. It will be a pity to waste the food.’
Nelda and the girls accepted without hesitation and the girls insisted that it would be an adventure. ‘ “Adventure” is their favourite word at present,’ Nelda explained.
Although it rained, they all wore suitable clothing and went for a walk first, through the trees and along the paths until they were in sight of Sam’s farm. Karen took out a map when they arrived back at the house and showed them the area, explaining where Zena lived, pointing out the Edwards’s farm and the paths they had walked, while Zena dried Betty.
The End of a Journey Page 26