Family Pride

by Family Pride (retail) (epub)

  “And opening two cafés,” Paul replied. “Just think of the long hours she must have worked, trying to keep things going after her mother died.”

  “A remarkable girl, young Gilly.”

  “I know, and now I don’t think we’ll ever get together. I – I hoped to marry her, Dad.”

  “Your mam and I hoped so too, Paul. Very fond of her we are.” He patted his son’s arm and hid the expression on his bruised face that might have told Paul he was not being truthful. He didn’t want his son to be involved with the Jenkins and never had. He had pretended a friendly rivalry to please Shirley, afraid as always to make her anything but content, but he hated the Jenkins family and wanted to see them disappear from sight. He hated them only slightly less than he had hated his father.

  “No chance of us marrying now,” Paul said, breaking into his thoughts. “She’s bound to side with her uncles and she still thinks you’re a crook.”

  “Did you know that Sam and Viv hadn’t been told that Fanny was murdered? There’s a shock. Can you imagine finding out that your sister didn’t die of some illness but was shot in the street? No wonder Viv is a bit unbalanced is it?” He looked at his son and patted his shoulder again. “Give Gilly a while to consider things, boy. If she’s the one for you, then she’ll come round. Mam’ll help sort it, as she sorts everything. Lucky you are to have a mam like yours.”

  “You aren’t angry with the Jenkins for accusing you of thieving their business?”

  “Not much point in arguing the point is there? Soon realise their mistake and forget all this.”

  Derek wondered how he could persuade his son to seek out other girls. Shirley would concentrate on bringing Gilly and Paul together but while he had the chance he would try and do otherwise. He didn’t want Paul involved when the moment came to ruin Jenkins’ for good and all.

  “What about coming to the dance with mam and me tonight?” he asked and was pleased when Paul agreed.

  Paul found the small dance hall changed from the last time he had been there. The music no longer changed from a waltz to a quick-step to a fox-trot and back again, but included jiving, a much more dramatic tango, and jitterbugging. He watched with fascination as girls were thrown about by their partners and admired the skill of the dancers with some envy.

  There was still an Master of Ceremonies, trying with difficulty to keep the dancers moving the same way around the floor and ordering the jiggerbuggers to keep to the corners. The familiar row of “wallflowers” was there and he saw several girls partnering other girls rather than join them. Groups of boys stood apart from the girls sneaking the occasional glance and huddling in a head-to-head to exchange opinions on what was on offer.

  He found after a while that he had no heart to stay. It was smoky, over-heated and smelled of stale scent and persperation.

  He left and went home alone.

  A few weeks after Paul’s return his parents invited him to go shopping with them. Paul looked suitably horrified.

  “Shopping? What d’you think I am? Me? Walk around the streets beside you two with a shopping bag on my arm?”

  Derek grinned at Shirley. “No shopping bag, boy. I think you’ll like this sort of shopping, eh, Shirley?”

  They took him, still protesting, to the outskirts of the town and pulled up outside a garage. On the forecourt was a Ford 8, black and polished, its chrome shining like new. And, they told a bemused Paul, it was his. He sat in it smiling excitedly but suddenly the joy went out of it. How Gilly would have loved it.

  Shirley seemed to guess what he was thinking. “Going to take it round to show Gilly?” she asked. “It’s not her the quarrel was about, mind. Go and show her and take her for a drive. Dad’s got you some petrol.”

  “Yes, semi-legally. If anyone asks, you’re down as my new rep,” Derek grinned. “Take it for a run out of town, see how you like it.”

  “I like it fine, Dad, Mam. Thank you.”

  Carefully, Paul drove the car out of the garage and onto the road. He didn’t go back to the town but went out into the country, driving through the picturesque villages in the Vale of Glamorgan with lovely names like Corntown, Ewenny and Blue Anchor. A grey sea was visible from time to time as the road wound in and out of fields and cottages, with the remains of several windmills showing how the wind of the coastal farming strip had once been valued. He stopped eventually on a stretch of road from where he could see the River Ogmore wandering past on its way to join the tide. Two small children were waving fishing nets about without much expertise but with a lot of laughter, their parents watching them, standing protectively close even though the water was calm and shallow at that point.

  Envy overwhelmed him as he watched the little family. He had thought that once free of the uniform he had worn for so long, he would have picked up the beginnings of his new life as easily as those children scooped their nets through the waters of the river. Now, because of some imagined feud between Gilly’s uncles and his father, his hopes and plans were in tatters.

  He stepped out of the car and walked along the grassy levels close to the sea. Debris from the river showed the heights the water reached at high tide. Small rivulets, like the one in which the children were playing with their nets, forced him to jump occasionally to enable him to keep his feet dry. It was too cold to paddle, though the idea was tempting.

  His life was a mess. He didn’t want to go back to the bakery, not now, not ever. While the war had kept him away he had discussed the future with a variety of people, had experienced a variety of occupations and touched the fringes of many more. Several offered more excitement than returning to work beside his father.

  How could he tell his parents? He had hoped to talk to Gilly about his plans then together they would have explained how he felt. But now he was on his own and the temptation was just to let things happen, go back to the bakery and let things drift on as before.

  A couple walking towards him looked vaguely familiar and he stopped to watch them approach. They were quarrelling, he could see that before he heard them, and the voices, when they reached him, were high pitched and sharp.

  He recognised Gerry Daniels first and wondered what he was doing walking on a beach. He wasn’t the sort to get his shoes damp! Maisie Boxmoor was his companion. No, he remembered Gilly telling him now, Maisie was married to Gerry Daniels. And a right miserable pair they seemed to be. Gilly and he wouldn’t behave like that… He pulled himself back from the painful reminder that Gilly was gone from his life.

  He stepped back so the couple wouldn’t see him and watched them pass. He heard enough of their conversation, shouted to the sky, to learn that it was about money. Hardly surprising, everyone knew that Gerry was always broke. His thoughts slipped again and he imagined telling Gilly about seeing them, aware that he would never again be able to tell her anything and watch the laughter that seemed to widen her eyes and add sparkle to her lovely face.

  He tossed the car keys in his hand and for a moment regretted the gift. It was one more tie, holding him to the family firm and preventing him trying something else. If only he could talk to Gilly. She would understand.

  Driving back through the town he saw her. Dressed in a dark brown coat, a smart little hat on her shining hair, she was walking through the afternoon crowd on her way to Bread Street. He went past slowly, smiling nervously, hoping the surprise of seeing him in the smart car would make her forget their quarrel and speak. He called her name.

  “Gilly, what d’you think of—”

  She stopped, looked at him coldly. “Something else bought from our money, is it?” She turned and walked away.

  * * *

  For a while after her mother died Lucy still planned to fill the suitcase with hand-made items and establish herself in a small business, but things had moved on. When she rather half-heartedly offered a smaller collection to a buyer she was met with a frown and an apologetic refusal. The beautiful accessories were no longer fashionable.

  Post-war fashion
was dictated by a generation who wanted freedom, ease and comfort. People dressed up less and less often, finding easier styles and more casual clothes for even the most formal occasions. Crotcheted collars and frills, she was told firmly, were out.

  For a while she wore some of the items she made, but she began to feel self-conscious, a bit frumpy and out of touch, so she put them away and tried to think of something else with which to earn a living. Something in which she was her own boss. She didn’t want to work for someone else for the rest of her life.

  She felt out of touch in other ways, too. Conversations with other girls she worked with made her feel staid and set in her ways. It was most apparent when they asked about Teifion.

  “Does he try it on?” one girl asked and for a moment Lucy didn’t know what she meant. Then she laughed and shook her head.

  “Our friendship isn’t that intense,” she explained.

  “How long have you been going out then?” another asked.

  When Lucy counted up the years she was shocked. “Unbelievably it’s almost five years,” she said.

  “Blimey, and you and he have never—?” Again Lucy shook her head, choosing to forget about that disastrous night in the hotel.

  “Respects you too much, does he?” One girl smiled at another in sarcastic disbelief.

  “What about you?” the first girl asked. “Don’t you want to try?”

  Lucy wondered afterwards if she had given some sign to Teifion on their date following this conversation. They had walked home after spending a couple of hours in an out-of-town restaurant and, in an empty bus-shelter, as he began to say goodbye, his kisses changed from the rather passionless pecks he usually gave her, to a deep, intense embrace.

  His lips softened and she felt her own opening like a flower under his persuasion. Startled at first, she quickly began to feel herself succumbing to the desire for love that her body had kept a secret from her.

  His hands began to slowly and rhythmically stroke and caress her body. She felt the warmth of his hands on her thighs and she suddenly came out of her almost hypnotic state and pushed him away.

  “No, Teifion. Not that.”

  “Why, Lucy? You know how I feel about you?” He reached for her and his hands began to touch her again and she felt herself relaxing, submitting to the almost over-whelming need of him.

  “I know you and I have no future,” she whispered, trying to convince herself she was not affected by his searching fingers and the pulse of his urgent demand. “I’m someone you hide in a corner and pretend not to know.”

  “It won’t be like this forever, I want you to be patient and wait for me. You and I are good together, if you doubt it let me show you.” Once again his advances were slapped down and he stood, breathing rather heavily, adjusting his coat and staring at her.

  “You want me, you can’t deny that, not now.” He took a step towards her, his arms open and inviting. “I won’t let you down. What are you afraid of?”

  “Go away,” she said angry with herself and a little ashamed. She had asked for it, refused it, and now she was empty and hollow inside. The girls and their talk and teasing had made her act stupidly almost without realising it. “I’m sorry,” she added quietly as she began to leave.

  “Let me come back with you, stay for a while,” he pleaded.

  “For a few moments? With an eye on the clock so you don’t offend your mother or your aunt and uncle?”

  “Let me explain, Lucy. I want you to wait just a little while longer and it will all be right between us.”

  “When your aunt and uncle die you mean?” she said suddenly realising what he was saying. “You want me to wait for you for years and years until I’m as wrinkled as a prune and your aunt and uncle are dead?”

  She leaned against the wooden shelter listening to his footsteps clattering away down the road and knew she should tell him goodbye.

  She didn’t move for an age, wishing there was a real person she could lean on and share her life with. The future looked excruciatingly bleak and she knew she ought to do something about it. But what?

  One chilly Saturday afternoon, she was going shopping, when Gee called to her and said he was going to the market, too.

  “Walk together, shall we?” he said, pulling on his hurriedly grabbed coat and hat. He saw that Lucy wasn’t wearing a scarf and ran back inside to get one of his for her. “There, you don’t look after yourself like you should. What’s ’appened to all the nice scarves you and yer old mum used to make, can’t be bothered for yerself, can yer?” he scolded.

  Lucy smiled wryly and accepted the scarf. “You treat me like a little furry pet, Gee. You just want something to spoil. Why don’t you get yourself a kitten?” she teased.

  They walked around the busy market and bought the few things they needed then Gee suggested a cup of tea. “Plenty of places to eat, but why don’t we go on the bus and take a walk somewhere? I know!” he said excitedly. “We’ll ’ave a picnic.”

  “In November?” she laughed. “Go and take a running jump! I’m going to sit in warmth and comfort if I have a cup of tea and a sticky bun!”

  “In the spring then?” he said. “Promise me that in the spring you and I will go on a picnic, we might even go to this Barry Island that everyone raves about and ’ave a paddle and an ice-cream and a bag o’ chips and wear a saucy ’at and take a ride on the death-defying scenic railway.”

  “It’s a promise,” Lucy said, without much thought. It was still Teifion she dreamed of doing such things with, sharing experiences with and building up a supply of memories. “Come on, gee up, Gee, let’s go in here.”

  The café was on the main road and they found a seat at the window where they could watch the shoppers passing by. They were sipping their second cup of tea when Lucy gasped and stared across the road. Standing on the corner, waiting for a bus, was Teifion.

  “That’s the bloke you go out with now and then, isn’t it?” Gee asked, his dark eyes watching her.

  A bus pulled up and when it moved on, Teifion had gone. For no reason she could think of, Lucy told Gee about Teifion and his relations, the Slades.

  Gee reacted strongly. “Trevor Slade? ’Im what lives round the corner from Field Street? Dirty old bugger!”

  “I thought he was. That’s why I left.” She frowned at him, he was staring at her curiously.

  “You told Teifion about his uncle and he didn’t believe yer? But he was in the paper just a couple of weeks ago, ’ad up in court for pestering girls in the cinema. Been in and out of court for years on one indecency charge or another. Your Teifion must ’ave known about it. And ’e said ’e didn’t believe yer? Blimey, Lucy, what are you bothering about a bloke like that for? Taking the side of a dirty old man like Trevor Slade against someone as lovely as you?”

  “You must be mistaken, Gee. It couldn’t have been him. Teifion wouldn’t have pretended. He—” She couldn’t believe that Teifion would behave so badly. Surely he thought more of her than that?

  “I’d ask ’im if I was you. ’Ere, if you don’t believe me come and look through some old newspapers, I bet I can easily find the latest of his publicity portraits.”

  By a coincidence, Teifion called a few days later and invited her out to the cinema. Having accepted Gee’s invitation to search through the newspapers Lucy was convinced of the truth of Trevor Slade’s guilt. And of Teifion’s dishonesty.

  “Hello, Teifion, seen your Uncle Trevor lately, have you?”

  “No, not for a while, why?” Teifion looked at her rather uncomfortably.

  “Takes a good picture, doesn’t he? Like the recent one in the South Wales Echo.”

  “Oh, then you know.”

  “More to the point, how long have you known? When you told me I was making it up out of vanity and he hadn’t been trying to ‘force his attentions’ on me, as you euphemistically put it, did you know then that he had this weakness for young women? Did you, Teifion?”

  “It was difficult for me, and
Mam and Dad made me promise. I – I’m sorry, Lucy.”

  “You told me I was lying! Hinted that I was flattering myself for thinking that someone like him would want to touch me. You supported a filthy creature like slimy Slade! You almost had me believing I’d imagined it! All these months while I’ve been hanging around waiting for you to call, all the time you’ve hidden me away in case your fine upright family found out, all the time you’ve known.”

  Teifion began to bluster then, to weedle, turning his brown trilby hat in his hands in his anxiety to placate her. Lucy grabbed the hat from his hands and pulled it hard down over his head, then she pushed him backwards out through the front door and slammed it.

  As the door closed, laughter sounded from above, and she turned to see Gee sitting on the top stair enjoying the free show. “Bloody marvel you are, when you get going. I reckon I’m going to have trouble keeping you under control when we’re married. When shall we get married, Lucy my darlin’ girl? Just after Christmas suit yer?”

  * * *

  It was January before Sam persuaded Lillian to come and meet his family. It was one of those bright days that gave an illusion of spring despite the icy winds. Several people had willingly succumbed to the deception and had taken to the air for a stroll in the cheerful sunshine. The sky was a clear blue and the grass disguised its winter shabbiness in the dazzle of the sun’s brilliance.

  After introducing her to Gilly, Ivor, Viv and Bessie, Sam took Lillian for a walk. Ivor followed them, seeing at once in the jolly young woman a substitute for the mother he so longed to have. Sitting in the park, they found Cyril Richards. Ivor turned and with a low wail, hurried away.

  “Ivor? Come back, we’d like you to come with us,” Lillian pleaded, but Ivor scuttled away without explanation.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Sam said. “He lives in a world of his own, plays silly games and forgets what’s real and what isn’t.”