Family Pride

by Family Pride (retail) (epub)

  It was a Sunday but, as on other days when it wasn’t actually raining, Cyril had gone to the park to eat his lunch.

  “Cyril, boy, meet Lillian. Going to be married soon. Met in the war we did and lost sight for a while, but everything is fine again now, isn’t it, love?”

  Cyril looked at the full figure of the smiling young woman and glanced at Sam curiously, but he said nothing.

  “It’s all right, there’s no need to pretend you can’t see how I’m fixed,” Lillian opened her wide and generous lips in a dazzling smile. “It’s no secret I’m going to have a baby and it isn’t Sam’s either.”

  “You don’t have to explain—” Cyril began, pain creasing his face.

  “Lillian married when we were out of touch and her husband was killed soon after, along with thousands of others.”

  “I see,” Cyril said, wondering how soon after conception the husband disappeared. Not long enough for much grieving, he thought to himself.

  On the way back to Bread Street, Sam told Lillian the sad story of Cyril’s refusal to accept Marigold’s daughter. “What if we took young Stella to the park one day?” Sam said slowly. “And what if, just accidental like, we met Cyril there? He’d have to look at little Stella then, wouldn’t he? There’s a chance he’ll begin to think about her as Marigold’s child and stop feeling sick about the father.”

  “Sam, you are the kindest man I’ve ever known.”

  “Aw, go on with you, it’s only common sense. Besides, I’m so happy I want everyone else to be.”

  On that first visit Lillian stayed only a few days, so it was February before she and Sam took little Stella to play in the park. Sam and Lillian sat near the place that Cyril considered his own, but out of the man’s sight. Sam engineered it so Stella had to go running towards Cyril’s bench several times after a ball. He watched as Cyril threw it back for the child. When this had happened three or four times and Cyril was obviously amused by the encounter, Sam stepped out.

  “So, you’ve met your daughter at last, have you?”

  “This is Marigold’s little girl?” Cyril stepped back as if burnt.

  “This is Stella. Just the image of your Marigold, isn’t she? Same eyes and same hair and with the same gentle, good nature.” He called the child to him and cuddled her. “Fool you are, Cyril Richards, to miss out on something as wonderful as this.” He turned away from the bemused man and offered his arm to Lillian. “Come on, Stella, lovely girl, we promised your mam we wouldn’t be long.”

  For a long time after they’d gone the image of the child’s innocent face floated before Cyril’s eyes. He had always thought of the child as being the copy of her father, but she wasn’t. She was Marigold all over again. He stumbled home and lay on his bed for the rest of the day, wondering if, after all this time, and after all that had happened, it could come right for him again.

  On the day following the encounter with Sam, Lillian and Stella, after another sleepless night, Cyril went to Marigold’s house to beg for her forgiveness.

  * * *

  Vic Jenkins arrived home in an ambulance. Bessie, Gilly, Ivor and Sam stood beside a very emotional Viv as the back of the vehicle was opened and his twin brother was helped down. He was unrecognisable; emaciated and gaunt, his eyes and teeth enormous in the shrunken cheeks. The clothes he wore hung on his skeletal frame, in danger of falling away from him completely. Gilly held back a squeal, he looked as if he were already dead.

  When Vic reached the kerb it was alarming to see how much difficulty he had negotiating it. But once he had regained his balance and stood before the shop doorway, he pushed aside those who were assisting him and walked slowly and unsteadily to greet them.

  “Gilly, Sam, Bessie, Viv, there’s glad I am to see you.” His voice was soft and indistinct. Then Viv stumbled forward to grab him as he all but collapsed.

  “Refused to stay in hospital a day longer,” the accompanying nurse told Bessie. “We’ve informed his own doctor and he’ll be here within the hour. I’d like to help get him into bed but I don’t think he’ll be willing. Stubborn and very proud, he is.”

  “Will he… I mean what are his chances?” Sam asked as he and Bessie saw the nurse to the ambulance.

  “He’ll live, if that’s what you mean. His heart is strong and he’s surprisingly tough. He just wants care, rest and plenty of good food.”

  “We’ll see he gets that,” Bessie promised.

  Vic refused to be taken upstairs. “I’ll sleep here on the couch close to the fire. I can’t be doing with climbing up and down stairs night and morning and I’m not going to be stuck up there out of sight.” The speech took a long time and when he had panted his way to the last word, Bessie stepped forward and smiled at him.

  “That’s all right by me. If I’m going to be looking after you I don’t want to trek up and down those stairs either! Had enough of that with Dad, didn’t we, Gilly?”

  “You’ll stay?” Sam asked. Bessie nodded.

  “Of course I’ll stay. ’Til he’s well again.”

  Vic slept that first night propped up with pillows and with the fire kept lively by Bessie and Viv. As days passed he improved and within a couple of weeks he was sitting on the cart and going for part of the bakery round with his twin who hardly left his side. In a month Sam felt able to leave and go to London to bring Lillian back as his bride to be.

  * * *

  The wedding, arranged to take place in Sam’s home town, didn’t go quite as planned. Lillian was one of a large family, and brothers and sisters, cousins, and aunts and uncles were expected to appear but only one arrived. Her brother Geoff came but there was no sign of the rest. They found out later that the two cars borrowed for the occasion had broken down at Witney on the Cotswolds and only started again when it was time to return to London. Instead of the party they had expected to fill the small church, it was a simple ceremony with just Sam’s family and a few friends.

  Sam and Lillian were delighted to see Cyril there with Marigold and Stella. The Smokys arrived with Megan Moxon and a few of Jenkins’ customers. The church was almost empty. Outside it was different. Crowds of well-wishers filled the church-yard and the pavement. Many were acquaintances of Sam but other were passers-by enjoying the sight of a wedding though disappointed that the bride wasn’t wearing white.

  “Damned rationing,” Lillian heard someone complain. “Ruining everything it is, even a girl’s special day.”

  “Nothing will spoil today for me, love,” Lillian laughed as she threw her small posy into the crowd, laughing louder as the young girls scrambled for it.

  “I swear even I don’t know half of them,” Sam laughed as the line of revellers made their way from the church back to the family home.

  “I’m glad Geoff was there. Pity he couldn’t stay, though. He and I always got on well.”

  “More’s the pity I didn’t have a chance to talk to him! He had to go for his train before I got around to looking for him. Still, with him living in Cardiff there’ll be plenty of other chances for us to get to know each other.”

  Sam wasn’t keen to be away for more than a night or two but the family insisted and they spent six nights in a small hotel overlooking the sea in the historic seaside town of Tenby. They handed in their ration books for the week’s stay to the smiling landlady and hoped the food would justify losing their week’s food ration.

  The house was small, sparsely furnished, but clean and well run. The landlady did her best to make their stay a pleasant one and with the spring weather being kind to them, the days were happily filled. The nights were bliss. But it was not what Sam had wanted for his bride.

  “As soon as the firm’s on its feet again we’ll make up for it good and proper.”

  “It’s been perfect, Sam. A perfect start to a perfect marriage.”

  Lillian settled into the running of the house with ease. Her baby was due in less than six weeks and Bessie, who had appointed herself Vic’s attendant nurse, accepted the happy, ea
sy-going young woman into the family home with hardly a ripple of dissention.

  “Lovely girl, she is,” Bessie confided to Edna Smoky, “Happy and full of enthusiasm and willing. I’ve had to stop her more than once and make her sit down for an hour and put her feet up. Fusses over me and Vic as if she’s our own she does.” She sighed. “Thank goodness one of us managed to find the right partner.”

  On the day that Lillian’s son was born, happiness left the house and seemed unlikely to return.

  When Sam was given the nurse’s permission to see the child he had given his name to be stared in utter disbelief. The baby was black.

  He stumbled from the house like a drunkard and walked through the street unseeing. If people spoke he didn’t hear. He was demented with disappointment. The taste of his marriage was ashes in his mouth. The life of happiness he had so longed for with Lillian and the baby was ruined and would never be re-built. He thought bitterly of Cyril’s dilemma and considered it trivial compared to his own. He walked for five hours before he even thought of turning back.

  The next morning he woke stiff and aching from being slumped on a chair for what had remained of the night. Vic was in his bed against the opposite wall and was sitting up waiting for him to wake.

  “Sorry to my heart I am about the baby, but Lillian is still the same girl you married. Lovely girl she is and don’t forget it. Don’t be stupid for the sake of a bit of pride, boy.”

  “Pride? A bit of pride you call it? How can I pretend the baby’s mine now?”

  “Lillian’s yours, isn’t she? It’s her that counts.” The thin face was more animated than Sam had seen it since Vic’s return. “Damn me, Sam, after what we’ve all been through I’d have thought you’d be able to cope with this, boy. Ask yourself if it’s worth more fighting. After all, it’s a baby and as innocent as Marigold’s Stella. Ivor is thrilled to bits mind. He thinks it’s the most wonderful baby he’s ever seen.”

  Sam was silent. He didn’t appear to have heard his brother’s words. When Viv came down a few moments later, he landed another bombshell for Sam to deal with.

  “Sorry to give you no notice, Sam, but we’re leaving.”

  “What d’you mean, leaving? You live here!”

  “Vic and I have scraped together some money, we both came out of the forces with a small nest-egg and we’ve bought a boat. We’re going to wander for a while, it’ll give Vic a chance to get really well.”

  “But where? And why? Can’t he rest here? Lillian and Bessie have looked after him fine, haven’t they? If there’s more he wants he only has to ask.”

  “You’ve all been marvellous. I’ve no complaints and neither has Vic. In fact I can’t tell you how kind Lillian has been. Just like a sister.” Viv hesitated, looking at his brother and added. “We’re both very fond of her and we hope you and she will sort this out so she can stay.”

  “Then why do you want to leave? It’s nothing to do with the baby being, like he is, is it? You’re sure of that?”

  “I want to spend a while looking around, perhaps deciding on a different life from the one we’d planned, perhaps we’ll be back. In any case we’ll visit often, and let you know how we are. And no, the little chap upstairs has nothing to do with our decision to go.”

  “Tempting us to stay more like,” Vic added.

  “Lillian and I have a little money, we’ll give you something to add to your kitty,” Sam said when he realised he couldn’t alter their minds. “I wish you luck, and look after yourselves, won’t you?”

  * * *

  Viv and Vic set off one Sunday morning in March when warnings of further changes to the British loaf were announced, fat rations had been reduced even further, bananas arrived in the wholesale markets for the first time since the war began, and the Ministry of Food published a recipe for squirrel pie.

  “How will they manage,” wailed a tearful Bessie. “Men can’t look after themselves, never could and never will!” Sam was smiling as he waved his brothers off, but he was thinking more of how he would cope with the business with only Dai Smoky to help him. Lillian and he were still estranged, only speaking when there was a real necessity.

  Gilly was spending too much time dealing with her own businesses to be able to do much at the Bread Street Bakery.

  He went to the park for a walk after lunch, which consisted of a small amount of corned beef and a large amount of potatoes in a pie. He met Cyril sitting on his usual seat, but he wasn’t alone. Beside him sat Marigold and Stella, who was hugging a new teddy bear complete with an enormous bow of pink ribbon. Cyril waved him over and he sat beside the little girl who introduced him to both of her new friends, Teddy and Cyril.

  “Just been seeing Vic and Viv off on their travels,” Sam said. “Damn me and for the purpose there’s an increase in business. How will I keep it going with only me and Dai Smoky?”

  “Gilly’s still there, isn’t she?” Marigold asked.

  “In body but not in spirit. She’s planning to open a restaurant in Nevilles’s old bake-house. Pity she couldn’t have the place we rent to Derek Green. It’s in a better position for a restaurant. I must look to see when the lease runs out. I’d take great delight in throwing him and his machinery out of the place.”

  “What d’you mean?” Cyril frowned at him. “It isn’t yours any more. Forgotten selling it have you? You must be getting as half-soaked as poor old Ivor!”

  “What d’you mean? Sold it? We haven’t sold it.”

  “Yes you have, mate. And for a stupid price if I remember. My firm arranged the purchase and I came across the papers.” He stared at the unusually angry expression on Sam’s face. “You mean you really didn’t know?”

  “My sister murdered, the firm almost given peacemeal to Derek Green. What else haven’t I been told?”

  “I’ll look it up for you if you like. The papers are bound to be still there somewhere. My boss never throws a damned thing away.

  A week later, Sam saw to his disbelief that Gerry had sold the property for only a hundred and fifty pounds, a small percentage of its real value.

  “What else haven’t you bothered to tell me?” he demanded of Bessie and Gilly that evening.

  “Nothing, Sam, I promise,” Bessie said. “I didn’t even know about the sale myself. He just gave us papers to sign and I suppose we were so distressed, having just lost Fanny in that awful way, we just signed without even wondering what the papers were about. Gerry took over and we were glad to let him. Bills, letters, he saw to them all.”

  “Uncle Sam,” Gilly said in a small voice, her hands covering her mouth. “There is something else I’ve forgotten. I’m so sorry. Granfer gave me a letter for you and until this very moment I haven’t given it a thought!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sam refused to talk to Lillian or go into their bedroom and see the baby. He worked hard both in the bakery and the yard, white-washing the walls that were done every few months, although Sticky Vic had done them less than three weeks before. He turned out cupboards and spent long hours looking through Granfer’s papers and note-books and ledgers – anything to keep him from thinking about the little baby upstairs in his wife’s arms.

  When the doctor allowed Lillian to come downstairs following the birth of her baby she went to find Sam. He was in the bake-house, taking the last of the loaves from the shelves to re-fill the cart for delivering.

  “Sam, we have to talk.”

  “Yes, Lillian, but not now. I have to get this load ready for Dai to deliver. He’s just gone home for an hour.”

  “I’ll help then. We can talk as we work.”

  “No, best you sit down. Just out of bed you are.” Distressed as he was for the situation with the baby he couldn’t accept, he was still concerned for her. He still loved her and would have given a lot to go back and handle the situation differently.

  “It’s about the baby’s name. I thought, well, you don’t want to call him Victor now, do you. I expect you want to keep that name for
when – if you have another son who would carry the name on.” Sam didn’t answer, pretending some deep interest in getting the shelf behind the cart’s window filled with the remaining selection of loaves and bread rolls. “I thought of Wayne. D’you like that name?”

  “If you like. It doesn’t sound very Welsh, mind.”

  “But he isn’t Welsh, there’s not one drop of Welsh blood in him.”

  “If he’s brought up in Wales—”

  “If, Sam? Then there’s doubt? D’you want me to go away? I can easily go back home, they’ll be glad to have me and little Wayne. They’d welcome us with delight. I’m quite a good house-keeper.” There was only a slight cynical ring to her voice.

  It was something Sam hadn’t thought of. She was his wife and this was her home. He turned to look at her, paler than usual and with her round face lacking its good-natured smile.

  “I don’t want you to go away,” he said gruffly. “It’s my duty to look after you and I’ll do that. I’ll look after you and your baby.”

  “I don’t think I can live with that, Sam. You doing your duty. Life as an unmarried mother doesn’t offer much but I think I’d prefer that to living with someone who was only doing his duty.”

  Sam finished putting the last of the bread into the cart and considering a reply. He was choked with regrets and love for her. When he turned to look at her she had gone. He stared at the empty chair and felt fear of the lonely life stretching ahead of him if he couldn’t come to terms with the situation.

  A few days later, while Sam was out on the round, Lillian ordered a taxi and went to register the birth of Wayne Geoffrey Jenkins.

  News spread about the birth of the coloured child and for a while Lillian couldn’t face walking out with Wayne in the new pram they had bought. When she did Ivor walked with her as proud as any uncle could be and he seemed to glow in the admiration of those who stopped to look at the beautiful little boy. A few looked at her curiously, some backed away unable to think of what to say, but most admired Wayne and wished her and the baby well.