‘Yes, sir. Your daughter is here, Mr Larch, shall I send her in?’ Miss Arnold asked.
Edward set his pen on his tray. ‘I’m free for the next hour, aren’t I?’
‘Yes, Mr Larch.’
‘In that case, see that we’re not interrupted.’
‘Shall I bring in tea, Mr Larch?’
‘Only if my daughter wants a cup, Miss Arnold.’ Edward leaned back in his chair and wondered if Rhian and Julia were in touch. It seemed too much of a coincidence that Rhian should mention Julia to him one evening and she should turn up in his office two days later.
‘Hello, Father.’ Julia walked in. She was as plain, and as expensively and badly dressed as she had always been, but she was smiling. Very obviously happier than she had been the last time she had called on him before her elopement.
‘Sit down, Julia.’ Unsure why she’d called, he didn’t return her smile. ‘It seems a long time since I’ve seen you.’
‘Eight months. And it’s good of you to see me without an appointment.’
‘I am your father,’ he said heavily. ‘How have you been?’
‘As you see.’
‘As I see, you look blooming and happy.’
‘I wouldn’t go quite that far,’ she countered. ‘How are you?’
Wondering how much, if anything, she knew about him and Rhian, he hesitated before answering her. ‘Do you know that your brother is in the army?’
‘Gerald has written to me, care of Llan House. Bronwen and later Mair forwarded the letters. That is one of the reasons I’m here. Gerald has never sent me a return address, to write back to him and now that Mair is leaving Llan House –’
‘Mair is leaving?’ he said in surprise.
‘I’m sorry, I assumed you’d know. She is working her notice. She is starting in the vicarage on the first of next month.’
‘That will please Mabel,’ he said caustically.
‘Anyway, I would like to arrange for her successor to forward my mail to Ynysangharad House. I’m staying with Sali and Lloyd Evans.’
‘So Rhian told me,’ he said quietly.
‘I saw Mrs Williams before she left Tonypandy. She told me about you and Rhian.’
‘What exactly did she tell you?’ he asked warily.
‘That you are living together as man and wife.’
‘And you’ve come here to tell me that you disapprove?’
‘No, Father.’ She smiled at the memory of what had happened the night before last. There was so much she hadn’t understood. What passion could do to a man and woman. How lovemaking could make a person feel special and as though nothing else in the world mattered. But then if she had known, would she have proposed to and married Geraint? And, the most burning question of all, would her husband ever make love to her? Because the one thing that she was certain of was the next time she saw him, she would ask him to do just that.
‘Really?’ He looked at her in amazement.
‘What you and Rhian do is your own,’ she only just stopped herself from blurting ‘affair’ and substituted, ‘business.’
‘That is gracious of you.’ He looked her in the eye. ‘Has marriage to Geraint Watkin Jones changed you that much?’
‘Marriage to Geraint hasn’t changed me at all.’
‘I wish I could be as magnanimous as you, but I can’t forget that you told me he only wanted to marry you for your money. However, that aside, you look well, in fact better than I’ve ever seen you before and if you are truly happy I am prepared to revise my opinion of your husband.’
‘If I look good it’s not down to Geraint.’ She glanced down and straightened her skirt. ‘But I have my independence and I am busy buying a house for us on the outskirts of Pontypridd. And shortly it will need furnishing, although I’m not sure when we’ll be able to live in it. I haven’t seen Geraint since he took a commission in August.’
‘He is in France?’ Edward asked in surprise.
‘Yes, I know it’s an amazing thing for someone as selfish as Geraint to do, but he couldn’t wait to join the army.’
‘Julia, I am sorry for everything I’ve done or rather haven’t done since your mother died. I should have paid more attention to you.’
‘I’m twenty-seven years old, Father, and well able to take care of myself. But what about you and my stepmother? She can hardly be pleased at the situation between you and Rhian.’
‘She isn’t, but I won’t go back to her. Not for her sake, propriety, or even you, Julia.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of asking you to after living in the same house as the two of you.’
‘I offered Mabel an annuity if she moves back to Carmarthen,’ he revealed. ‘If I succeed in getting her out, you could move back into Llan House more or less immediately. I want to give it to you and Gerald and I have made arrangements to sign it over to you.’
‘No, Father, I won’t return to Llan House. There is nothing left there for me now.’
‘There is nothing left there for any of us.’ His voice was tinged with sadness and regret.
‘And I am sorry about you and my stepmother.’
‘That was said with real feeling. Your own marriage not going so well?’ he asked intuitively.
‘With Geraint in the army we can hardly be said to have a marriage at all.’
‘Children might make a difference,’ he hinted.
‘They might but I am not having a child.’ She blushed when she realized that she couldn’t be sure. ‘Has Rhian told you that Sali has invited her to Ynysangharad House for Easter?’
‘She did mention it.’
‘When I told Sali that I was coming here, she suggested that I invite you to join us as well.’
‘Won’t that be extremely strange?’
‘Not if you come in your capacity as my father instead of Rhian’s lover.’
‘Julia –’
‘Think about it. You might enjoy the day.’
‘I am sorry. I feel that I am to blame for forcing you from Llan House.’
‘You didn’t, and running off with Geraint was the best thing that I could have done, not because I’m married, but because I am independent. Buying a house teaches someone to make decisions and stand on their own two feet. And although I’m living with Sali and Lloyd now, it won’t be for much longer.’
‘Thank Mrs Evans for her invitation.’
‘You’ll think about accepting it?’
‘No, but I’ll discuss it with Rhian. The last thing I want is to create any awkwardness between her and the Evans family. She is very fond of them.’
‘You will be too if you get to know them. The children are delightful. Playing with them has made me remember all the wonderful things you and Mother did for Gerald and me when we were small.’ Impulsively she went to his desk, leaned over it and kissed his cheek.
He grasped her hand. ‘Perhaps you could ask Mrs Evans if it will be all right for Rhian and me to call in briefly without dining with them.’
‘I will.’
‘Tell her that if it is, she can telephone me here. And you’ll come up again soon and we’ll have lunch in the White Hart Hotel. My treat?’
‘I would like that very much indeed.’
‘Shall we say next Wednesday? Come here at twelve o’clock. I’ll book us a table.’
‘I’ll be here.’
‘We’re all right?’
Julia gave him another kiss. ‘We’ve always been all right, Father.’
Victor clucked his tongue at his horse to speed him up, then glanced at Joey who was sitting, lost in thought, alongside him on the seat of the cart. ‘You’ll look after yourself …’
‘Don’t you dare go all mushy on me, Victor,’ Joey broke in tartly. ‘It’s bad enough having Sali, Megan and Betty crying all over me and our father and Lloyd getting all tight-lipped and paternalistic without you starting.’
‘I suppose I could ask you to bring back the scalp of the next German you kill, like Harry.’
�
�Bloodthirsty little beggar.’ Joey shook his head fondly and laughed.
‘And whose fault is that?’ Victor asked, not entirely humorously. ‘I’ve seen some of the Cowboy and Indian comics you’ve bought for him over the years.’ He turned the corner and drove his cart into Dunraven Street. ‘We’re early, just as I warned you we would be. I can’t understand why you wanted to set out a full hour before your train is due to leave, when it’s only a half-hour journey from the farm to the station.’
‘I thought I might call into the store and give Miss Robertson a kiss to tide her over until the peace treaties are signed.’
‘Give her a kiss and she’ll have a heart attack.’
‘That’s one way of getting her out of Gwilym James before the armistice brings me back.’
Victor slowed the cart as they drew alongside Gwilym James. But Joey wasn’t looking at the store. His attention was fixed on the new tobacconist’s shop across the street.
‘You thinking of going in there?’ Victor asked.
‘Do you think I should?’ Joey looked to his brother for advice.
‘That depends on whether or not you need cigarettes.’
‘She doesn’t serve there?’ Joey asked anxiously.
‘She does.’
‘And?’
‘Whether or not you go in is entirely your own decision.’ Victor looped the reins around his hand, jumped down and tied them to a post.
Joey didn’t attempt to move. ‘I think of her all the time, no matter who I talk to, who I see …’
‘Or how many other girls you take out?’
Joey recalled what had happened with Julia, and fell silent. Taking his silence as an indication of indecisiveness, Victor said, ‘There’s gossip about her and another man.’
‘You don’t have to tell me, I know. She told me about it before I left Tonypandy.’ Joey held on to the side of the cart and jumped down. He went to retrieve his kit bag.
‘You can leave that there. I have to pick up a few things for Megan in Connie’s. Do you have any messages for her – or Tonia?’ Victor added deliberately.
‘She’s back working for her mother?’ Joey asked in surprise.
‘Connie keeps a tight rein on her these days.’
‘Tell them I’m sorry to miss them, but if I have more time on my next leave, I’ll make a point of calling in on them.’
‘You mean it?’
‘It’s water under the bridge, Victor. You can tell Tonia that if you like and give her my address.’
‘Really?’
‘Remind her that all serving soldiers are short of cigarettes, dry socks and chocolate.’
‘See you back here in ten minutes,’ Victor suggested. ‘That way you can decide whether you want to visit Miss Robertson or Rhian.’
‘It’s only five minutes to the station. We can say goodbye here, if you like,’ Joey offered.
‘What and miss the opportunity to find out which one you decided to call on? Besides I haven’t finished lecturing you yet.’
After Victor walked away, Joey looked into Gwilym James. There was a boy on the door he didn’t recognize and two new girls on the counter just inside the store. A tram rattled past at a reckless speed. He waited for the baker’s cart behind it to turn around, then he crossed the road.
‘I have to see Mr Larch and I have to see him now! It’s urgent.’ Mabel shouted down Miss Arnold’s protests, pushed her aside and burst into Edward’s office.
Edward rose when Mabel entered, muttered, ‘Excuse me’ to the client in his visitor’s chair and went to block Mabel at the door. ‘This is a most inopportune moment.’
‘A telegram came for you, I thought you’d want to read it right away.’ She thrust it at him and he took the small yellow envelope from her.
There was a smile on her face, a triumphant, malevolent smile, and he felt as though the world had stopped turning for a few seconds. When it restarted, everything and everyone around him seemed to be moving in slow motion. It was then that he realized he hadn’t seen Mabel smile since their wedding day.
Oblivious to his client’s embarrassment and departure, he fumbled with the gummed flap on the envelope but his fingers had swollen into plump, flabby sausages that refused to obey his will. Afraid of tearing the message inside, he made his way back to his desk and picked up the sword letter-opener he had retrieved from his study on one of his trips to Llan House. When he finally succeeded in slitting the envelope open he understood why he’d had trouble opening it. The gum was damp. Slowly, carefully, he removed and unfolded the single sheet of paper it contained.
The black print on the thin white lines pasted on to the yellow sheet blurred into an indecipherable pattern. Words formed and danced, unrecognizable, before his eyes. He forced himself to concentrate.
Regret to inform you, Private Gerald Lark (found to be Larch) killed in action 20 March 1915.
‘It’s about Gerald, isn’t it?’
He looked at Mabel then back at the envelope. It was sticky. She had opened, read and resealed it. She had known that Gerald was dead before she had come to his office. ‘You’re glad, aren’t you?’
Her smile faltered. ‘That is an appalling thing to say, Edward.’
‘My son is dead and you are glad.’
‘I know you are upset but –’
Edward stopped listening to her. He couldn’t breathe. Shouldering her aside, he went to the door. He could hear her shouting after him but everything around him was wavering in grey shadow. He needed air. If he didn’t have air he would black out. Footsteps sounded in the passage behind him but he continued walking down the stairs, gasping in an attempt to draw breath into his bursting lungs.
Blood rushed through his veins. He could hear it roaring. Gerald – his Gerald Edward Julian Larch, his and Amelia’s darling son. The small, perfect, white-gowned baby he had first seen in her arms. Blue eyes peering up at him from a minute scrunched face framed in feminine folds of lace, tiny perfect fingers complete with tiny perfect nails waving in the air. His son.
His darling son, Private Gerald Lark (found to be Larch) killed in action 20th March 1915.
Joey stood outside the tobacconist’s and looked through the window. The bottom half was filled with narrow polished mahogany shelves that held an attractively arranged assortment of packets of tobacco, cigarettes, cigars, white meerschaum and polished wooden pipes, ornamental cigarette boxes, pipe cleaners, ashtrays and lighters. The top half was open to the shop, presumably so the assistants could reach down to the window and retrieve goods from the display.
He looked above the shelves and saw Rhian’s head and shoulders. She was standing side on to the window behind the counter, talking to a customer. An elderly woman alongside her was wrapping a package in brown paper. Unable to look away, he continued to stare at her and as though she sensed him watching her, she turned and looked right at him.
They gazed at one another for what seemed like an eternity. He knew he should walk away but before he was able to make a move she disappeared from view. He turned, intending to walk back to Victor’s cart. A door opened to the side of the shop and he heard her call his name.
‘Joey.’
He whirled around. The snow on the pavements melted, the air grew warm and he was back in the summer before Tonia and misunderstandings had ended their engagement. But when he looked closer, she was different. Somehow taller, slimmer, dressed in more elegant clothes than she used to wear, her hair professionally tamed and dressed. She looked cool, beautiful and completely out of the reach of a common sergeant, who, for all of Mari’s ministrations to his uniform, still felt decidedly grubby and scruffy.
‘I didn’t know you were home.’
Her voice was soft, low, musical, and he realized how much he had missed hearing it. He removed his cap. ‘Only for two days. I’m catching a train in quarter of an hour.’
‘For London?’
‘France.’
‘You’re at the Front?’
He
heard the concern in her voice and wondered what they would have talked about if they hadn’t resorted to the commonplace. He longed to shout, ‘I love you; I’ll love you until my dying day. Marry me, now, here in the street.’ But what he actually said was, ‘You look well.’
‘I am.’ It was a struggle to keep control. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to pick up her skirts and run to him, throw her arms around him and cover his face with kisses …
‘You work in the shop now?’ It was an inane observation considering that he had just seen her with a customer, but it gave him an excuse to continue standing in the street absorbing her image.
‘Yes. Joey …’
‘Yes?’ he burst out when she remained silent for a full three seconds.
‘You’ve seen Sali and Lloyd and the children?’
‘Yes.’
‘How are they?’
‘Fine. Sali told me that she’s hoping to see you at Easter.’
‘I’ll try to see them.’
‘Excuse me, miss, sergeant.’ A large woman carrying a basket pushed her way between them.
‘We’re blocking the pavement,’ she said superfluously.
‘Yes,’ he murmured.
‘Goodbye, Joey.’
‘Goodbye.’
She retreated to the doorway, as though she were afraid to remain close to him. But she didn’t look away. ‘You will take care of yourself?’
‘I’ll try, but it’s not always easy when it rains bullets and bombs.’
‘Of course, that was a stupid thing to say,’ she apologized.
‘You’ll keep in touch with Sali?’ he pressed, unable to bear the thought of not hearing any news about her at all.
‘Of course.’
‘Hello, Rhian, how are you?’
‘Hello, Victor,’ she greeted him enthusiastically when he joined them and raised his cap to her. ‘I’m fine, how are Megan and the twins.’
‘Fighting fit. We’ve all missed you, and Megan and the twins would love to see you any time you can spare an hour or two to visit the farm. Walking is no fun in this weather, so drop us a line and I’ll pick you up in the cart,’ he offered, giving Rhian no opportunity to refuse him.
Sinners and Shadows Page 38