Past Remembering

by Catrin Collier

  ‘I’m listening now, always presuming there’s a point to this story of yours,’ he said when she returned.

  ‘There is a point, and it concerns you. The day after the wedding, Eddie left Jenny with her parents and returned to live in his father’s house in Graig Avenue. A couple of days after that he attacked Haydn, punching him through a plate-glass window in town, breaking his leg and cutting his face and head really badly. Haydn was in the cottage hospital for days. Trevor and Andrew said he was lucky to have survived. Before Haydn even left hospital, Eddie disappeared. We found out afterwards he’d joined the Guards. He only came back once on leave before he was killed, and that was when Jenny’s mother died.’

  ‘Thank you for the news report, but what’s all this got to do with me?’

  Tina narrowed her eyes and repeated the gossip exactly as she’d heard it. ‘‘‘Ronnie Ronconi was seen taking off his clothes in Jenny Powell’s front bedroom this morning. And the shop door was locked. Something Jenny has never done before during opening hours.”’

  ‘And where did you hear that bit of spicy tittle-tattle?’ His voice was soft, controlled, but his hands trembled as he picked up the coffee in front of him.

  ‘Old Mrs Evans who lives above the fruit shop opposite saw you in the bedroom, she told Mrs Richards, who caught you coming out of Jenny’s private rooms. Mrs Evans went to the restaurant this morning to order a cake for Mrs Jones’s daughter’s wedding …’

  ‘And no doubt by now all three ladies have relayed the story, with embellishments, to the entire Graig. Did Mrs Evans also say that the bed in the room I was in was dismantled, and Jenny was only with me for a few minutes? I told you, Jenny offered me Eddie’s clothes. She took me upstairs to see them. Amazing as this may sound, they were in a wardrobe in a bedroom, not one of the kitchen cupboards.’

  ‘But you undressed?’

  ‘Not in front of Jenny. Eddie might be dead, but as far as I could tell from my brief visit, Jenny was nowhere near frustrated enough to sink her claws into my battered body. Of course if I’d known Mrs Evans was watching I might have removed my underpants as well as my shirt to give her a real thrill.’

  ‘I doubt she would have survived the experience.’

  ‘I needed clothes,’ he reiterated. ‘Jenny offered me Eddie’s. There was no point in taking them if they didn’t fit, so I tried them on, and it’s difficult to do that without undressing.’

  ‘I’m only telling you to be more careful in future. You know how people talk.’

  ‘Apparently even my own sister.’

  ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ she snapped back.

  ‘What’s to warn me about? Jenny offered me clothes, which I gratefully accepted.’

  ‘Just as long as it is only Eddie’s clothes she’s expecting you to fill.’

  ‘That’s not the kind of remark I ever expected to hear from a sister of mine.’

  ‘I told you, Ronnie, we’ve grown up since you went away.’

  ‘Crudely.’

  ‘Save the lectures for the little ones when they come home. Gina and I don’t take kindly to being told what to do, say or think any more.’

  ‘What do you mean, “any more”? You never did a damned thing Papa and I told you to do when I was home.’

  ‘Can you blame us when you expected us to behave like nuns?’ She picked up a rag and began polishing the tea urn.

  ‘You may as well finish what you started so we can get it over with,’ he advised, hoping to diffuse her anger before it erupted into a full-blown argument.

  ‘Considering the reception you’ve given my warnings, I rather think I have.’

  ‘Come on, get it out in the open.’

  ‘It’s nothing I can prove, so I’d rather not say anything.’

  ‘You’ve gone this far, what’s another bit of scandal?’

  ‘I’ve heard that Jenny’s carrying on with Alexander Forbes, Evan Powell’s conchie lodger. Some even say she was doing it before Eddie was killed.’

  ‘She’s a widow, she’s entitled to see anyone she wants to.’ He didn’t know why he was defending Jenny. Eddie’d been killed at Dunkirk, the telegram couldn’t have come much before nine months ago. Maud had been dead twice as long and he couldn’t imagine ‘carrying on’ with anyone.

  ‘That’s just it, she isn’t seeing him.’

  ‘So how can she be carrying on with him? Through radio waves or out-of-body experiences?’

  ‘Mrs Evans spotted a man with fair hair sneaking around the Factory Lane side of the shop late at night, and …’

  ‘You believe her?’

  ‘It was obvious that things had gone wrong between Jenny and Eddie. If it hadn’t been for the state of their marriage, Eddie would never have volunteered to join the Guards in the first place.’

  ‘Thousands are dying every day,’ he asserted harshly. ‘If Eddie hadn’t died at Dunkirk, there’s no guarantee he would have survived the war.’

  ‘I just don’t want to see you fall for someone like Jenny Powell who’s already ruined one man’s life.’

  ‘The only ruin I can see is Jenny’s reputation at the hands of Mrs Richards and Mrs Evans.’

  ‘You’re my brother. Much as you irritate me, I wouldn’t like to see you get hurt.’

  ‘I’ve managed to live the last thirty-two years without your help, and I have every intention of avoiding Jenny’s and any other designing woman’s claws.’

  ‘I’m serious, Ronnie. You’ve no idea how starved of male company the women are in this town. A lot of girls are going to be looking your way. And a widower, even one in your condition, has to be a better proposition than those too old or young to be called up.’

  ‘You’re missing William that much?’ he asked perceptively.

  ‘Every minute of every day. It’s bad enough for me and Alma; it’s worse for women like Bethan who are trying to bring up children without their fathers. The hardest is not even knowing where our husbands are. Every time there’s fighting I imagine William and Tony lying injured somewhere, with no one to care for them.’

  ‘Look at it logically, Tina. When it comes to self-preservation, comfort and caring for number one, William’s an expert. If there’s fighting, he’s got enough sense to keep his head down, and you told me Tony’s probably still somewhere in this country. Can’t you see that because everyone’s under a lot of strain in the town, they’re generating this doom-laden atmosphere?’

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’

  ‘And I’m here now, so you don’t have to go on doing everything yourself. Use me to take some of the load off your shoulders.’

  She gazed at him earnestly, seeking reassurance. ‘You’ve lived in Europe, you know what it’s like over there. The war can’t go on much longer, can it?’

  ‘If we don’t get help, it might be over sooner than we’d like.’

  ‘You don’t think we’re going to lose!’

  ‘How long do you think this one small island can hold out against the rest of the world? I’ve lived under the Fascists, seen London flattened by bombs. Our troops are stretched on every front.’

  ‘There’s talk of the Americans coming in on our side.’

  ‘Why should they, when there’s nothing in it for them?’

  ‘So what do you suggest we do? Surrender?’

  ‘Of course not. We’ll go on fighting as best we can, because it’s the only real option open to us. Which is why I went to see Dr Evans this morning. Thanks to the papers I had from the RAF I’m no longer regarded as an enemy alien. They’re allowing me to work in the munitions factory.’

  ‘Not with your wounds, surely?’

  ‘I can start as soon as my injuries have healed. And it’s my hands not my legs they want. Like me with Eddie’s clothes, they’re grateful for what they can get.’ He finished his coffee and pushed his cup across the counter. ‘Until then I’m offering you my services as a counter hand.’

  ‘You work for me?’ she scoffed.

&nbs
p; ‘Why not?’

  ‘Fine, you can start right now. There’s a mountain of potatoes that need peeling in the kitchen,’ she ordered, not expecting him to make a move. She wasn’t disappointed.

  ‘First thing tomorrow morning, after we’ve negotiated my wages.’

  ‘All meals plus a pound a week?’

  ‘That will do until I start in the munitions factory.’

  ‘My God, you really are serious, aren’t you?’

  ‘About helping out, yes.’

  ‘Maud changed you that much?’

  ‘She gave me the happiest years of my life,’ he said simply. ‘But do me a favour, Tina. No more gossip. Since Maud died I’m not sure who I am, or where I’m going, but one thing I do know is that there’s no room for another woman in my life. Not now, and not ever.’

  ‘In that case you’d better go up to Bethan’s with me tonight. And before you ask, Gina and Luke are taking over the café.’

  ‘Why do I have to go to Bethan’s?’

  ‘She’s having a party for Charlie, and Alma and Jenny will be there. If you start treating both of them as family, it might silence the gossips on two counts.’

  Her conscience pricked by Andrew’s letter, Bethan waited only as long as it took Rachel to wake from her afternoon nap. After washing and dressing both children in their best clothes, she packed Rachel and the baby into the back of the car and drove slowly through the town and up the hill to the Common and Andrew’s father’s house.

  She had timed her visit to coincide with afternoon tea, because she knew Dr John made an effort to be home at that hour. Her relationship with Andrew’s mother had never been cordial for the simple reason that Mrs John considered a miner’s daughter an unsuitable wife for her son. His father was different. One of only two doctors left in the town, their newly won mutual respect was founded as much in their present, professional association as their personal relationship. But unfortunately for her, Andrew’s parents weren’t the only ones sitting in the over-furnished drawing room the maid showed her into. Her mother-in-law’s close friend, Mrs Llewellyn-Jones, and her spoilt, but extremely fashionable and attractive daughter, Anthea, were taking tea with them.

  The first time Andrew had taken her home, Mrs John had gone to great pains to let her know that Anthea Llewellyn-Jones had been earmarked as her prospective daughter-in-law. Even now, Bethan occasionally had the feeling that Mrs John hadn’t quite given up on the hope that she would die young, or have an affair, so Andrew could divorce her and marry a woman of his own class. Someone just like Anthea.

  All four of them were sipping tea and eating slices of sponge cake smothered in jam and butter icing as though they hadn’t even heard there was a war on.

  ‘Bethan, how wonderful to see you and the little angels,’ Andrew’s mother gushed, overdoing the welcome for the benefit of her guests. ‘And how kind of you to spare the time to visit us. I know how busy you must be with the evacuees and your nursing. Come in, sit down. May I hold the baby?’

  Bethan dutifully handed Eddie over, wondering why everything her mother-in-law said to her always sounded insincere.

  ‘Tea?’ Her father-in law’s hand was on the bell ready to summon the maid. It would never have occurred to him to fetch the extra crockery himself.

  ‘No thank you, I’ve just had a cup.’ Bethan sat down with Rachel on her lap. The little girl who was at home enough in Phyllis and Evan’s back kitchen to crawl on to whoever’s lap happened to be the closest, invariably clung to Bethan during her visits to Andrew’s parents.

  ‘I came to tell you I’ve just had a letter from Andrew.’

  ‘How is he?’ his mother enquired swiftly, her eyes darkening in a genuine anxiety that made Bethan ashamed of her critical thoughts.

  ‘He says fine. He wanted me to thank you for your letters and all the things you sent him, and to tell you he can’t write as often as he’d like.’

  ‘We know that, the silly boy. He really is all right?’

  ‘Apart from boredom.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ Anthea drawled. ‘Andy was always so active – tennis, driving, swimming, riding – nothing was too much for him. You remember that time he borrowed a boat and we sailed from Mumbles Bay to Oxwich, Mummy? We went to a party afterwards at Penrice Manor and danced until dawn, and he still didn’t want to go to bed.’ She beamed at Bethan in an attempt to emphasise just how much fun she and Andrew had shared in his bachelor days. ‘It must be absolute hell for him to be holed up in a prison camp and not be able to move around. And it must be almost as unpleasant for you, Bethan, not knowing when, if ever, he’s coming home.’

  ‘The war won’t last for ever,’ Mrs John broke in sharply.

  ‘Of course not,’ Anthea conceded hastily, upset that Andrew’s mother had taken offence at a remark she’d directed at Bethan. ‘But it must be dreadful for him to be stuck in a cell, forced into idleness while others do the fighting, covering themselves with medals and glory that should have been his.’

  ‘I don’t think Andrew gave a thought to medals and glory when he signed up, and he has certainly served his country better than most,’ Dr John answered, before Bethan could. ‘It takes a special kind of courage to remain with the wounded in a field hospital, knowing that the enemy is about to overrun the area at any moment, and that you can’t even risk firing a shot in your own defence because in doing so, you’d be putting your patients in the front line.’

  ‘I couldn’t be prouder of Andrew.’ Bethan regretted the words the instant they were out of her mouth. All she’d succeeded in doing was sounding as pompous as Anthea was foolish.

  ‘We heard that you’ve gone back to work, Bethan?’

  ‘I’m afraid the medical board press-ganged her.’ Andrew’s father intervened again on her behalf. ‘The shortage of nurses in the town is absolutely desperate.’

  ‘Desperate enough to take on a new mother?’ Mrs Llewellyn-Jones clucked disapprovingly. ‘I must say, national emergency or not, I can’t condone working wives let alone working mothers. I don’t know what the world is coming to when women abandon their homes and their children. It’s bad enough that our young men have to suffer all the privations of war without our children having to grow up without any semblance of family life.’

  ‘I have help in the house, and my family and friends are only too happy to take care of the children for me whenever I’m busy, Mrs Llewellyn-Jones.’ Bethan could have kicked herself for feeling the need to explain.

  ‘Really?’ Mrs Llewellyn-Jones questioned sceptically. ‘And, as though nursing isn’t enough, you’ve taken in all those evacuees.’

  ‘I meant to thank you for billeting such a helpful girl with me.’ Bethan swallowed her pride and forced a smile. She’d learned from bitter experience that no one ever won an argument with Mrs Llewellyn-Jones. The woman had influence in every sphere of Pontypridd life, and never hesitated to make things difficult for people who crossed her. ‘I hardly know the evacuee children are in the house. Liza Clark takes care of them beautifully.’

  ‘Not your own I hope, dear. It wouldn’t do to have them picking up that dreadful accent.’ When Bethan didn’t answer, she continued: ‘I simply don’t know how you cope. It’s all very well the government telling us that we all have to do our bit, but they’re not the ones who have to give up their privacy and goodness only knows what else. I was just telling Dr and Mrs John that Mr Llewellyn-Jones and I have been forced to take in the headmaster of one of the evacuee schools. He’s no trouble really, except that the house doesn’t seem to be our own any more.’

  ‘He’s so old and finicky,’ Anthea grumbled, giving Bethan the impression that she wouldn’t be complaining if he were young and handsome.

  ‘At least our headmaster is civilised,’ her mother chimed in. ‘I’ve heard down at the WVS that some of the evacuee children don’t even know how to eat. Would you believe that they’ve never held a knife and fork? Used to running wild all day and living off slices of bread and ja
m eaten in their fists in the street. And the diseases on the labels! Over half the children had impetigo, scabies, vermin, hair nits and I wouldn’t like to say what else,’ she whispered sotto voce to Mrs John.

  ‘Some of them, great big lumps of children too, even wet the bed. But then as a nurse, Bethan, you’re accustomed to dealing with the unpleasant side of life.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean I like it any more than you, Mrs Llewellyn-Jones. But thanks to the efforts of Dr Evans and Dr John -’

  ‘And the town’s nurses,’ her father-in-law interrupted, ‘all the evacuees are now guaranteed disease free.’

  ‘Disease free or not, they’re still nasty little savages who have no idea how to behave. All I can say is I’m glad not many people on the Common took them in. They’re rife down in town and Trallwn, and the number of criminal incidents involving them escalates every day. Things like playing ball in the street, which in my experience always ends in broken windows, and disturbing people by knocking on doors and running away. One of the teachers over at Maesycoed School told me that the situation there is quite impossible.’

  ‘It will quieten down now they’ve settled in,’ Bethan said in the hope that Mrs Llewellyn-Jones would change the subject.

  ‘Have you had much trouble with your four?’

  ‘Six actually; seven, if you include Liza Clark, but then as I said she’s a real help, and in answer to your question, no I haven’t had any trouble with them.’

  ‘Six as well as your own two, and decent help as impossible as it is to get today, whatever were you thinking of? Poor Andrew’s children will suffer so. And going out to work as well … Oh dear is that the time?’ she asked as a horn sounded outside. ‘It’s been wonderful, but we have to go. Hurry up Anthea, we can’t keep your father waiting. We promised to visit his mother, poor dear. All this war business is such an upset for her. It’s so difficult to get butter, ham and cheese these days. Dinner parties are becoming quite impossible, and her maid of ten years left her at a day’s notice to work in munitions. Have you any idea what they’re paying untrained girls in the factories? It will be the ruination of the working class, mark my words. They’ll be spending it all on drink, and cheap finery and …’