Past Remembering

by Catrin Collier

  ‘And not at all eager to get my face rearranged by Alexander Forbes. The man has muscles. I can’t compete with a miner in my present state of ill-health.’

  ‘I told you, Alexander is only a friend.’

  ‘And what would I be?’

  ‘A lover,’ she whispered seductively, ‘and a strong one at that.’ She locked her arms around his neck. ‘Rumour has it, you put your brother in his place.’

  ‘Only because he was drunk. If he’d been sober I wouldn’t have stood a chance.’

  ‘You expect me to believe that?’ She ran her fingers over the front panel of his trousers. A touch that had always aroused Eddie and never failed to excite Alexander. ‘You can’t tell me you don’t miss married life?’

  He reached down and caught her hands in his. ‘It wouldn’t work Jenny. You’d be thinking of Eddie and …’

  ‘I can’t spend the rest of my life thinking about the dead, and neither can you.’

  ‘Isn’t that what we’re doing now?’

  ‘No. When I said lover, I meant just that. A lover. I wouldn’t want anything more. Not a husband, not a fiancé, just a man I could make love to without worrying about ties, or emotion. Someone who would call in now and again for a good time. You do want a good time don’t you, Ronnie?’ She stepped away from him and unbuttoned the imitation pearls at the neck of her dress. He watched, mesmerised, as her hand travelled down the line to her waist. Pushing the frock over her shoulders, she allowed it to slide to the floor.

  The breath caught in Ronnie’s throat. The only time he’d seen underwear like hers before was on pin-ups in men-only magazines. Her silk stockings were fastened by blue-ribboned garters, her lace-trimmed, silk camisole and French knickers were so fine they were almost transparent. Reaching out, she unfastened the collar studs on his shirt. When she’d succeeded in loosening them, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

  Despite his earlier protests, his hands seemed to develop a will of their own. Encircling her waist, he pulled her to him as he returned her kiss. Beneath the thin layer of silk her body was firm, yet soft. Her perfume no longer heavy and oppressive but sensual, intoxicating.

  She caught at his hand. Walking backwards she led him out of the kitchen on to the landing, pulling him towards her bedroom.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she reassured him as he hesitated on the threshold. ‘It overlooks the back, no one will see.’

  The whole scene had taken on the surreal atmosphere of a dream. The porcelain quality of her beauty, the provocative lingerie, her offer of sexual favours was the substance of male fantasy not reality. As he struggled to regain his senses he forced himself to remember the crude lath and plaster walls, and rough, clumsy furniture of the attic bedroom he and Maud had shared in his grandfather’s farmhouse.

  He felt her fingers tugging at his fly and said the first thing that came into his head. ‘Mrs Evans has her binoculars trained on the front of the house.’

  ‘She’ll think we took a long time to do the washing up.’

  ‘Jenny, I like you …’

  ‘That’s all I want.’

  He hadn’t been a saint before his marriage, but lovemaking with Maud had been so very different from the meaningless acrobatics he had indulged in with various girlfriends before she had come into his life, that what they had shared had spoiled him for anything less. And then there was Diana. He had kissed her only a few hours ago. A sweet, gentle, tender kiss that for all its disastrous consequences, still meant more to him than these cold-blooded advances.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.’ He moved back, disentangling his hand from Jenny’s. ‘I’m really sorry. It’s nothing to do with you, it’s me.’

  ‘Why? I’ve told you I don’t want anything more from you.’

  ‘The problem is, I might.’ He returned to the kitchen, checked his fly, pulled down his shirt-sleeves, buttoned his collar and reached for his jacket. She walked in behind him, blocking the doorway.

  ‘All you men are the same. You’re supposed to be the “love them and leave them” sex but when it comes down to it you can’t wait to fasten a ball and chain around a woman’s ankle. Every man I meet wants to put a ring on my finger to show the world he owns me.’

  ‘Like Alexander?’

  ‘Yes, damn you! Like Alexander.’ She picked up her dress from the floor. He turned to help her with the buttons. ‘And stop being so bloody nice.’

  ‘Thank you for allowing me to catch a glimpse of the new emancipated woman who can swear as well as any man.’ He smiled, hoping to diffuse the situation with humour.

  ‘Don’t you dare patronise me.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Jenny.’

  ‘And stop apologising. I’ve shocked you. Go on say it. You think I’m a slut? It’s all right for a man to chase a woman and drag her into bed, but not for a woman to do it to a man.’

  ‘I’m all for equality between the sexes, just too old and tired for affairs. Marriage gave me a taste for domesticity.’

  ‘If I was a man I might agree with you. It must be convenient and comforting to have a wife slaving away for you in the background.’

  ‘I was happy once,’ he murmured, refusing to be riled. ‘I’d like to think I could be again.’

  ‘Be honest, all you want is someone to cook your meals, wash your socks, and drudge for you.’

  ‘If I wanted that, I’d get a servant. Sorry, Jenny.’ He fastened the last button at the neck of her dress, bent his head and kissed her cheek. ‘I really am. Thanks for the meal.’

  ‘I wish I could say we’d do it again.’

  ‘So do I. You’re quite a girl. I hope you find what you’re looking for.’ He slipped past her, knocking his leg painfully on the door frame as he picked up the crutch he’d left outside the kitchen.

  She watched as he limped awkwardly down the stairs. The shop bell rang as he unlocked and opened the door. It closed and she was left alone with the silence.

  She went into her bedroom and sat on the bed. Tears of rage and frustration scorched, hot and humiliating on her cheeks as she snatched a pillow and flung it at the door. How dare he reject her! How dare he! Wasn’t she prettier than most girls? She’d show him! She’d sleep with Alexander and every eligible bachelor in town. Make Ronnie Ronconi and all the Victorian-minded men in Pontypridd realise that the new age was here to stay. That women could work like men, earn the same money as men, and behave like men if they chose to. That the days when girls sat at home learning to cook, clean and sew until boys came courting were finally over. That they no longer had to flutter their eyelids in gratitude and delight at the prospect of a ring, as restricting and binding as any slave chain.

  And she’d begin today. By sleeping with Alex. And tomorrow? She’d look around the factory. She’d find someone to sleep with tomorrow. And then both Ronnie Ronconi and Alexander Forbes could look out.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Wyn …’

  ‘Absolutely not, Diana, and that’s final.’ Wyn’s voice echoed down the stairs into the front parlour where Megan was settling his father for the night.

  ‘That’s the first time I’ve heard those two behave like a normal married couple.’ Mr Rees rubbed his hands gleefully as Megan stirred his nightcap of cocoa with just a touch of brandy.

  ‘Perhaps they’ve had their rows in the shops before now, out of our earshot,’ Megan said calmly as she set the cup on the table next to his bed.

  ‘What’s it about?’

  ‘I’ve absolutely no idea.’

  ‘She hasn’t got another man, has she?’ the old man squinted sideways.

  ‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.’

  ‘Mothers always stick up for their daughters.’

  ‘And fathers should stick up for their sons. If there’s nothing else, I’ll go and listen to the radio. Goodnight, Mr Rees.’ She left the room, closed the door and climbed the stairs. The bathroom door was open, which meant Wyn and Diana had finished preparing Billy for bed, but their bedroom doo
r was closed.

  ‘Diana?’ she called softly.

  ‘What is it, Mam?’ Diana opened the door, looking as cool and unflustered as usual.

  ‘Once you’ve got Billy down, I’d be happy to babysit if you and Wyn want to go out for an hour.’

  ‘Billy’s almost sleeping. I’ll have a word with Wyn.’

  Diana saw her mother’s frown. ‘It’s not a serious quarrel, Mam,’ she reassured her.

  ‘Every young couple should have their own space. I wish you and Wyn did.’

  ‘See you in a minute.’ Diana closed the door and looked at her husband. He was standing next to the cot nursing Billy in his arms.

  ‘Did you hear that?’

  ‘I had no idea I was shouting so loud.’

  ‘And I had no idea you could be so stubborn.’

  ‘I just don’t think it’s a good idea.’

  ‘But it is. Taking Ronnie into our partnership with Alma could double our turnover.’

  ‘You don’t know that for certain.’

  ‘It will, if Alma can get the stock. She’s keen on the idea, and building up the business will give her something to do while Charlie’s away, and keep me out of mischief while you’re in the factory.’

  ‘You have enough to do with Billy.’ He laid him in the cot, tenderly stroked the down on his head and pulled the blanket over his tiny shoulders.

  ‘No I don’t. Mam looks after him better than I do.’

  ‘Can’t you find anyone other than Ronnie?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I don’t know. Someone – anyone?’

  ‘Everyone’s working in the pits or munitions these days. Ronnie’s got the kitchen, the business know-how and the drive. He proved that when he built those cafés up from practically nothing.’

  ‘I thought his father did that.’

  ‘His father opened the High Street café. He wouldn’t have even thought of expanding if Ronnie hadn’t pushed him into buying the other two places, and look at them now. They’re more successful than the original café.’

  ‘Have you thought what will happen after the war when Tony comes home and wants to work in a business we own a third of?’

  ‘We’re talking about Ronnie, not Tony. And we’re only taking over the kitchen in one of the cafés. If we can increase production it might be nice to open three new shops, one each. That way we can divide them up, and end the partnership whenever we want to.’

  ‘You’ve got a lot to learn about business, Diana. Things are never that simple. If you, Alma and Ronnie do succeed in opening three new shops they’re not going to have the same turnover. Then you’ll be arguing over who gets the best one after the war.’

  ‘Then we’ll sell them, rent them out … who knows what’s going to happen after the war. I’m sick of that phrase. It’s as if everything’s been put on hold until then. Well I …’

  ‘And I had no idea you could be such a spitfire.’ He sat on the bed. ‘Come here?’ He held out his arms. She glared at him. He smiled.

  ‘I hate you, Wyn Rees. It’s impossible to have a really good row with a grinning fool who brings logic into an argument.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me what happened today?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘I know you, what is it?’

  She went to him, wrapped her arms around his chest and leaned against his shoulder. ‘I went for a walk up Shoni’s this morning before I went to Uncle Evan’s, and I met Ronnie. I talked to him, Wyn, really talked, the way I talk to you. After all, when you think about it, it isn’t that surprising. Maud was like a sister to me, we’re practically related.’

  She felt his muscles tense beneath her fingers. ‘You like him?’

  ‘In the same way I like William, and there wouldn’t be any more to it than business if that’s what you’re worried about. Alma and I won’t even see him once he’s working in munitions. I just happen to think we could double our turnover and profits, if we took over the kitchen of his café.’

  ‘But you’re attracted to him?’

  ‘If I was normal, I might be,’ she replied honestly. ‘But I’m not normal, and I’m not likely to change.’

  ‘Not married to me, you’re not.’

  ‘It’s like you say it is with Erik. You’ve admitted that you want to spend time with him.’

  ‘I told you I walked away from Jacobsdal the other night.’

  ‘I didn’t ask you to.’

  ‘I made you a promise.’

  ‘I didn’t ask you to make that either. Wyn, being married doesn’t mean we can’t have other friends. If we try to live in each other’s pockets, we’ll drive one another mad.’

  And if we don’t, we’ll risk growing apart and closer to someone else. He recognised the danger but the thought remained unspoken in his mind. It occurred to him it was the first time they’d been less than honest with one another.

  ‘Your mother’s right.’ He rose from the bed and pulled her to her feet. ‘We need a break. We’ve both been working too hard this past week. Put on your glad rags, I’ll take you out.’

  ‘To the chapel social? I’d sooner stay in and do the mending.’

  ‘I was thinking more along the lines of the New Inn for a drink. They serve travellers on Sundays. We’ll be travellers.’

  ‘I’ll get my comb and lipstick.’

  ‘Diana?’

  She turned to look at him.

  ‘You’re right, I was letting my anger with Tony get in the way of common sense. If Ronnie and Alma can work out something, by all means expand the business with them.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She kissed him on the cheek. ‘I’m not going to run off with Ronnie, you know.’

  ‘It’s not that I’m afraid of.’ He opened his wardrobe and flicked through his ties.

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Myself. Sometimes I feel as though I’m hurtling through life on a rollercoaster just like the figure of eight in Barry. I’m speeding out of control and I can’t stop. I don’t have a clue where I’m going, and I’m afraid of dragging you down with me.’

  ‘Wyn …’

  ‘And then again, maybe I just need a break. Come on, woman, if we’re going, it’s time we went.’

  ‘Well, fancy meeting you here.’ Judy Crofter accosted Alexander Forbes as he waited on the Cardiff platform for the Pontypridd train to come in.

  He glanced at her. She seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t imagine how he’d met her. She wouldn’t have looked out of place in station yard. Peroxide blonde hair, brassy and tawdry after Jenny’s long silver tresses, blue-eyed, brazen and forward.

  ‘I’m Judy Crofter,’ she introduced herself. ‘I live in Leyshon Street. You lodge with the Powells in Graig Avenue.’

  ‘That’s right.’ He raised his hat politely.

  ‘You probably don’t remember me. The last time we met there were loads of people around. It was the farewell party for William and Eddie Powell and the Ronconi boys.’

  ‘Of course,’ he answered politely, still unable to place her.

  ‘It’s been a lovely day, hasn’t it?’

  ‘So people have been telling me. I was indoors most of the afternoon, listening to an illustrated talk on the origins of the Celts in St John’s church hall.’

  ‘Poor you. I was in Roath Park, rowing on the lake with friends – lady friends,’ she added to emphasise that she was unattached. ‘Oh good, here comes the train. I do hope we get a seat, but with all these people trying to get on it looks as though we’re going to have to fight for one.’

  He stepped forward and opened a carriage door, standing back so she could go ahead of him.

  ‘That’s first class, my ticket’s third.’ She looked down the platform at the mob outside the third-class carriages. ‘But I doubt I’ll worm my way through that lot and keep my coat on my back, so I suppose I’d better upgrade my ticket.’

  ‘In that case, after you.’

  Judy needed no second bidding. She climbed the step and he foll
owed.

  ‘First is so much nicer.’ She settled back into the cushioned upholstery and rested her head on the snowy-white antimacassar, trying to look as though she was used to travelling that way. ‘I’m lucky to have a Sunday off,’ she chattered. ‘Working in munitions, we only get one off in seven.’

  ‘You’re in munitions? Then you know my landlord’s daughter-in-law, Jenny Griffiths? She started a couple of weeks ago.’

  ‘I showed her the ropes. The hours fagged her out. I think she found it tough going.’

  ‘It’s the same everywhere. The war goes badly, the government sets impossible production targets.’

  ‘Not that impossible. We do well on our section.’

  ‘I don’t doubt you do.’

  ‘Mind you, we’ve had to take on a couple of useless ones. The crache are the worst. Don’t know what graft is. But then by the look of you, you didn’t know what a pit was before the war?’

  ‘I was a curator in a museum.’

  ‘A museum. I’ve never been in one.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I know there’s one in Cardiff but I never had the urge to go. Until now, that is.’ After Jenny’s cool indifference, Judy’s crude flirtatiousness held a bizarre attraction. Alexander realised he’d always know exactly where he was with a girl like her. Whether he wanted to be there or not was another thing. She dug him in the ribs.

  ‘Here, you wouldn’t think of taking me to one, would you? I could probably do with educating.’

  ‘I’d be delighted,’ he murmured blandly, hoping she wouldn’t press him to a date.

  ‘You’ve got a really funny accent, where do you come from?’

  ‘The Home Counties. Near London,’ he added, seeing she didn’t have a clue where the Home Counties were.

  ‘Now London is one place I would like to go. You been there?’

  ‘Often.’

  ‘Tell me about it?’

  ‘The museums, the sights …’

  ‘The nightclubs. Is it true a girl can earn four times what they pay in munitions just serving cocktails?’

  Alexander was glad when the familiar scenery of Pontypridd came into view. After helping Judy down from the train, he followed her to the ticket booth.