‘Have you heard from your brother lately?’
‘Hasn’t Dad?’
‘He had a letter last month. Joe seems to be doing well at the BBC and we listened to his last radio play.’
‘So did I.’ Helen glanced sideways at Katie and they both burst out laughing. ‘Did you understand it?’
‘To be honest, I preferred the ghost story and thriller he wrote.’
‘So did I. Perhaps it’s just as well he’s living with all the other intellectuals in London and not with us.’ Helen sat back and stared into the fire. ‘I’ve been wondering if Jack will find Swansea and me boring after all the excitement of Cyprus.’
‘I should think after being shot at, blown up and spending two months in hospital he’ll welcome a little peace and quiet.’ Katie closed her eyes against the memory of the telegram that had caused so much upset and worry.
‘I wish I could have visited Jack then. His letters were strange around that time.’
‘Is it surprising when three of the men he was with were killed?’
As the coal began to glow, Helen knelt on the hearthrug, removed the guard again and layered small coal over the lumps she’d put on earlier. ‘I tried asking Jack about it but it was as though we were writing in different languages. There was me going into the warehouse six days a week, coming home every evening, hardly ever going out except to visit you and Dad, or Lily and Martin, or going to the pictures with Judy. And there was him, fighting terrorists, having bombs thrown at him …’ She bit her lip and hooked back the guard. ‘He’s bound to have changed. We were both so young, so crazy …’
‘We all were.’
‘Not you,’ Helen contradicted. ‘You were born sensible.’
‘That’s not what people said when I married your father.’
‘But you didn’t take any notice of them and you can’t get any more sensible than that.’ Helen glanced at her hands to check that they were clean, as she rose to her feet. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be dumping my worries on you, especially now with the baby due next week. It’s just that I can’t help thinking that if Jack had come home six months ago when he should have, instead of having his term extended because of a shortage of troops, everything would have been so much better. He was expecting to come home. I had everything ready. It was just so unfair that he had to stay on and get caught up in that attack -’
‘He’s fine now,’ Katie reminded, ‘and he’ll be home in a couple of hours.’
‘Yes, he will.’ Helen hesitated. ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to look over the bedroom and the rest of the house and tell me if I’ve done anything Jack will hate?’
‘Bearing in mind that you know him better than me, I’m flattered you asked.’
‘You grew up with him.’
‘And you married him.’ Katie took the hand Helen offered to help her up.
‘Not a word to Judy,’ Helen pleaded.
‘I promise.’
‘You sure you don’t want to unpack this lot?’ Lily carried the last box up the stairs and into the lounge of Judy’s flat above her Mumbles salon. ‘We’ve plenty of time before Jack’s train gets in.’
‘I’m sure.’ Judy dropped her suitcase and vanity case on to the floor of her bedroom and closed the door. ‘Sam’s coming over later, he can help me. Besides don’t you and Katie want to get home to your husbands?’
‘Katie has a casserole all ready to go in the oven for John and, as Martin won’t be home until after he’s picked Jack up from the station and dropped him off at Helen’s, I’ve plenty of time to prepare something.’
‘I’m surprised Helen didn’t want to meet the train.’ Judy picked up a box marked ‘Kitchen’ and carried it through to the narrow galley.
‘According to Martin, it was Jack’s idea he meet him alone.’
‘So Helen isn’t the only one who’s nervous.’
‘Wouldn’t you be nervous if you were in Helen’s position?’ Lily asked, as Judy returned to the living room.
‘I can’t imagine having a husband, let alone seeing him after a long absence.’
‘You haven’t given a thought as to what it will be like to have a husband after you and Sam have been engaged for eighteen months?’ Lily questioned incredulously.
‘I’ve been too busy opening the new salons and building up trade to think about weddings and marriage. Mam did what she could to help, but frankly it wasn’t much. Not that I’m complaining. She didn’t expect Billy’s arrival, not at forty.’ Judy referred to her twenty-month-old half-brother who had been born nine months to the day after her mother’s wedding to Lily’s Uncle Roy.
‘Billy’s gorgeous and worth any number of salons, and considering you and your mother now have eleven …’
‘Ah hah.’ Judy gave Lily a knowing look, as she heaved a box of books on to the table.
‘Ah hah, what?’
‘I detect a hint of broodiness in the bank manager’s high-flying secretary.’
‘I am not broody.’ Lily opened the box and lifted out half a dozen books.
‘Then you don’t envy your uncle and my mother Billy, or Katie and Mr Griffiths’ “forthcoming happy event” as Mrs Lannon and the rest of the Carlton Terrace “gossips” so coyly put it. And you never go all gooey over Billy and buy him toys …’
‘And you, of course, hate Billy.’
‘I adore him.’ Judy took the books from Lily and stacked them on to an empty bookshelf. ‘But that doesn’t mean I want a baby of my own.’
‘You and Sam don’t want children?’
‘I told you I haven’t had time to think about anything other than the salons for the last couple of years.’
‘There’s nothing wrong between you and Sam, is there?’ Lily asked perceptively.
Judy couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t known Lily, Helen and Katie. Even in the babies’ class in primary school, Helen had been the wild one, always up to her neck in trouble, Katie the quiet one and Lily the one who could be trusted never to betray a confidence.
‘We’re fine,’ she answered slowly, ‘but … well, you know how it is. You almost got engaged to Joe before you married Martin.’
‘I almost got engaged to Joe because I didn’t know the difference between wanting to be in love and being in love.’
‘Wasn’t it more exciting with Joe?’
‘What?’ Lily questioned, genuinely bewildered by Judy’s train of thought.
‘Joe was your first boyfriend, he took you on your first date, gave you your first real kiss …’
‘Every minute I spend with Martin is a million times more exciting than the time I spent with Joe and that’s without bringing kisses into it.’
‘Come on, don’t try telling me that your heart still turns cartwheels every time you see Martin when you’ve been married to the man for almost two years?’
‘Cartwheels and handstands.’ Lily had fallen in with Judy’s flippant mood but there was an underlying gravity to her voice.
‘And you never think about Joe?’
‘Only when Helen, Katie or his father mentions him and, when they do, I thank my lucky stars that I married Martin.’
‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’
‘Very.’ Lily handed Judy another pile of books. ‘This conversation wouldn’t have anything to do with you and Brian Powell by any chance, would it?’
‘I haven’t seen Brian in almost three years.’
‘The fact that you remember how long it’s been says a lot.’
‘All it says is that I remember my first boyfriend,’ Judy retorted. ‘And you know what people say about first love.’
‘Tell me.’ Lily dropped the empty box to the floor and lifted another on to the table.
‘It’s like your first party dress, better remembered than kept.’
‘And Sam?’ Lily queried. ‘Do you love him?’
‘Of course I do,’ Judy asserted, ‘in a seeing-him-every-day kind of way.’
‘But not in a br
eathless, heart-pounding, floating-on-air kind …’
‘We just agreed those kind of feelings can’t last.’
‘You said they can’t, not me.’ Lily ripped the box open and handed her another half a dozen books.
‘Then you don’t think I’m in love with Sam.’
‘You just said you were.’
‘I am.’ Judy paused thoughtfully. ‘It could be that we’re just different people …’
‘Of course we are, you’ve auburn hair for a start,’ Lily joked.
‘You really never wonder what Joe is like now or what you’d do if you bumped into him?’
‘Never. Do you wonder about Brian?’
‘Sometimes.’ Judy gave a wicked smile. ‘I picture him fat, bald, toothless …’
‘Sounds as if the poor man’s aged eighty years in three.’
‘London’s not the healthiest place to live.’ Judy pushed the last few books on the shelf. ‘That’s enough. I’m not sure why we started this when I had no intention of unpacking. Let’s go and get Katie.’
‘Thanks for coming round and helping.’ Helen opened her front door.
‘I’m not sure how me sitting on your sofa and chatting helped, but thanks for the invitation.’ Katie kissed Helen’s cheek.
‘It helped by keeping me sane.’ Helen squeezed Katie’s hand as she climbed into the front seat of Judy’s car.
‘And thanks for clearing out your things, Judy.’
‘There’s no way I could have allowed my rubbish to clutter up Jack’s homecoming.’
‘Is there anything I can do for the party tomorrow?’ Lily asked, as Judy slotted the keys into the ignition.
‘Just bring yourself and Martin around about seven.’
‘And some beer, sherry and food.’
‘I won’t refuse any contributions.’ Helen closed the car door and Judy started the engine. She turned and looked back at the house when Judy drove off. Would it be better to open the shutters and curtains and switch on all the lights so Jack could see the home she had created for both of them the moment Martin drove up to it? Deciding it would, she checked her watch and ran back inside.
‘Lily, are you there?’ Sam called, as he walked up the internal stairs that led from the basement flat he and his fellow policeman, Mike, rented from Lily and Martin.
‘No,’ she shouted.
Ignoring her denial, he walked down the passage and into her kitchen. ‘We’ve run out of tea. I don’t suppose you’ve a quarter you can spare?’
She shook her head despairingly but went to the cupboard where she kept her dry goods. ‘It’s getting to the stage where I buy double rations every week to cater for you and Mike. The only wonder is Swansea’s streets are safe, the way you two organise your lives.’
‘We make better policemen than housewives.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
‘Thanks, Lily.’ He took the packet of Barbers tea she handed him. ‘You know we’ll give it back.’
‘Only until the next time you want to borrow it.’
Sensing exasperation behind her flippant comment, he sniffed the air and looked from the saucepan simmering on the stove to the table where she was rolling pastry. ‘If that’s one of your meat and potato pies, lucky Martin.’
‘Judy told me you’re going over to her new flat tonight.’
‘So?’ He looked quizzically at her.
‘I’m sure she’ll make something for you.’
‘You don’t know Judy, I’ll get fish and chips, and only if I go to the fish shop to fetch them.’ He watched as she opened the oven and took out an apple flan. ‘You enjoy torturing me, don’t you? You know that’s my favourite dessert. If your husband doesn’t appreciate you …’
‘He does.’ She set the flan on a rack to cool.
‘I’d give a week’s wages for a slice of that. And,’ he opened the fridge door, ‘I just knew it, real clotted cream.’
‘Don’t you dare touch that bowl. And that flan is staying in one piece until Martin gets home.’
‘You hard-hearted woman.’
‘That’s me.’
‘Can I at least smell it?’ He stood over the flan and sniffed theatrically.
Relenting, she reached for a cake tin. ‘There are some rock buns in there that I made yesterday.’
‘With sultanas and currants?’
‘And candied peel.’
‘If I get Judy to give me back my engagement ring, will you take it?’
‘No.’
‘That’s what I was afraid of.’ He opened the tin and took out a bun. ‘Any tea going?’
She picked up the rolling pin and dusted it off with flour. ‘Only if you make it.’
He lifted the kettle from the stove and carried it to the sink. ‘Has Judy taken everything from Helen’s to the flat?’
‘Yes, but it’s not unpacked. She said you were going to help her do that tonight.’
‘It’s not my idea of a perfect way to spend an evening but,’ he paused as he lit the gas hob and put the kettle on to boil, ‘what else can a man do when his woman gives him orders but obey?’
‘You make it sound as though you’re Judy’s slave.’
‘I am.’
‘Poor, hard-done-by Sam.’
‘You think I like living with Mike when he can’t even remember to buy the essentials?’
‘You could try buying them yourself.’
‘I do, sometimes,’ he qualified. ‘But I still have to do every single little thing for myself and it hurts when I come up here and see Martin’s whims, never mind needs, lovingly catered for by you. The man lives like a lord, eats like a king …’
‘And works almost every hour God sends.’
Although Lily had inherited the house from her aunt, Martin worked all the overtime he was offered in the council garage where he was employed as a mechanic. Sam had found that strange, until he realised that Martin felt he had to bring as much money home as he could because the house and furniture had been Lily’s, not his.
‘We all work hard, even you in the bank.’ He lifted the teapot from a shelf, poured a little boiling water in it, and swirled it around to warm it.
‘What do you mean, even me?’
‘You’re a woman.’
‘And women are?’
‘Chattels and homemakers. Face it, Lily, you’re built to be men comforters.’
‘If I were you, I wouldn’t say that around Judy, not even as a joke.’ Lifting the pastry from the table, she folded it over, eased it into the pie dish and patted it down.
‘I don’t need the warning, I know my woman. Has she said anything to you about opening another salon?’
‘Not since she opened the last one.’
‘She won’t be happy until she has a dozen and maybe not even then.’ He poured milk into her cup. ‘No sugar, right?’
‘Right.’ She took the tea he’d made her and put it on the table. ‘Help yourself to another bun, if you like.’
‘I would like, very much indeed. You know, as landladies go, you’re the best I’ve ever had.’
‘I’m the only one you’ve ever had.’
‘I was hoping you wouldn’t remember that.’ Sinking his teeth into his second bun, he looked around the kitchen. Lily and Martin had made a lot of changes since they had taken over the house after Lily’s Uncle Roy had married Judy’s mother and moved out, and all of them were for the better. Martin had bought Lily every labour-saving gadget on the market, like the Bendix washing machine, Hoover, gas cooker, electric toaster and brand-new, sixty-six guinea, Everest blue Frigidaire he had presented her with on her last birthday, yet somehow Lily had still managed to make the room look warm, cosy and inviting. ‘Good rock buns.’ He pushed the last few crumbs into his mouth.
‘If you eat any more, you won’t have room for those fish and chips.’
‘You’re right. Goodbye, dear buns, I hope to see you tomorrow.’ He pushed the top back on the tin and returned it to the shelf. ‘Any mes
sages for Judy?’
‘Only that I’ll see her at Jack’s party tomorrow. Is Mike going?’
‘He’s on shift.’ Sam grinned. ‘It was mine but I persuaded him I needed the night off more than him. Do you think Jack will have changed much?’
‘Don’t you start, that’s all Helen can talk about.’
‘Poor beggar. Two years National Service was more than I could bear. Those extra six months must have felt like a life sentence. Well, no peace for the wicked – and ever hopeful.’ He picked up the packet of tea. ‘Thanks for this.’
Martin stood outside the gate at Swansea station and watched passengers stream off the London train. Considering it was a freezing cold evening in March, a surprising number had made the journey. Young men and women who worked in the ‘Smoke’ returning for the weekend, an elderly couple burdened with so many parcels they were either bringing presents for half the people in Swansea or had been on a mammoth shopping spree, a couple of students wearing college scarves. He stared at a young man who strode confidently down the platform. He was Jack’s height, colouring and build, but the army had changed radically since his day if they allowed National Servicemen to wear their hair that long.
‘Marty.’
He whirled around as someone tapped his shoulder. ‘Jack?’ he muttered tentatively, staring at his brother.
‘Have I changed that much?’
‘Only grown a foot and a half and put on about six stone.’
‘Four stone and four inches.’
‘And with a suntan a Hollywood star would envy and an almost bald head.’
‘By army standards this is long.’ Jack ran his hand over his regulation short back and sides. ‘If I buy you a pint in the Grand, do you think you could shut your mouth long enough for it to go down?’
‘Try me.’ Taking one of the bags Jack was carrying, Martin shook his brother’s hand before leading the way across the station yard to the hotel.
The Swansea Girls series
by Catrin Collier
For more information on Catrin Collier and Accent Press titles, please visit
www.accentpress.co.uk
Swansea Summer Page 50