Holidays at Home Omnibus
Page 16
As though aware of his thinking, she said, ‘Isn’t that what we both want, now your Eirlys is grown up and no longer in need of you?’
‘Of course, love,’ he said, pressing his face against hers to hide the consternation in his eyes. This was no longer play-acting, this was real. ‘Wouldn’t that be wrong, though, with our Eirlys and your Johnny becoming so close?’
‘How can that affect us? We aren’t related, even if they marry, silly boy.’
‘No, but it does seem wrong somehow. They’d be upset to say the least and would certainly separate because of ill feeling.’
‘You don’t want to finish with me just in case your daughter marries my son, do you?’ she murmured, wrapping herself around him in a loving embrace.
‘Come into the front room and you can convince me it will be all right,’ he murmured, guiding her, hopping about with her arm for support until they both fell on to the big, generously cushioned couch.
Bleddyn was busy with the fish-and-chip shop and restaurant for much of the day, opening at twelve until two thirty for lunches, and again at five until ten thirty most evenings. With Johnny working at the linoleum and hardware shop from nine until six p.m., the house in Brook Lane was empty for several hours during the day. It was such a relief to be able to talk to someone who didn’t accuse him of stupidity and worse, Morgan decided the opportunity, when the chip shop was open for business, was far too good to waste.
It quickly became a regular event. Morgan walked through the lanes at the back of the houses and rarely saw a soul. It was so easy. He would take a bottle of beer, he and Irene would spend a happy few hours together and Morgan would stomp home on his plastered leg, discarding the empty flagon at a convenient place and carrying library books or a magazine.
It was a pattern that pleased them both. ‘A damned sight warmer than that caravan, too,’ Irene agreed.
For Morgan, the evenings at home were spent in an angry silence. Annie was still refusing to talk to him, and Eirlys either out with Johnny or working on her rugs. He fielded Annie’s scornful looks with wide smiles and if she wondered why he was so happy, she never thought deeper than to presume it was bravado, or pretence.
* * *
Johnny didn’t call on Hannah again, but when he passed the house he always looked up at the window, hoping to see her smiling at him. He dreamed of her beckoning him in, propping open the door and sitting with him to talk for a while. Her pale, gentle face often came between himself and Eirlys although he told himself it did not.
When they did meet it was not in such romantic circumstances. Hannah cleaned offices most mornings, leaving the children with a friend until it was almost time for school by which time she was always back home. On a cold crisp morning in December, Johnny was standing out on the lane behind the hardware shop loading goods on to the van for delivery. Hannah came running towards him and she looked upset.
‘Hannah? What’s wrong?’ he asked as he intercepted her. ‘Can I help?’
‘Marie is not well and my friend left her with my parents because I was late, and they’ll be furious. Of all the mornings to be held up it had to be this one!’
‘Wait a minute,’ he said, holding her still. ‘I can take you home in the van; I can always find an excuse to change my route. But why will your parents be angry because they have to look after Marie for a few minutes?’
Pink from her exertions, Hannah explained between deep breaths. ‘They allow us to live there but refuse to help me in any way with the children. “You made your bed”, and all that.’
‘But that’s inhuman! I can’t imagine any woman not wanting to help her grandchildren.’ He hurriedly pushed the last of the packages into the van, locked it and opened the passenger door for her.
‘You’d better let me out on the corner or you bringing me home will be another excuse for criticism,’ Hannah said sadly.
‘Why do you put up with it? Why can’t you get a place far away from them? Is it because of the rent you’d have to pay?’
‘I pay rent now. Only five shillings, but I have to earn that and enough to pay towards the gas before I start paying for food and coal – Sorry, Johnny, I shouldn’t be talking to you like this. It’s my problem, I made this situation and I have to deal with it.’
‘And take their punishment for the rest of your life? Why are they so uncooperative?’ he asked as he slipped into neutral and applied the handbrake at the corner of her road.
‘They want to keep on the right side of God I suppose. Their church strongly disapproves of any wrongdoing.’
He watched her run down the road and enter the house, and wished he could have gone inside with her and protected her from the unreasonable anger of her parents. But he didn’t have the right. He had to forget ideas of protecting her. If he could.
When he met Eirlys later that day he was confused, twisted up inside, not knowing what was wrong with him. Here was Eirlys, a beautiful, capable, uncomplicated young woman who was obviously in love with him. And there was Hannah, who had told him to go away and forget her, who had escaped from a deeply unhappy marriage and was struggling to bring up two girls. Two daughters who would be reluctant to see their mother bring another man into their lives. They would find it hard to share the mother who, because of the circumstances, was such an enormous part of their lives.
There were posters going up on every billboard. He didn’t need to read them, he knew them by heart: they were asking people to join up, urging mothers and wives to let their men go. Women were required for the land army and munitions. It was clear that before very many weeks had passed, he would be going away to fight. A wife at home, someone to build a place for when he came back, someone loving him, caring about him. It was suddenly becoming more and more important to him.
The confusion of his thoughts, first about Hannah and Eirlys, then about being called to fight, led him to think far into the future. Marriage was for life and when he was being sensible, he knew that he would be fortunate to have Eirlys as his bride. She would manage his home, care for his children and never cause him any worries. Eirlys was the sensible choice and, with Ken Ward writing to her, keeping in touch, and with Max Moon still hanging about, this was no time to be undecided. He had told Eirlys he loved her and he had to stay with that decision. It was the best and most sensible thing to do.
He went out that evening telling himself how fortunate he was, and how others would envy him his future wife. He called for Eirlys that evening and suggested a walk. On the headland, high above the empty, silent sands, he asked her to marry him and she said yes. Her happiness showed in her shining eyes and her glowing face and in the passion of her kisses. For Johnny, however, there was a feeling of anti-climax that didn’t leave him, even when they went to tell Annie and Morgan, and his father and his vague and indifferent mother.
It was Eirlys who went to tell Hannah. She took a few patterns for rugs she planned to make, and after handing them to Hannah for her approval or comments, she burst out with it.
‘Oh, Hannah, I’m so happy. Johnny and I are going to announce our engagement in the spring and we’ll probably marry before next year is out.’
Hannah congratulated her and said all the right things. It wasn’t until Eirlys had gone happily on her way that she collapsed into tears for herself and her stupid dreams.
Seven
The best Christmas present of all for the three musketeers was a letter from their mother. They painstakingly made highly decorated Christmas cards for her and Eirlys posted them off, ignoring the fact they had already sent others. The need to keep in touch, convey their love for her, was something with which she could sympathise. The approach of Christmas made absences far worse.
The boys followed her to the pillar box, watched as the envelopes slipped through the slot and listened while she told them of the journey by van and then train and by bicycle until they were popped through their mother’s front door all those miles away.
‘I’m going to be a post
man when I’m grown up,’ Harold said. ‘Everyone’s pleased to see you, aren’t they?’
‘I’ll be pleased to see my mum,’ Percival muttered. Eirlys hugged him and promised him that it wouldn’t be much longer.
* * *
The policeman had found Teresa Love and explained about her son travelling all the way to London to see her. He didn’t quite understand about the money Stanley carried but when he said that he thought the boy had brought her money to pay her rent, Teresa cried.
She had paid a month’s rent on her new place, but had been arrested soon after for prostitution, charged and fined, so she had no more money until she could get back the job she had lost in the gown shop, or go on the street and earn more. If only she had written to tell them her address before she lost theirs.
Standing on corners was not her way – she usually met clients in pubs – but she hadn’t been lucky and one or two of the regular girls had aggressively warned her off the area. She was wondering how she would survive Christmas, and berated herself for not being there when her son had come to the rescue. She bought a newspaper and under its shelter stole a packet of greetings cards. She had nothing else to give them.
She had runs in her stockings and she stopped them with nail varnish. Then, after repairing her make-up, straightening the seams in her silk stockings and pulling down her skirt so the holes didn’t show, she smiled and went out into the street.
* * *
Ken and Max had left St David’s Well to audition in London at the Drury Lane theatre, for ENSA. They had realised that song-and-dance men who played an instrument moderately well were very thick on the ground so before they attended they wrote and perfected a comedy act. Max was tall and very thin and with a wig to hide his meagre red hair he made a passable ‘female’ performer. His voice was deep and he sang well and they were accepted on a trial basis for a short tour in France. Ken wrote to tell Eirlys, adding that they hoped to spend at least part of the Christmas holiday at St David’s Well.
* * *
There was an urgency about Christmas in St David’s Well in 1939 that was difficult to explain. Since the warnings about possible food rationing had begun and before they had become a reality, people had built up stores against the shortages to come. Now, only three months into the war, they opened their hoarded tins of ham and salmon, and used the dried fruit and sugar to make one last splendid cake. Tins of fruit and Nestle’s cream were taken from their hiding places too and were included on the menu over the holiday period.
It was bravado. People told themselves there was no need to hoard, that if they were bold and confident, by next Christmas everything would be back to normal. All the fears would have become a memory. Warnings about future shortages and statements about the reduction in the manufacture of everyday objects were treated with scorn. The war was on the continent, not at home, and anyway, it would soon be won.
The shops were emptied of food and gifts and even household items ran out as people bought a new mat or a fresh pair of curtains or some new china for Christmas. Even the wallpaper shops had a hectic few weeks as women cajoled their husbands and sons into redecorating a room or two – for Christmas. As savings clubs paid out, the money was spent. Economy was a word to make you smile. This wasn’t the time to consider tomorrow. or next week or next year.
Temporary stalls appeared on street corners, moved on by the police only to open up again a few yards away. Many sold holly and mistletoe and Christmas trees of all sizes. There were also those selling paper trimmings for living rooms, and cards and calendars which the vendors waved enthusiastically, shouting that the calendars were special souvenir issues on which to mark the end of Hitler and his war.
Butchers’ windows were filled with geese and chickens and a few turkeys for those who could afford them. Rabbits were displayed less noticeably for those who could not.
Bernard Gregory delivered his annual supply of birds to the butchers who had ordered them, stripped of their feathers and ready to put on display. He had worked through the night, two nights in a row, taking a nap occasionally to keep himself going so the job would be finished on time.
He wished his son Peter were there to help, but Peter had volunteered for the forces long before war had been declared and Bernard didn’t even know where he was. Scotland maybe? Holland? Or even France? He hadn’t heard for eighteen days and didn’t even know if he still had a son, he thought sorrowfully, as he handed the last of his turkeys to Keys the butcher.
He accepted payment and went home and slept for twelve hours. Christmas was not worth thinking about, or planning for. This year it would be just another day. Feeding the donkeys and the remaining livestock, cooking a bit of bacon and a couple of eggs and listening to the wireless or reading the copy of The Hobbit that Peter had given him last time he came home.
* * *
In the house at Brook Lane, Bleddyn cooked Christmas dinner assisted by Johnny, Taff and Evelyn. Irene was there but vague, as though unaware of the importance of the day. She opened presents, smiled and put them aside, handed Taff, Evelyn and Johnny their presents – which had been chosen, bought and packed by Bleddyn – and picked at her dinner, all with hardly a word spoken.
The rest of the family wore paper hats, laughed and cracked jokes and pretended to be having a good time, but the ghostlike presence of Irene made it all a farce, Bleddyn thought, temper simmering as Irene made no effort to make the day a good one for them all. As soon as was polite, Evelyn and Taff left to spend the rest of the day with Huw, Marged, and their family in Sidney Street, where the atmosphere was sure to be more cheerful.
Johnny went to call for Eirlys and her family, who were also invited to spend the rest of the day in Sidney Street with his Auntie Marged, Uncle Huw and the rest.
‘I’ll follow on later,’ Bleddyn said, and, when the young people had left, he tried to get a reaction from Irene by showing an anger he didn’t really feel. Anger was spent long ago, and even concern had faded to become nothing more than mild contempt.
‘Couldn’t you make a bit of an effort for Johnny and Taff and Evelyn?’ he demanded, raising his voice in frustration. ‘What will Evelyn think of you, acting like this on Christmas Day?’
‘I don’t like Evelyn. She doesn’t look after Taff as she should; working all day in some factory, how can she?’ Irene spoke softly, looking towards a cushion, as if talking to someone he couldn’t see.
‘You’re a fine one to talk. When did you ever look after Taff? Or Johnny, or me?’
‘I’ll make a cup of tea,’ she said and went into the kitchen. When the sound of clattering cups stopped, Bleddyn went to investigate. Irene had made a pot of tea, poured herself a cup and gone back to bed.
* * *
Irene sat against the pillows, rocking slightly. Her life would be so different once Morgan and she told the world about their love. He wouldn’t bully her or expect her to do things she hated. Her eyes were sharp and intelligent as she went over in her mind the plan to make Bleddyn accept her leaving. Non-communication was so easy. All she had to do was walk off as they were talking to her and sit in her room. They would be relieved to see her go.
Persuading Morgan to leave Annie might be more difficult. She shivered slightly as she thought about how she would deal with rejection if Morgan refused to leave his wife. That was something she wouldn’t be able to face. She’d rather be dead than cope with the humiliation of being spurned by Morgan.
It wouldn’t happen. Not now. He would never leave her now.
* * *
Bleddyn sat staring into the fire for a while, then decided that he was wasting his time here with a woman who refused to speak to him. Ill or not, Irene was driving him away and from where he was looking, it was deliberate. He left the remainder of the dishes, reached for his overcoat and trilby and went to join the other members of his family.
In his brother’s house the atmosphere was completely different. Dinner had been cleared away and dishes of sweets and displays
of party crackers decorated the table. Besides Huw and Marged, their four children were there. Ronnie with his wife Olive; young Eynon; Bethan with her soon-to-be fiancé, Freddy Clements. And Lilly, who was putting on a coat and preparing to go out.
‘Where are you off to, Lilly?’ Bleddyn asked as she fastened a scarf over her long dark hair. ‘Meeting some friends?’
‘Don’t ask,’ Marged moaned. ‘Not a word will she say. Got some secret boyfriend but he must have a face like a codfish, because she won’t let us see him or even tell us who he is.’
‘I’m going to follow you one of these days,’ Huw said jokingly. ‘I want to know who my daughter is seeing that she can’t bring home to meet the family. Ugly is he?’ Then, ‘You aren’t ashamed of us, are you?’
‘You do that, our Dad, and I’ll walk out of this house and never come back.’
‘Promises, promises,’ Huw sighed, winking at Bleddyn.
* * *
Johnny hadn’t gone straight to Sidney Street. He had some chocolate money in his pocket for Josie and Marie and he went to see Hannah. He felt slightly embarrassed, knowing his excuse was a feeble one, but took out the gold foil-covered sweets and handed them to the little girls. Avoiding looking at their mother, he began to squeak, pretending the sound came from somewhere else. He fooled about searching for the cause of the squeaking, making the girls laugh, then produced a couple of sugar mice, each in its own sugar bed.
If he was surprised when they didn’t go at once to show their grandparents in the next room, he didn’t comment. Instead, he said, ‘I’m off to visit my Auntie Marged and Uncle Huw and all my cousins. Then we’ll all be going for a walk to get some exercise before tea. How would you like to come with me, you two and your mam?’