Holidays at Home Omnibus
Page 27
The neat, careful writing of Stanley and the ill-formed impatient scribble from Harold were worrying. Annie showed them to Morgan at lunchtime, before he went off to work the two-till-ten shift at the factory. The two letters had been correctly addressed but had borne no postage stamps and Annie had willingly paid the excess amount. ‘That means Teresa didn’t know they were writing,’ Morgan said unnecessarily. ‘They didn’t want her to be upset at their asking if they can come back.’
Stanley was worried about missing school and Harold grieved for his beautiful bike and asked if Morgan could find him another one, adding that he’d paint it himself if Morgan would show him how. The message from Percival was his wish to ride one of Mr Gregory’s donkeys on the sands.
‘They sound so unhappy,’ Annie said. ‘I wish Teresa hadn’t taken them away from us. Who knows how long it will be before the bombs start dropping? How can she risk their young lives like this?’
‘Most of the other evacuees have gone back too,’ Morgan reminded her. ‘I don’t suppose you’d want to send your children away to live with strangers, no matter how strong the argument in favour of it, would you?’
‘I could write and suggest they come down for a holiday, couldn’t I?’
He laughed and said, ‘Knowing Teresa, I expect we’ll have to send them the fare!’ He looked at Annie, her face saddened by the words written by the unhappy boys. ‘Not that we’d mind that,’ he added soberly.
‘Percival says he’ll eat his taters, if you let him come back,’ Stanley had written. This time no attempt had been made to obliterate the sad message.
Harold had promised never to get in another fight, even with the boys at school.
‘I think we should buy the train tickets and see if we can arrange for them to travel in care of the guard, if they still do that.’
‘I could go up,’ Annie mused.
‘Could you cope with the disappointment if Teresa refused to let them come back?’
‘We could both go. She might be less inclined to refuse if we turn up on her doorstep.’
‘No, I think it’s best you go on your own. I’ll stay here with Eirlys, we can’t leave her on her own, can we?’ he reasoned, unaware of the irony of his protectiveness for his daughter, who was making plans to move right away from their care and protection.
* * *
Teresa had a new boyfriend and a new job. She had met Ronald when she had moved once more in the hope of shaking off the determined man she had robbed. She wasn’t doing right by her boys, she had to do better. Stanley was clever and needed regular school, and the others – well, sitting on their own all the time without even a wireless for company… Remorsefully she admitted to herself they were better off in St David’s Well with Annie and Morgan.
She was smart and attractive enough and now that she had made up her mind, she went job-hunting with great determination. She loved her boys and she had to succeed for them as well as herself.
Another visit to the council and the story that her reason for moving had been rats, and she was put on the priority list for accommodation. If things worked out as she hoped, Ronald would move in with her and they’d be a proper family. He would help her manage her money. It had always been a problem. Once she had money in her pocket she was tempted by all sorts of things and was soon broke once again. If only she could save enough to pay the man who was dogging her footsteps.
Ronald wasn’t fond of children, he’d told her that, but in her new mood of optimism she felt certain he would succumb to their fascination. Lovely boys they were, anyone would be proud of them.
With this decent job selling clothes on a market stall she’d be home in the evenings to talk to them and play games like they used to, except for when she went out for a drink with Ronald of course. He knew about her past.
‘And that’s just what it is,’ he told her. ‘It’s past and gone for ever.’ By the end of summer they’d be settled. But first, she thought, handling the last few pounds in her pocket, first she needed some new clothes. Her own wouldn’t do at all.
* * *
Beth was surprised to see Peter Gregory when she opened the shop one morning.
‘I’ve come to apologise,’ he said.
‘No need,’ she smiled. ‘What’s a kiss between friends?’
‘I’ve had a long, lonely and dangerous time recently and seeing you, so fresh and clean and familiar, I couldn’t help it.’
‘It is dangerous work you do, isn’t it, Peter?’
‘Things will be easier from now on. I’ll be able to get home occasionally and keep in touch. I don’t suppose I could ask you a favour, could I, Beth?’
‘If I can help… ?’ She looked at him expectantly.
‘I’d love it if you could write to me. Not regularly, but now and then, just to keep me in touch with things here. So I feel a part of it.’
‘Of course I will. I’d like that. I’ve never had a pen-pal before.’ There was some relief in Beth’s reply. After that unexpected kiss, she had wondered what he was going to ask her.
‘Thank you. Your pen-pal will be ever grateful. Dad will have my address – I won’t know it myself until I get back. He could drop it off at your house, if you think your Freddy won’t mind?’
She watched him walk down the road, tall, straight and purposeful. A warm feeling crept over her and she chided herself, reminding herself that Freddy was her love and always had been. Peter’s interest was flattering, though, she admitted happily.
* * *
Days passed and Eirlys still hadn’t found the right moment to tell Johnny or her parents. How many lives had Dadda wrecked by his stupid behaviour? It began with the death of Irene, depriving Johnny and Taff of their mother and Bleddyn of his wife. Her marriage was no longer possible, so both she and Johnny faced a different future to the one they had so happily planned. And Annie: how would she cope if she ever found out, Eirlys wondered, still unaware that her mother knew and was slowly forgiving her father for his weakness. Ken wrote to Eirlys quite often so his letter in reply to hers on Tuesday morning caused no speculation. Neither did the fact that she waited until she was in her room before she opened it. The letter was brief. She had told him only that her father and Johnny’s mother had been carrying on and it meant she couldn’t marry Johnny Castle. Ken made no comment on this, but stated succinctly that his parents had a spare bedroom which they were willing for her to use until she could get herself something more convenient. He included details of the journey and a diagram of where his parents lived. He also asked her to tell him the time of her arrival and added that, if she would like him to, he would meet her at Paddington. No criticism of her father, no comment on whether her decision was right or wrong, just an offer to help. It was exactly what she needed at that time.
She was working out her two weeks’ notice. This wasn’t essential – seven days would have been acceptable as she was paid weekly – but she had promised Mr Gifford she would stay until he had found a replacement, which he quickly did.
Three girls came for an interview and one was chosen. Still having said nothing to Johnny or her parents, she worked out the day on which she could leave. Unfortunately she would travel to London on Saturday March thirtieth, the day that was to have been her wedding day. Now, all she had to do was tell Johnny and her parents.
She didn’t know how to begin. Johnny and she met one evening intending to go to the pictures, but she persuaded him to walk instead.
‘There’s something I have to tell you,’ she told him, her heart racing, painful in her chest.
Johnny smiled at her, her face a pale oval in the darkness. ‘You sound serious; can’t you get the right hat to go with your going-away outfit?’ he joked. ‘That reminds me, I have had a letter confirming our booking at the Sea Crest hotel in Porthcawl.’
‘Cancel it,’ she said, her voice little more than a whisper.
‘What? For a moment there I thought you said cancel it.’
‘Cancel the booki
ng, Johnny, I won’t be going on our honeymoon. You and I won’t be getting married. I’m going away, leaving St David’s Well.’
‘Is this some kind of joke?’
‘No joke. Something has happened and it means I can’t marry you, ever.’
‘What is it? There’s nothing we can’t work out together. Tell me, Eirlys! Let me put things right.’
‘No chance of that. I’ll go to the church tomorrow and I’ll send back the gifts and tell the rest of the guests. You can tell your father, and Granny Moll and the rest of your family.’
‘Tell them what?’ he demanded. ‘You haven’t told me anything!’
‘I can’t marry you. That’s all you need to know.’
‘You don’t love me enough, is that it? Pre-wedding nerves, that’s all this is. You should have seen our Taff on the days before he and Evelyn—’
‘I do love you, Johnny,’ she interrupted. ‘I love you more than enough. But something has happened to stop us marrying. It isn’t nerves. It isn’t anything that can be put right. I can’t explain but you must accept that you and I can never marry.’
He tried to put an arm around her, comfort her and reassure her, believing that he had been correct in his diagnosis of pre-wedding jitters. She pushed him away and her voice was ragged as she told him to go home and spread the news. ‘Your Evelyn will be pleased,’ she sobbed. ‘She never thought one of the Price family was good enough for you Castles.’
‘Not good enough? What are you saying? Please, Eirlys, let me—’
His voice carried on the still night air, there was the sound of her hurried footsteps fading, then he was alone, confused and devastatingly hurt. He stood there for what seemed an age, wondering what to do. Should he go after her and persuade her to tell him what was wrong? Or would it be better to go home and wait until the next day, then try to talk to her? It had to be something he could put right. Damn it all, the wedding was only days away!
He needed to talk to someone, but who? If it was sorted out in the next couple of days, he would probably regret telling anyone. His father would worry and Taff wouldn’t understand even though he had experienced something similar himself. He was shaking with the shock of it all and he felt as stiff as if he had walked all day. His legs ached and his arms felt as though they had just dropped a heavy load. He was aware of pain around his shoulders and in sudden defeat he dropped onto the kerb at the corner of the street and with his head lowered so his chin was on his chest, he sat, his mind empty of coherent thought.
* * *
It was late evening and the girls should have been in bed, but the sky was clear and the stars were out in force. When Josie and Marie insisted they weren’t tired enough to sleep, Hannah wrapped them up warmly and took them for a walk around the outskirts of the park, where, if they were lucky, they might hear the chirping, restless sounds of the birds settling for the night. It was something that always fascinated the girls and they stood, arms around each other, in the shadows, as the robin signalled the end of the day and the blackbird gave its mellow settling-down sounds.
‘Time to go, the robin is saying,’ Hannah whispered.
‘Can we wait for the owl?’ Josie begged and, as they stood there for the promised, ‘two more minutes’, Hannah became aware of the figure sitting not far from where they stood.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked hesitatingly, not recognising Johnny in the darkness.
‘Hannah?’ he said in disbelief. ‘What are you three doing here?’ He was overwhelmed with the relief of not being alone, and jumped up and hugged all three in turn. ‘I have some sweets in my pocket for two good little girls,’ he said and made a big pretence of searching in every pocket until they were laughing. Then he handed them the bag of coconut mushrooms he had intended to give to Eirlys.
He walked back with them and at the door he hesitated. ‘Can I come in?’ he asked.
‘Johnny, you know how my mother feels about men coming to the house.’
‘All right, I understand.’
Hannah had opened the door and the girls had slipped inside, carefully replacing the curtain behind them. ‘There’s something wrong?’ she asked softly.
He was aware of her standing so close that he could smell the clean, fresh night air on her cheeks and he longed to reach out and hold her close to him. He tried to bring his thoughts back to Eirlys and could not. ‘Something wrong? The truth is, Hannah, I don’t know.’
He hurried away from her. The confusion in his heart had culminated in an almost overwhelming desire to kiss her. He had never been so mixed-up or unhappy in his whole life. He wandered along the empty streets, stopping sometimes to listen to the wireless programmes coming from a house, and, imagining the family groups sitting enjoying them, he felt that his world was in shatters. A surge of almost violent jealousy filled him at the sound of the contented murmur of voices and the occasional laughter. There was no point going home until he had exhausted himself enough to make sleep at least a possibility.
It was three in the morning before he headed for Brook Lane. No sounds from any of the houses now, everyone was tucked up in bed, trouble-free and with nothing to disturb their sleep. The wardens were still on their beat and offered a polite, ‘Goodnight, sir,’ as he passed the shop doorway where they hid to enjoy a cigarette. A policeman cycled past, stopping from time to time to check on shop doors to make sure they were firmly locked.
He stood for a while outside the house where Eirlys lived. He looked up at her window, shrouded in darkness, and wondered if she was sleeping soundly, at peace with her decision, or, like him, confused about whether or not they were making a mistake, or rectifying an earlier one.
* * *
Rumours were already beginning to reach Bleddyn, not about Johnny and Eirlys but about his wife. A woman further up Brook Lane, who seemed to spend a lot of her time standing outside wielding a sweeping-brush and watching what went on, had made several references to Irene’s friend, and when he questioned her she smiled and said in a childish voice, ‘It’s not for me to say, Mr Castle. Never speak ill of the dead, isn’t that what we say?’
‘I don’t want you spreading gossip about my wife!’ he said sharply. ‘My sons are upset as it is, losing their mother in that dreadful accident. Please don’t make it worse for us all.’
‘Only saying what others are saying, that’s all,’ she said, sweeping fiercely at a recalcitrant weed on her path. He tried to ignore the woman. Bored she was, always looking for excuses to gossip.
It was when he mentioned her remarks to Taff that he began to wonder.
* * *
Eirlys told the vicar that the wedding was cancelled and he spent most of her lunch break advising her not to be hasty. She smiled, listened with apparent interest, then repeated her instruction to cancel all the arrangements, promising that she would be in touch to compensate for any inconvenience.
She felt that her mind was floating through a different world. The pavement beneath her feet was there, but the street was no longer the familiar street, the town wasn’t the same town, the people passing were strangers unable to see her.
She should have passed the fish-and-chip shop as she left the church and walked back to the office, but she darted down a back lane and avoided it, in case Bleddyn ran out and begged her to change her mind. Johnny would have told his father by now. She mustn’t talk to anyone else before she told her parents. They had to be told soon, before they heard the news from someone else.
She tried to think of a convincing story to explain her behaviour to her mother, but failed. Her father didn’t need telling, she thought bitterly. He, and only he, knew exactly why she was behaving in this way.
When she had helped her mother to put their evening meal on the table, she tried to build up to her announcement slowly but in the end she simply blurted it out.
‘Johnny and I have cancelled the wedding. I can’t marry him and I’ve told him so. The wedding is permanently off. We won’t change our minds.’ As
her mother stared at her in disbelief, she went on, ‘The church arrangements are cancelled, Johnny will tell Granny Moll Piper that the catering won’t be needed, and tomorrow I’ll start returning all the presents. Will you help me, Mam?’ She was amazed at how matter-of-fact she sounded. She might as well have been telling them she’d changed her mind about which film she would see.
Demands for explanations were met with a stony silence. Morgan kept out of it, refusing to comment, fully aware of what had changed their daughter’s mind.
* * *
The following day was Saturday and it was then that Johnny began to spread the news. He told his father, who pleaded with him to go and see Eirlys and put right whatever had gone wrong. Stubbornness, or something else, pride perhaps, made Johnny say angrily, ‘It’s over, Dad. Eirlys has made that quite clear. There’s nothing more I can say. And I wouldn’t change it now if I could!’
He called to see his brother, Taff, and Evelyn. Evelyn’s stilted, ‘I’m sorry,’ reminded Johnny about Eirlys’s words and the longstanding disagreement between them.
‘What did you say to her, Evelyn? This has to be down to you!’
At this Taff became roused in protection of Evelyn. Taff was rarely angry but he turned on Johnny and told him to go.
‘How can you blame this on Evelyn? It’s Eirlys’s decision not to marry you and there’s no point in looking for anyone else to blame. It’s you she’s turning down, nothing we could say would make that decision for her.’
When the door slammed behind his distressed brother, Taff turned to Evelyn and demanded an explanation of her dislike of Eirlys. Sitting beside her, she gently told him the truth about his mother and Eirlys’s father.
‘I hated her because I thought she knew all along,’ she said sadly when the full story was explained.