In the stunned silence that followed, Eirlys felt tears falling down her cheeks.
‘Please, Evelyn, don’t say any more,’ she whispered. ‘Take no notice, Johnny, Evelyn’s mistaken, that’s all, it’s a mistake.’ In vain she had tried to stop Evelyn, but by the time the other girl had realised her mistake, she had said too much for Johnny to be able to walk away.
He insisted on hearing the full story and was angry with Morgan and his mother, but, surprisingly, most of all with Eirlys.
‘How could you not tell me?’ he demanded.
‘What would have been the point? I thought the fewer people who knew the less chance of your father finding out.’
‘That was my reasoning too,’ Evelyn said. ‘That was why I hoped you and Eirlys would stop seeing each other. I’m very fond of your dad, Johnny, and I hoped that if you and Eirlys were no longer together, the secret would be safe and he would never know.’
‘Eirlys should have told me. There shouldn’t be any secrets between two people who love each other.’
‘But you didn’t love me, did you, Johnny?’ Eirlys asked quietly before walking away.
Evelyn followed her and begged her to listen to her apology.
‘Eirlys, I really thought you knew about your father and Johnny’s mother. I was so upset for his father, who’s such a kind, gentle man, so undeserving of such treachery. I was convinced you must know, you’d been to the caravan, you’d seen Irene wandering about, obviously waiting to meet your father. I hated you for it. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.’
Eirlys looked at her, and, seeing the tear-streaked face, believed her.
‘I don’t know whether you believe me, Evelyn, but I think I would have acted in the same way,’ she said as they hugged. ‘I’m fond of Bleddyn too. But,’ she added sadly, ‘I don’t think you and I will ever be sisters-in-law as we once hoped. Johnny didn’t deny it when I said he didn’t love me, did he?’
* * *
Johnny hadn’t been able to formulate an honest reply. He left the house and walked alone across the fields to think about what he had been told. It all came back: the death of his mother, the doctor explaining her earlier insistence that she was expecting a child and his telling her she was mistaken.
It was almost dark before he returned to the outskirts of the town and he stopped for a while and stared at the looming shadow of the caravan, where, he had been told, his mother had met Morgan Price and made love.
Like Eirlys he searched for a key, convinced that it would have been left somewhere close by. With the aid of a torch which he, like most people, habitually carried, he found it behind the same wheel. He went inside and, like Eirlys, was distressed at the sordid mess that was revealed by the thin beam of the torch.
There was a paraffin stove and, nearby, some matches in a tin which had previously held Oxo cubes. He tried to strike a match, intending to throw it among the bedclothes on the built-in couch, but, damp, they broke apart and he threw them down in disgust.
He was aching with pent-up fury that wouldn’t be released. He couldn’t bear the thought of people seeing this place and laughing. He tried to push the van off its support but failed at that too. He was sweating with his attempts to destroy the hated thing and all he could do was tie back the door and release the catches on the windows and let the elements do their worst. At the end of the summer there would be nothing left but a mouldering wreck. He’d come back and burn it. Then, as he prepared to leave, he shone the light around the place one last time, and it fell on his mother’s coat. It destroyed him as no words had.
It all became real. Until then he had been trying to convince itself it was idle and mistaken gossip. He thought of the number of times she had been seen without a coat, and remembered the time when he had insisted that Eirlys had been wrong when she told him his mother was in the fields dressed only in a thin dress. She had been here, probably walking to meet Morgan Price.
As he walked away, the wind was already gusting in and moving the shabby curtains. The sooner it was a ruin the better. It was a memorial to his mother he didn’t need.
He went back to Eirlys’s house and when she opened the door, demanded, ‘You should have told me! I had a right to know why you were walking away from me, didn’t I?’
‘I hoped you would never find out.’
‘You didn’t mind that everyone knew except Dad and me? That everyone was talking about us and probably laughing?’
‘No one knows except Evelyn and she found out long before I did. Like me, she thought there was no value in telling you.’
‘We would have married if you hadn’t discovered their secret, wouldn’t we?’ he said.
‘Yes, and it would have been a mistake. I want more than St David’s Well can offer me, and you – you love Hannah, don’t you?’
He couldn’t deny it.
‘I wish you luck, Johnny,’ she said softly. ‘And I’m really sorry you had to find out about your mam.’
His voice became calm to match hers. ‘Mam couldn’t help it, but she always let us down.’ He frowned as he thought about his childhood. ‘When Taff and I were children she never did all the things mothers usually do. That’s why Granny Moll and Auntie Marged were always so important to Taff and me.’
‘She loved you, Johnny. She wanted you and Taff to find the happiness that was denied her.’
‘Perhaps she did. Perhaps this disaster made us see things more clearly. You and me. She probably prevented us making a great mistake.’
‘That’s a good way of looking at it, Johnny.’ She kissed him affectionately. ‘Being the sort of people we are, we’d have stayed together, but you and I would both have had regrets.’
‘How are you going to find room for all that wool?’ he asked with a wry smile. ‘It looks as though Dad won’t get his spare room back for a while.’
‘As soon as I can find a place I can afford, I’ll send for it,’ she promised. ‘I haven’t forgotten my dream.’
‘And Ken?’
‘Ken is a kind and loving friend and he knows he’ll never be anything more.’ As she spoke the words she had a vision of Ken waiting for her when she returned to London and the thought was far from displeasing.
When Johnny left, she sat and considered her life so far. It was filled with regrets. She had let Ken down and now her love for Johnny hadn’t stood the test either. Perhaps she wasn’t intended for love and marriage and motherhood, she thought sadly. She was a businesswoman with high ambition. But, she wondered, would that always be enough?
Eirlys didn’t intend to stay with her father very long. Unless she left soon she would become caught up in running the home, making arrangements to see friends, and end up staying for ever.
She went to look for him the following day to tell him when she planned to leave. She found him on the allotment that had once been his, talking to the new owner. After telling him her plans, they walked back together with very little left to say.
She stayed to share a midday meal of lumpy mashed potatoes and crisply overdone sausages, prepared, with good intent, by Teresa.
‘Not much of a cook, is she?’ she whispered conspiratorially, when she found him later, clearing out the shed.
‘She tried very hard and I was determined to eat it,’ he smiled. ‘Thank goodness for indigestion tablets, eh?’
‘When is she going back? I thought I’d leave tomorrow, if that’s all right.’
‘Fine, love. I’ll miss you, mind. But I don’t want you worrying or thinking of coming back. I’ll be fine. You will write often and tell me what you’re doing, won’t you?’
‘And Teresa and the boys?’
‘I told them they can stay another day or so. I think Teresa was as affected by your mam’s death as any of us, being there an’ all. Seeing it happen. The boys are hoping to see something of the beach before they go back to London.’
‘Be careful you aren’t too welcoming, Dadda, or you’ll find it hard to tell them to go.’
&
nbsp; She was delighted when he explained the reason for clearing out the shed. ‘It’s to store your wools and materials, so you can get back to your rug-making as soon as you have a place of your own,’ he told her.
All anger faded as she hugged him. ‘Thanks, Dadda. That’s exactly what I needed, some help to rebuild my dream.’
With the train time chosen for the following afternoon, she spent the hours before she left for the station walking around the town, seeing the familiar and loved places, saying her goodbyes.
She knew where Johnny and Taff and the others would be. With the days getting longer and the sun getting stronger, the thoughts of summer were not far from anyone’s thoughts. They would be at the beach, getting everything checked in preparation for the opening of the 1940 summer season. The helter-skelter would be painted and all the safety checks carried out, and the swingboats made ready for their place on the sand. She wondered how she would live through a summer without having the sea so close. She knew she would miss it.
The bus took her to the sands, where several of the cafés were having a face-lift ready for the opening in May. There were quite a few people around, taking advantage of the sunshine. Leaning on the sturdy sea wall, she watched as children ran about and played. Their voices were shrill, and echoed amid the calls of the gulls gliding on the light breeze hoping for a tidbit or two. No summer dresses yet, but the hats and scarves added splashes of cheerful colour; a hint of the wonderful days to come.
As she strolled to the end of the promenade to where a cliff rose up to the path above, she looked at Piper’s Café and saw a hand waving. Waving back she walked across the sand to the bottom of the metal steps and climbed up.
Moll opened the door and said, ‘Come in, girl, and we’ll have a nice cup of tea and a Welsh cake. Let’s sit in the window and enjoy this bit of sun.’
She was disappointed not to find Johnny and Taff and Bleddyn there, but stayed a while, talking to Moll about her plans and listening to Moll telling of her new ideas for the approaching season. Moll said nothing about her cancelled wedding. It had all been said. She hugged the old lady affectionately, then caught the bus back home.
There wasn’t time for more than a snack, so she prepared a few sandwiches to eat on the train, collected her suitcase and set off for the station. She hoped to get away without any further goodbyes but as soon as she was on the platform, Johnny came.
There were some rather formal requests to write, keep in touch and look after herself; all the usual clichés that fill the uncomfortable last moments before the train puffs into view. Both were thankful when the sound of the steam engine reached their ears. Johnny stepped back after kissing her affectionately, and Eirlys began patting pockets and looking in her handbag to make sure she had everything to hand. Then she gasped. ‘My wallet! I’ve left it home and it has my identity card and my ration book and heaven alone knows what else. Oh, Johnny, I’ll have to go back. I’ll have to catch a later train!’
They left the suitcase in the porter’s room and hurried away, Johnny leaving her at her gate with a final goodbye.
She went in through the back door, careful not to make a sound. The last thing she wanted was another round of goodbyes! The house was silent and she was thankful for that. She wondered vaguely whether her father had taken Teresa and the boys to see the donkeys again, a walk of which they never tired.
She looked around her at the familiar room as she picked up her wallet and stored it safely in her handbag. More untidy than when her mother was there, she thought with a wry smile. Annie had been so fussy. She was sorry to say goodbye to her home, and felt guilty at walking away from her father, leaving him to cope alone.
Should she have stayed a while longer, helped him to get used to being alone? Promising herself she would visit often and make sure he was looking after himself properly, she turned to go. Poor Dadda, he’d find it hard to face the empty days, even though he had put on a brave expression and encouraged her to leave. Again guilt overwhelmed her and her footsteps faltered as she went towards the door.
Then she heard a voice upstairs, a soft chuckle. Teresa, she wondered? Still not making a sound and this time without really understanding why, she went up the stairs on tiptoe.
The door of her room was open and as she peered around the door she gave a wail of anguish. Teresa and her father were naked on the bed.
Slamming the door, and still issuing the wailing, distressed sounds that echoed around her head as though they came from someone else, she ran down the stairs and out of the house.
She ran until her legs threatened to give way and her lungs explode, then she paused and sat on the wall of a garden and stared back the way she had come as though expecting her father to loom into view.
Walking more slowly, she went on and after collecting her case, stood on the platform for the train promised in fifteen minutes. This time the platform was full. Soldiers, airmen and sailors mingled with the civilians who had come to see them off. She remembered the stiffness of her parting from Johnny and wondered if it was the same with most of them. Everything said, couples sharing nothing more than the occasional nervous smile, not willing to go until the last minute, but feeling enormous relief when the signal dropped and the train curved slowly towards them.
Then she heard shouting and pushing their way through the crowd came Stanley, Harold and Percival.
‘Eirlys! Eirlys!’ Stanley shouted. ‘Mum says we can stay in St David’s Well! Ain’t that somethin’? On Monday Uncle Morgan’s taking us back to school!’
Uncle Morgan. How different the honorary title sounded since she had witnessed the scene in the bedroom. Before, it had been so innocent, but Annie’s death had changed that too. Morgan’s resentment about Teresa’s casual acceptance of their help had vanished. An uncle to the boys; one of a long line of them, the most recent being Ronald who didn’t like Percival.
Strange how helpless some men are when faced with an attractive woman, she mused, her expression hidden as she hugged the three evacuees who had become locals. Specially when they find themselves alone. Solitude would not have been easy for Morgan Price. Why should she expect him to accept it? He couldn’t hurt Annie any more.
Johnny had been weak too. He loved Hannah yet, afraid to face the doubts and criticism, he would have married her, Eirlys. She wondered if she would find a man who was strong, or whether a strong-minded man would bring less happiness than men like her father. An equal partnership sounded wonderful, but was it that easy to find?
She didn’t have time to ponder the question, the train was hissing to a stop, and she had to find a seat. Amid the shouting of last goodbyes, and the scramble for seats, she heard her name called and, looking at the fence alongside the platform, saw Johnny and Hannah and the children. She blew kisses and smiled to show them she was happy for them, hoping her tears wouldn’t show. Then a couple came and stood beside them; Teresa and her father, solemn-faced and ill at ease. A feeling of love for her father flowed over her. He was her Dadda and she couldn’t pretend not to love him. Not even for the sake of her mother’s memory.
Who was she to criticise? How could she accuse her father of callous indifference to her mother’s death? She had made it clear that she wouldn’t change her plans and stay home and look after him, hadn’t she? She wasn’t in the position to act as judge and jury, or to understand her father’s need to be flattered and loved.
She forced a smile and waved a hand to them before stepping into the carriage.
A shrill whistle sounded, the guard waved his flag and slowly the giant pulled its load out of the station, and her journey towards a new life began.
Ironic, she thought, as the boys waved her off. It’s only a few months ago that they were arriving and what a lot has happened since then.
If Teresa and Dadda stayed together it would at least be a happy ending for the boys. Annie would have been pleased about that.
* * *
Ken was waiting when the train puffed importantly
into Paddington. He had waited while three trains arrived and departed, knowing she would eventually turn up and would be glad of a familiar face.
Paddington was crowded and among the uniforms she saw couples dressed smartly, some with confetti on their shoulders and in their hat-brims. Everyone was in such a hurry to marry. This damned war was to blame; everyone wanting to grab what they could just in case… The sentence was never completed, it was too frightening to contemplate.
She was in no hurry and walked along the platform allowing others to pass her. When she reached the barrier and held her ticket for the inspector, she saw him. He was smiling widely and obviously glad she was back. Ken, reliable, nonjudgemental, and very dear.
He had a car parked close by and when they were on their way he asked casually, ‘Did you see Johnny?’
‘Yes. He and Hannah will marry, I think.’
‘And are you all right about that?’
‘Yes, I am. But it doesn’t say much for me as a person, does it? I left you, then Johnny. My love is very short-lived.’
‘Or stronger than you realise,’ he said enigmatically as he helped her out and kissed her lightly before following her into his family’s home. ‘Maybe your dream of marrying Johnny, and being a part of the Castles on the sand,’ he joked lightly, ‘were short-lived because you were wrong to leave me.’
One day, when her jangled thoughts settled, she might take his suggestion seriously; just for now, she wanted nothing more than to find a niche for herself and find out who she really was.
‘Wait till summer,’ she smiled.
Swingboats on the Sand
One
At Piper’s Café close to the sandy beach in the small town of St David’s Well, the Piper family were all busily engaged in preparation for the new season. It was 1940 and the effects of the war were beginning to be felt, but for the people who worked on the sands at St David’s Well, it was soon to be business as usual. Beth Castle and her sister Lilly were helping their mother Marged to clean the café after opening its doors and windows for the first time in months. Beth Castle’s brothers, Eynon and Ronnie, and her cousins, Taff and Johnny Castle, were putting the finishing touches to the paintwork of the helter-skelter and the swingboats, ready to erect them on the sand.
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