Holidays at Home Omnibus

by Wait Till Summer; Swingboats On the Sand; Waiting for Yesterday; Day Trippers; Unwise Promises; Street Parties (retail) (epub)

  The only continuing disappointment for Delyth was not seeing Maldwyn. He seemed uneasy and anxious to be gone when they did meet. It seemed to Delyth that he was not interested in even a friendship with her, and it made her sad.

  They went to the rock-and-sweet shop, which was no longer filled with joke pieces of seaside rock in the shape of giant dummies, enormous teeth, eggs and bacon, funny faces and a dozen other gimmicks. These had once been bought in enthusiastic quantities for people to take back home to tease some member of their families. Now, with sweets on ration, the stock was depleted and for future seasons there would only be local views, saucy postcards and inexpensive ornaments. Even the traditional views of the area had restrictions, some being withdrawn if the council considered them capable of helping the enemy.

  Alice Potter, who was engaged to marry Marged and Huw’s youngest son, Eynon, was not there. Audrey explained that she was visiting her father. They hung around outside, looking at the funny postcards, until she appeared. She smiled when she saw the friends, and pointing to the clock mimed that she would be free for lunch in an hour. Arranging to call back. Delyth and Madge moved on.

  Delyth had a camera with her, intending to take photographs of the beach to look at during the winter when they would not be able to visit so often. When Alice stood outside the shop, adding more cards to the display, she snapped her without being seen. It would be a nice gift for her to send to Eynon if it was a success.

  Maldwyn was on the sands, the Sunday a break from the shop.

  ‘Where’s Vera?’ Madge asked when she saw him talking to Huw Castle.

  Maldwyn shook his shoulders dismissively. ‘She met some chap she danced with after the contest. I’ve hardly seen her. She’s been out with him every spare moment since.’

  Madge and Delyth looked at him for a sign of dismay but he showed none. ‘Fancy a cup of tea?’ he asked.

  ‘We’re meeting Alice in a while.’

  ‘Great. The more the merrier. Envied I’ll be, escorting three pretty girls.’

  Delyth held back and allowed Madge to walk with Maldwyn. She didn’t want to make him feel pressured, but she hoped this was a softening of his unexplained indifference to her.

  When Alice caught up with them she was worried. She hadn’t heard from Eynon for several weeks. ‘That’s not unusual,’ she explained. ‘When I do get post I often get several at once.’

  ‘So why are you worried?’ Delyth asked.

  ‘I don’t know. His parents haven’t heard either and he writes to us all so regularly. This time it’s much longer than usual and, I don’t know, it’s different,’ she told them as they sat in Castle’s Café and tucked into Marged’s chips and Spam fritters.

  They tried to comfort her during the rest of her lunch break, but she still looked sad and afraid as they walked with her back to the sweet shop. Outside the shop stood a soldier, a kit bag beside him. He was chatting to Aunt Audrey but scanning the crowd as though waiting for someone. For a moment Alice didn’t take any notice. Then the soldier opened his arms and shouted, ‘Alice!’

  ‘It’s Eynon!’ she said in a disbelieving whisper. Then she ran.

  The two girls watched as they hugged each other, then turned away to see Maldwyn grinning as though he had engineered the surprise himself.

  ‘Nice to know there are some good moments in this damned war,’ he said.

  After spending some time alone locked in the sweet shop’s store-room, declaring their love, Eynon and Alice went arm in arm to see Marged and Huw and begin to spread the joyful news.

  This was cause for celebration. Neighbours spared some of their hoarded tins to make sure Eynon had a good welcome-home party, the neighbours in Sidney Street joining in. Huw and Bleddyn went out for a few flagons of ale and, happiness being the special ingredient, it was a success. No one asked when he was going back, not even Alice. She didn’t want to think about saying goodbye; she had to make sure Eynon enjoyed this first day without a thought for the tomorrow which would come all too soon.

  When the family had gathered and the talking and laughter was threatening to buckle the walls, Eynon asked for quiet and handed Alice a folded piece of paper. It was a special licence. They were to marry in ten days’ time. ‘A couple of days after that I have to go back,’ he said, trying to sound cheerful. ‘Just for a while, till me and Montgomery have got this Rommel bloke on the run, and Hitler’s been put in his place.’

  ‘Back to Africa?’ Huw asked.

  ‘Of course, our dad. They can’t manage without me just yet.’

  Alice asked Eynon to go with him to tell her father, but sadly there was no response to add to their joy.

  * * *

  When Delyth and Madge heard about Eirlys’s plans for moonlight dancing as a finale to the summer entertainments, they were determined to take part. Accommodation was still difficult to find in the overcrowded seaside town, but a word with Marged and they were offered a night and a breakfast in a house in Sidney Street, a few doors away from her home.

  ‘Nothing special, mind,’ she warned, ‘but you’ll be comfortable, and if the breakfast isn’t enough come to us and we’ll fill you up with toast, right?’

  ‘Now all we have to do is tell our parents,’ Delyth sighed. ‘Although I don’t suppose Uncle Trev will be anything but pleased at the news of me being out all night,’ she emphasised meaningfully.

  ‘You mean — they don’t, do they?’ Madge gasped.

  ‘Course they do. So if I get him on my side Mam’s bound to say yes. Then you can tell your mam and it’s all sorted.’

  * * *

  Eirlys was still resting for much of the day. One morning, as Ken was leaving, she asked for his help.

  ‘Can you go and see Mr Gifford, please, Ken? He and Mr Johnston will need to know that the arrangements for the rest of the summer entertainments are more or less in place.’ She held up her notebook, in which she had written everything needed for the main events and several smaller ones. ‘Most of it is typed out and on his desk but the last-minute details are here. Phone numbers and so on.’

  ‘I thought the beauty contest was supposed to have been the last big event?’

  ‘No, we hope the Dancing by Moonlight will be as big a draw as the beauty contest, if the weather holds. And there’s the final parade, of course.’ He looked doubtful and she added, ‘It helps the town; bringing more visitors helps everyone. And with the weather holding out we’d be crazy not to make what we can.’

  ‘We don’t want to be crazy, do we?’ he muttered.

  ‘Please, Ken.’

  ‘I suppose I’ll have to take it,’ he said, picking up her notebook. ‘It’ll mean catching a later train.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She watched him put the book in his pocket and said, ‘Don’t lose it, and can you bring it back today so I can check what’s happening? I’ll be back working normal hours next week and I don’t want to forget something.’

  ‘Full-time? I thought the doctor said —’

  ‘The doctor said I have to rest, not spend the next six weeks in bed!’ She laughed to hide her irritation. He really hated her to be so involved with the summer entertainments. It was a very important job and took so much of her time and energy, time she knew he felt should be spent looking after him, as a proper wife should. She knew he was as unhappy as she, but wasn’t convinced that he would be any happier if she were at home, being a full-time wife. And as he was away for so much of the time, she couldn’t imagine that that would ever be enough for her.

  Ken went to the office, where he found Mr Gifford and Mr Johnston looking thoroughly harassed. There were members of staff standing patiently in a queue holding papers on which they needed a decision, a group of women asking them to help them decide where they should send money they had collected. The phone was ringing; Mr Johnston picked it up and dropped it back on its rest.

  ‘Talk to the WVS, they’re the ones to help,’ Mr Gifford was saying as he tried to coax the women out of his office. ‘O
h, Ken, come in. I hope you’ve come to tell me Eirlys is coming back? I’m getting desperate managing without her. It’s amazing how much she does. All the men are being called up as soon as they’re useful. The women too. Mr Johnston and I didn’t leave until nine o’clock last night, the third time in ten days.’

  Ken was about to tell him that Eirlys would be back on Monday, but during the man’s diatribe on the troubles brought upon him by the war he changed his mind. This wasn’t the place for her to be, he thought in a moment of genuine concern for her. She was expecting a child and she shouldn’t have to deal with chaos like this. ‘No, I’m sorry, Mr Gifford, but Eirlys asked me to pass on the details of the remaining events. She won’t be returning to work, on doctor’s advice,’ he added firmly.

  He handed over the notebook and walked away from the man’s crestfallen face without a qualm.

  He went back to the house and told Eirlys what he had done. ‘It’s for the best, Eirlys,’ he said, avoiding looking at her. ‘I’ve spoken to the doctor and he agrees; this job of yours is something two men would normally do, and with extra help too. And there’s you risking our baby and managing on your own.’

  ‘That isn’t true. I have several assistants, and besides Mr Gifford and Mr Johnston are really in charge of it all. The responsibility is with them. All I wanted to do was put the office in order for them after a busy few months.’

  ‘Well they’ll have to sort it out between them; you are staying home.’

  ‘The doctor said that, did he?’

  Ken didn’t reply. He turned away, collected his suitcase, which was packed ready for his departure, and after a brief nod he left.

  Eirlys lay there for a while then got up and went out to telephone the doctor. He called later that day and declared her fit and well. When she suggested returning to work he looked a bit doubtful, but guessed that with the season almost over she was disappointed not to see it through. He made her promise to take things easy but assured her that a few hours only for no more than another week would do no harm. ‘Young Stanley and Harold will help you, I’m sure, and even little Percival can do something.’

  ‘And Dadda. He’s very good and does all the heavy chores.’

  ‘I gather that the entertainments are almost over, so things should coast along gently for a few more weeks, but you really will have to think of retiring. I don’t usually recommend ladies working so late in their pregnancies, although in your case I think you’d be more stressed if you gave up with the job unfinished. A few hours only and for one more week. All right?’

  ‘Yes,’ she promised sadly. ‘I’ll have to stop and become a housewife and mother, won’t I?’

  ‘You are happy about this baby. Eirlys? Most women can’t wait to give up on work and enjoy motherhood.’

  ‘I want this baby very much, doctor, but that doesn’t mean I’ll be glad to finish working. I love my job, particularly now when I’ve been given so much responsibility. I just wish I didn’t have to leave.’

  ‘You’ve worked hard for the summer’s activities, haven’t you?’

  She nodded. ‘I’d, like to have seen it through. It isn’t that I don’t want this baby, but if it could wait just a few more weeks before taking all my attention I’d welcome it even more. Does that sound dreadful, doctor? Wanting to keep my job?’

  ‘Not at all, my dear.’ He could see how disappointed she was to have to give it up. ‘I shouldn’t say this, I suppose, but do you have to? If you can manage — and you tell me you get plenty of help from the boys and your father — you might be able to carry on. It’s only a few weeks to finish the season. As long as you’re sensible I think it would be a pity for you to have to hand over to someone else. For them to take the credit,’ he added with a smile. ‘Shall I leave it to you? You’re a sensible young lady and as long as you promise to visit me regularly and not do anything to put yourself or the baby at risk.’

  ‘Some women manage to work and bring up a baby, don’t they?’ she said, sensing an ally.

  ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t say this either, but if you make good provision for the care of your child during the hours you work I see no reason for you to be a stay-at-home mother. My wife works and she’s managed three children successfully.’

  Eirlys’s eyes were bright as she said, ‘You’re a very modern thinker, aren’t you?’

  ‘For a boring old doctor, you mean?’

  She laughed. ‘Thank you. Thank you very much.’

  The boys came home for lunch and she prepared an omelette with dried egg powder, served with Percival’s favourite baked beans and tomato sauce, then after Stanley had helped her wash up she went to the office to see her boss. It was after one o’clock and as she had guessed he was still there, intending to work through his lunch hour.

  He was clearly relieved to hear that Ken had been wrong and Eirlys would be back in her office the following Monday.

  ‘Your notes were thorough, but any event will be more successful with you at the helm,’ he smiled.

  ‘You won’t be able to keep my job for me while I take leave and have the baby,’ she said sorrowfully. ‘It will probably mean being away from work for a couple of months. So shall I prepare an advertisement for my replacement?’

  ‘A couple of months, you say?’ Mr Gifford said thoughtfully. ‘Give me time to think about it, will you? The winter is less hectic and if you could be back before, say, March, not full-time, perhaps four days, we might manage until then with a temporary person.’

  Eirlys was so excited as she left the office, she felt slightly sick. She patted her swollen stomach and told the baby, ‘You’d better be a good baby, or we’ll have a problem, you and I.’

  She went to the gift shop where she knew Hannah was working and asked if she knew anyone who would be prepared to look after a baby for four days a week.

  ‘Your baby, d’you mean?’ Hannah asked.

  ‘My baby. Hannah, I have a feeling I will be bringing this baby up alone and that means I’ll have to work. I don’t suppose you’d consider it, would you?’

  She felt she had to explain to Hannah what she’d said and told her she suspected her husband of indifference if not more. ‘There might even be another woman,’ she admitted sadly. ‘I don’t know what went wrong but we’ve been drifting further and further apart. When Ken realised that we didn’t have any privacy, sharing the house with Dadda and the three boys, he became so irritable. Most of the time he hasn’t any patience with Stanley. Harold and Percival, and the fact we never have a moment alone doesn’t help. They even knocked the bedroom door and walked straight in until I explained. It’s all gone wrong. As soon as he gets home he can’t wait to get away again.’

  ‘And you?’ Hannah asked softly.

  ‘If I’m honest, I can’t wait for him to go.’

  ‘I’ll look after the baby, for a while at least. But I don’t want you to think I’m taking sides. I think you should continue to work, not with the intention of driving Ken away, but to give you a chance to see which is the most important, the baby and Ken, or work.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Eirlys said tearfully, unaware of Hannah’s gentle criticism.

  When Ken came home a few days later Eirlys was out, at work.

  ‘Where have you been?’ he demanded when she came through the door.

  In her first words, closely following ‘Hello,’ she asked him to move out.

  ‘No,’ he said calmly. ‘I won’t give up on our marriage even if you will.’

  ‘Then I’ll go.’

  ‘What, and leave your father to cope? Remember last time, when he got into such debt it took you months to clear it? And the boys, can you leave them? Haven’t they had enough to cope with in their young lives?’

  ‘Since when did you care?’

  ‘I care. I care for my child too and I want to be here to look after him.’

  ‘The point is you never are here.’

  ‘But you knew about my job when you married me.’

  ‘It i
sn’t your job keeping you away, not all the time. There’s someone more important than me or your child, isn’t there?’ She stood in the hallway, never having moved more than two steps into the house. She was still wearing her coat and she looked up at him, unblinking, accusing him.

  Ken was about to agree and tell Eirlys the truth, but her swollen stomach reminded him of what was at stake. ‘No, Eirlys. I love you.’

  ‘Love? How can you even use the word? Love is trust, and loyalty.’

  ‘And support!’ he added. ‘And understanding. When did you give me any of that?’

  ‘So it’s all my fault, is that what you’re saying, that I ruined our maniage?’

  ‘What marriage? If we go to the pictures we have to take the boys, if I suggest a walk, some time on our own, you invite them along. We sit here in the evenings and hope for some time to talk, but your father is always the last to go to bed. And we speak in whispers, afraid of waking the boys.’

  All the resentment poured out of him, but Eirlys didn’t hear what he was saying; she heard only the explosion of excuses, justification for destroying what they’d had. Anger and fear blocked her ears to the truth.

  ‘I work hard.’ She was outraged by his words. ‘I do my best.’

  ‘Not for me you don’t!’

  She turned and left the house, slamming the door behind her. She didn’t care about the boys needing their meal, or whether or not they had heard the argument. She had to get away.

  * * *

  The following day Janet left with a small group of girls who, like her, had volunteered for overseas posting and were going to start their initial Army training to join the Naafi Expeditionary Forces Institute. She hoped the training would be as harsh as she’d been told to expect: she needed to obliterate all feeling. She also hoped she would be sent to the furthest possible point from South Wales.

  Eight

  The wedding of Eynon Castle and Alice Potter was better than some wartime weddings, but not by much. The fact that the Castles owned the seaside café and a fish-and-chip restaurant meant they had a place to hold the reception and a licence to cater for the guests. The venue was automatically the café above the sands, where Marged and Huw, helped by other members of the family, were able to seat thirty people or provide a buffet for more. To seat them seemed more proper, both from convention and because with food so scarce most would appreciate a good meal. For the evening party the more spacious church hall had been booked.