‘What d’you mean?’ She looked at him, loving him, the thought of losing him making her suspicions fade.
‘I want to end it now. There’s no point dragging it on.’ Not giving her a chance to respond, he turned and went out, bumping into a stricken Morgan in the doorway. Morgan stumbled into the living room, snatched the duster from Eirlys’s hand and said, ‘Go after him. Now!’
Hardly aware of seeing her father she ran out and, after a few more exchanges. Morgan saw them embrace. ‘Stubborn girl, just like her mother,’ he sighed. He went back to the allotment to give them time to talk.
‘I feel so insecure,’ Eirlys said to Ken.
‘I can’t help you. That’s something you’ll have to deal with yourself.’
‘I love you. I want us to stay together.’
‘Do you love me enough to forget Janet?’
She nodded. ‘It’s not much of a love if I can’t, is it?’
He put his arms around her and they walked back to the house as Morgan scuttled off through the back gate. He was whistling cheerfully.
* * *
Alice went to visit her father every week, but he seemed less and less able to talk to her. She realised that he no longer knew who she was. He would jump in alarm when she leaned over and kissed his cheek, and when she said. ‘Hello, Dadda,’ he would repeat the words several times, as though they had some pleasing memory for him.
When she had a visit from one of the staff to tell her he had died, she was enveloped in sadness. Regret for the years he had lost since the injury he had suffered in the ring made his death more poignant. That blow had restricted his life to bare existence, and turned him into a stranger.
Eirlys and the baby went with her to collect his belongings, a small suitcase and a sad little bundle which they tucked in Anthony’s pram. Insurance covered the funeral expenses and there was little more to do, no one to inform. She and Colin Potter had been alone in the world.
They went back to the two rooms Alice rented. Eirlys put the kettle on for tea while Alice unpacked the few belongings her father had left. ‘The clothes will go to the Red Cross, they’re all quite new. Besides those. I don’t suppose there’s much else. A few photographs, perhaps.’ She slowly opened the bundle wrapped in a piece of blanket, and revealed a metal box that was firmly locked. It had her name primed on a label across the top. ‘This was where he kept the newspaper cuttings of his fights. He was good when he was younger, but he went on too long, earning less and less, trying to make money for when he had to retire. I was always afraid for him, but everything was fine until the blow that ruined his life.’
‘Will you open it?’ Eirlys asked. ‘There might be photographs to treasure.’
There was no key. Awkwardly, with a knife, then pliers, and finally a chisel and a hammer, they broke the box open and found it filled with newspaper cuttings, as Alice had expected, but among the fading descriptions of his fights were notes. Five-pound notes, one-pound notes and ten-shilling notes. There were also some coins in the thick paper envelopes used by banks.
‘What on earth is all this?’ Alice gasped.
‘His life savings?’
‘I didn’t know he had any. Oh, Eirlys, we lived in an awful place, falling down it was. And all the time we could have moved to somewhere better.’
‘He wanted you to have something after his time, something to remember him kindly by.’
‘I do think of him kindly, he needn’t have deprived himself for me.’ She sobbed while Eirlys held her. She was sad for his lonely end, tucked away in the hospital, with only her weekly visits to break the monotony. ‘I could have looked after him better if I’d known about this, found a place where we’d have been happier instead of the filth and misery of those rooms.’
‘It was clearly his decision not to spend it. He loved you and this is his way of showing it,’ Eirlys said.
‘It’s enough to buy a house, and we lived in those awful rooms behind a derelict shop.’
After Eirlys had gone, Alice took the money and went to see Marged and Huw.
‘But that’s wonderful,’ Marged said, hugging her. ‘What a wonderful thing for him to do. He must have been such a loving father, planning for you to find this after he’d gone.’
Huw went with her to see the bank manager and the money was put in a deposit account, ‘Until my husband comes home,’ she told him with tightly crossed fingers. The money came to £200, 17s and 6d, an enormous amount. She didn’t keep any of it; the money was for her and Eynon, after the war had been won.
She began to shiver. She hadn’t heard from Eynon for several weeks, and with the death of her father she was even more afraid. If Eynon didn’t come home she was completely on her own in the world.
‘Tomorrow we’ll hear from Eynon and Johnny, I’m sure of it,’ Huw said, as though reading her thoughts. ‘What a surprise this will be for that husband of yours, eh? Take on the whole of Hitler’s army unaided he will, he’ll be in such a hurry to get back home to you.’
‘I’ll write and tell him tonight,’ Alice smiled. ‘Ask him to think about where he wants to live.’
‘Not too far from us I hope,’ Marged said affectionately.
* * *
Vera was tearful and touchy, picking arguments with her colleagues and being barely civil to the kindly Mrs Denver. Her time-keeping was the cause for repeated complaints, as she found it so hard to get up in the mornings, even though she was often in bed hours before Maldwyn and Mrs Denver. She was no longer keen to go to dances or the pictures as she once had.
Mrs Denver knew she was writing to the boyfriend, but no letters had arrived in reply. Even worse, the letters written by Vera were returned marked ADDRESSEE UNKNOWN. She grieved for the girl and wanted to help, but she knew she would be accused of interfering if she tried to persuade her to talk. She must wait till Vera came to her.
The winter frost had a tight grip on everything. Snow fell, to the delight of children and the dismay of everyone else. Buses were cancelled, delivery men came part of the way on foot, men were out gritting the roads every day: children played in the snow and ice, running back to homes where fires were kept burning with logs gathered from the fields and woods outside the town, and every day the women continued the never-ending search for extra food.
Many people walked into work but Bernard Gregory managed to get around on a sleigh pulled by his pony, selling firewood to eager customers. Vegetables stayed in ground that was hard and impenetrable. Everything seemed to slow down, until St David’s Well appeared to be sleeping.
Vera worried, keeping her fears to herself. The letters she had written to her lover had been returned. He had left her, and she was alone with the very thing her father had warned her of. She knew she was going to have a baby, and she had nowhere to go. Mrs Denver fussed over her and waited patiently to be told.
* * *
A letter came for Maldwyn, meanwhile, warning him to leave the town or his girlfriend would suffer. With little hope, he went to see the police. They assured him they would do anything they could, but at present, as he insisted he didn’t have either an enemy or even a girlfriend, they had nothing to go on and would simply await further developments.
Charlie Groves walked with him as he was leaving. ‘Call on me if you’re worried. I’ll do what I can.’
‘I’m afraid for Delyth, not myself. The best way you can help is to tell anyone who’s remotely interested that she’s not important to me. That way she might be left alone when whoever this is catches up with me.’
Twelve
By March, Vera could no longer pretend. Over breakfast, in hurried whispers when Mrs Denver was out of the room, Vera told Maldwyn she was expecting a baby.
‘You’re what?’ Maldwyn gasped. More quietly, he asked who the father was. She faced him with a stubborn expression and said the father wasn’t involved.
‘But he has to be. You can’t deal with this on your own.’
‘Gone, he is, and I doubt if I’l
l see him again. What shall I do? I can’t go home, our dad’ll kill me. He’s warned me and my sisters about this since we were old enough to understand. I knew more about temptation and having babies when I was ten than girls five years older. Fat lot of good it did me, eh?’
‘You have to tell someone. Won’t your mam help?’
She shook her head. ‘Mam isn’t really aware of what’s going on any more. No, there’ll be no help from the family, that’s for sure.’
‘Then you’ll have to find the father. A soldier, wasn’t he? There must be a way of reaching him. At least tell him, and give him the chance to do something. You can hardly blame him for clearing off if he isn’t told.’
‘The letters I wrote came back marked “Unknown”. I doubt if the name or the address he gave me were true. No, Maldwyn, unless I find someone willing to marry me, I’m in a serious mess.’
He looked at her, his dark brown eyes troubled. A few months ago he would have been delighted at the prospect of marrying Vera Matthews, although whether he’d have been noble enough to take on a child he wasn’t sure. Love didn’t treat him kindly. First it had been Vera who wasn’t interested; now his dreams were woven around Delyth but because of the threats he couldn’t even go near her. Vera mistook his sad expression for sympathy.
‘Tell Mrs Denver,’ he said after a thoughtful silence during which she had stared at him as though expecting him to miraculously solve her problem. ‘At least she’ll be able to advise you on what to do. Don’t you have to see a doctor or something?’
He was out of his depth with this. An only child with no experience of babies, he was trying to help, but knew she needed someone knowledgeable to guide her, help her to do the best for herself and the baby. He stood up, wanting to get away from Vera and her problems. ‘Mrs Denver is the one to tell, but if I can help, just ask.’
‘Marry me?’ she said, staring at him again.
He smiled nervously. ‘I have to go. Good luck.’
* * *
At work that afternoon, Maldwyn noticed Arnold Elliot measuring their shopfront. Leaving the newspaper he was cutting for wrapping flowers, he went outside and asked what the man was doing.
‘Your Mrs Chapel isn’t going to be here much longer and when she retires I’ll be buying the shop to extend mine,’ he repeated. ‘I just want her to know that I’m available with a good offer and not to ask anyone else.’
‘But what makes you think she’s going to retire? Your son isn’t helping to persuade her, is he?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘Course not! I couldn’t come in and see what you’ve done inside, could I?’
‘No, I’m sorry but you can’t. I don’t want Mrs Chapel worrying about what will happen after her time.’
‘Not well, is she?’ Arnold said pointedly.
‘What did he want?’ Mrs Chapel asked when he went back inside.
‘Oh, nothing, you know what he’s like, always talking about buying your shop. I told him you’ll be here for a long time yet. Now, what about a cuppa, eh?’
‘Maldwyn, I have to go out this afternoon. Will you be all right for an hour?’
‘Of course. Just let me bring up a few more things from the cellar in case we have a rush and I’ll be fine. Is there anything you want me to do while you’re out?’
‘No, dear. Just deal with customers and perhaps make a few more of those fir-cone arrangements. The season for them is finished but people will buy anything to add a bit of cheer, and apart from the daffs there isn’t much else yet.’
‘What about a few bunches of primroses and violets? Mrs Denver has told me where to find them growing wild. I thought I’d spend a few hours on Sunday picking them and bunching them to sell on Monday.’
‘That’ll be lovely. They always go well. I used to pick them for the Sunday school to give their children on Mothering Sunday, then they would take them home for their mothers; but I haven’t managed it the last few years.’
‘Perhaps I can do it for you?’
‘Yes. You and Delyth could have an afternoon out.’
‘Not Delyth, Mrs Chapel, just me. Delyth and I aren’t very close friends.’
‘Your mouth says you’re not, but your face tells a different story.’
‘Please, Mrs Chapel. If anyone asks, Delyth is not my girlfriend, right?’
‘If you say so,’ she replied with a frown. ‘Is anything wrong?’
‘Nothing wrong. I just wouldn’t like anyone to have the impression that Delyth is important to me.’
Mrs Chapel went off in a taxi and he heard her asking to be taken to the station. She didn’t return until after five thirty. Maldwyn was sitting in the back room waiting for her.
‘Maldwyn, you didn’t have to wait for me,’ she said, sitting down near him. ‘I’ve been into Cardiff to see my solicitor. Nothing serious—I just wanted him to reassure me about how I’ve written my will. I don’t want there to be any confusion or arguments about my wishes after I’m gone.’
Thinking she was a little depressed, he said, ‘Come on, Mrs Chapel, you’ve been ill but you’re coming along nicely. The doctor says once the summer comes you’ll be as fit as you ever were.’
‘Oh, I’m not worried about my health, dear. I just wanted to make sure everything will be done as I want. Now I can forget it and look forward to the summer, when we’ll have the window filled with flowers and more flowers and not a painted twig in sight!’
‘You are much better, and to celebrate I think I should treat you to lunch in a café tomorrow. What d’you say? You choose where we go and it’ll be my treat.’
She thought for a moment then said. ‘I’d like to go to the market café.’
‘Mrs C! There are some nicer places than the market café.’
‘You said I could choose. Well, it’s the market café, and that nice young Beth Castle as was, Beth Gregory she is now of course. When are you going to think of getting married, Maldwyn?’
‘Oh, not for a while. I haven’t met Miss Right yet,’ he joked, thinking of Delyth but unable to say so.
She looked at him shrewdly but said nothing.
The following day they closed the shop at twelve forty-five, fifteen minutes early, and walked to the market, where Beth found them a table and took their order. ‘Vegetable soup and bread?’ Maldwyn protested. ‘Is that all you want?’ He looked at the menu written on a blackboard and smiled. ‘There isn’t much else, is there? Rissoles, sausages, boiled potatoes and cold slice—that’ll be luncheon meat, and that’s more of a mystery than rissoles,’ he whispered. The soup was warming and quite tasty, an excess of pepper making up for the limited ingredients.
Mrs Chapel looked around her at the groups of gossiping women. People passed and waved at her and she smiled back, happy to be there. ‘I like this town,’ she said. ‘Do you?’
‘I can’t remember being happier than since I came here to work.’ He looked at her and said, ‘I did think of going back to Bryn Teg. There’s an empty shop and I thought of starting my own business, but I gave up on the idea. I couldn’t leave St David’s Well.’
‘Your own shop? Rich, are you? I’m obviously paying you too much,’ she joked.
‘My stepmother offered to help, and with a loan from the bank—’
‘But you prefer living here, in St David’s Well.’
‘I don’t think I’ll ever move from here, whatever happens.’
‘Good. Because after my days, the shop will be yours. Will you keep the name Chapel’s Flowers?’
‘What did you say?’
‘I changed my will weeks ago. I knew the business would be in good hands. Yesterday I went to talk to my solicitor about my decision. I didn’t want there to be any doubts about my state of mind or anything else. He assures me that everything is secure. The shop will be yours.’
‘What about your sister’s boy?’
‘Gabriel hasn’t shown any interest. In fact he hardly ever works, not legally anyway. He always seems to have money but there�
��s no explanation of how he gets it. No, he isn’t interested, and you are. Maldwyn, I’ll be content if I know you’ll take it on.’
‘Thank you, but—’
‘No buts, dear. Let’s forget it until—well, let’s forget it shall we?’
‘Thank you,’ he said again, staring at her as though at a stranger.
‘You two look serious,’ Beth said, coming to remove their dishes. ‘Don’t tell me the meal was so bad you don’t know how to tell me!’
‘The meal was one I’ll never forget,’ Maldwyn said seriously.
Beth frowned at him in amusement. ‘That bad?’
Maldwyn stood up and slid the chair back for Mrs Chapel, and as they walked off Beth wondered if they had even heard her.
* * *
Delyth was approaching her nineteenth birthday. With Maldwyn avoiding her and her mother and stepfather barely aware of her existence, she thought seriously of joining the forces.
‘We’ll have to, sooner or later,’ she said to Madge. ‘The shop isn’t exactly essential to the war effort, is it?’
‘I wouldn’t mind coming with you. It’s a bit frightening though, not knowing where we’ll go or what we’ll have to do. What if were sent overseas?’
‘It can’t be far enough for me,’ Delyth said.
‘He hasn’t written then?’ Madge guessed her friend was thinking about Maldwyn.
‘He seemed so attracted, then without warning he pulled away from me and I haven’t heard a word since.’
‘Let’s go to St David’s Well. We can walk past the shop, or even go and see Vera at Mrs Denver’s. Then, if we accidentally bump into him, it will be up to him how he treats you. At least you’ll know for sure if he makes it clear he isn’t interested.’
‘Will you write to Charlie?’
Holidays at Home Omnibus Page 115