Holidays at Home Omnibus

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

  The three Love brothers were walking to the beach for an evening stroll, Stanley and Harold escaping to avoid being asked to help on Uncle Morgan’s allotment. When they saw the group from Castle’s, they volunteered to help carry the collection of empty tins and the bundle of washing. Thankfully, Marged agreed.

  Percival, who was ten years old, took Marged’s hand. He was still in need of mothering. The boys’ mother had died in a London air raid and Morgan Price’s wife, Annie, was also dead, so although Eirlys did what she could, they welcomed the attention of an older woman who would talk to them in the affectionate tones of a grandmother or aunt, although in fact they had experienced little of that luxury until they had come to St David’s Well.

  Stanley walked beside the lively Myrtle and when they reached Sidney Street and he relinquished his burdens, he said, ‘Fancy coming to the pictures with us tomorrow? Saturday morning pictures is for kids, but we could go, just for a laugh.’

  Myrtle was so surprised at the unexpected invitation — her first from a boy — that she became flustered, one second wanting to go, the next wanting to run away and hide. She hid her embarrassment behind a haughty laugh.

  ‘Me go to the children’s matinee? I’m far too old. Look at me. Long as a beanstalk. I’d never pass for fourteen!’

  ‘Wearing them black stockings and with your hair all over the place like it usually is, you could pass for twelve, no trouble.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think so. I’m almost sixteen, mind.’ she said with her regular distortion of the truth.

  ‘I’m too old, too,’ he retorted huffily. ‘Just crouch down as we go in and I’ll hide you. In that crush who’s going to notice us? Who’d care, so long as we paid our sixpence?’

  He smiled at her then, his eyes seeming to melt into her own in a rather delightful way. Perhaps it would be nice to go out with him one day. He didn’t look like one of the kids anymore. At that moment she recognized not the familiar boy, but a young man, and the cheeky remark she was about to impart didn’t leave her lips.

  ‘Sorry, Stanley,’ she said in a softer manner. ‘I couldn’t go with you anyway. I have to help over the beach. Saturday’s one of our busiest days, remember, with the town full of day trippers.’ She hesitated a moment, her hand on the door through which the others had disappeared. ‘You can come and help if you want to. No fooling about mind, the Castles haven’t got time to bother with idle time-wasters. It’s work or nothing, right?’

  ‘Come on in. Myrtle,‘ Wilf called. ‘You too, Stanley, Harold and Percival. There’s a drink of pop here and a couple of Welshcakes going begging.’

  Giving an exaggerated sigh. Stanley said. ‘Work it is then. About half past eight?’

  ‘Can I have one without currants. Uncle Wilf?’ Percival wailed. ‘Them currants bover me.’

  Marged, thinking of how few currants and sultanas the Welshcakes now contained, knew that wouldn’t be a difficult task.

  Maude was sitting in the corner of the big couch and she beckoned to Myrtle. ‘What did he want?’ she asked, gesturing to Stanley who was reaching for one of the flat, spicy cakes being offered by Marged.

  ‘Invited me to the pictures, he did. You know, the kids’ programme in the morning, but I told him I’ll be working.’

  ‘Cheek. As if you’d bother with someone like him.’

  ‘He’s nice enough. He’s coming to help us on the sands tomorrow. It’s your day off, so are you coming?’

  ‘Only if you get rid of him!’

  ‘He won’t bother you. I expect Uncle Huw will put him on the hoopla stall. Uncle Huw’ll have to do it himself if he doesn’t come. We’re terrible short of help.’

  ‘And you aren’t going to the pictures with him later?’

  ‘The grown-up pictures?’ she joked. ‘Of course not, Maude. By the time we’ve cleared up it’ll be too late! Pity, mind. I’d have liked to go with him. He’s nice.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Myrtle. He’s not from round here, remember,’ she said warningly. ‘We don’t know anything about him.’

  ‘Enough to know that I like him.’

  ‘You’re too young to be thinking about boys. Just look at yourself. You’re only fifteen and that’s a child!’

  Myrtle went to her bedroom and looked at her reflection in the wardrobe mirror. She pulled her long hair back and piled it on top of her head, she pouted her lips and bent her head to glance upward in what she imagined was a sultry expression. Then she stepped back and pulled a face. She pulled off the hated black woollen stockings that Audrey insisted she wore until the end of the month, and hid them in the wardrobe, intending to throw them later into the bag of rags intended for the scrap collection. She looked down at her skinny legs, as white as bones in the butcher’s shop.

  Taking a brush, she pulled it through her untidy mane of dark-brown hair and with scissors, cut a good two inches off the ends, shaping it into a curve instead of the straight line that had made it easier to plait. Biting her lips and slapping her cheeks to redden them, she wondered how soon she might dare to try a lipstick, the faintest pink, no more, but she determined that if Stanley or any other boy were to ask her out again, it wouldn’t be to a picture show for the under fourteens.

  She went back downstairs in some trepidation, waiting for the gasps of horror, but Aunt Audrey came up to her, hugged her and told her she looked lovely.

  ‘If you like, we can arrange for a good hairdresser to cut it for you, as a late birthday present.’

  ‘No makeup, mind,’ Marged added sharply. ‘You’re too young.’

  ‘I hates makeup. Too much and you look like someone different,’ Harold said.

  Marged guessed he was thinking about their mother, who had dressed to attract men and had left her children on their own whilst she’d go out on the streets to find them.

  Myrtle looked at Stanley and he smiled as though they were already sharing secrets. Perhaps not lipstick just yet. The haircut and saying goodbye to those black stockings were enough for the moment. The invitation from Stanley, although refused, had made her aware of a change in her, a restlessness, a hint of something exciting about to happen. Childhood was over. Free and easy innocent delights like riding down hills on her bike with her feet off the pedals would be a delight no more. The look in Stanley’s eyes hinted at pleasures of a different kind.

  Then Maude spoilt it as she whispered, ‘Be careful, Myrtle. you don’t want to make a fool of yourself with the likes of Stanley Love, do you?’

  When the three boys were leaving, having helped clear away the surplus food Marged had brought home, it was Maude who offered to see them to the door.

  ‘Don’t bother to come to the beach tomorrow,‘ she whispered to Stanley. ‘We’ve more than enough people hanging around as it is, thank you.’

  ‘Why not? I was looking forward to it. I’ll work hard and I don’t want no money. It’s nice to get away from my brothers for a while and they’ll be happy enough with Uncle Morgan on his allotment.’ He deliberately stood aside and beckoned to Myrtle who was standing watching them. ‘Go on. Myrtle. say I can come.’

  ‘Maude said you weren’t to come.’ Myrtle admitted.

  ‘Oh, I see. Maude says what suits her and you have to agree.’

  Myrtle looked back at her sister, who had moved away and was watching her through the open door of the living room. There was little chance of Maude complaining once Stanley was put to work, and she knew Uncle Huw and Auntie Marged would be grateful for an extra helper. ‘All right, then. Come at half eight and talk to Uncle Huw.’ She closed the door and, to avoid an immediate confrontation with her sister, ran past her and went to the kitchen to help Marged prepare their supper. She was unable to suppress a smile at her small victory.

  * * *

  When it was time for the boys from the agricultural college to leave Bernard’s smallholding, now with its extra fields, he negotiated with their tutor and the ministry for them to stay another couple of weeks and help him build a greenhouse
against what had once been the wall of the orchard. The trees had become too old to produce a worthwhile crop so they had been removed and the area cultivated and was now used for smaller produce like beetroot and carrots and radishes.

  As he was marking out the area before preparing the footings and building the low wall, Bernard noticed that the rhubarb was ready for its first picking under its protection of a bucket filled with straw. He asked Myrtle to gather some and take it to Ronnie Castle’s stall in the market. He dropped her and the two boxes of rhubarb off at the entrance to the market, and she carried one to Ronnie and went back for the second.

  Ronnie was pleased with the colourful sticks of fruit. He would have no trouble selling them, in fact, before Myrtle had returned with her second armful, there was already a queue forming with women dreaming of a fresh, nutritious treat for their families.

  ‘Go and tell our Beth to give you a cup of tea, Myrtle. I’ll pay for it later,’ Ronnie said. ‘I appreciate Mr Gregory thinking of me when he had this to sell.’ He put the paper showing the amount he owed into his folder to be settled at the end of the month. ‘I’ll call at the weekend for some duck eggs and some bundles of firewood, if he has any.’

  Myrtle made a note of the transaction and Ronnie’s Saturday requirements, then went to the market café to see Ronnie’s sister to beg that cup of tea.

  Beth was packing up to close the café but when she saw Myrtle, she willingly provided her with a hot cup of tea and a couple of leftover sandwiches. Myrtle was skinny but her appetite matched that of Beth’s brother Ronnie.

  ‘I asked Stanley to help on the beach whenever he’s free, Beth. He offered to help on the stalls. That’s all right, isn’t it?’

  ‘Of course, why shouldn’t it be? Mam and Dad are pretty desperate these days and he’s the right type, full of banter that pleases the customers, and I’m sure he’ll work hard.’

  ‘Maude doesn’t think I should.’

  ‘Because he’s a boy and you’re a pretty girl,’ Beth teased. ‘You and Maude are so close she’s bound to be a bit jealous of anyone who tries to take you away from her.’

  Blushing furiously, Myrtle said, ‘Maude, jealous? That’s a laugh. Stanley’s just a kid!’ Her outrage and the colour in her cheeks made Beth regret her teasing. It seemed that the time for teasing was over. Stanley had awoken something in Myrtle that was changing her from a gangly schoolgirl into a young woman. Impulsively, she hugged the embarrassed girl and said. ‘Lucky he’ll be, if he has you for a girlfriend, Myrtle.’

  ‘He’s just a kid,’ Myrtle repeated, before hiding her face in a huge bite from a doughnut that Beth had placed before her.

  * * *

  The weather that weekend was not good and a fine drizzle kept people off the beach, and instead they crowded the shops and cafés. Stanley hung about on the empty sands for the few enthusiasts who insisted on riding the swingboats in the rain, puzzled by their determination to laugh and defy the steady, cold downpour that continued for most of the day. He kept up what Huw called his cheeky chat when there were any girls about, flirting and making them laugh, but at heart he was disappointed. Although Myrtle was working in the café above the beach, with Marged and Huw and her sister Maude, she hadn’t once stopped to talk to him.

  The rain increased and was coming down in sheets, and when Huw came to close up at three o’clock he didn’t pretend to hide his relief. ‘Thank Gawd fer that! I’m perishing cold and perishing fed up, Mr Castle.’

  ‘Myrtle said you wanted to go to the pictures,’ Huw said as he started dragging the wooden boards over to close the stall. ‘Just give me a hand with this, then if you go up to the café, Myrtle will give you a cup of tea and a bite to eat and you can pack it in for the day.’

  Encouraged by the promise of food and a meeting with Myrtle, Stanley hastily closed down the stalls and rides and ran up the metal steps leading from the beach to the café on the cliff path.

  The café smelled strongly of wet clothing and everywhere was damp. The windows were steamed up, coats were spread hopefully around chairs to drip-dry before being put back on. The few remaining customers sat in bedraggled heaps, slumped on the tables hugging a cup of tea, trying to drag out the drinking of it as an excuse to stay in the dry that little bit longer. The floor was puddled by the passage of dozens of day trippers, many of whom had come in coaches, hoping for a day on the sand and who had been driven to the café to find shelter until it was time to leave.

  Many of them had a long wait before their bus came to take them home. Most of those who had come by public transport had already left, some still queuing at the bus stops or the railway station, standing in soggy groups, coats held out over their heads and sharing with each other their gloomy opinion of the weather.

  Stanley bounded in and went to where Myrtle was wiping down the front of the counter and polishing the glass with a dry cloth.

  ‘I’ll do that,’ he offered, taking the bowl of water and the cloths from her. ‘You go and find me the plate of food Mr Castle promised me, is it?’

  Myrtle laughed. ‘Is it?’ she teased. ‘Stanley, half the time you’re Welsh and half the time you’re a Londoner.’

  ‘A mongrel, that’s what I am. Fancy coming to the pictures with a mongrel, do you?’ He turned to call to Marged. ‘All right if Myrtle and me goes to the pictures, Mrs C?’

  ‘Oh, Myrtle! You promised to help me finish that sock I’m knitting,’ Maude said at once. ‘You know I can’t remember how to turn the heel.’

  Seeing Myrtle’s disappointment, Marged said. ‘Bring it down to me and I’ll help you, Maude. It’ll be a nice change for Myrtle to go with Stanley and he’ll look after her, won’t you, Stanley?’

  Maude turned away to hide the anger she felt. Myrtle had promised they’d stay in and finish the socks they were knitting for the airforce parcels.

  ‘Thanks, Auntie Marged,’ Myrtle said. ‘It’s one of Auntie Audrey’s nights for collecting national savings or she’d help.’

  She knew she was blushing again. Silly really, it wasn’t like a proper date. It was just Stanley going with her to the pictures, but it was exciting to be going with a boy for the first time. Stanley might be only fourteen but he was tall and quite handsome. Her mind wandered into thinking about the back row and perhaps a stolen kiss or two, and her blush deepened as she noticed Huw staring at her and giving her a wide, knowing wink.

  At the cinema, once they were settled into their seats, she didn’t find it easy to relax, she felt oddly aware of Stanley close beside her, shouting and laughing with the rest.

  Self-conscious, trying to hide her discomfort, she laughed when he laughed, groaned when he groaned but was unable to become involved in the plot; her mind was in a tangle of unrecognizable emotions that made thought difficult. She was relieved when it was time for them to leave.

  The chip-shop black out restrictions had forced the proprietor to add an entrance which was a wooden passage with a corner half way to prevent light escaping, so it was difficult to see whether it was open and if so, whether there was a queue waiting to be served. Stanley took her hand and pulled her inside, insisting he was starved and couldn’t walk another yard without food. In the isolated darkness of the blacked out entrance, he leaned towards her and kissed her cheek. It wasn’t as embarrassing as she might have feared, this first hint of affection. Its simplicity, with no need to worry about the response was almost matter-of-fact, but it made the evening more special and her slight unease drifted away leaving her pleasantly content.

  He bought her a rissole and chips with some of the money Huw had paid him for his days work and they walked through the chilly, damp streets huffing as they tried to chew the hot snack, swapping burning chips from one side of their mouths to the other in their impatient hunger, discussing the film between scalding mouthfuls.

  The companionship gave Myrtle a frisson of happiness that was different from the usual pleasures. She enjoyed the hours they had shared and hoped, firstly that Stan
ley would invite her again, and secondly, that Maude wouldn’t find a way to spoil it if he did.

  Audrey and Wilf were sitting by the fire when Myrtle went in, the kettle singing its lullaby at the side of the fire. Maude was in an armchair and appeared to be sulking.

  As she rose and reached for the kettle to add boiling water to the cocoa cups standing ready on a tray, Audrey whispered to Myrtle, ‘Take no notice of Maude, she’s your sister, not your jailer, remember.’

  Maude heard the comment and left the room. Audrey went on, ‘We all have our own way to make and if we try to please too many people we please no one. My advice is do what’s best for you and let everyone else’s wishes fit around that.’ She reached for Wilf’s hand and added with a hint of sadness, ‘Sometime, sooner or later, you have to make a stand. And when we do, most of us regret not making it sooner.’

  Three

  The day was dull with a threat of rain. Flags on the stalls and around the cafés hung limp, windmills and funny hats adding a false gaiety. Bright dresses were half hidden by towels, brought for bathing, being draped around shoulders for warmth. Huw Castle and his brother Bleddyn, were checking the paintwork on the outside of their beach café. It was situated high above the sands with metal steps leading up to a doorway with another door opening out onto the cliff path. After the winter months, in spite of efforts made each autumn, the place always looked shabby. Heavy rain and freezing temperatures had worn the paint away and removed some of the putty holding the glass in place. Gusts of chill wind rattled the panes threatening disaster if the warning went unheeded.

  The café was already open for business but on this Saturday morning when the weather would discourage many prospective customers, they had decided to add to the work already done and treat the wood to another coat of paint before it became weakened to the point at which it would need replacing.