Holidays at Home Omnibus

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

  ‘Sensible and safe,‘ Myrtle replied emphatically.

  ‘I’ve been invited to go on a tour organized by Ken Ward,’ Shirley went on. ‘Factories mostly, but there are two concerts in army camps and one RAF camp and a fund-raising event in a church. I’ll be away for more than a week.’

  ‘You’ll do it?‘

  ‘Yes, I want to, but Mam and Bleddyn think I shouldn’t unless I have someone with me in case I need some help. Nice idea but it isn’t possible. Mam can’t come, they’re so busy trying to fit everything in at the beach, so if I do go I’ll have to manage on my own. I find it a bit frightening, but anyway, it isn’t until July and who knows what will happen by then?’

  ‘You’ll be playing leap frog in a few more months,’ Myrtle said encouragingly.

  ‘I’d be happy just to walk.’

  ‘I’d better go. To tell the truth, I’ve got a few hours off and I’m meeting Stanley and we’re looking for birds’ nests. I haven’t told Maude. She worries about me so much,’ she confided.

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t remember what time you left here.’ They shared a conspiratorial smile as Myrtle picked up her coat and left.

  Stanley was waiting at the corner of Brook Lane and they went through the fields to a large park where people sat in the May sunshine, and watched as children played games and dogs chased excitedly around them.

  ‘How’s Shirley?’ Stanley asked. ‘Pleased to see you, was she?’

  ‘Of course. Half-sisters we are.’

  ‘Some would be resentful, her dad scarpering off with your mother. You’re lucky she ain’t.’

  ‘She’s been on the wireless. Imagine that. Singing for the whole country. And now someone has asked her to join a group of artistes travelling around the country giving concerts for the troops and the like. She’s wonderful.’

  ‘I bet your Marged would think she was more wonderful if she could do something to help out on the beach! She’s Bleddyn’s stepdaughter now, and that makes her a part of the Castle family. That lot expect everyone to do their bit.’

  ‘She’s too important for that! She’ll be a famous singer one day, even more than she is now.’ She frowned and added, ‘Talking about doing their bit, Auntie Marged is upset with Auntie Audrey. Terrible short of help they are and Auntie Audrey told them she doesn’t want to do the housekeeping side of it anymore. Talk about a flap! Auntie Marged is having to advertise for help and that’s something they’d never have done before the war. Auntie Audrey has always dealt with the tablecloths and all that, besides helping with the cooking and running the sweet and rock shop.’

  They walked in the park, ambling around without any real purpose, and it was five o’clock when they decided to head back home. Stanley left her at the end of Sidney Street and stood watching as she let herself into Audrey and Wilf’s house. She popped back out and waved before closing the door and walking in, calling to let them know she was home.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Maude demanded. ‘Auntie Audrey’s been looking for you.’

  ‘I told you, I went to see Shirley.’

  ‘That’s what you said. That’s why Uncle Wilf went there to fetch you!’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Auntie Marged’s cut her hand that’s what, and they needed you to help in the café.’

  ‘I’ll go straight away, now this minute.’ Throwing off her coat, she rushed into the kitchen to find an apron and then go back out, but she was stopped before she reached the door. First Audrey came in, then Huw supporting a white-faced Marged, whose arm was thickly bandaged and in a sling.

  ‘Auntie Marged. what can I do to help?’

  ‘If you could go over to the café with Huw and help clear up, love, that would be wonderful. Sorry your afternoon off was spoilt.’

  ‘Forget about afternoons off! I’ll do anything you want me to.’ She looked at her sister. ‘Maude’ll help too, won’t you, Maude?’ Without any hesitation Maude stood up and both girls waited outside the door for Huw to take them in the van. At the top of the street, Myrtle saw Stanley talking to Ronnie Castle and his wife and baby girl and she ran to tell Ronnie about his mother’s accident and said to Stanley, ‘Fancy earning a few shillings helping clear up in the café?’ He joined them as Huw opened the van door after telling Ronnie briefly what had happened.

  Explanations were given as they drove through the town out to the sandy beach. Marged had left the café early and been cutting up old pillow cases to patch sheets. Impatiently, she had used a carving knife to cut open the seams. The knife had slipped and had cut her hand deep enough for it to need several stitches. A neighbour had cycled across to tell Huw.

  Myrtle explained her absence and made no secret of her meeting with Stanley. It was only Maude who disapproved, and she knew there was no need to hide it from the rest. The café had been hastily closed and the four of them tackled the cleaning with enthusiasm, anxious to get back to Marged.

  Once everything was clean and tidy, Stanley offered to go to the smallholding to tell Beth about her mother’s accident, and with nothing more to do, Myrtle went with him. When they got there, slightly out of breath after their walk, they saw Beth arm in arm with a tall, slim, rather handsome man. Walking behind them was Mr Gregory.

  Beth’s husband was in the casual, rather shabby clothes he wore when helping his father on the land, and Beth too was wearing ill-fitting, muddy trousers and a sloppy jumper. Mr Gregory looked even more untidy, his ancient corduroys stained and tucked into boots that had seen better days.

  ‘Gawd ’elp us, a fashion show!’ the cheeky Stanley called and the three turned and smiled.

  ‘It’s a bit late for a visit. Is something wrong?’ Beth asked at once.

  ‘Well a bit,’ Myrtle said. ‘Don’t panic, Beth, but your mam’s cut herself and she’s had to have stitches.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll go at once.’

  As she turned away, Myrtle said, ‘No, your mam said not to go, she’s all right and she’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Yeh, she’s all right but she’ll want to rest. The shock,’ Stanley explained airily. ‘And she wants to sit quiet and work out who’s going to do what over at the beach.’

  Peter asked questions about what had happened and agreed that it would be best for Beth to wait until the morning before disturbing her. ‘Stanley’s right, it’s rest she needs, not people crowding around and making her explain all over again what happened.’

  ‘When you going back?’ Stanley asked Peter.

  ‘Stanley! It’s more polite to ask how long he’s going to be home!’ Myrtle admonished.

  ‘I have five whole days, and I suppose your next question is, can I help over on the sands?’ Peter’s eyes glistened with amusement.

  ‘Well, if you’re offering, I bet Marged wouldn’t say no to a bit of a hand.’

  ‘Beth will be at the café all day and unless Dad has some thing important for me to do, I’ll come and do what I can.’ He tilted his head quizzically and Mr Gregory shook his head.

  ‘Nothing important son,’ he said. ‘You go and help, you’ll enjoy a day or so on the sands.’ He took off his cap and from the lining eased out a small notebook. ‘I have three deliveries tomorrow,’ he said, scratching his head with a stubby pencil. ‘but one of the college lads is coming to lend a hand. He’ll be here all day. There are more lettuce and radish to sow, and there’s an extra lot of runner beans to transplant against their sticks. They’re a bit late but they’ll catch up,’ he muttered as though to himself, his teeth clenching his pipe.

  ‘Tell Mam I’ll come in the evening to help clean.’ Beth promised. ‘So long as she rests.’

  ‘Fast asleep she’ll be.’ Myrtle said confidently.

  When she walked into the house in Sidney Street, she went in on tiptoe afraid of disturbing Marged, but she needn’t have bothered. Marged was in the kitchen, listening to the comedy hour on the wireless and ironing, struggling to fold the café’s tablecloths,
using her teeth to compensate for the lack of a left hand as she finished them, placing them carefully over the back of a chair. ‘There’s awkward it is using only one hand,‘ she said with a deep sigh.

  ‘Auntie Marged, I thought you’d be in bed,’ Myrtle scolded. ‘Or at least resting.’

  ‘Since she hurt herself, she’s even more energetic than usual.’ Maude called. She appeared, her hands and forearms covered with flour. ‘Shames us all she does. She’s got us all that busy, you wouldn’t believe. Making the mixture for Welshcakes I am, because Auntie Audrey isn’t going to do it anymore, and Uncle Huw’s gone to ask Mrs Denver if she’ll spare a couple of hours to help in the café. It’s a mad house.’ She shook her head in mock despair and told her sister that the fire needed more coal as it looked as though they were going to be up half the night.

  Somehow the café survived. Marged was there like the captain of a ship, refusing to stay home, standing with a permanent look of disapproval on her features as she watched the activities of the staff, complaining occasionally and tutting frequently. Peter Gregory found himself running the hoopla stall and at the same time taking money for rides on the swingboats. Customers that day had longer rides than usual as he simply couldn’t remember to time them.

  * * *

  Raising money for the many charities was something with which everyone was involved. The list of needy causes grew each month and most weeks saw either a concert or a dance or a sale of work advertising for people’s help. Concerts were popular and the halls were filled beyond sensible capacity, in complete disregard of fire regulations, as more and more people handed over their money and were herded in. At some concerts, professional entertainers came, but more often it was local people who stood on a stage and gave enthusiastic, if not talented performances.

  In a week during which she had no bookings, Shirley was feeling a little bored. Remembering Myrtle’s remarks about helping in the café and aware that her mother was at the fish and chip restaurant with Bleddyn, Shirley took her walking stick and caught the bus to the beach.

  The bus was crowded, passengers carried heavily laden bags filled with picnic requirements plus awkwardly held spades and buckets. She didn’t find it irritating, but instead was taken back to a childhood where, like these children, she was with her mother with no sign of her father. Not because he was fighting a war, or had been tragically killed. Far less honourably, he had been absent because he had left them to live with another woman.

  When Maude and Myrtle had been searching for a mythical brother they had found Hetty, who was now married to Bleddyn, and to her dismay she had learned that their father had been her father too. He had left her mother and herself, to live with their mother, which made them Shirley’s half-sisters.

  Any anger Shirley had felt was long gone and she liked having Maude and Myrtle call her their sister. So she was pleased when the first person to greet her when she went into the busy café was Myrtle.

  ‘Eating or helping?’ the lively Myrtle called out and Shirley said she could spare an hour if they needed her.

  ‘Lovely girl, will you sit at the till while I go back for more supplies?’ Huw asked at once. ‘Desperate we are, this crowd shows no sign of easing.’

  With Marged, Maude or Myrtle shouting out the totals, Shirley took the money and gave the change and a warm smile, staying almost until closing time.

  ‘I’ve enjoyed it,’ she told a grateful Marged and Huw. ‘It’ll be something to put in Freddy’s letter when I next write. But I wouldn’t like to do this every day — I’d be worn out,’ she admitted.

  She went home and once she was rested, decided that, if she was needed, she would do the same the following day. In fact, she spent most days for more than a week helping in the café. They usually gave her a sitting job, aware of the difficulty she had with standing for long periods.

  At the end of the week she wrote to Freddy. She told him of the almost party-like atmosphere the family managed to build, making their customers feel welcome for the short time they were there, even though they were very rushed and tired.

  ‘Teasing sometimes and making jokes — the same ones day after day I suspect, mind — adding a smile and a pleasant remark to almost everyone, admiring the children, sympathizing with those suffering sunburn. They are wonderful,’ she wrote. ‘Compared with what they do day after day, going on a stage and singing is a life of ease.’

  A few days later, Myrtle called in to see Marged and found her trying to write a letter. Being unable to hold the paper steady with her left hand was making it impossible to write neatly and she gladly accepted Myrtle’s offer to help her.

  Myrtle stayed, and when the letter was done she began totalling the amounts in Marged’s weekly accounts book. Marged was amazed at the girl’s efficient speed and accuracy. Her eyes darted up the columns and she had worked out the total before Marged was no more than halfway up, muttering the amounts as she went, pausing sometimes to tap with her fingers on the table. When Marged reached the total and added it over the amount Myrtle had already pencilled in, she smiled ruefully.

  ‘Where’s that little girl who came to us a few years ago unable to read or write, Myrtle?’

  ‘She grew up, thanks to you and Uncle Huw and Auntie Audrey.’

  While Marged’s hand healed, Myrtle continued to help with the bookkeeping and her neat figures filled the pages in a way that impressed Marged, Huw and Bleddyn.

  ‘She ought to go to night school and learn the job properly,’ Bleddyn said one evening after they had looked through the month’s accounts and checked Myrtle’s totals. Myrtle told Stanley what had been said and he nodded wisely in his wise old man manner. ‘Clever you are, Myrtle, an’ I think they’re right. You should get some proper learning.’

  Walking back from the cinema that evening, he reached for her hand as they crossed the road and didn’t let go when they reached the other side. It was pleasant; a mild feeling of belonging and a new sensation about which she wouldn’t tell Maude. A clumsy kiss on the cheek when they parted made her confident in their unexpected friendship, and when she was delivering the dreaded groceries a day later, she went to 78 Conroy Street after her deliveries were done, to see if he was free to go with her to help at the beach for the last couple of hours.

  The sound of a crying baby met her and she hesitated before knocking at the door. Perhaps it wasn’t a good time to call. She turned and retreated back up the path, but the sound of the door opening made her turn.

  Harold had seen her coming and he invited her inside, explaining, ‘That’s young Niblo yelling. Good an’ loud, ain’t ’e?’

  Stanley appeared carrying a very angry baby who was fighting against having a dummy stuck into his mouth. ‘Come on, Anthony, I’ve dipped it in the condensed milk for yer. Lovely that is, you lucky little fella.’

  Eirlys returned home shortly, so they set off on their bicycles; Myrtle still using the heavy carrier bike on which she had made her deliveries. They sped towards the beach, where they were in time to help close the café and clean everything away ready for the next day.

  ‘When are you going to pack up that delivery lark?’ Stanley asked. ‘You’re better use in the café, I’d have thought. Specially as that Auntie Audrey’s gone on strike.’

  ‘I suppose so, but it’s pocket money and I don’t earn much yet.’

  ‘Thought any more about evening classes?’

  ‘Hardly. The summer’s too busy to think about anything else but work. Perhaps, when they start in September. It’s a bit scary, mind, not having proper schooling.’

  ‘I might go and do something myself. English maybe, reading, writing, I enjoy that.’

  ‘And poetry?’ she teased.

  ‘Why not?’ he said. Then asked, ‘Have you seen the poem on the door of Castle’s café? It was Piper’s café when it was written there and now it’s hard to read. Your Auntie Marged told me what it said:

  Teas for trippers, donkeys and dippers

  Sunhat
s, hoopla and tides

  Piper’s kingdom, cloths of fresh gingham

  Fortunes, windmills and rides

  Good ain’t it?’

  * * *

  Myrtle was pleased that with the season underway and showing signs of developing into a busy one, she had been able to give up her morning work at the children’s home and work full-time on the beach. That week she told the grocer her days as a delivery girl were over.

  Huw had found a few young boys looking for temporary employment while they waited to be called into the forces. They were happy to enjoy a few months of relaxed, uninvolved employment during which they could forget the horrors to come.

  Stanley skived from the shop as often as he dared, complaining of bad headaches, and bad nights being disturbed by Eirlys and Ken’s baby son, and bad stomach aches and anything else he could describe as bad. Apart from one or two incidents when he saw customers who might recognize him and had been forced to hide, he was a reliable assistant on the rides and stalls, shouting to attract custom, flirting with the girls and giving cheek to the rest with a cheery grin that drove away any offence. Huw and Bleddyn were still undecided about whether to persuade him to leave the shop and work for them full-time, but aware that winter would mean unemployment and having to accept work he might not enjoy, they let things stay as they were, grateful when the boy could find an excuse to join them on the beach. They carefully avoided questions about why he wasn’t at work.

  For Stanley, part of the attraction was the fun of the crowds and the freedom of the work, but a greater part was working with Myrtle. For Myrtle too, her first thought on arriving at the café high above the sands was to look down to see whether Stanley had managed to wangle himself a day off from his employer to help. She would smile and wave when she saw him helping Bleddyn open up the rides and stalls, dragging away the heavy canvas and wooden shutters from the stalls, and unlocking the rides.