Holidays at Home Omnibus

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

  He was young enough to find the rides irresistible and as soon as they were unlocked, he would climb up the twisting steps and slide down the helter-skelter with a brief ‘Just testing’ as an excuse.

  The hours went fast, the café a popular venue for visitors and locals alike, but when Myrtle could look down to see Stanley, the day was always brighter. There was an air of fun about him and the way he flattered her with a look both startled and warmed her. She said nothing of this to Maude, knowing her sister would not welcome her thoughts about someone who might destroy their closeness.

  Despite her sister’s obvious disapproval, Myrtle did occasionally go out with Stanley, but his brothers were usually with them. It was rare for them to be alone and when they were, they did nothing but talk, sharing stories about their lives before they had arrived in St David’s Well. Hand in hand they would walk through the fields behind the town, or wander through the streets, stopping on occasions to sit in a café and drink tea, eat cakes and compare them unfavourably with those that were sold at Castle’s café.

  Myrtle dreamed of kisses, but her immaturity made her joke when Stanley tried, running away, laughing and afterwards imagining how it might have been.

  * * *

  Since her marriage to Wilf after more than thirty years of waiting, Audrey tried to feel free of involvement in the business, conscious of feeling a restlessness that was for the most part guilt. All she achieved was a simmering anger. Stifled for so many years, it had grown and was gradually replacing the guilt. For many years, she had done what the family had asked of her, putting aside her own dreams of a home and family of her own, accepting that her role was to support the rest. Living with her and Marged’s mother, Granny Piper, had made it impossible to think of rebellion. Moll Piper had been strong willed and Audrey was not. Although that was now changing.

  It was after the death of their mother that the relationship between Audrey and her sister changed. Audrey was finding it increasingly easy to say no; something that had been unimaginable in earlier years. Her life had been swallowed up by the seaside entertainment businesses and the demands of the family, until now, at last, she felt she was strong enough to find a life of her own: her and Wilf, enjoying what was left of their lives. She had been forced into believing that obedience to her mother was immutable and it had taken years for her to realize that obedience to a younger sister was not. It was this realization that had begun the change in her, a change that Wilf applauded.

  She would never be free of guilt. She knew that the freedom she sought would be less than perfect, that the feeling of letting her family down, of ignoring the promise she had made to her mother would never leave her. She would have to live with it, accept it as a part of the payment for escaping. It was particularly hard knowing she was letting them down at the beginning of the busiest months of the year, but somehow she found the strength to ignore Marged’s unsubtle hints.

  At odd moments, she imagined her mother staring at her with disapproval out of one of the photographs of her that were scattered around the house that had been hers. Now, the house was Audrey’s, even though she and Wilf shared it with Myrtle and Maude, and Ronnie and his family lived in the top flat. The house belonged to her and Wilf and the others were there because she wanted them to be. Yet there was still a feeling that she should be asking her mother’s permission for the few changes she had made.

  She heard the door open and called, ‘Wilf, dear? Is that you?’

  ‘It is, and I have the booking for the week in Devon. We go the week after next for seven whole days.’

  At once Audrey started gathering the laundry and put it into piles for the various stages of the washing day chores.

  ‘Now, dear, don’t fuss.’ He took hold of her hands. ‘All we have to do is tell Marged where to find the linen, and pack our cases. Don’t try to deal with every situation that might happen while we’re away or you’ll be exhausted before we get to the railway station. You have given warning that you will no longer be responsible for all this, so let it go, let them cope. It will do them good. Your Marged is always telling us how efficient she is, and Maude is eighteen, remember.’

  ‘You’re right, as usual, Wilf. Let’s go and see what we need to take and what we have to buy. We mustn’t forget the ration books if we expect to be fed.’ Chattering happily, they went upstairs and took the suitcases down to be dusted and filled.

  Wilf put an arm around her and sighed happily. ‘When we finally married, it was a new beginning and I thought I couldn’t be happier, but telling Marged you won’t be able to help with the housekeeping any longer was an even greater one. Today we’re starting the best days of our lives, you and me. Lucky man that I am.’ They kissed, then stood with their arms around each other for a very long time, remembering the years of disappointment, grateful for the final end to their unnecessary separation.

  * * *

  ‘She’s going away? Now? When the season is building up to its busiest weeks?’ Marged shouted. ‘What’s got into that sister of mine?’

  ‘Hang about, Marged,’ Huw shouted back. ‘Don’t shout at me, it’s Audrey and Wilf who’re leaving, not me!’

  ‘But she can’t!’

  ‘Oh, but she can. And stop shouting, woman!’

  ‘Sorry, Huw, but I don’t know what’s got into them.’

  ‘Don’t you think they might be trying to make up for all the past years? We’ve had thirty-one years together and they’ve only had two and a bit. Fifty-one she is. Time to start living before it’s too late. All those years they wanted to marry and you and your mother stopped them. I can’t forget that if you can.’ There was a glint in his eyes, a warning of disapproval.

  ‘You’re right. I shouldn’t begrudge them a week in Devon. I’ll go and tell them I’m pleased and wish them luck.’

  ‘Good on you.’ Huw allowed the anger to ease away, anger he always felt when Audrey’s late wedding was mentioned. At least Marged was trying to make up to her sister, even if she did need a lot of persuasion.

  Audrey opened the door to her and stepped back to allow her to enter. ‘You’ve heard then? About Wilf and me taking a holiday?’ There was aggression in her eyes as though prepared for confrontation, but her expression softened, just for a moment, as her sister spoke.

  ‘Huw just told me and I’m here to wish you both a good time and to ask if there’s anything you want me to do while you’re away.‘ Marged tried to relax her smile but failed. The words were honest and kindly meant but tension held back the warmth that should have been there. ‘Pleased I am that you’re taking a little break. Devon too, it sounds wonderful. I’m really glad.’

  ‘I expect Huw said that too and here you are repeating his words like a parrot and expecting me to believe they’re generously offered.’ Audrey’s face was rosy with simmering anger.

  ‘Audrey. What’s made you so bitter? What has brought all this on? You and Wilf, you’re all right, aren’t you? You can tell me if you have a problem.’

  ‘Wilf and I are fine. The only problem is the Castles.’

  ‘If you want to retire from helping with Castles, that’s fine. My only disappointment is your timing. If you’d only waited until the end of the season, or told us earlier and given us a chance to find people to help.’

  How could Audrey explain that it hadn’t been until a few weeks ago that she’d felt brave enough to make the decision? She stood there unable to reply and was surprised when Marged stretched out her arms and took hold of Audrey’s hands, pulling her reluctant sister towards her.

  ‘When you and Wilf married, you went on doing what you’ve always done. Why has everything changed now?’ To her alarm she saw tears fill her sister’s eyes. ‘Audrey?’

  ‘I’m tired. That’s all. Tired of doing the same thing, day after day, washing and ironing the tablecloths, boiling the tea towels. Doing the shopping and most of the cooking, and cleaning the house. There’s never time for Wilf and me.’ Her voice hardened as she went on: ‘Wel
l, all that’s going to change. Two years is all we’ve had and I want to make every minute from now on really special. I want us to have wonderful memories of our life together so when we’re old we can think back on it and forget how brief it was.’

  ‘Then I’m your friend as well as your sister and whatever you want me to do I’ll make my priority. I owe you and I promise to remember that.’ Cautiously they held each other, both doubtful about the possibility of such a promise but both hoping it would happen.

  Four

  Maude was beginning to feel neglected. She and Myrtle had always been very close. Losing their parents while they were so young and believing they were alone had made them closer than the normal ties between sisters. Now Myrtle was leaving her alone more and more frequently — and for that stupid Stanley Love.

  Evening after evening, when she came home from the factory she would face hours sitting alone in an empty house. With Audrey and Wilf in Devon the house rattled around her as she sat waiting for the sound of her sister’s key in the door. Even the wireless sounded different: hollow, distant, more as though she were eavesdropping on something she wasn’t entitled to share. Laughter and the delights of music were meant to be enjoyed with someone else. To look across at someone and see the same pleasure on a companion’s face was a large part of the enjoyment.

  A cup clattering on its saucer, the kettle being filled, a door squealing as it closed, all sounded excessively loud in the empty rooms. At the top of the house, Ronnie and Olive were separated from her by the extra staircase, in a world of their own far removed from the solitude of hers.

  She looked into a future where she would repeatedly glance across at an empty chair, the laughter dying before it reached her eyes, snuffed out by lack of joyful reciprocation. She was only eighteen but social skills eluded her. In the early years after their parents’ deaths, her mind had been filled with memories of happy times spent with them, but now, life in the children’s home overlaid those memories and saddened her.

  Years of not truly belonging anywhere or with anyone, except Myrtle; years of being a face in a sea of faces had made it difficult for her to respond to overtures of friendship. In the years following the death of their parents, life had been a rigid soulless routine, with no room for impromptu moments. Obedience had been the goal; life was considered successful if the rules were obeyed and nothing was done to disrupt the activities of others. Being ‘good’ was something at which she excelled.

  Yet, despite being brought up in identical circumstances, Myrtle had not been affected in the same way. She made friends wherever she went. The reason she wasn’t in touch with children from the home where much of her childhood had been spent, was her need to please her sister and disregard the years there, forget the kindnesses and the love they were shown. Maude only remembered the bad — she coped better if she had an excuse for her unhappiness.

  In the moments before sleep, when she thought about her life and dreamed of some time in the future when everything had magically changed and she was living it in a different way, she made excuses for her loneliness. She told herself that living the artificial life sharing a dormitory filled with other orphans had been the reason she had failed to develop the enviable skills of friendship. And now, the noisy, smelly factory gave little chance to converse. Being a newcomer had made it hard to break into the circle of long established friends. She wasn’t forceful enough and besides, she didn’t think she had anything to add to the lively chatter that went on around her, the girls shouting to make themselves heard above the machinery and the clanging of metal.

  You had to be confident to shout. Sometimes she thought she would try, but the idea of everyone turning and looking at her questioningly stamped out the idea before it was formed. How could she ever be a part of the crowd? Friendships were long established and there was no chink to allow her to slide into a group of laughing girls whose conversation travelled back and forward over experiences they had shared.

  If only the doctor would persuade those in authority that she needed fresh air, then she would work at the beach instead of a noisy, foul-smelling factory. Perhaps she would go to ask if Bleddyn had managed to see the doctor and speak on her behalf. Or maybe, if she went to see the doctor again herself, and exaggerated the pain she sometimes felt in her chest, he might relent and arrange for her to change her occupation.

  Without telling the family, she had re-applied for the Land Army, trying to convince them that she was well enough for some of the less energetic work, but a glance at her medical records had been followed by the expected shaking of heads.

  She looked out of the window. The day was gloomy, the clouds low and full of rain. The house was warm and she knew it was sensible to stay in, but suddenly she couldn’t. The house was mocking her in its emptiness, echoing around her, and it would be hours before she could expect to see Myrtle. Anger swelled up towards her sister. Myrtle was being unfair; she had been ill and deserved a little consideration.

  She reached for a raincoat and hat, picked up Uncle Wilf’s huge umbrella and, prepared for whatever the weather decided to throw at her, she set off. She had no particular goal in mind. She just needed to run away from the silence and the fear that her life might continue its lonely path until she was as old as Auntie Audrey. She wished she knew where to find her sister. She was sure to be with the irritating Stanley Love, who acted as though he were twenty, and his boring brothers would probably be with them. If she knew where they’d gone, she would try and find them. The company of the three boys was better than nothing.

  Filled with melancholy, she walked through the streets, indifferent to people pushing past her, ignoring them if they spoke, wrapped in her own thoughts, none of them happy. She tried to face the truth that she lacked the ability to make friends, and at that moment it was a serious disability to which she saw no end. Telling herself it was because she was more particular about whom she chose as a friend, she convinced herself for a while that one or two true friends were better than a host of acquaintances.

  Her mind drifted back to her childhood with Mam and Dad who loved her and a baby sister who needed her. It was a time grown more rosy in hindsight, a time when everything was perfect. Then, she trawled miserably through all that had happened to them since. Surely she deserved something more than this?

  She reminded herself how the staff in the home dealt with her periods of melancholy by telling her to remember and list the wonderful things in her life. There were wonderful things and the best had been their good fortune ending up as part of the generous and loving Castle family. She cheered up a little and began listing the good things in her life. It was a good thing to remember the best rather than the worst sometimes. They had been right about that.

  Although they had seen little of her at first, Hetty had relented her initial fury at her discovery that they were her errant husband’s children, and she now treated them kindly. They would never be close, but after believing they were alone in the world, having Hetty, Shirley and Bleddyn was greatly valued by Maude and Myrtle.

  These thoughts cheered her and she wanted to talk to Myrtle and tell her about her happier mood. But soon the rain began to fall, the air grew cold, she had no idea where to find her sister, and slowly melancholy settled once again.

  * * *

  Myrtle was out with Stanley, Harold and Percival Love. Eirlys had made them a picnic and with the two older boys carrying paper carriers containing all they could scrounge, they had set off for the small rocky inlet, hardly large enough to be called a beach, not far from the more popular sandy stretch of St David’s Well Bay with its hordes of visitors. Before they had reached the outskirts of the town, it began to rain. The spots were gentle at first but within a few minutes had increased to a heavy downpour which threatened to soak them, so, turning away from the beach, Myrtle led them down a lane behind some dilapidated shop premises, with broken-down buildings on either side, walking across concrete which was old and worn. There were cracks through whic
h plants and even a few small trees grew. The rain shushed around them and the place had an eerie atmosphere that made Percival hurry to Myrtle’s side and grab her hand. With an arm around his shoulders, she pushed open the door of what had once been a stable.

  They stood in the doorway, waiting for the rain to ease, their backs to the interior.

  ‘Phew, it stinks a bit,’ Stanley complained after a glance inside. ‘How did you know about the place?’

  ‘This is where Maude and I lived one winter,’ she said softly.

  ‘What, on your own? Just you and Maude?’ Harold gasped. ‘Wow! No one to nag you. Do what you like. Great! Why did you leave?’

  ‘Sick and starving we were and if Beth Castle hadn’t found us, and if Marged and Huw and Granny Molly Piper and Auntie Audrey hadn’t taken us in, I don’t know what would have happened. Maude would almost certainly have died.’

  ‘I’d be too scared to sleep here,’ the ten-year-old Percival muttered, in his low, slow monotone. ‘Creepy-crawlies, no proper bed and all this dark.’

  ‘And food with lumps in it — when you could get any,’ Stanley teased.

  ‘I wouldn’t like it neither,’ Harold said soberly. ‘Not really.’

  Aware that Myrtle was feeling embarrassed by the revelation, Stanley said, ‘Come on, brovers. Our place wasn’t all that grand. Ma did her best, but we lived in a room smaller than this, four to a bed and first up best dressed. I remember if you don’t!’

  Driven by the rain, forgetting their intention to spend a few hours on the beach, they went inside. As their eyes became accustomed to the poor light, they saw a manger with a few rotting wisps of hay inside, and in a corner, a pile of clothes and a few empty tins. Then something moved and the three boys gave a shriek of fear. A figure stood up and in disbelief Myrtle stared at her sister.