‘Good.’ Marged said. ‘I’m sure you’d rather be home with Wilf. I must confess. I’m relieved. I’ve been at my wits end wondering how to fit it all in, the laundry and the cooking and the rest. Marvellous, you are, Audrey, isn’t she. Huw?’
‘Hush, Marged. Let’s listen to what Audrey’s got to say.’ Huw said, his hand on his wife’s arm. Something in Audrey’s expression prepared him for some bad news.
‘Wilf’s very ill.’ Audrey said quietly. ‘He knew before we went away, but he didn’t tell me. He knew we would need time alone to get used to it.’ She reached out a hand and Wilf held it tightly.
‘I tried to persuade Audrey that it’s best for us both for life to go on as normal, but she isn’t willing.’ Wilf said. ‘We’re going to get out and about, build a few memories while we can.’
Marged and Huw looked at each other, unable to decide what to say. It didn’t seem appropriate to offer sympathy, that would come later. The words wouldn’t come when Marged tried to ask the nature of the illness. Eventually, Huw said. ‘Whatever you want us to do, just ask and we’ll do it. Anything.’
‘When are you going to tell the others?’ Marged wanted to know. ‘Myrtle and Maude? Bleddyn, Hetty and the rest?’ She was looking at Wilf and was surprised and embarrassed at the mild irritation she felt when Audrey answered for him.
‘Not yet. We want things to go on as normal for as long as we can manage.’
‘What about you, Wilf?’ Marged said, pointedly. ‘What do you want?’
His answer, so lightly said, chilled her. ‘I want to stay well long enough to see the boys safely home, but I doubt I’ll manage that.’
‘Now, we’re going out.’ Audrey said, rising from the table and helping to pull Wilf’s chair out as he followed.
‘But it’s now you’re back! You haven’t unpacked yet! Where are you rushing off to at this time of day? It’ll be dark in a couple of hours.’
This time it was Wilf who answered. ‘We’re going to visit our son’s grave,’ he said with a glance at his wife. ‘I know he can’t possibly know, but we want to tell him anyway.’
Marged and Huw watched them leave, speechless with the sadness that had unexpectedly accompanied the homecoming. ‘Should we go with them?’ Marged whispered as they heard the front door close behind them.
‘No, Marged. I think they need to be on their own.’
In silence, they gathered together the dishes and went home.
Somehow things settled down and after a few days, the news of Wilf’s illness was rarely referred to, Audrey making it clear that discussion was not something she wanted. Two girls were found to run the shop in half-daily shifts, and at Bleddyn’s suggestion, Myrtle proudly dealt with the books and also worked in the shop on the occasions when the girls were unable to be there.
It was apparent that Myrtle had a gift for figures and Bleddyn invited her to visit himself and Hetty for them to explain a little about keeping the books for a small business. Shirley was there, packing her clothes ready to leave for a two week concert tour.
‘I admit that apart from totalling the weekly accounts for newspaper deliveries when I worked in the newsagent’s, adding up is something I’m happy to leave for someone else to do,’ Shirley admitted.
‘Go on, Shirley, clever you are. Sums are easy.‘
‘Don’t underestimate yourself. Myrtle. You’re good at them. I can’t keep my mind on the figures for long enough to complete a task.’ She smiled at Hetty. ‘Left it to you, didn’t I, Mam?’
‘It’s a gift,’ Hetty said, ‘and you, Myrtle, have it in plenty.’
* * *
Maude met Reginald once or twice and she began calling at the smallholding after her early shift, and sometimes before the late one. Bernard willingly accepted her offer to work an hour or two, and she began to enjoy the physical effort needed to pull weeds, hoe the ground, plant seedling lettuce and the other tedious work. Whenever she could she helped carry food for the donkeys’ evening feed.
Bernard blithely ignored the requests from the Ministry to spend all his time on the land, and continued to take his string of donkeys to the beach, insisting that they needed the exercise and the children needed the fun of riding them. There were always boys willing to help on days when he was unable to stay. Stanley still found excuses to avoid going in to the shop to help out on the beach and he was delighted on the occasions when he was given Bernard’s donkeys to look after.
In the busy month of July, Stanley, Harold and Percival found reasons to meet Myrtle and she forgot Stanley’s youth, attracted by his spurious adulthood, which was noticeable in the way he looked after Harold and Percival as though he were their father. Although, she reminded him frequently of her own maturity, as she was now, she insisted — having recently passed her fifteenth birthday — almost sixteen years old.
* * *
At the end of July, Maude was told that following the request of Bleddyn Castle, she was excused from factory work and would be employed by him and Bleddyn in the café or on the sands. She was enormously relieved and certain that this summer would be better for her.
With an increasing number of day trippers as well as the summer visitors staying at the guest houses and the dozens of private houses that took the opportunity to make some extra money, the pavements in the town became blocked with the tourists who were content to stand and stare whilst the locals tried desperately to do their daily shopping.
It seemed there was no room for one more family on the crowded beach, but still they came and squeezed into the smallest patch of sand or grass and made a space to call their own for the few hours of their stay. The trippers, cheerful on their precious day out, brought a gaiety that almost made some of them forget the war, except those with a member of their family serving in one of the armed forces. For those, the smiles were false, the laughter a pretence, an attempt to persuade others that all would be well, or convince the bereaved that life would go on and get slowly better.
Marged believed that what the Castles did to help the town and its visitors enjoy the warm summer days was a valuable addition to the battle against the enemy. She was proud of her family’s reputation and guarded them all against the occasional remarks suggesting that for the Castles, making money was the only priority.
Summer wore on, the number of visitors to the town increased. The summer activities organized by Eirlys, most of which were a repeat of the previous year, brought even more from other areas, defeating the idea of persuading people to stay at home and not travel. ‘Holidays at Home’ was not of concern to St David’s Well; they had a reputation for drawing crowds to share in their holiday fun which they intended to keep.
The government had requested that every town should provide entertainment to encourage their citizens to stay home for their holidays to ease the pressure on public transport and leave it free for urgent deliveries and the armed forces. The attitude to this in St David’s Well was, let other towns do what they could, but if people wanted to ignore what their own towns offered and instead travel to St David’s Well, there was nothing they were going to do to stop them. If the natural amenities of the popular town, plus the council’s efforts, succeeded in attracting visitors from other places, it was hardly likely they would discourage them.
The town was renowned for its welcome and the fun it provided. It continued to attract people from miles away, visitors filling the trains and the buses and blocking the roads with bicycles and the pavements with those on foot.
There was a great deal of entertainment arranged. Open air concerts were rarely cancelled because of inclement weather, the crowds insisting on ignoring the cold winds and even the rain. There were sand castle competitions and cricket matches, giant chess tournaments — the variety was endless. Many events were planned to raise money for the war charities. Every activity from dolls’ picnics to community singing brought the crowds, and the cafés were busy for most of the daylight hours.
Only Audrey seemed unable to en
joy that bright, lively summer. She and Wilf went out on day trips to other places, their smiles forced, avoiding the usual family gatherings, making excuses whenever one was suggested. Maude had left the factory, but with Myrtle they also ran the household and did what they could to assist in the various businesses. Since meeting Reginald, Myrtle thought her sister had become a different person, rarely complaining and if she still suffered symptoms from earlier illnesses, they were never mentioned. Best of all, Myrtle could go out without being accused of neglecting her.
‘Hopping about like fleas on a griddle, we are,’ Myrtle told Mr Gregory. ‘That busy, you’d never believe. Great, isn’t it?’ She had called to help with the harvesting of tomatoes and beans. She loved to work in the fields, as well as going with Mr Gregory on his horse and can to distribute his orders. It was a surprise therefore to see Reginald sitting on the loaded cart, the reins held loosely in his hands.
‘You? I thought Mr Gregory was taking me?’
‘Sorry to disappoint you.’ He laughed at her surprise.
‘Can you manage the horse? It isn’t as easy as it looks, mind,’ she said in a warning tone, hands on hips.
‘I can manage.’
‘And have you put the boxes in the order we deliver them? Saves ages that does.’
Reggie looked suitably solemn. ‘Yes, Miss. I’ve done everything as per instructions.’ He offered his hand for her to climb up, and pushing it away impatiently, she jumped on and fell into his lap. Blushing madly, and muttering about her stupid shoes, insisting they had caused her to trip, she settled into her seat and gestured for him to drive on, which he did, turning away in an effort to hide his laughter.
* * *
Shirley Downs came home from the tour feeling tired and edgy, trying in vain to concentrate her mind on the success of the performances she had given. She hadn’t told her mother and Bleddyn what had happened after the concert in Newport. There was no point in alarming them and causing them worry every time she went away. The stress and the fright she had received by being abandoned far from her accommodation, made the thought of a rest on her comfortable bed very tempting, but she was unable to resist looking through the post that awaited her. There were five letters from Freddy Clements and it was these she read first.
Shirley had written to Freddy ever since he had joined the army. They had enjoyed a friendship which they had kept secret at first as he had been engaged to marry Marged’s daughter, Beth. The friendship that had started as a bit of fun had quickly grown into an affair which neither had taken seriously nor regretted. It had been pure devilment on Shirley’s part at first to coax him away from Beth, but since he had gone away, their friendship and liking for each other had grown in a surprising way. Shirley looked forward to his letters with great excitement. She wrote to him twice each week and it was a point of honour not to let him down by missing one of her regular days.
In civvy street, Freddy had always had a problem with money. As soon as he touched it, it seemed to melt away. When he and Beth were engaged, he had used most of the money they had saved, and now, serving in the army, facing danger on a daily basis and with a maturity he had not previously possessed, he felt ashamed. He was still interested in money, but now he didn’t spend it with the same carelessness. He wanted to come out of the fighting with a bank balance that would set him up in a business of his own. Making money was now the obsession, and making it was easier than he had imagined.
Soldiers were easily bored. So far from home and with little to do when they had precious time to themselves, he organized card games, he acquired food and even cigarettes and sold them. He was an expert at finding local people to supply his needs and he earned a reputation for being able to supply practically anything. He even managed to smuggle some girls into the camp and, when caught, insisted they were for the officers and the whole thing was hushed up. He didn’t make any money on that occasion, but he wasn’t court-martialled either. He wished he could put that story in one of Shirley’s letters, but with the censors reading every line he decided that the story had to wait until he got home.
In odd moments he thought he might be able to earn a good living after the war if he ignored the rules and played it boldly like many who hovered on street corners with cases full of illegally bought merchandise. Wide boys or spivs they were called and he envied them. He was here earning a pittance and they were at home making fortunes. It wasn’t fair, but he didn’t waste time or energy worrying about it. After the war, he intended to redress the balance more than a little. There was certain to be plenty of opportunity for making money fast.
It was only dreams though. Thoughts of Shirley made him realize he would never succumb to blatant dishonesty. He would lose her if he went down that road. He had never told her how much she meant to him, their relationship had always been light-hearted and he wanted it to stay that way until he was home and could show her just how he felt about her. Shirley Downs was the reason he wanted money.
Licking his pencil he sat down and wrote to her, telling her he was well and couldn’t wait to get home. He ended it in a way he hadn’t done before; glancing around to make sure none of his mates were looking and able to tease him, he signed it. ‘Love you for ever, Freddy.’
* * *
One day, Myrtle saw a notice on the board outside the town hall asking for objects that were surplus to requirements, to pass on to families from the big cities who had lost their homes in bombing raids. There was a list of the items needed which at first surprised her, but quickly made sense. Pictures, photograph frames, vases, ornaments, cushions, flower pots, small things that make a home. These were things that would be hard to replace. She went straight home to tell Audrey.
The poster explained that the essentials were provided: beds and cupboards, tables and chairs, but it was these small items that made a home a home.
Audrey ransacked the house, piling up what had once been treasures and were now rarely seen. In her distressed state, with Wilf being seriously ill, there was no value placed on the things she packed into boxes ready for collection. Ornaments that had belonged to her mother, kitchen utensils that were duplicated by the things they had brought from Wilf’s home when they had sold his mother’s house and married.
Thinking of how little time Wilf and she had left, more and more went into the boxes, throwing things in with less and less care as she abandoned so many things she had once loved. Tearfully she looked at it all and wondered why they had once been so important.
With petrol so scarce it was no surprise to see the man collecting it all, and writing it down in a notebook, travelling by horse and cart. The collector, who called himself Derek, appeared to be in his late thirties and walked with a pronounced limp. He wore a glum expression and seemed almost tearful when Audrey opened the door to him and showed what she was contributing.
‘God bless you, lady. This is a town with a good heart,’ he said. ‘Every piece will go to a good home, that I promise you.’ ‘Who is going to distribute it?’ Audrey asked curiously.
‘A special task force set up by the Women’s Voluntary Service, lady. Another fine band of good hearts.’
Audrey helped him load her boxes and saw that several people had given rugs. Running up to what had been her mother’s bedroom, she came down and handed him a brand new rug handmade by Eirlys Ward.
‘I’ll have to go straight to the depot with this lot, lady. I’ll be back to call on your neighbours tomorrow‘, he explained as he set off down the street.
Reginald was passing Sidney Street on his way from the corn merchants when he saw Audrey handing the last of the boxes onto the cart. At first he didn’t notice the driver, he was looking at the door half expecting Maude to appear. When the cart drove slowly past him, he looked at the man who was clicking to the horse to encourage him to hurry, and gasped in shock as the man winked at him.
‘Hi there, Reggie, doing all right are you?‘
‘Andy!’
Without slowing the horse,
the man leaned forward and shook his fair head. ‘Not Andy. Not anymore. It’s Derek now. Derek Hanbury, sounds posh, eh? Impresses people no end.’
‘Come back. Andy. Give it back, please! Andy!’
As the horse heaved then picked up speed, the man called back, ‘Andy? Never heard of him.’ His laughter left a slipstream behind him accompanied by the rhythmic clopping of the horse’s feet. Reginald turned and walked away from Sidney Street. There was no point in meeting Maude now. Andy’s unwelcome appearance had ruined everything once again.
Maude had arranged to meet Reginald when he finished work at five. She cycled down the lanes towards Mr Gregory’s smallholding and was surprised to see him walking towards her before she reached the crossroads where they had first met.
‘You’re early, why don’t you come back and have something to eat with us, then we can go to the pictures, if you like,‘ she said as she dismounted and raised her face for his kiss.
‘Sorry Maude, but I won’t be coming.’
‘Oh, you have to work, do you? I know what a busy time of year this is.’
‘It’s more than that. I won’t be seeing you again. I’ll probably get a transfer to another farm quite soon. Sorry, but it’s something I can’t change.’
‘But we can write? You won’t be going that far, will you?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I might be called up now the work here is finished. It was only a temporary arrangement, getting a few people trained to help Mr Gregory grow extra food.’
‘So, when will I see you?’
Again he shrugged.
Maude turned away and without another word, cycled away, tears temporarily blinding her. She blinked them away until she was out of sight of Reginald who was standing in the middle of the road watching her go. Then she stopped and wiped her eyes, reminded herself angrily that he was boring anyway, always talking about his job, and cycled on.
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