Holidays at Home Omnibus

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

  Thankfully, the house was empty and she held off tears until she was inside. She sat on the stairs and sobbed her disappointment into a succession of handkerchiefs. How could life be so unfair?

  Myrtle came home and found Maude red-faced from crying. At once concerned she asked if Wilf was all right. Then she wondered if it was Reginald who had upset her.

  ‘He doesn’t want to see me anymore and won’t tell me why,’ Maude told her, in a choking voice sounding unlike her own.

  ‘It happens,’ Myrtle said in a worldly way. ‘Girls have lots of boyfriends before they find the one they stay with forever. If he’s the one for you he’ll be back. Beth told me there are often quarrels when you first meet a boy. Adjusting to each other, she said it was. This is probably what this is. Don’t cry. Maude, it makes you look awful blotchy, and he might be on his way to see you, now this minute.’

  Myrtle was filled with disappointment. Reggie and Maude being friends had eased the responsibility she felt for her sister. With Reggie and Maude becoming close friends, she had been more free to go out without having to ask whether Maude minded, or worse, wanted to come.

  It was six o’clock and they had promised to cook the evening meal for Audrey and Wilf, who had gone to keep a doctor’s appointment. Myrtle had picked some wild flowers, some red and white valerian and a few scabious from the wall of an old church nearby. While Maude stifled her tears and set the table, she went to collect a vase to arrange them, but the pantry shelf on which such things were stored was empty. She was curious, but not unduly so as Auntie Audrey was always sorting things out and changing things around these days. A symptom of her distress about Wilf’s illness, she supposed, keeping herself busy. She filled a milk bottle, arranged the flowers, and put it in the centre of the table.

  ‘Don’t go out again tonight,’ Maude begged. ‘I don’t want to be on my own.’

  ‘Please Maude, don’t ask me to stay in. Stanley and I are going to the concert. Shirley is singing and there’s a troupe of dancers who’re supposed to be really good. There’s a comedian, too. Come with us,‘ she pleaded.

  ‘I can’t. I’m too miserable.’

  ‘All right.’ Myrtle said stifling a sigh of disappointment. ‘I’ll offer my ticket to Eirlys. Stanley won’t mind, and if he does he’ll have to lump it.’

  ‘He’ll be pleased, I expect. He’s real fond of Eirlys, she’s almost a mother to him, whereas you’re just a casual friend.’

  Knowing the remark was brought on by her sister’s misery and fully intended to hurt, Myrtle only smiled and agreed. ‘Yes. Eirlys and her father are all the family Stanley and his brothers have. A bit like us, really, which is why we have to be their friends.’

  ‘All right, go if you want to. I’ll go and see Beth and Mr Gregory. Perhaps Reginald will be there and we can sort out the problem.’

  ‘Good idea. Thanks, Maude.’

  Happily, Myrtle washed lettuce and the rest of the salad, chopped potatoes and mixed them with the soft boiled egg — the last of their ration — and spread the thinly cut corned beef on the four plates. ‘All ready for when Auntie Audrey and Wilf come in,’ she said, flopping into a chair and glancing at the clock.

  It was almost seven o’clock before the meal was over and the dishes dealt with. During the meal, Audrey had explained about the collection for the homeless and the items she had contributed. Myrtle and Maude looked surprised. All Granny Moll’s things had remained untouched since her death. This was a very sudden change of mind. They said nothing, but while they washed up they whispered to each other, wondering if the clearance was part of a larger plan, perhaps to sell the house and move somewhere else. As always, their first thought was about their own future. Where would they live? Would Marged and Huw take them in? Or would they be left to find a place for themselves?

  ‘After all,’ Myrtle whispered, ‘we can’t expect them to look after us for always, can we?’

  ‘I suppose not, but where would we go?’

  ‘If that Reggie asks you to marry him, I think you should say yes,’ Myrtle joked. A glance at her sister’s face told her it was not funny.

  ‘His name is Reginald. He doesn’t like to be called Reggie.’

  ‘All right, but it’s a bit of a mouthful, mind.’

  Myrtle went to the concert with the three boys. Eirlys’s father came too. Afterwards, Morgan promised the ever hungry boys some chips. Percival looked less pleased than his brothers. ‘I won’t have to eat one of them rissoles, will I, Uncle Morgan? I ’ates them, I do.’ His brothers glared at him. If he’d kept quiet they’d have been able to share his between them.

  Maude went on her bicycle to talk to Reginald but it was Beth who answered the door and when Maude asked to speak to Reginald, Beth shook her head.

  ‘Sorry Maude, he’s out, I’ve no idea where. I’ll tell him you called and perhaps he’ll see you tomorrow.’

  To a disappointed Maude, it was the word perhaps that seemed the loudest. Perhaps he would see her tomorrow. It was clear to her that he would not.

  Beth closed the door and turned to where Reginald was standing close behind her. ‘Don’t ask me to do that again. Reginald, please. I hate lying and I hate it even more when it’s on behalf of someone else.’

  ‘Sorry, I know it was cowardly, Beth, but I find it hard to hurt her.’

  ‘And you think I don’t? You have to grow up and deal with your mistakes yourself, it seems to me.’

  It wasn’t a mistake, he wanted to tell her. The mistake was in thinking he could avoid seeing Andy who was calling himself Derek Hanbury and who wore a pious expression that fooled people and had once fooled him.

  Five

  Bernard Gregory was always up early in the mornings. With animals to care for there was no Sunday morning lie-in, every day began the same. Now that Beth lived with him, she too usually rose at the same time, spending the hours before leaving to open her café in small household tasks and occasionally some cooking. Peter was rarely at home. He spent most of his time in enemy-held territory helping to organize and run safe shelter and escape routes for prisoners and airmen shot down and on the run.

  On this Sunday, early in August, Bernard went downstairs, and after making a cup of tea he opened the door intending to sit outside to drink it before starting his day. He heard Beth coming down the stairs and poured a second cup of tea, holding it ready to hand to her as she opened the door.

  ‘What’s all that smoke over near the field where the donkeys are?’ she asked, taking the tea and hurrying to the door. When they stepped outside, the smell of burning was strong. Smoke billowed on the morning breeze and, from the amount of it, the fire was a large one.

  ‘Damn me, Beth, I didn’t see that. Or smell it. Come on, we’d better go and see. It looks dangerously close to Sally’s cottage.’

  Before they had swallowed a few mouthfuls of tea and reached for a jacket, they heard another sound. Fire engines were already on the way. ‘We’d better hurry, Beth, in case Sally’s in trouble.’

  They called to Reginald, who was sleeping in the back room that had once been an outhouse but which had been joined on to the main building. He hastily dressed, apologized for oversleeping and followed them up onto the hill.

  The vehicles were at the entrance to the field where the donkeys spent their nights, and their anxious braying could be heard as the trio ran to Sally’s house, which thankfully seemed safe from the fire. A fireman had already banged on her door, and as they approached a sleepy figure in a pink dressing gown with the addition of a coat held around her, opened the door. Her white hair was tucked around a band of material, which went around her head, as though she had hastily attempted to tidy its long, uneven tresses. Short-sightedly she peered at them and asked what was wrong.

  Leaving the fire officers to explain, and promising to come back, Bernard went to check on his donkeys. The smoke was frightening and confusing them and, running through it, ignoring the shouts of the firemen, Bernard, Beth and Reginald went
to the stables. At the gate, Bernard stopped and sighed with relief. The blaze was in the corner of the next field, close to the hedge. A cart was burning, its silhouette visible now and then as eddies of smoke moved around, teased by a light breeze.

  Bernard and Reginald went into the stables and led the anxious donkeys out and Beth guided the frightened creatures to the far side of the field. As a precaution — sparks had been known to fly high and over surprising distances — Bernard went inside to make sure all was well, and gasped in surprise. Behind the door, grazing peacefully on hay from a string hay bale hanging against a wall, was a cart horse.

  ‘A cart burned and a horse stabled with the donkeys? I hope you don’t think this is my doing?’ Bernard said to the police. ‘Donkeys for the beach and a horse for my small cart is all I need. This one is a handsome fellow, big and strong.’

  ‘He’s that all right, Bernard.’

  ‘He can stay here until you find the owner, if you like.’ Bernard offered, patting the animal’s powerful shoulders.

  Beth went back to reassure Sally that her house was not in any danger, and once the fire had been extinguished, they all stood there for a while, wondering what had happened, and discussing the possibilities. Reginald had not slept well that night, and added to the tiredness a wave of dismay spread over him. An admiration for and an interest in horses gave him a keen observation and he had recognized the horse at once. It was the one his brother had been using the previous day. He was thankful that this time Andy hadn’t involved him, but burning the stolen cart in a field close to where he lived had clearly been a deliberate act, taunting him, telling him he could easily connect him to his illegal and criminal activities and lose him the place he had worked so hard to earn.

  He had probably stolen the horse when he needed one to beg householders for unwanted items in the area. He had always had an affinity with the creatures and would have no difficulty persuading one to follow him. With the horse a willing partner, stealing the cart would have been easy. With his charm and the ‘little-boy-lost’ expression he used so effectively, Andy had no difficulty getting money out of gullible, kind-hearted people. If only he would choose somewhere far away from here, Reginald could go on pretending he didn’t have a brother.

  Later that day, a policeman called at the smallholding and told Bernard that they had found the owner of the horse and the burnt out cart. Both had been stolen a week previously.

  ‘Someone too lazy to walk home, maybe?’ Bernard surmised. It had been known for one of his donkeys to be used by a drunken reveller to help him return home — although the unpredictable donkey was more likely to tip the rider into a ditch.

  Once Beth reached the beach café that morning, Maude and Myrtle were there and she entertained them all with the story of the unlikely start to her day.

  ‘Is the horse all right?’ Myrtle asked and reassured she turned away content.

  ‘The cart was a loss, it’s a valuable thing to own these days. It’s surprising how many businesses depend on horses now there’s so little petrol,’ Huw remarked.

  ‘Like the man who called at our house to collect for bombed out families,’ Myrtle added and at once, Marged was curious.

  ‘What man?’ she demanded. Maude explained about Audrey handing over many of her possessions to the polite man with the horse and cart. At once Marged was angry. ‘Some of those things belonged to my mother and I should have been consulted before she gave them to a stranger, good deed or not!’

  Huw irritably told her to hush. Turning to Maude he said, ‘You’d better find Audrey and go at once to tell the police. I heard yesterday that the man was a fraud. He’s pretending to collect for the people made homeless, but is selling the stuff at markets miles away.’

  Maude and Myrtle went to the police station with Audrey, who gave a description of the man whom she knew as Derek Hanbury, and also wrote down a list of the items she could remember giving him. On their return, Myrtle went onto the sands where she was in charge of the swingboats, and Maude returned to the beach café, proud of being able to help.

  What an exciting day it had been so far. Although, she knew Audrey was far from pleased at the way she had been duped. But it was still exciting, being mixed up with criminals. She couldn’t wait to discuss it with Reginald, if he still wanted to see her. A niggle of disappointment shadowed the day. Beth had seemed doubtful when she had said perhaps they would meet today. Even sleeping on it, changing the emphasis on the remembered words, trying to convince herself she had been mistaken, hadn’t driven away the sad thought that he might not want to see her again.

  * * *

  At the police station, Police Constable Charlie Groves stared at a picture of Andy Cain and wondered. Audrey hadn’t recognized him from the photograph they had shown on a poster, but that might be because she hadn’t looked at him properly, busy handing out all she could spare, it was often the case that people didn’t really look at each other, not strangers anyway. According to the information available, this was just the sort of scam Andy Cain would dream up. There was a second photograph of Andy Cain in the file, this time under his proper name and standing beside his brother, Reggie Probert.

  He remembered seeing Reggie helping at the smallholding and notified his superiors about what had happened. He remembered Reggie and presumed the boy had once again been helping his brother to steal from good-hearted householders. The thought saddened him. He had believed that Reggie had stood a chance of going straight, if he could stay away from Andy.

  He had said nothing about the man’s brother to Audrey and the sisters. Best not risk Reggie being warned. He had to be stopped. It was a mean trick, to accept gifts so willingly given and make money out of people’s generosity and the tragedies of others, although he knew that disaster suffered by someone else was no barrier to greed.

  St David’s Well was so full of visitors, this busiest month of the year, that it would be impossible to check on every one of them, and the Probert brothers would have changed since the photograph had been taken. Imprinting the picture of the two men on his mind, he determined to try and find them. If they were still in the town that is, and that was extremely unlikely, he thought with dismay. He decided to call at the smallholding first. Perhaps Reggie was confident enough to stay put, bluff it out and swear he wasn’t involved.

  * * *

  Beth had arranged to help at Castle’s café for the whole day. Being a Sunday, her market café didn’t open and her parents were grateful for her help. For Marged it was a breath of happy memories of a time when her daughter and she had worked alongside each other summer after summer.

  Beth told several customers about their early morning adventure. It made a change from repetitive remarks about the weather and the war. When she saw Reginald approaching with the eggs and potatoes Marged had asked Bernard to supply, she turned to him and gestured to the lady who was listening to her story and asked him to verify what she was telling her. To her surprise, the lady turned away and appeared to lose interest in what she had been relating. Later, she realized the woman had been hiding her face from Reginald.

  When Reginald had gone, the lady turned around and asked, ‘Who is that young man?’ When Beth told her his name was Reginald and explained that he worked for her father-in-law, she was alarmed when the lady then said she was on her way to the police station. ‘If there’s been any thieving going on, like this you’ve been telling me about, I think they should know where he is. I know him, his name is Reggie Probert and he’s a thief. He’s been in prison for theft and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll make sure he stays away from you.’

  Anxious but unable to decide what to do, Beth said nothing. The woman could have been mistaken and with his sunbronzed face and the open, honest expression in his blue eyes, Reginald didn’t look like a man with a secret past.

  * * *

  It wasn’t always possible to arrange transport when Shirley was booked to sing, and she was tolerant of using public transport w
hen the distances weren’t great. But although she willingly accepted the inconvenience, she dreamed of the day when she would be so famous she would never again have to suffer a delayed or broken-down bus or a taxi that failed to arrive on time.

  Bleddyn had planned to take her one evening when she was singing at a church a few miles from St David’s Well, but the van suffered a puncture and a damaged tyre which made it impossible. So, it was train and a short bus journey, where, she was promised, the church would be only a few steps away.

  She stood waiting for the bus, the warm sun making the delay a pleasant one, helping to overcome the nerves which still affected her sometimes. Clopping hooves sounded in the distance and gradually came nearer. She looked along the quiet road curiously and a man appeared leading a large shire horse. He was dressed in corduroys and an open-necked blue shirt. He was clucking and talking to the horse as he walked, holding the head harness, as companionably as two old men, Shirley thought with a chuckle. The bus appeared and it looked full. She stepped forward irritated at the thought of a crush of people spoiling the dress she carried in a small bag, but with a regretful shake of the conductor’s head, it went past without stopping. Shirley gasped in disbelief as it disappeared around the next bend.

  ‘Hello again!’ the young man with the horse called, coaxing the heavy animal to a halt. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve got yourself stranded again!’

  She didn’t recognize him, but the voice was familiar, low and slightly husky, and as the words penetrated she realized it was her rescuer from the night she had been abandoned miles from home.

  ‘Captain will take you where you want to go if you don’t mind a two mile an hour stroll.’ he offered. Cheekily he added. ‘Better than hopping about on sticks, eh?’