‘I can’t…’ she hesitated.
‘Rubbish! A young woman like you can do anything she wants. Come on, hop up.’ He joined his hands and indicated for her to use them as a step. She glanced at her watch; the time was flying past and the next bus might not be for a long time and she prided herself on never being late. It was cowboys or nothing. Laughing, she put a left foot on his hands and he heaved her up so that she could lift her right leg across the unbelievably wide back. Instead of her calves gripping the sides of the animal, her legs seemed to be almost straight out. She relaxed once the horse began to move at a slow steady pace. So much for a dignified arrival, she thought.
‘I’ll fall!’ she said in alarm but he shook his head.
‘No chance of that. He’s as safe as a baby’s cot, our Captain.’
A group of people stood outside the church looking anxiously along the road. When she called to them they applauded loudly. ‘We were afraid you wouldn’t make it,’ one man said. ‘We saw the bus go past and there isn’t another for an hour.’
Thanking the man and patting the huge horse, she was helped down, her bag with her dress apparently unharmed, and ushered into the church hall to change. When she turned to repeat her thanks to the man and the horse they were already clopping off and were out of hearing.
* * *
Marged had promised Maude that she could finish work early that Sunday. They had been very busy, many families coming in for early lunches, and others had brought food from home, on which they picnicked either on the headland or the sand. Many of these came in for a late meal before setting off home. At two she had arranged for others to come and give Maude the afternoon off.
Maude finished washing the trays on which pasties had been cooked, and looked down at the sands. In the fading sunshine, Mr Gregory had arrived for the last hours of giving donkey rides to children. The young boys who helped during the day were leaving and as Maude watched, Bernard helped the parents lift a group of toddlers on to the animals, then walked them up and down, talking to them, the patient donkeys plodding the well worn route on their dainty unshod feet, taking their riders safely around the wide oval track marked in the sand by many such journeys, to return to their applauding parents.
There was a rush of customers in the café and a need for help preparing the trays for the sand. Maude forgot her promised afternoon off and began to prepare more sandwiches and set another batch of Welshcakes to cook on the hotplate. It was nearer four o’clock before she was free to leave. Marged apologized and promised her a few hours later in the week. Maude didn’t mind. She wanted to catch Reginald just as he was finishing for the day, and she walked at a leisurely stroll through the lanes to Gregory’s smallholding.
She hadn’t mentioned her plan to Beth. She didn’t want to be told again that he was not at home and perhaps he would see her tomorrow. If Reginald didn’t want to meet her anymore he had to tell her to her face, not hide behind Beth.
Tensing herself for disappointment, prepared for embarrassment, she hurried down the lanes to the smallholding. The house appeared to be empty. One of the dogs was in the yard and came towards her barking furiously. She leaned over the gate, tickled his ear and as a pretence she called out for Mr Gregory. She knew he wasn’t around, but she needed an excuse to be there. There was no response and no sign that Reginald was there either, so she walked on up the lane towards the donkeys’ field, which she thought a likely place to find him.
She heard voices before she saw them; voices and laughter as Mr Gregory and Reginald approached her from behind. She waited as the small troupe of donkeys, Charlie in the lead, followed by Mr Gregory and Reginald who were laughing at some private joke, came towards her. The older man lifted his trilby politely and walked on, leaving Reginald to talk to her.
‘Maude! What are you doing out here? Looking for me, I hope?’
‘I felt like a walk,’ she said.
‘I was coming to see you later. Sorry about the other day. I got caught up in something unexpected. Are you coming in for a bite to eat? Beth will be home soon and she’d be pleased to see you.’
‘I doubt that,’ she said with a laugh. ‘I’ve worked with her all day!’
There was nothing in his manner to suggest he had been anything but pleased to see her and she relaxed, took his proffered hand and walked with him at the steady pace of the donkeys. It was as she asked him about the fire that his mood changed. He was unwilling to discuss it. She was puzzled. Since it had happened, it was something on which everyone had an opinion. She glanced at him, about to add something more, but his face was set determinedly closed. From the moment she had mentioned the fire, it was as though she wasn’t there, his early comments based only in her imagination. She didn’t know what to say to retrieve the situation.
The donkeys picked up speed as though suddenly aware that they were almost home and food awaited them. Hurrying with them, laughing at their haste was a fortunate way of hiding their unease at the mention of the subject that Reginald clearly did not want to discuss.
Beth arrived an hour later and she and Maude helped Bernard prepare a meal. Fresh vegetables, a tin of casserole meat, which Beth had earlier managed to make into two pies, and a rich gravy. Maude ate with enthusiasm, filling up with bread and damson jam on to which some illegally made clotted cream was piled. Full and contented, she helped clear away then sat with Bernard and Reginald as they talked about the day at the beach.
The sun was dropping below the line of trees and the room was filled with the gentler light of evening, the fire burned brightly, a pleasant addition to the room even in the middle of summer, with its kettle singing on the hob. Maude felt unwilling to move but knew she had to get home soon. She was thankful she no longer worked in the factory and had to face leaving the house at five thirty in the morning — which, Bernard told her, was not that early, as he and Reginald often began their day at four to get the chores done when he had to work the day on the beach with the donkeys.
Aware that they too needed to get to bed, Maude stood to leave.
‘I’ll walk you home,’ Reginald said.
The knock at the door was answered by Beth as they stood to gather their coats.
‘Father-in-law,’ she said turning to look at them in surprise, ‘it’s the police. They want to talk to Reginald.’
There was a brief conversation between the two policemen and Mr Gregory, then he turned to Maude. ‘Sorry my dear, but I think I’ll be the lucky man walking you home. Reginald is needed to help with some information. Me, too,’ he added to reassure her, ‘but I can make them wait.’
‘No, Father-in-law,’ Beth said. ‘Best we get it over and done with. If you lend Maude your bike, I’ll ride halfway with her, and you can pick up your bike tomorrow.’
Alarmed by the sudden tension in the small room where moments before everything had been peaceful, Maude longed to be allowed to stay. It was clear Reginald was in some sort of trouble. The look on the faces of the two policemen left her in no doubt of that. It was also clear that they didn’t intend asking their questions until she was gone.
The two girls set off in silence, each wondering whether the police visit was a general enquiry or whether there was something more serious. Beth said nothing about the customer who thought she recognized Reginald. The least said the better at this stage, she thought, concern creasing her brow.
Back at home in their joint bedroom — where they normally shared every thought, although that had changed in recent months with Myrtle avoiding telling Maude about the time she spent with Stanley — Maude was unwilling to share her worries over Reginald. Myrtle knew there was something not right between her sister and the young man who had brought her brief happiness, but she didn’t feel able to ask. They lay there both unable to sleep, each wanting to talk but held back with a newly discovered need for privacy.
In the next bedroom, Audrey was also unable to sleep and like Maude and Myrtle, she was thinking about her sister and wishing she could
confide in Marged, share everything with her as she once had. They had been close enough to tell each other most of their thoughts but of late that had changed. Audrey remembered their earlier closeness with regret; a few doors away. Marged thought about it with simmering anger.
* * *
Unable to sleep that night, she slid out of the bed without disturbing Huw and went down to make a cup of tea. The night was warm, a moon riding in the sky making the garden bright enough to see around her. As she waited for the tea to brew, she walked down to the end and looked up at the window of her sister and Wilf’s bedroom, surprised to see a chink of light shining through carelessly pulled blackout blinds. She was not the only one unable to attract sleep, she thought with unkind satisfaction.
She poured herself a cup of tea and carried it back into the silent garden. The bedroom curtain was now tightly drawn but the window was open and leaning out clearly visible was a figure looking out.
‘Audrey?’ Marged called in a stage whisper and she saw her sister’s head turn. ‘Want a cuppa, do you?’ With an exaggerated movement of her arm, she waved towards the back gate and as her sister closed the window, she went down and unlocked the gate leading into the back lane. When she came out of the kitchen with a second cup of tea, the gate opened and her sister came in.
‘You couldn’t sleep either then,’ Audrey stated.
‘Worries about your Wilf?’ Marged asked.
‘I wish Mam was here. She was a pain at times, so insistent on what we had to do, when and how we had to do it, but she was so comforting when things went wrong. I miss her so much.’
‘You don’t hate her for the way she spoilt things for you?’ Marged asked in surprise.
For a moment there was harshness in Audrey’s voice as she said, ‘You and her both.’
‘All right, I know I was as much to blame as Mam for stopping you marrying Wilf all those years ago, I admit it. But Mam was strong and she convinced me you were in the wrong. I wasn’t old enough to think for myself, Audrey.’ She reached out and patted her sister’s arm and was horrified at the way Audrey shrank from her touch.
‘No, Mam didn’t encourage either of us to think different from what she told us to think.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m not stupid and I should have been stronger for you back then. But isn’t it time to forget the misery and remember the good things?’
‘There were plenty of good times for you but not so many for Wilf and me.’
‘Come on, Audrey, don’t you remember when we climbed that tree in our best new Sunday dresses? We had a wallop from Mam and an ice cream to cheer us up from our dad. And the time you and Wilf, Huw and I went to the pictures and the fog came down and we had to walk all the way home? Mam hit us first and asked questions after in those days, remember?’
‘She didn’t know Wilf was with us, did she? Forbidden to meet we were.’
‘And Huw and I never told her.’
Having to whisper for fear of disturbing those around them gave the mood confidentiality and when Marged reminded Audrey of other incidents in their younger years, the atmosphere between them eased and muted laughter began to fill the garden.
Memory revived memory and soon they were unaware of the late hour or the need to keep their laughter low. After a while, Audrey turned to her sister, Marged’s face pale and heavily shadowed by the moonlight, and complained: ‘I’m hungry. What about some toast?’
‘It’s three in the morning!’
‘So?’
Smiling contentedly they went into the kitchen, leaving the door open to the fresh, sweet night air and Marged turned on the grill. ‘No butter of course,’ she sighed, ‘but I’ll mix some margarine with the top of the milk and we can pretend.’
They didn’t hear the footsteps coming down the back garden path and when the door opened and Maude appeared, surprise quickly turned to laughter. ‘Not a minute’s peace do we get, even in the middle of the night.’ Marged complained with mock severity.
‘What’s been keeping you awake. young Maude?‘ Audrey asked. ‘And how did you know where to find us?’
‘I heard you laughing and came to see what there was to amuse you at such an unlikely hour. As for what’s keeping me awake, well, when I was at Mr Gregory’s the police came wanting to talk to Reginald. Reggie they called him and they appeared to know him rather well. D’you think he was involved with the collection of gifts for the bombed out families? It was a terrible thing to do if he was.’
‘Surely not, love,’ Audrey said at once. ‘It was probably something far less important. He delivers wood and other stuff on that horse and cart. They were bound to ask if he’d seen the other cart.’
They looked serious and Audrey warned, ‘Don’t make judgements until you have the facts, Maude. It’s so easy to say something you’ll regret.’
‘I hope they catch the man. Wicked it was, him benefiting from the troubles of others,’ Marged added, whipping furiously at the cream and margarine as the toast browned under the grill.
They sat and talked for a while, the sisters coaxing Maude gently to tell what she knew.
‘I was ushered out before anything much was said, but it was clear they knew Reggie, as they called him. He must have been in trouble before and I wondered whether he and this other man had worked together, you know, Reginald telling him the best places to try and perhaps finding the horse and cart for him. Good with horses, he is.’
‘Oh yes, and bringing the stolen horse home with him and putting it with Mr Gregory’s donkeys. Bright boy he is to have thought of that, eh?’ Sarcasm made Audrey smile but it wasn’t reflected on the sad face of Maude.
‘He might be clever enough to think it would convince them he couldn’t be involved, mightn’t he?’
‘Oh dear, all this is getting too complicated for this time of the morning,’ Audrey sighed. ‘Go and see him tomorrow and you’ll have a full explanation,’ she advised.
‘Heavens!’ Maude said as she jumped up. ‘It is tomorrow and almost time for us to get to work!’
A glance at the clock told them it was pointless to try and sleep: there was less than an hour before Marged and Maude had to rise. Marged pushed Maude back into her chair and made another pot of tea. ‘At least you’ve had some breakfast,’ she said.
It was clear to her that Maude was attracted to the young man and she did what she could to reassure her before sending her back home, replete with toast and several cups of tea.
‘I’d better go, too,’ Audrey said, yawning as she placed the dishes in the bowl for washing. ‘A short doze is all I can hope for before Wilf wakes.’
‘It’s hardly worth me bothering,’ Marged sighed. ‘I might as well stay up and start on the cakes, I wouldn’t sleep now anyway.’
‘I’ll go and put a note by the bed for Wilf in case he wakes and worries, then I’ll come back and help.’
Marged thought those words were the best she could hear, apart from being told her young son, Eynon, was alive and on his way home.
Myrtle was awake when Maude went back into the house. She sat up and asked where Maude had been. ‘Did I wake you?’ Maude asked.
‘No, I was disturbed by some thoughtless people having a party and making sure everyone knew it!’ Myrtle said.
Maude gave a brief explanation and Myrtle protested at being allowed to sleep instead of being invited to join. ‘A promise to stay together works both ways, our Maude,’ she complained. ‘How could you miss me out of a midnight feast?’
On tiptoe, Maude went down the stairs and made cups of cocoa as an apology. She wished Myrtle had slept. She didn’t want to talk to her about Reginald and there was always the danger of letting something slip as they were usually so open and honest with each other. She was glad when Myrtle discussed something different.
‘I’ve been thinking of Bleddyn’s suggestion that I go to night school and learn accounts, you know, bookkeeping,‘ Myrtle said as they sipped the hot drink companionably.
Fear of he
r sister drifting away from her flared up again. Book learning changed people. Everyone knew that. Working in an office would mean Myrtle mixing with different people from those on the beach. Very soon they would have nothing to say to each other. There wouldn’t be anything to share.
‘Don’t be daft, our Myrtle. You couldn’t manage anything like that! What schooling have you had?’ Less than me and I didn’t manage much. Remember the times we moved house and started at different schools? Remember how hard it was to keep up with the others? And then those months living wherever we could find shelter, including that filthy stable. They’d laugh at you if you tried something like bookkeeping.’
‘You’re probably right.’ Myrtle said.
‘Of course I’m right and Uncle Bleddyn is unkind to pretend you could do something like accounts. Work like that isn’t for people like us and it’s best you remember that.’
Maude went down to wash out the cups. Myrtle opened a box containing some of her treasures and took out one of the notebooks in which she had first started to learn to write and do simple calculations. Marged, Audrey and later, Bleddyn had all helped and they had agreed that she had an ability possessed by few. Numbers danced across her brain and the pictures they created were as exciting as any an artist could create. She smiled at the ugly distorted letters she had then formed and compared them to more recent work. Surely she could make use of her ability, even if only to help the Castles with their business?
Leaving the box on her lap, she took out a piece of paper and began to write to Marged and Huw’s son Eynon. She didn’t know him very well but perhaps explaining it to him would help her to sort out her own feelings. Sometimes it took a stranger to help see things clearly.
* * *
During that August in 1943, the war continued in its destructive, bloodthirsty way. Letters were still greeted and read with relief and the movements of the telegram boys were followed with eyes filled with dread.
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