Shirley followed, bemused by him, curious to see how he managed his unwieldy stock, and saw him push them into the back of a van.
‘Now then, I’m Larry Carver, and what about that cuppa, eh?’
‘I’m Shirley and if drink another cup of tea today I’ll explode.’
Unperturbed, he took her hand and led her along the street. ‘Then you’d better just sit and watch me. I don’t know how to deal with exploding women.’
He took her to a café called The Copper Pot, with the eponymous pot in the window which was clearly made of something other than copper but which had been painted a cheerful coppery red. He pointed to a notice behind the counter which stated that The Copper Pot offered the best coffee in town. ‘That’s a lie, too,’ he whispered when she remarked on the falseness of the name.
‘Lying, eh? You should know about that.‘ she said. smiling to take the sting out of her words. ‘Your speciality telling “Tom Pepper”, isn’t it?’
‘Selling has to be lying by the very nature of the thing.‘ he replied with a wink. ‘I wouldn’t get very far if I said the odds and sods I’ve got for sale are a mis-matched disaster, now would I? But all those ladies will go home pleased that they’ve found a real bargain and their tea will taste sweeter because of it. Now, we’ve talked about me for long enough, what about you? Waiting for a boyfriend, or a bus to take you home or something? You’re always lost when I meet you.’
‘I am lost, in a way. I’m taking part in the concert tonight and until then I’m at a loss to know how to fill the hours,’ she told him, puzzled by his remark.
‘Good at rescuing damsels in distress, I am.’ He stared at her, quirking an eyebrow as he waited for her to see him in another guise.
She recognized him then. ‘You’re the man with the horse? And the man who helped when I was stranded in that lane? You’re dressed so differently and seeing you selling china, I didn’t recognize you, although I knew there was something familiar about the voice. Andy, isn’t it?’
‘Not today I’m not! In this suit I’m Larry Carver, entrepreneur.’
‘And besides wandering around at night gathering suicidal rabbits, you sell china.’
‘And you’re a singer, or is it a comedienne? A juggler?’ he went on as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘Not many of us restrict our talents to one thing these days.’
‘As I think you know, I sing,’ she managed to say in the fast flow of words.
‘What time are you on? If we were nearer I’d take you to meet my mum, she’d be real impressed, meeting a singer. But there isn’t time. So, we’ll go for a swim. The baths are open for a couple of hours and what better way to pass the time than swimming.’
‘Swimming? But I can’t.’
‘Can’t swim or can’t come with me? Your leg doesn’t stop you getting into the water surely? So, it must be me. All right, I’ll wait outside and walk you to the hall when you’ve finished your swim.’
He spoke so fast, his mind was so quick, she didn’t know how to answer him and laughter overcame her once more. He began to speak again and in desperation she reached over and pressed a finger to his lips to stop him.
‘I don’t have my bathers or a towel, I don’t want to mess up my hair as I’ve just had it done, and most importantly, I don’t want to swim.’ She was disconcerted by the look in his dark eyes — which she now realized were not brown, but a deep blue — and the way he was lightly kissing her fingers. She pulled them away hastily.
‘My mum says I talk too much. Do I?’
‘Yes! Drink your tea.’
‘You sound just like her. Prettier though. Much prettier.’
Shirley knew she had to get away. She imagined that Andy, or Larry Carver in a suit, was the kind to sit in the front row and watch her performance and that was something she didn’t think she could manage. Telling a lie was something she would now have to resort to. She told him the concert was in the town hall building, where she knew there was a concert hall having seen notices to that effect, and she managed to get away from him before he realized her untruth.
Arriving at the school hall early, she found a room where she could sit and compose herself. What a whirlwind of a man. When it was time to go on stage she had managed to forget the interlude and was able to concentrate on her music. She did two spots with three songs in each, and came off happy that she had performed well.
When the concert ended, the whole cast were called back on stage to sing the national anthem with the audience. The lights went up, and there sitting in the front row was Andy. He grinned at her then, shaking his finger in an admonishing way, mouthed, ‘You told me a Tom Pepper, didn’t you?’
The serious tone of the anthem was difficult to achieve.
He was waiting at the stage door and walked her back to the guest house where she was staying.
‘Meet me tomorrow? I’ll be free in the morning, then I have to move on.’ he said.
‘Sorry, but I have to be on the nine o’clock train. I’m singing in Cardiff for three nights, then I’m going home.’
‘And where would that be?’
‘Oh, a small seaside town you won’t have heard of. It’s called St David’s Well.’
‘You’re right. never heard of it.’ Andy hoped his alarm didn’t show. Larry Carver he might be at the moment, but the police in St David’s Well knew him as Derek Hanbury and also under his real name of Andy Probert. It was a small town and as such it was extremely likely that Shirley had met his brother Reggie. Such a shame, but sadly, it was time to say goodbye to the attractive and interesting Shirley Downs.
Leaving her at her door he kissed her hand and suggested they met at the station and exchanged addresses. ‘I’m all over the place,‘ he said, ‘and so are you, but if we keep in touch we might meet again. I hope so, Shirley.’
‘So do I — maybe,‘ Shirley said, frowning as she closed the door.
She went slowly up to her room still smiling, aware that she had enjoyed the few hours spent with him more than any for a long time. It was unlikely they would meet again, in fact she didn’t think she really wanted to — there was something dangerous about Andy, not danger of physical harm, but danger to her peace of mind. It had been fun and a most unlikely way to have spent the empty hours, but some things are better being left unfinished, a brief cameo to be remembered and nothing more. Accepting that their surprising third meeting was destined to be nothing more than an amusing memory, she was nevertheless disappointed when he was not at the station the following morning.
Later that day, again with hours to spare, Shirley tried to write to Freddy Clements and describe the market trader, but although she remembered him clearly, she found him impossible to put into words.
* * *
Andy Probert, alias Larry Carver, was fifty miles away. Setting up a stall alongside a small roadside market, he brought out the goods he had collected the previous night from his lockup. Scattered among the remnants of his china sale was the stuff he had been given in St David’s Well by Audrey Thomas and others. It was far enough from home not to be recognized. At a time when luxury was little more than a dream, items such as those given by Audrey were snatched up as soon as they were placed on display.
He’d had a good week and it was fun work and certainly better than joining the army. The story he had told his family about being unsuitable, was not really the truth. He had been on the move, changing his name and even his appearance, and so far had evaded being dragged protestingly into custody and dressed in khaki. He had to stay one step ahead all the time, but instead of being tedious it only added to the excitement of his life.
The basis of his determination to stay out of the army was pure, inexcusable fear. He’d had a recurring dream since before he had become eligible for conscription. He saw himself in khaki unifonn and drowning in a sea filled with men unable to see him or hear his cries for help. He had been startled out of sleep — sweating, gasping for breath, his heart pumping — many times and every time
the dream ended with his slipping below the water.
Whatever happened and whatever he had to do, he was determined to stay out of uniform, even though his brother Reggie, the one person he’d confided in, had told him it was not a premonition, only a dream brought on by apprehension and fear.
Packing the few goods he hadn’t sold into his van, changing the number plate to a local one, he drove off to find a place to sleep. Perhaps he’d sleep in the van tonight if he could find a quiet lane somewhere. Then he would travel north to another of his contacts to buy some fresh stock. This time he had been promised some food. He’d have to be particularly careful where he sold that, with so many people employed to look out for anyone selling black market foodstuffs and too ready to inform the police. He wouldn’t get away with it a second time and he promised himself he would never again allow his brother Reggie to take the blame.
He parked in a lane which led to a disused church and, after changing out of his smart ‘selling’ clothes and into a jumper and a pair of dungarees, he slept the sleep of the innocent and pure minded, undisturbed by guilt. The world was filled with the ‘haves’ and the ‘have nots’. He was simply balancing the levels a bit, that’s all.
In the town where he and Shirley had met for the third time. the market manager was trying to trace him. The man who had called himself Larry Carver had booked a stall for two weeks and had left after one day’s trading, without paying any rent.
By sheer coincidence, Andy saw a poster advertising a variety show as he drove through Cardiff some days later. On the list of performers was the name Shirley Downs. He was tempted to arrange a meeting but survival warnings rattled. He knew he should avoid seeing her again. Once only was the rule and he had seen Shirley three times. Familiarity brought danger. And regrettably, he had told her his real name. To keep one step ahead of the law and the military, he had to steer clear of involvement. A woman could ruin everything and he liked the way his life was going.
The van had been painted a dull brown, an assorted collection of part used tins of paints he’d bought from a scrap yard dealer had been mixed together. The number plate had been changed for one he had found on a rubbish heap near a garage. Everything was set for another collection of items for the unfortunates in some imagined city. He’d be foolish to risk seeing Shirley again, especially as she was from the town where his brother and he were known.
* * *
The concert programme was made up mainly of amateur performers. Shirley sat in the room which passed as a dressing room and wished she were home. Her leg ached, she hadn’t slept comfortably since leaving home, and the accommodation had been far from pleasant; small rooms often several flights up, and with poor washing facilities such as she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
Ken Ward did his best and until this recent tour he had been insistent on getting comfortable rooms and friendly managers in the places where she was performing. This week long tour, with unattractive digs and hours to kill in strange towns, made her want to forget singing and stay at home indefinitely. Instead of feeling like the successful woman she had become, she felt second-rate and that was something she couldn’t accept.
When she went out to sing her numbers, Ken Ward was at the side of the stage and at once he apologized. ‘Sorry about this, Shirley, you shouldn’t be here. I agreed to you accepting this tour to help a friend but it wasn’t what he promised — or described.’
‘Are all the seats filled?’ she asked, and when he nodded, and showed her his notebook with the expected profit to be spent on parcels for prisoners of war, she said, ‘Then it’s all right, I’ll do it, but Ken, I don’t want a long tour like this for a while. Just one night bookings and not so far from home, all right?’
‘I understand, and thanks Shirley. In fact, I don’t like being away too long myself, not now Eirlys and I have the baby. Being a father has changed me. I have even learned to tolerate Stanley, Harold and Percival!’ He looked thoughtful, then suggested, ‘What about catching the last train instead of waiting for the morning? You’ll be late home but at least you’ll wake up in your own bed.’ This was agreed and Ken ordered a taxi to be waiting when the show ended.
They talked about young Anthony Ward for a while and when she stepped on to the stage, Shirley’s mood was sunny. The lighting in the hall was poor, the spotlight supposed to circle her in a glow was weak and she could see the audience clearly. There, in the centre of the front row, was Andy.
He had decided that just for an hour or so, seeing her would not be much of a risk, especially as he would be leaving the area again the following day. He was waiting at the exit afterwards, and it was with disappointment that she explained that she was leaving for home immediately. A display of melancholy and the calling down of curses on a fickle fate, hid Andy’s relief that the decision had been made for him and his dangerous risk had been aborted.
Freddy Clements had received a letter from Shirley recently which had sparked the fear of doubt about the future of which he had dreamed. She had spoken three times of a stranger who had miraculously appeared when she was in trouble and helped her, then turned up in a town where she was booked to sing. Jealousy filled him every time he thought of the man. Out here with no chance at all of getting home, how could he fight him off? Shirley hadn’t told him any more than the basic facts. She had told him about being left stranded by the man who had offered her a lift and thinking about the man who had done that to her increased Freddy’s desperate urge to fight. Not the enemy, but the men who spent time with her when he could not, an anger based on jealousy.
He opened the pages and re-read the relevant section with disbelief about the man selling goods in a market. Three times was too much of a coincidence. The words quivered before his eyes and he had difficulty reading. When he had calmed down he re-read the whole letter, and to his relief the rest of the letter was as affectionate as always, and she had signed it ‘love from Shirley‘ and added a line of kisses.
He gave his oppo a friendly shove and said, ‘Fancy a game of football? I have a need to kick something very, very hard.’
* * *
Eynon, Marged and Huw’s son, was less sure about Alice. They had only been married for a few days when he’d had to leave. And although her letters were filled with love and plans for their future, he wondered how she would be when they met again. Perhaps she would look at him and see a stranger. After all, it was a stranger who looked back at him from his mirror when he shaved. He wasn’t the man she had known. Dangers and unimagined tensions had added fatigue and age to his once boyish features.
They hadn’t spent enough time together for her to really know him. He wrote a letter telling her that if she had any doubts when they met at the end of the war, she mustn’t feel tied to him. Their marriage was what he wanted and she was the most important thing in his life and always would be, but he realized it was unfair to expect her to feel the same. He read it through, then tore it up and burned it on the fire.
* * *
In the middle of September the weather turned sultry; there had been rain for several days then the temperature rose and the town suffered under stifling heat that made them unable to sleep. Windows were left open in the hope that the rooms would become cooler, women sat on doorsteps and chatted to each other along the street as they struggled to knit with hands that were damp with perspiration. Small children were restless and uncomfortable in their beds. They fidgeted until they were tangled in the sheets, then woke wailing for someone to make them feel better. Older children cried out and pleaded to be allowed to get up.
Audrey and Wilf were sitting in the garden where they were pestered by flying insects and a few doors down Marged and Huw suffered in the same way.
‘Come on, Huw, let’s go and persuade Audrey and Wilf to come for a walk, it might be cooler up in the park,’ Marged said.
‘The only place where there’ll be a breeze is the beach,’ Huw replied. They went through the back lane and leaned over Audrey’s gate.
‘We’re going for a walk, do you fancy coming? It’s too hot to sleep.’
‘I can’t leave Maude and Myrtle,’ Audrey began.
Then voices from above shouted, ‘We’ll come, Auntie Marged. Our clothes are sticking to us and I long for a paddle in the waves.’ The sisters were hanging out of the window, their damp hair pulled up into a bun on top of their heads, their nightdresses floating around them as they flapped their arms to create a breeze.
‘A paddle? That’s for cissies. I’m taking my dippers,’ Huw said.
It didn’t take more than a few minutes for them all to be ready and in a chattering group they walked to the main road and caught a late bus that took them most of the way, and walked the rest. To their surprise the pavements were crowded.
Living in a town alongside the sea, people were used to enjoying its pleasures and the fact that it was late at night was no deterrent. Whole families were there, babies in prams wearing only napkins, mothers in summer dresses with a cardigan over their arms — just in case. People smiled and greeted each other as though they were sharing some giant party. Buses brought more overheated families to the nearest bus stop and they all came in a chattering excited group along the pavements towards the tempting waves.
Myrtle pointed as she recognized Eirlys with baby Anthony in his pram followed by Morgan and the three boys. ‘Hi yer, Stanley,’ she shouted. ‘Got your dippers?’
‘You bet!’
The noise from the beach revealed the presence of a crowd of bathers long before they were seen. The tide was high, creaming around the outcrop of rock not far from the metal steps leading to Castle’s café. Rich foam was rising and falling at its edge, breaking on the rocks. It looked very tempting. Even though the air was cooler here, the need for a bathe hadn’t lessened.
The heat and sluggish weather had made them expect a flat millpond sea, but this turbulence, which Huw said was probably from a storm far out to sea, was wonderful. Kneeling down in the doorway of a closed shop, Myrtle pulled off her dress to reveal her bathers. With Maude following, she ran over the warm sand, in and out of the now closed stalls and rides, and into the welcoming waves.
Holidays at Home Omnibus Page 132