Holidays at Home Omnibus

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

  * * *

  Marged and Huw were very busy on the beach during the month of June 1944. It was as though wives and mothers flocked to the beach to be as close as they could to their loved ones. Marged noticed many women pointing out to sea and, ignoring the fact that Somerset was visible, insisted to their children that the land they could see was where their father was. She mentioned the mild deception to Alice and Hannah one day as the café was about to close, and they stood at the window of the café and pretended, just like the rest, that Eynon and Johnny were almost within sight.

  Below them, the donkeys were gathering to leave the beach. Impatient, knowing their supper awaited them, they pushed each other and Bernard Gregory, who was in charge of them, shouted with equal impatience but with no malice. He pulled the leader, Charlie, out from the mêlée and as he led him towards the slope leading up to the promenade, the others automatically arranged themselves in their usual pattern for the walk home to Sally Gough’s field.

  The children had all left the beach and there would be no more rides wanted that day. He looked up to the café and, seeing the faces near the window, he waved and pointed the whip, which he had never used, in the direction of home.

  Since the birth of his grandchild, going home had an even greater pull. He increased his speed with the donkeys as he approached the corner from where he would have his first sight of the smallholding where he lived with his daughter-in-law, Beth. There were a couple of people at the gate and at first he thought it was customers calling to place an order for vegetables from his smallholding, but then he recognized his son. He waved and as though picking up on his excitement, the donkeys moved even faster, running when they passed the gate, heading for rest and food.

  ‘Peter, what a surprise,’ Bernard called as he passed the beautiful sight of Peter and Beth with their baby. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I’ve sorted this lot.’

  Handing the child to Beth, Peter called, ‘I’ll come with you.’

  Bernard looked at his son and inwardly groaned. He was even thinner than the last time he was home. He had been in France in advance of the invasion of Normandy, living rough and helping to support the invasion by sabotaging strategic targets alongside the brave resistance fighters.

  ‘Home for good this time, I hope,’ Bernard said, looking at the thin and weary face of his son. For Peter it had been a hard war.

  ‘Soon, Dad. But I’m too useful for the moment. I’ve spent a lot of time there and my contacts, my knowledge and my language skills, make it difficult to find a substitute.’

  Peter was home for a week, and with Beth and the baby he spent a lot of time on the beach, running alongside the donkeys with their excited riders. The happy children, the sun, and the rest and peace of being among loved ones and friends performed their magic. At the end of the week he looked less strained and his face boasted a light tan and had even filled out just a little.

  During the night before he was to leave, Beth woke and stretched out her arms, expecting to feel his warm body beside her but the bed was empty. She rose and slipped quietly into the baby’s room. Peter was sitting nursing the sleeping child and staring out into the night.

  ‘Sorry, my darling. I didn’t mean to disturb you.’

  ‘Are you all right?’ Beth whispered.

  ‘I’m fine. I’m just storing up a few memories like a picture gallery or a snapshot album, or a wonderful film complete with sound and scent. They keep me going until I’m home again.’

  Arms around each other and their baby, they sat for a long time, silently watching dawn break. A fox barked in the distance, a cart rumbled past, then they heard Bernard shuffling downstairs and the sound of the kettle being filled and they knew it was time to face yet another parting.

  Peter went to Sally Gough’s field with his father to gather the donkeys and fit them with their saddles, then watched as they set off to the beach. He and Beth stood on the corner of the lane until the sight then the sound of their trotting feet faded. Then he kissed his wife and child and got into the lorry that would take him back to his other world.

  Although neither Beth nor Bernard spoke the words aloud that evening, when they discussed Peter’s brief and happy leave, they each wondered fearfully how much longer Peter could survive. Expertise and courage were there, but when it came to it, survival in wartime was basically a matter of luck.

  * * *

  Twice during that week, Huw came home from a shift at the fish and chip restaurant to find Marged asleep. He was worried, but reminded himself that they were getting older after all, and the business was a strenuous one. He woke her gently and tried insisting they found extra help as soon as possible so she could rest more. She refused.

  ‘What’s the point in paying people who don’t know what they’re about? They only get in the way. Never any use taking casuals – you know that, Huw. We just have to get on with it. If only we had more help from the family, things wouldn’t have got to this state.’

  ‘If you’re talking about our Lilly then forget it.’

  ‘Our Lilly isn’t the only one not pulling her weight,’ she said between yawns as she went up to bed.

  Huw sat near the dying fire for a while, staring into its grey heart. He was worried about Marged. She was doing too much, but if she refused to advertise for assistants there didn’t seem much he could do. He couldn’t fit in any more than he already did. Out at the beach all day, collecting stores, dealing with problems on the stalls and rides, helping a couple of nights at the chip shop. If only the boys were back. Perhaps he could persuade Ronnie to give up the stall and come back to the sands? He shook his head in answer to his own, unspoken question. No, that wouldn’t happen. They would have to struggle on and hope to survive the hectic summer once again.

  * * *

  Lilly’s letter enclosing the note from Sam Senior’s doctor bore fruit in that Sam Junior was given leave. No date was given, but Sam was so pleased, he gave Lilly a few shillings with which to treat one of her friends to tea in a café, something he knew she enjoyed.

  ‘What about that new friend of yours, Netta Mills, is she called? Why don’t you invite her to the café near the park?’

  ‘I’d love to, Sam, dear. But I don’t know where she lives. I think she manages on very little and maybe she’s a bit too embarrassed to invite me to visit. But I see her quite often and I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to have a nice tea with me and our little Phyllis.’ She amused Sam by telling him again about the chaos Netta’s children caused in the café from which they were requested to leave. Sam chuckled. He loved hearing about Lilly’s daily trips to the shops. She exaggerated for his amusement and made even ordinary incidents sound like great fun. She was so young; she made him very happy.

  Lilly met Netta the following day and was told that it was Dolly’s second birthday.

  ‘Right then, we need a real celebration. Come on, we’ll go to the café over near the lake.’ They placed the three children at a table and ordered the best of the available cakes with drinks of lemonade for them.

  ‘I’ll pay as it’s my daughter’s birthday,’ Netta offered, taking out her purse, but Lilly would have none of it.

  ‘This is my treat. My darling Sam gave me some money for Phyllis and me to have tea in a café and it’s much more fun to share it with you.’

  The day was warm and they sat looking through the open door of the café watching mothers passing, leading children with sailing boats under their arms, planning to create sea battles on the safe, calm water of the lake. Behind them their three children made an unbelievable mess as they shared out the cakes until they were little more than crumbs. At the counter the waitress stood with a hand brush at the ready, willing them to leave and not come back.

  Lilly enjoyed playing lady bountiful, and boasting about the Castle family and their successful business, a subject about which Netta couldn’t have enough.

  ‘When did you say Alice married your Eynon?’ she asked as Lilly ordered more tea and cak
es.

  ‘September 1942. Only married for two days they were, before he had to return to his unit. Ever so romantic.’

  ‘It was about that time Dolly’s father left us,’ Netta said sadly. ‘No romance there though, eh?’

  * * *

  Sam Edwards Junior was in Leicester waiting to be transported to France and was given a weekend pass on compassionate grounds to see his father. He arrived on their doorstep one Friday evening towards the end of June, when his father was out with the little girl and Lilly was alone, sitting in the garden reading the Radio Times to decide on her evening’s entertainment.

  Sam had been a friend of Lilly’s before introducing her to his father and now there was a shyness between them that had not been apparent before. Since Lilly had become his stepmother they had only met in the company of his father.

  When he saw her he opened his arms then allowed them to drop to his side. He took a few hurried steps then stopped. How should he greet her? Lilly jumped up and stood hesitatingly: she too was wondering how to react to his arrival. Then she threw down the magazine and walked up to him and kissed him. She was aware of a sharp, almost painful starburst of desire and his arms wrapped themselves around her, pressing her body against his, leaving her in no doubt that he felt the same.

  Their kiss became passionate, a crazy, urgent prelude to a hasty, staggering climb up the stairs and into the bedroom in which he slept on his rare visits home.

  Their love-making was fierce, demanding, greedy and desperate. The coming together a longed-for, long-awaited hunger. Half undressed, clothes abandoned in their wild need for each other, they lay on the bed and didn’t hear the door opening, or the footsteps climbing the stairs, a more sedate progress than their own had been. They failed to see the figure standing at the door, his eyes filled with pain and disappointment.

  * * *

  Shirley Downs, the stepdaughter of Bleddyn Castle, was a singer. She gave her time to perform in concerts to entertain the forces and factory workers, and to raise funds for the various wartime charities. She had been to see Eirlys Ward, who organized the town’s Holidays at Home plans, to finalize arrangements for an open-air concert on the promenade. A few acts were booked to appear, a comedian and juggler and a few acrobats, but the main purpose of the evening was a sing-song, something that most people enjoyed.

  Stanley, the oldest of the evacuees, came in while she was with Eirlys and said he would have to go back to the beach, even though it was officially his afternoon off. ‘Marged isn’t well.’ he explained.

  ‘Mrs Castle,’ Eirlys automatically corrected.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Shirley asked at once.

  ‘Don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘Just tired according to Huw – er – Mr Castle.’ He turned to Eirlys and demanded, ‘How the heck are you going to know which of them I’m talking about? Bleddyn’s Mr Castle too. And Hetty’s Mrs Castle ain’t she? Blimey, Eirlys, you don’t ’alf make life complicated!’

  ‘I’ll go and see if I can help,’ Shirley said, hiding a smile.

  ‘She – Marged,’ he said defiantly, ‘Marged said to let her Audrey know. That’s Mrs Kent to you,’ he added cheekily.

  The two women wrote down the order of the performances and Eirlys promised to let Shirley have a typed programme the following day; then Shirley went to catch a bus that would take her to the beach. Stanley grabbed a slice of cake, and went with her.

  That evening, while Marged rested in bed under doctor’s orders to do nothing for a few days, the rest of the Castle family had a conference. It was after nine o’clock when Audrey and Keith, Maude and Myrtle arrived. Until the previous summer, Audrey and the two sisters had worked on the sands and it was the opening of Audrey’s café, taking the two girls with her, that had made life so much more difficult for Marged to staff the café and stalls and rides.

  Feeling guilty at the exhaustion of her sister, aware that it was partly due to herself, Audrey said at once, ‘We’ve discussed this and Maude will go back to working on the beach.’

  ‘Best for her too,’ Huw growled. ‘We got her out of working in that factory on condition she worked out of doors, remember. If she’s seen in your café they could make her go back. Right?’

  ‘Sorry, Uncle Huw,’ Maude said. ‘I intended to come back once the season started, but I didn’t know whether you still wanted me, after going with Auntie Audrey. You weren’t too pleased with us at the time.’

  ‘Let’s forget all that,’ Bleddyn said quickly. ‘If Audrey can spare you and you want to come back to the sands, you can start as soon as you like. Right, Huw?’ Still disgruntled, Huw nodded.

  He was frightened by Marged’s illness. Marged was never ill. She had the strength of two and nothing ever distracted her from doing what was needed to run the business. What would they do if Marged wasn’t there to organize everything? Since her collapse and the doctor’s visit he was even more aware of how much they all depended on her. They didn’t know just how much she did until there was the possibility she wouldn’t be able to do it!

  ‘I’ll be there to open the café tomorrow morning,’ Maude promised.

  Upstairs, standing on the landing, bending low so she could hear what was being said, Marged smiled. ‘Me ill indeed,’ she muttered. ‘Never been ill in my life. But I had to make that sister of mine see sense and let me have Maude back.’

  Three

  Shirley Downs was developing a career as a singer that augured well for the future. Starting with local competitions and small venues, she had become well known and was increasingly in demand. Her work often took her out of town and necessitated an overnight stay.

  Travelling was often difficult and she remembered arriving at one venue on a horse. Another time she had been stranded far from a town in a country lane after accepting a lift from the wrong person. On both these occasions she had been helped by a man called Andy. Vaguely she wondered where he was and what had happened to him.

  People regularly came into her life and were then left behind. Although she accepted the brief encounters that would always be a part of her life as she toured the country, Andy remained a strong memory, one that hovered and wouldn’t go away. Perhaps he would appear again one day unexpectedly, when she again needed help.

  Many of the concerts were to raise money for the war charities. The Red Cross parcels for prisoners of war was considered an important scheme in the town, where many families waited anxiously for news of their loved ones held in enemy hands.

  From a little local girl coaxed on by family and friends, she had now risen to the point where her name was often the only one displayed on tickets and posters. ‘Shirley Downs and supporting artistes’ was the usual encouragement for people to buy tickets. She rarely sang to an audience where there were empty seats; the tickets sold as soon as they were issued. Pride in the local girl added to the pleasure of listening to her voice.

  When she wrote to Freddy Clements she said nothing of this. The impression she gave him was that of an enthusiastic amateur, singing at out-of-the-way places in small community rooms and church balls with people sitting on uncomfortable chairs and draughts whistling through ill-fitting windows and doors. Making light of her talent was something she couldn’t explain: she didn’t really understand her motives herself. Perhaps she didn’t want to frighten him off by thinking she wasn’t the same person he had left behind.

  Freddy’s parents had died and the house he had called home was now rented by Maldwyn Perkins, who worked at Chapel’s flower shop. He and his wife had moved there when they had married and now Freddy had nowhere to come back to.

  In her letter, Shirley mentioned this, asking Freddy if he wanted her to investigate the possibility of his renting a place when the Army had finally finished with him. She suggested that rooms, with a landlady providing food and other services, might be best and she filled a page or two asking for his thoughts on where he would like to live. Then she tore it up.

  She threw the scraps of paper on to the fir
e and stared into space. She and Freddy had spent a lot of time together, firstly out of devilment during the time he had been engaged to Beth Castle. Their affair had been exciting and spasmodic, and had ended without much regret on either side. She had begun to write to him because there were few who would bother and she understood how important it was for serving soldiers to have contact with home. That was all it was, a correspondence linking him with St David’s Well, until the war ended and he came home.

  She started to write again, this time only telling him about the small incidents happening in and around the town now the day trippers and holidaymakers were filling the place. Because her mother and stepfather were involved with the beach, much of what she told him was about the Castle family.

  Then her pen started following her brain as she again began to wonder where he would go and what he would do when he came home. Surely she could offer to find him a place to live? Briefly she asked whether he needed her to look out for a couple of rooms. ‘If you need any help to find a place to come home to when this war is finally over, write and tell me what you want me to do and I will find somewhere for you to stay while you decide on long-term plans.’ That was vague enough. There was no intrusion, no suggestion she might presume to be included. She was confused about whether or not she wanted to be a part of his future. She ended by signing with the usual ‘love from your friend, Shirley’ and put it in the post-box with a feeling of almost tearful dissatisfaction.

  * * *

  Alice was writing to Eynon and for her there were not the difficulties faced by Shirley. The Castle family and their activities were enough to fill the pages without having to put down her thoughts. Her doubts and fears about their meeting again were easily kept from Eynon’s letters. She mentioned what she suspected was a trick on his mother’s part to persuade Audrey to let Maude go back to the beach and hoped he would laugh. She loved to imagine him laughing: Eynon had always been a happy person.