‘I had a bottom drawer when Eynon and I married as you know, and I’ve tried hard not to use any of it. I begged and pleaded for some of the muslin that covers the lamb carcasses in the butcher’s shop and they’ve been used for many of my needs, so I still have a few brand-new towels and tea towels ready for when Eynon comes home.’
Marged looked around her, at the oddments of china on the shelves, the minimal foodstuff in the open cupboard and the threadbare tablecloth on which she had placed crocheted doilies to hide the wear. The war and the accompanying shortages had gone on so long everyone was struggling to keep their homes looking welcoming.
Weekends saw families going for walks and returning with anything they could use: sticks for the fire, logs to replenish their coal ration, or a walk could result in a feast of blackberries or nuts, flowers to add cheer to a dark corner, or even a few stolen apples.
Store cupboards were almost bare, even dogs and cats were vegetarian, she thought with a weak smile, living on a share of whatever the family meal consisted of. She looked at her daughter-in-law and, as though she were the one needing encouragement, she said, ‘Don’t worry Alice, love. The end is in sight, and soon we’ll be using the dregs of our precious store cupboards and planning the street parties, giving the children something to remember all their lives.’
The words were cheerful but when Alice looked at her, Marged looked so weary that her impulse was to offer her all she had. ‘You can have my towels and tea towels, Mam,’ she said. ‘I’ve got some clothing coupons left and I don’t need much until the spring. There’s sure to be an end to rationing once the war is over. Imagine,’ she added, her face aglow with the image, ‘– imagine the shop windows full of everything and the assistants begging us to buy. Linen stacked outside the shop doorways, all the food we want. Wonderful it’ll be. I’ll be able to find everything I need in plenty of time for when Eynon comes home. I know how difficult it is for you, with the cafés and shops. Take what I have, Mam, you’re welcome.’
‘Thank you, lovely girl. But no, you keep your precious bottom drawer. We’ll go early and try to get some of Cassie Davies’s off-ration bargains. With a bit of luck and if she’s in a generous mood we might be able to buy enough to justify throwing the worst of our tea towels away. Not enough for a real fresh start, but it will help.’
‘Right then. I’ll meet you tomorrow at half past eight.’
* * *
A drizzly rain was falling when the light came on in the rather shabby shop. A crowd had gathered and organized themselves into an orderly queue. Some women had children with them and these climbed on to the window sill and tried to look between the blinds into the shop, where Cassie was busy piling up the items she had for sale.
Finding the chance of a peep irresistible, Alice pressed her face to the glass and peered inside. To her surprise, she saw Cassie rubbing some of the piles of pillowcases on the dusty wooden floor of the shop. Surely the damaged goods would be dirty enough without adding to the mess? She nudged Marged and encouraged her to look but by the time Marged managed to find a gap in the still closed curtaining and peer inside, Cassie was innocently putting the extra grubby pillow cases next to the towels and pillow cases on the counter.
‘What am I looking at?’ Marged asked.
‘Oh, nothing. I’ll tell you later,’ Alice replied with a frown.
There was some consternation as someone pushed through the crowd and knocked on the door. Protests about queue-jumping – a heinous crime – resulted in their being told she was Cassie’s assistant. Kathy Richards had been employed to help during the sale, and would run the shop once the sale had finished and business had simmered down from the chaos of the bargain-hunters to the calmer business of a regular linen store.
When the town-hall clock had struck nine o’clock, the queue began to get restless and several women knocked on the window and shouted for Cassie to hurry. At five minutes past the hour the shop door opened and Cassie announced that she would allow the first three customers into the shop.
As the first three customers each had several children, Cassie was knocked back against the door in the rush of impatient people.
‘Only three I said,’ she protested. Ignoring her, telling their children to ‘be’ave’, the three women grabbed their requirements from the piles on the wooden counter and a rather anxious assistant totalled the purchases and took their money.
When it was Marged and Alice’s turn they asked how many of the grubby-looking towels they were allowed and trying not to be heard by the others, Cassie promised Marged a dozen, plus a few face flannels, and two dozen tea towels for Alice.
Behind an open hand she whispered that she had put some aside for Audrey, as she wasn’t able to come to the shop. Sharp ears overheard and an argument ensued which was quashed by Cassie’s explanation of the special circumstances, the order being for the cafés and not a household. That didn’t discourage the protesters so she raised her voice, her jaw belligerently thrust forward, threatening to send them away with nothing if they didn’t shut up.
As Alice and Marged were paying for their purchases, another three customers were allowed to enter. One of them picked up one of the hand towels and said suspiciously. ‘Not damaged at all, just a bit of dirt. I wonder where she got this lot from?’
‘Stolen for sure,’ her friend replied in a hoarse whisper. ‘Probably bought from one of them spivs we keep hearing about.’
One-handedly the first woman looked through the piled up merchandise. ‘You’re right, Ethel. Damaged stock my eye! There’s not a brack in them, only a bit of dust that’ll come off in the wash.’
‘If you don’t want them, please don’t mess up the counter display,’ Cassie said sharply and Alice glanced at her and saw her grimace, giving the impression that the women’s comments had been heard and the accusation had worried her. The goods certainly looked undamaged. What was Cassie doing rubbing the pillowcases on the floor to get them dirty if she wasn’t hiding the fact?
Alice didn’t have to be at the factory until two so they walked through the streets to Audrey’s café. It was not yet ten o’clock and the café was closed. Marged knocked on the side door which was opened by her sister.
‘We’ve been to that sale at Cassie Davies’s new shop and she’s put some things aside for you,’ Marged said, as they went inside.
They opened out their purchases and examined them. Dirt along the folds, a few pulled loops on the towels and some loose stitches on the corners of the tea towels. Nothing that couldn’t be easily repaired. They told Audrey what Alice had seen and Cassie’s reaction to the suspicions of the shoppers, and decided the items were suspect.
‘What are you going to do?’ Audrey asked.
‘Get them home and washed as quickly as we can!’
Alice laughed. ‘Once they’re in our cupboards we won’t worry about the whys and wherefors. Glad to have them we are, and if we hadn’t bought them someone else would.’
‘That’s an excuse that’s been used for years to justify dishonesty,’ Audrey said. Then she smiled as she added, ‘Damned if I won’t be doing the same, mind!’
* * *
Cassie had begun to have doubts about the stock Joseph delivered late at night to the newly opened shop, as soon as she unpacked the first parcel. There were certainly plenty of the right lines to sell to an eager, commodity-starved public, but they showed no evidence of being rescued from fire or flood or bombed buildings. She wished Joseph were there. She shouldn’t have been left to deal with it alone. What if the police had called?
Joseph had left so much to her over the past years and during the recent months she had hardly seen him. These boxes, suspiciously un-crushed, the contents pristine, had arrived late one evening after the shop had closed, with three men in khaki overalls and carrying official-looking clipboards to carry the consignment inside and with no message for her, except for a previous letter telling her to assess the prices and sell everything as quickly as she could so
the supplier could be paid.
If only she could reach him by telephone, hear him reassure her that everything was legal. She had a growing fear that was something he couldn’t do. She sat down after the shop was closed and the assistant had gone, and wrote to him, telling him about the success of the day’s trading and asking for his reassurance that she needn’t fear a visit from the police.
Most of the goods had been sold. All that was left were a few items she had put aside for herself and the pile of tea towels for Audrey, and all of a sudden she wanted them out of the place. Bundling them into a couple of paper carriers, she went out and locked up the shop. She still remembered the experience of being robbed of her day’s takings and she nervously followed a group of people as she made her way to the bank with the day’s takings, aware of the danger of walking alone, thinking with unusual irritation that Joseph should have been there to do the dangerous errands. She thankfully dropped the bag into the night-safe and hurried to Audrey’s café.
Both of the girls Audrey had taken in after being found homeless and ill were there: Myrtle helping clear tables and Maude behind the counter. Myrtle was now sixteen and had grown into a beautiful young woman. She spent most of her spare time with the oldest of the three evacuees, Stanley, and her growing love for him showed in her eyes.
Maude was now nineteen and had been allowed to leave the factory, where she had been sent on war work, because of her weak chest, and allowed to work on the beach with the Castles who had become their family.
While Cassie waited for Myrtle to bring her tea and a piece of toast, she looked through her bank book. She and Joseph had become surprisingly wealthy over the war years. The profit from the second shop would bring more and she worked out that once the shops and the house they lived in had been sold, they would be able to buy a small cottage in the beautiful Vale of Glamorgan and enjoy a comfortable retirement.
She smiled inwardly. Most of their success was down to her. Joseph would be so pleased when she told him how well placed they were. He probably didn’t know how wealthy they had become. He never bothered with the day-to-day running of the business, he confidently left all that to her. When the war ended – and that seemed likely to happen in months now rather than years – they would celebrate not with street parties and welcome home banners, but by looking for their dream house. For the rest of their life they would be together every day. Life would be ‘perfect’.
She was unaware she had said the word aloud until Myrtle, who had arrived with her order, smiled and said, ‘Perfect? An ol’ bit of toast? You must be a happy person, Mrs Davies, to enjoy such simple pleasures.’
‘I am, Myrtle. I am.’
‘Me too, Mrs Davies. Life is great, isn’t it? And once this war’s over it’ll be even better.’
‘You still seeing that Stanley Love? Nice boy he is, even if he is a bit cheeky.’
‘At least he didn’t have to go away. There’s my poor sister living for the postman’s visits in the hope of a letter from that boyfriend of hers. You remember Reggie, who helped Mr Gregory when he extended his smallholding? Soft on him she is, our Maude.’
Cassie remembered how she had felt about Joseph all those years ago. She was soft on him and still was, even though Myrtle would consider her past such feelings, she thought with a happy smile.
* * *
Happiness was not apparent in the home of Lilly and Sam Edwards.
‘What?’ Lilly gasped. ‘You’re telling me we have to move from this house and go and live in two rooms? Sam, dear, what’s got into you? The house is yours, it’s your home and mine and Phyllis’s. How can you tell me we have to leave it?’ Lilly stared at her husband in utter disbelief. ‘Sam, dear, what’s happened? Are we short of money? I can work. I’d hate leaving you every day but I can get a job with our Mam and Dad, we’ll manage.’
‘Too late, Lilly. The house is sold and we have to be out of it at the end of May.’
‘But, where will we go?’ Using his love for her daughter, she pleaded her case. ‘How will Phyllis cope with such an upheaval? She’s so happy here, so close to the beach and the park and all her friends. She loves her own little bedroom. I’m so happy here. I thought you were too. Just tell me what’s happened and we can sort it out. Please, Sam, tell me what’s gone wrong.’
Sam looked away from her, afraid she would see the sadness, his dislike of her, reflected in his eyes. ‘I had to sell the house, we don’t have enough money to live on.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me? Why wait until it’s too late? Mam and Dad would have helped us. There are plenty of things we could have done. Please, Sam, don’t do this. Go and see the estate agent, tell him you’ve changed you mind.’
‘It’s too late, the deed is done.’ The deed he was thinking of was the sight of his young wife in bed with his son. ‘There’s no going back.’
‘Where are they, these two rooms you’re taking us to?’
‘They’re a few doors away from your Auntie Audrey’s café.’
‘What?’ She began to sob then. ‘You’re going to embarrass me by taking me to two rooms in that awful street where Auntie Audrey can see me every day?’
‘Perhaps she’ll find you a job, so we can save up and perhaps buy a house again.’
‘What about your Sam? Where’s he supposed to go when he comes on leave? He won’t have a home any more.’
‘He’s old enough to find a place of his own. After his – varied – experiences he’s mature enough to cope, wouldn’t you say? Being adult is more than making love to a woman, it brings responsibilities as well as fun.’
Something in the slow way he said the words made her nervous. Surely he didn’t know about her and Sam? She lowered her head sorrowfully and asked. ‘When are you taking me to see this place, these two rooms that will be our home?’
He didn’t answer. Instead he said. ‘The rooms, particularly the kitchen which we’ll be sharing with other people, will need a bit of cleaning. I thought you could make a start on that while I take little Phyllis to deal with the final arrangements. I have to sell a lot of the furniture, and I have to discuss times with the removal firm.’
‘And we have to be out of here in a matter of weeks?’
‘I’m afraid so, yes.’
‘But it’s impossible. Why didn’t you tell me before?’
Ignoring her remarks he said, ‘So if you’ll start cleaning the rooms, I’ll attend to the rest.’
‘Sam, this is crazy. I have to go and tell Mam and Dad, now this minute.’
‘Tomorrow. Today you must go to look at the rooms and decide on what we need to take to make them into a home for me and yourself and little Phyllis.’
Although he spoke in his usual soft voice there was a steeliness in his tone of which she had been previously unaware. He must know. He no longer called her ‘my dear’, a small thing in itself but it made her afraid. He must have found out about her affair with Sam Junior. But how? And why would that make him sell the house, his home as well as hers? She began to cry and this time it wasn’t affectation. She was afraid and deeply ashamed of the way she had cheated on him.
He handed her a piece of paper on which he had written the address. ‘Someone will be there to open the door for you, and I suggest you take all you need to start on the cleaning.’
As the tears fell she forgot her shame and regrets and turned the whole sorry mess around to blame Sam Junior. He must have said something, he must have been careless, let the odd word slip. In her deep misery she convinced herself he had been the one who had started the affair. He who had taken advantage of her. She relived the scene and saw herself backing away from his advances, protesting until he weakened her resistance. Yes, this was all Sam Junior’s fault. She had been seduced. The word both frightened and thrilled her.
* * *
In the gift shop Hannah was finishing the last of the teddy bears she had made from the old fur coat, when Beth came in with her small son, Peter. Eirlys’s two-and-a-half-year-ol
d Anthony at once ran to greet the newcomer.
Eirlys Ward was working and Hannah and Alice between them looked after Anthony for her. Hannah put down her sewing and held out her arms for the baby.
‘Have you heard from Peter?’ she asked as Beth reached for the kettle to make the inevitable cup of tea.
‘Not yet, but it’s so confused over there at present. It seems likely the war will end within days, then they’ll all come home.’ To Hannah’s alarm she began to cry, and Hannah’s first thought was that her friend had received bad news. The end of the war might be imminent but the dying went on.
The baby was put in the cot they had bought to accommodate their children while they worked and she went to hug her friend. She said nothing. It was so easy to say the wrong thing.
‘I’m being silly, Hannah. I haven’t had bad news, or heard any rumours but I haven’t heard for ages. I do know that the underground fighters – the people he’s worked with for six years – are now out in the open. Peter will be with them, standing beside the partisans and street fighters, and in the confusion not knowing friend from foe.
‘He’ll be careful, you have to believe that and trust him.’
‘This is something the Maquis have waited for for years, a chance to come out in the open and fight. The battle will be furious, the heroes and the foolhardy, risking their lives, there’ll be no chance of being cautious.’
‘Confusion or not, you’d have heard if Peter was injured.’ She deliberately didn’t say killed. There were plenty of nightmare scenarios racing through Beth’s head without adding to them. She reached into her handbag and offered Beth a letter. ‘It’s from Johnny, but news of a cousin is better than none.’
Holidays at Home Omnibus Page 153