Holidays at Home Omnibus

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

  Beth couldn’t sleep. Peter was somewhere in the chaos of France and although the surrender documents had been signed, the dangers were not over. There were certain to be pockets of resistance, German soldiers who had not heard the news. There would still be unexploded bombs, booby-traps, mines at sea. Every time she closed her eyes she saw pictures of death in its many cruel forms. She rose quietly trying to avoid waking Bernard, checked on her child, who slept soundly, unaffected by living through such a historic day, and went to the kitchen.

  As the kettle boiled she sat looking out of the doorway at the dawn breaking on the first day of peace. Footsteps alerted her and she turned to see her father-in-law shuffling into the room with a greatcoat over his shoulders.

  ‘Sorry I disturbed you,’ she said as she reached for a second cup and saucer.

  ‘You didn’t. I was wide awake and wishing it was time to rise.’

  They sat companionably outside the door looking at the colours changing as the day began. Deep shadows hid everything at first, shapes of familiar objects distorted and strange. Then as the light strengthened, buildings, trees, bushes, grassy banks beside the road were slowly, magically revealed. Then the flowers: late spring and early summer flowers, their colours strengthening and showing them the beauty of that May morning.

  They heard footsteps approaching and Bernard said, ‘It seems we aren’t the only ones unable to sleep, Beth.’

  A figure emerged, faint at first then as the darkness eased its grip, it grew out of the shadows to become someone familiar. ‘Peter!’ Beth whispered, before running, struggling with the gate and falling into his arms.

  Bernard waited and after hugging his son, made excuses and disappeared into the house. He puffed on his pipe and sighed with contentment as he watched the young couple walk into the house. Peter was home, the war was done with, and in his cot a new generation was preparing to take over. Leaving them to their reunion, he went up to sit with the donkeys. Perhaps he’d knock on Sally Gough’s door in case she hadn’t been told about the victory. He could tell her about Peter coming home too. It was a time for talking. ‘Damn me,’ he said to no one at all, ‘it’s not yet five o’clock and already it’s been a grand day.’

  Five

  Eirlys, as many other people that morning, woke to a feeling of disbelief. Was it true? Had they really heard the announcement that the war in Europe was over? ‘Has the war really been won?’ she asked Ken as she began to prepare breakfast. ‘Or was yesterday’s excitement nothing more than a particularly vivid dream?’ She ran upstairs to call her father. He was already up and behind him, coming down the stairs was Harold.

  ‘Stanley’s already out,’ Harold said. ‘And Percival must have gone with him. He isn’t in bed. Stanley just couldn’t wait to get over to the beach. Not even any breakfast. They’re mad.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Marged and Huw will feed them. It’ll be such a strange day after yesterday’s news. Few will get to work on time. In fact, I doubt if many will turn up for work at all. We’ll need more than a night’s sleep to calm us down. Marged and Huw and Bleddyn will be there to open the café and stalls though. Nothing will dissuade them from the beach. They’ll be glad of the boys’ help.’

  ‘No school either? I doubt if Percival will be back in time.’

  ‘We won’t worry about it. Not today.’

  ‘Does that mean I don’t need to go either?’ he asked hopefully.

  ‘Just this once,’ Eirlys replied. ‘We’d better make sure Percival’s there though. I like to know exactly where you all are.’ She turned to Ken. ‘Will you go and make sure Percival’s with Marged and Huw, Ken? I’ll be telling him off for going out without letting me know where he is.’

  Ken agreed, but promptly forgot.

  It was Morgan who went to see if Marged and Huw had seen Percival, and on being told he had not been there, he began to look for him. He tried the houses of all his friends and became more and more alarmed when no one had seen him. Where could he be?

  Morgan went to Eirlys’s office, where she was putting the finishing touches to plans for the judging of the best spring garden. She looked up anxiously when her father came in. ‘Dadda? What is it? It isn’t Anthony, is it?’

  ‘Anthony’s fine. No it’s young Percival. No one seems to have seen him today and I wondered if you have any ideas for places to look where I haven’t already tried.’

  Immediately anxious, Eirlys and Morgan compared suggestions and, excusing herself, taking an early lunch, she went out with her father to try the most likely places again.

  It was after two o’clock when Ken remembered his promise to check up on Percival and, setting aside the work he was doing, he left the house, and went to the beach. Morgan was in the café at the beach talking to Marged and instead of joining them, Ken went along the promenade and into the amusement arcade. There, in front of a slot machine, watching as youngsters tried their luck with the clacking, humming games machines was Percival. His hair was tousled, his clothes carelessly worn, and buttons incorrectly fastened, which, together with his over-long short trousers from which his two skinny legs protruded, made him look forlorn and unloved.

  ‘Percival? What are you doing here?’ Ken asked, putting an arm around the boy.

  ‘Hello, Uncle Ken. I’ve been trying to get a job.’

  Stifling a chuckle, afraid of offending the sober child’s dignity he asked, ‘Why do you need a job? Isn’t your pocket money sufficient for you to manage on? We could discuss it with Eirlys and maybe get you a rise.’

  Before Ken could give him a chance to answer, Morgan saw them, came over and hugged Percival.

  ‘Where have you been, Percival? We’ve all been so worried about you.’

  Ken interrupted Percival’s reply. ‘He tells me he needs a job but perhaps an increase in pocket money might suffice. Eh?’

  Percival struggled to hold back a sob. Ken holding one hand and Morgan the other, they led the unhappy boy out into the sunshine. Eirlys looked at him and knew that the problem, whatever it was, had not been resolved. ‘Are you hungry, Percival?’ she asked, hoping that food might at least be a temporary comfort, until she could work out the reason for his unhappiness.

  ‘Starvin’,’ was the reply. ‘Can I have chips and spam with Auntie Marged?’

  ‘A double helping,’ Morgan promised.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked as they walked towards the café. ‘Have I done something to upset you?’ He shook his head and, when they reached the café and sat waiting for their food, Morgan tried another tack.

  ‘When I’m fed up about something, I talk to someone. Just one person, a best friend who’ll listen and understand. Who’s your best friend, Percival?’

  ‘You are, Uncle Morgan, but I don’t want to talk.’

  ‘Perhaps later?’

  ‘P’raps.’

  He ate with unusual enthusiasm but wouldn’t be drawn on the reason for his sombre mood. Eirlys found him later that day with all his possessions laid out on his bed. ‘What are you doing, Percival? Having a sort out?’

  ‘Yeh. Seeing which of these things I’ve grown out of and don’t need any more.’

  Eirlys felt a growing concern as she studied the serious young face. Something was troubling him, but she knew this wasn’t the time to try to find out. It was best to wait until he was ready to talk.

  * * *

  The joy following the announcement that the war in Europe was over was tinged with continuing anxiety for other people besides Percival. The horrifying war in the Far East was yet to be settled. While the families of those promised an early release celebrated, the rejoicing was only a partial relief to others. To them it was at least the beginning of the end, and they worked with the rest to arrange the V.E. – Victory in Europe – street parties that were being prepared all over the town.

  For Eirlys the parties meant an easing of her plans for entertainments. Until the parties were over, there would be little demand for other activities; everyone’s effo
rts went into making their special neighbourhood celebration a success. She and Ken decided to join in the Sidney Street plan and her main contribution, apart from providing some of the food, was to lend them some bunting and flags from the town’s supplies. Shirley Downs agreed to lead the singing that would inevitably end the evening. Ken arranged for a group of clowns to come and entertain the children while they waited for the tables to be filled with food.

  The intention to hold parties in the street had long been discussed and preparations were quickly made. Most houses had a few treats hidden in their pantries in anticipation. Shirley had volunteered to help prepare the food for the celebration organized by Marged and Audrey, and as she walked towards Sidney Street she thought she saw a face she knew. It made her start and she stared along the lane from which she had seen the head and shoulders of a young man appear, then dart back as though not wanting to be seen.

  Surely it wasn’t Andy Probert? It was uncanny to imagine seeing him so soon after she had been thinking about him. Had she dreamed up the image out of her memories? Of course it wasn’t him. Just someone resembling him, nothing more. A second glance and the similarities would be hard to find. Andy, whose brother Reggie had worked for Bernard Gregory for a while, had popped into her life on several occasions but he never would again. Although she didn’t quite approve of him, draft-dodger and petty criminal that he was, she had always been happy in his company. He had brightened her day and left memories that made her smile, even now, when she thought of him.

  Andy had had the ability to appear unexpectedly, but now he was dead. Drowned after his ship had sunk, just as his recurring dream had foretold. It couldn’t have been him. And after all, she had thought she’d seen him several times before, so it must be her imagination, her mind playing tricks. But it unsettled her and she walked quickly on, thankful to go inside Marged’s house and join the team of busy neighbours with their happy chatter, amid piles of food that seemed sufficient to feed a small army.

  A few tempting sandwiches of salmon, spam and eggs were mixed with large quantities of meat paste and Marmite. Large quantities of small cakes appeared and some had had their tops scooped out and filled with cold, chopped jelly, a pretty sight if a bit difficult to eat. The pieces of cake that had been removed were not wasted; these went into trifles together with a few precious tins of fruit.

  Bernard and Peter came with Beth and the baby and Reggie Probert, Andy’s brother, came too. Reggie looked around hoping to see Maude but it wasn’t to be: he had less than an hour, and she was still at the café on the beach.

  Shirley saw him and sighed with relief. It must have been Reggie she had seen. They weren’t exactly alike, but the similarity would have been sufficient to mislead her as Andy had been in her thoughts. Thank goodness. She was wondering if her mind was playing tricks.

  Everyone had a job to do. Assorted trestle tables were spread lengthways near the middle of the road and any traffic was left to find another route. Tablecloths hid the motley collection and small decorations made by Hannah, Eirlys and Beth added cheer. Chairs and stools were brought from the nearest houses. A piano was dragged into the street and someone found who could play it. Huw staggered out with a gramophone which was placed on a small table with a pile of records slithering dangerously whenever anyone went near.

  The piano immediately came into use and the men and women sang as they set everything out ready for the feast. The music swelled, bottles and glasses clinked and, with the cutlery, performed an accompaniment, the percussion section of the orchestrated day. At three o’clock the clowns leaped into the street and engaged the children in games. At four, everything was ready and with a swoop the children found their seats. All except Percival.

  He held back as the rest of the children found their place, half hidden in the doorway of Marged’s house. It was Beth who saw him and she tried to coax him to the table with the rest.

  ‘Is this a party so everyone can go home?’ he asked in a whisper barely heard by Beth.

  ‘Yes, Percival. All the soldiers will be coming home very soon. You’ll be able to see Johnny and my brother Eynon – you remember them, don’t you?’

  ‘Everyone where they belong?’

  ‘That’s right. Now, come on or you’ll miss the best of this lovely spread. This is one celebration you mustn’t miss. It’s one you’ll never forget.’

  Peter came over as Beth was seating a reluctant Percival on a corner seat. When Beth walked away to pour lemonade for some children holding up their empty glasses, he knelt down beside the twelve-year-old and asked, ‘Is something wrong? Did you want to sit beside your brother, Harold?’

  ‘No, it’s all right, Uncle Peter. I’ll have to get used to being on my own.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ He looked along the table to where Harold was showing off to a couple of girls, his fourteen-year-old face covered in mock cream from which he had fashioned a beard and moustache and thick eyebrows. ‘Oh, I see, Harold has his own friends and you’re left to manage on your own. He’ll be glad of you in between flirting with girls, believe me. And things change. Stanley still looks after you and when he realizes how grown up you are, Harold will include you in his adventures, too. Give it time, old chap.’

  Percival took a bite out of a cake and pulled a face of dismay. ‘These currants is boverin’ me,’ he said and tears filled his eyes. ‘My mam used to pick ’em out for me.’

  Peter presumed that thoughts of everyone coming home had reminded the boy that the reunions excluded his with his mother, who had been killed a few years previously, and his heart ached for the lonely little boy.

  ‘Give it to me, young Percival, I’ll make sure I remove every last one of them.’

  Peter stayed with Percival for a while, trying to coax him to talk about his mother but Percival said very little and he eventually moved away, accepting that the boy’s dead mother was not a subject for the day when many were celebrating.

  The noise in the normally quiet street was deafening and as Lilly came around the corner she pulled a face. ‘Sam, dear, I don’t think I can cope with this. It’s making my head split.’

  ‘Phyllis will love it and look, they’ve already started eating. I told you we were late.’

  Although they weren’t officially members of the street, as Lilly’s parents, Marged and Huw had made sure they were invited and Lilly was relieved to see them. A couple of chairs were found and Phyllis was seated where Sam could help her to whatever she wanted. Lilly left Phyllis with him and followed her mother around as Marged tried to attend to the demands of the excited children. ‘Mam, I want to talk to you.’

  ‘What is it, our Lilly? Can’t it wait till later? You can see I’m busy. Either help or go and sit down. We can talk later.’ She thrust some used plates into her daughter’s hands and Lilly immediately put them back on the table. She hadn’t come here to work.

  The stalls on the beach and the cafés were open and it was with difficulty that Bleddyn and Hetty had managed to find staff to take over so they could join in the fun.

  Alice and Shirley Downs stood beside Shirley’s mother and stepfather and marvelled at the achievement of the women who had provided the food on the groaning tables. After years of rationing and shortages, they had arranged a party for about forty children that looked as good as anything in the pre-war years. Everyone had contributed something, including those without children of their own, but even so the wonderful display of food and the decorations both on the table and across the street were remarkable.

  ‘Pity the men aren’t home to join in,’ Bleddyn said, thinking of Johnny, trying not to dwell on thoughts of Taff.

  ‘Our Johnny and your Eynon would have loved it.’ He smiled at Alice and added, ‘Perhaps we’ll have another even better one when they’re safely home, what d’you think, Alice?’

  ‘I can’t imagine Eynon or Johnny saying no to that,’ Alice replied. ‘Specially if we hold it on the beach.’

  Bleddyn turned to Shirley and
asked, ‘What about you and Freddy? Be celebrating together, will you?’

  ‘I don’t know, I really don’t know.’ Shirley looked around her, half expecting to see Andy Probert waving, or blowing a kiss. But he couldn’t. He was dead, drowned in a cruel sea. She saw Maude arrive and go into the house and went to tell Reggie, but it was too late, his brief, unoffical visit was over.

  Hetty looked at her daughter, saw the worry displayed on her face and decided that she would coax her to talk about her feelings for Freddy, but not now. This was a time for the children.

  ‘This celebration isn’t the end of something, mind. It’s the beginning. A time to reflect and decide what you want for the years ahead,’ Bleddyn said. He saw that his words were not as reassuring as he’d hoped and turned to hug Eynon’s quiet young wife. ‘No need to ask what your future will be, young Alice. Working on the sands with you, helping the trippers to have fun, will still be Eynon’s dream, sure to be.’

  As the dishes were sorted into ownership and stacked to be taken home, Lilly found a moment with her mother. ‘Mam, I want to come back home.’

  ‘What are you talking about, our Lilly? Married you are and your place is with Sam. Old as he is and not our choice for you, but he’s your husband and it’s with him you belong.’

  ‘But you know what he’s done, sold the house we called our home and moving us into sad little rooms a few doors from Auntie Audrey’s café. I can’t live there. Mam. It’s shabby and gloomy and there isn’t as much money as before and worst of all, he won’t tell me why.’

  Marged stared at her daughter, her eyes gleaming with sudden suspicion. ‘You haven’t done something stupid have you, our Lilly?’