‘You don’t have to tell me that! I can’t remember the last time I saw my dad happy after a match.’ After a short pause, Vicki carried on. ‘His favourite player is Bob Hiller, who plays for the Harlequins, I think.’
‘I know Bob Hiller; he’s the England full-back. He’s the one who digs up half the pitch to rest the ball on before kicking for goal.’
Vicki thought she’d wind Rhys up further. ‘Do you think he’s better than Barry John?’
‘I’m not even going to dignify that question with a response,’ Rhys replied haughtily before they burst out laughing.
On entering the rugby field, they wandered up to the rusty and scarred single-bar barrier that ran the length of the touchline on their chipped and gouged concrete pillars. They both rested their elbows on it, gazing out onto the field. The whole of the middle section, running from one set of posts to the other, was full of brown and black rutted sods with a hint of green dotted around. Only closer to the touchlines did the green of the grass predominate. Vicki looked up at the small ramshackle of a grandstand, wondering if it was bomb damaged from the war, with its broken and splintered seats and holes in the corrugated iron roof. She wondered why any spectators would ever want to sit in it let alone pay a premium to do so.
‘So you like rugby then?’ Rhys asked, edging along the barrier towards her until their shoulders were touching.
‘Yeah. I don’t follow it that closely but I do like it. It strikes me as being a real man’s game. Don’t ask me about any of the players, though, ’cos I only look out for their bums and legs! If anything, I prefer football, mainly because I can understand it better.’
‘Yeah? Who do you support? I like football as well. Cardiff City’s my team.’
‘I support Chelsea.’
‘What! Those fancy dans down the King’s Road in London? You’re kidding?’
‘It’s the Fulham Road, actually. What’s wrong with Chelsea? They’re a good side, what with Ossie, Chopper Harris and Charlie Cook playing for them. I went to see them once. An old boyfriend of mine took me. I enjoyed the game but I’ve never been so frightened in all my life. We were standing in the Shed. It’s a part of their ground; you’ve probably heard of it. Well, I may as well have been in a zoo. Chelsea fans are just animals, shouting abuse and threatening violence all the time. And as for racist chanting, the less said the better. Never again.’
Rhys laughed as he pictured Vicki standing among the skinheads, cowering with fear. Her reference to an old boyfriend did not bother him in the slightest. He felt so at ease in her company that he already considered her his own girlfriend, believing that she thought the same of him as well. He was not mistaken.
‘Brrr …, it’s a bit cold here in the shadow,’ Vicki blurted out a with a sudden shiver. ‘Let’s keep walking.’
Rhys slipped his hand into Vicki’s and led her out of the rugby field, past the orchard field and towards the bandstand right in the centre of the park. The path they followed was bathed in sunshine, which soon warmed them up. A number of couples passed them in the opposite direction, one or two of them acknowledging Rhys and wishing them a happy New Year. Vicki returned the compliments of the season but was surprised to observe how young some of the girls were who were pushing prams. Copying some of the passing couples, Rhys let go of Vicki’s hand and put his arm around her back. Vicki reciprocated and, as she turned her face up towards him, he kissed her lightly on the lips. He was rewarded with a tighter hug from Vicki. They proceeded past the bandstand until they arrived at the large circular paddling pool, drained of water and littered with mud, leaves, discarded paper and crumpled cans. In addition, the pool’s light-blue paint was badly eroded in parts. Someone’s going to have a big job doing that up before the summer starts, Vicki thought, casting her eye over it. Alongside the pool were some swings, see-saws and slides which also required some care and attention before the onset of warmer times. Finding a spot in the sun, Rhys led Vicki to the pool’s low rim where they sat down. Instinctively, they raised their faces and closed their eyes, loving the warmth.
‘This is so nice,’ Vicki sighed.
‘Absolutely.’ After a brief pause, Rhys added, ‘The sun’s not bad, either.’
Vicki beamed and rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes still closed. Rhys placed his arm around her and kissed the top of her head, the fine strands of her hair sticking momentarily to his lips.
‘I could stay here forever.’
‘Me, too.’
They remained sitting on the rim of the pool for a full fifteen minutes, barely saying a word to each other. Occasionally, they caught the eye of passers-by and exchanged contented smiles.
‘I can’t remember a January day as beautiful as this. Usually, it’s tipping down.’ Rhys’s words were uttered with a sleepy air, his cheeks tingling from the sun’s rays. ‘I bet tomorrow will be the complete opposite, grim and miserable as usual. It’ll be back to work, too, for some of us, to compound the misery.’
‘What do you do?’
‘I work in a cash & carry, lugging boxes around.’
‘Cash & carry?’ Vicki queried. ‘What’s that?’
‘You don’t half live in a sheltered world,’ Rhys teased. ‘It’s basically a wholesaler that sells stuff to the trade, not to individuals for their own use. You know, pubs, restaurants, shops generally. They buy in bulk so the produce costs less.’
‘Mmm, I understand now. And you lug boxes around?’
‘Yeah, pretty much. The warehouse is enormous and I put incoming produce onto the shelves or help take it to a customer’s car or van. Every now and then they let me on the forklifts. They’re lethal, I tell you. The first time I drove one, I nearly took one of the boys’ heads off.’ Vicki chuckled aloud beside him. ‘I’ve been working there since I left school and, ’cos they know me well, they trust me on the till now. It doesn’t pay much but at least it’s a job.’
‘You don’t fancy doing something else then?’
‘Come on, let’s walk. I’ll be sunburnt at this rate and my arse is starting to ache. We’re not designed to sit on concrete.’
Vicki chuckled once more and stood up at the same time as Rhys. They placed their arms around each other’s backs and ambled slowly in the direction of the pitch and putt, Vicki leaning her head into his shoulder.
‘You’re not hungry, are you, by the way?’ Rhys asked politely.
‘No, thanks. I had a good breakfast.’
‘That’s good because, thinking about it, I don’t think there’s anything open today, not even a chippy for some scrumps. There’s always the new chinky, I suppose. They never seem to be closed. I tell you what, I’ll buy you a nice stale pork pie or sweaty, three-day-old cheese and onion sandwich wrapped in cellophane, if you prefer, from the pub when we leave the park later.’
‘You certainly know how to treat a lady.’
‘Lady? Where?’
The comment earned Rhys an elbow in the ribs. They stopped at the high wire fence to watch some golfers hack their way around the pitch and putt, a wayward ball landing in a ditch only a few feet from where they were standing. As it was unplayable, they both heard the distant exclamation of ‘Bollocks’ as the golfer discovered where his ball had ended up, and laughed.
‘Didn’t know it was open today.’
‘Do you play?’ Vicki enquired.
‘Yeah, I’ve been round a few times. My best is seventy-seven.’
‘Is that good?’
‘Well, the par’s fifty-four so I don’t think Tony Jacklin’s gonna lose any sleep if they let me play in The Open this year.’ Vicki smiled. ‘Going back to your last question, I’m desperate to do something else, something different, but it’s not easy when you’ve only got one ‘O’ level and three CSEs. One of those is a grade one, though, so that means I’ve got the equivalent of two ‘O’ levels in reality,’ Rhys added proudly. ‘I want to get away from here, you know, find a job in Cardiff or Swansea, with a place of my own, or even further afi
eld. I’ve been saving up, but, after paying keep to my mum, I never seem to have much left at the end of the week. I’m trying, though, and I’ve got a bit in the bank.’
Vicki squeezed his hand. ‘Don’t give up. I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually. God loves a trier.’
Rhys looked down at her. ‘That’s a nice expression.’
‘An Irish girlfriend of mine told me it in uni.’
‘If that’s the case, perhaps I should go to church more often. God may appreciate that and I wouldn’t have to try so hard then.’ They both laughed, drawing a serious look from the hacker who was trying to defy the laws of physics and logic by attempting an impossible shot. ‘What about you? What are you studying at uni?’
‘I’m reading English.’
‘I can read English as well. In fact, that’s what I got my ‘O’ level in.’ Vicki nudged him in the arm. ‘That’s what all the contestants say on University Challenge, “Reading”. It always sounds a bit funny to me.’
‘Yeah, it does. So you watch University Challenge then?’
‘God, you’ve got to be joking. I can’t understand the questions let alone know the answers. That Bamber Gascoigne has got to be the cleverest bloke in the country. I prefer Mr and Mrs myself now that Take Your Pick has finished.’ They looked at each other and smiled before breaking out into a chuckle. ‘Let’s go this way.’ Rhys led Vicki in the direction of the swimming baths, hidden behind an imposing brick wall with only the narrowest of entrances. Unsurprisingly, the scarred and slightly rotten, faded green wooden door was bolted shut. On top of the wall, broken shards of glass were embedded in the concrete layer, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind that entrance by this means was strictly forbidden. ‘We used to have some laughs in there in the summer but I haven’t been for a couple of years. It’s mainly for kids now.’
‘What kind of laughs?’
‘Well, mainly doing dives and bombs and stuff like that, though the attendant always went mad at us and threw us out once. Later on, we were more interested in seeing the girls we were in school with in their bikinis. We were a right bunch of lechers, I tell you. Ian used to hold his stomach in all the time, even if he always denied it. It was so obvious, though, ’cos when he thought the girls weren’t looking, his gut used to hang out over his Speedos.’ Vicki smiled at the image as they strolled back towards the tennis courts. A wooden bench became free as the occupants wandered off and, as the sun was shining invitingly on it, Vicki and Rhys took their places. ‘Ah, this is nice,’ Rhys declared, turning his face to the sun once more, his eyes closed.
‘So you’d be quite happy to move away from Pont … ee … preethe then?’ Vicki’s question was a non sequitur but she was eager to hear affirmation of Rhys’s earlier statement for her mind was already thinking ahead.
‘Oh, yeah. There’s no doubt about that.’ There was no follow-up from Vicki so Rhys carried on. ‘What about yourself? What are you going to do after uni? Have you got a job lined up?’
‘Nothing definite. I might go into marketing or something like that. My father knows one or two people so hopefully he’ll be able to pull a string or two for me.’
‘What’s marketing?’
‘Well, it’s like advertising and promotions, stuff like that.’
‘Mmm, sounds interesting,’ Rhys replied insincerely. ‘Will you stay in Exeter then?’
‘God, no. It’s too quiet and isolated for my liking. My father works in London so he’ll probably help me find something there.’
‘London, the Big Smoke. It must be brilliant there. I’d love to go one day, you know, see Carnaby Street and all that. I think I’d really like city life. Small places like this and the countryside do my head in.’
‘Yeah?’ Vicki’s response was enthusiastic and she turned to look him in the eye, only to see them still shut, his head tilted back, enjoying the sun’s rays, a contented grin etched across his face.
‘I’d have loved to have been in Grosvenor Square when that big demonstration took place,’ Rhys continued as more images of London flashed through his head.
‘I was there!’ Vicki shrieked.
‘Yeah!’ Rhys opened his eyes and looked at her.
‘Yeah, right outside the American Embassy we were. It got a bit mad so we headed off before the trouble started. I’m glad I went, though, ’cos the US has got no right being in Vietnam, bombing all those people to smithereens. It’s a disgrace.’
‘I agree with you. They should be fucking ashamed of themselves.’ Rhys followed up apologetically in a more measured tone. ‘Sorry about the language, it’s just I feel very strongly about it.’
Vicki laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I do, too, and I’ve heard and used worse!’
‘What! A nice, young English girl like you? Never!’ Rhys laughed with her. ‘I’d have given my right arm to be there. Those Yanks think they’re so high and mighty.’
‘I had an inkling last night that you might have supported those demonstrations in London and Paris a couple of years back.’
‘Oh, and why’s that then?’
Unexpectedly, Vicki broke into song. ‘“Everywhere I hear the sound of marching, charging feet, boy, ’cos summer’s here and the time is right for fighting in the street, boy …” Do you recognise that?’
‘Course I do. It’s the Stones, Street Fighting Man. Why d’you ask?’
‘’Cos you were singing it at the top of your voice last night when Don put Beggars Banquet on.’
‘Oh, no, was I? I can’t remember a thing.’ Rhys slapped his hand against his forehead which drew a chuckle from Vicki. ‘I shouldn’t be surprised, it’s a great song. I love the Stones. Going back to the Yanks, it’s disgusting the way they’ve treated Muhammad Ali, you know, Cassius Clay.’
‘I agree,’ Vicki concurred.
‘Taking away his boxing licence the way they did just because he’s got some principles and refused to go to Vietnam. Shameful, it is.’ Rhys followed up with an impersonation of the great World Heavyweight Boxing Champion. ‘“I ain’t got no quarrel with them Vietcong … No Vietcong ever called me nigger.”’
‘I didn’t know Ali came from Pakistan?’ Vicki’s remark earned her a playful elbow in the ribs.
‘He’s superb, a real hero of mine, so talented, funny, good-looking, and a brilliant fighter.’
‘You can say that again. He’s sex on legs, I tell you.’
‘You like that expression?’
‘Yeah. It sums up gorgeous men perfectly.’ Vicki stared deeply into Rhys’s eyes, making it obvious that he was included. Rhys smiled back, holding her stare with ease and squeezing her hand.
‘I think we’ve got quite a bit in common, you and me. Like you, I’m against Vietnam and I’m against nuclear weapons as well. I noticed the CND chain you were wearing last night. They should be scrapped.’
‘So you do remember something then?’
‘More than you realise,’ Rhys replied with a wink.
‘Yeah, nuclear weapons are horrific. I can’t believe civilised people would ever consider using them. They frighten me to death. Do you remember that stand-off over Cuba a few years back? I was only a kid at the time but I remember my mother and father looking really worried whenever the news came on. They really thought a nuclear war might break out.’
‘Yeah, I remember it well. Horrible it was. I could feel the tension in my house, too. I think that’s when my parents started to smoke. They haven’t stopped since!’
‘He did well, Kennedy, to get us out of that. Terrible what happened to him later on, though. I’ll never forget it. I was having my supper when the news came on that he’d been shot. My mother shrieked and dropped a plate. She cried all night afterwards.’
‘Yeah, that was awful,’ Rhys agreed with a slow, resigned shake of his head.
‘They say everyone can remember what they were doing when they heard the news.’
‘Yeah, that’s right.’
‘What were you doing then?
’
Rhys thought for a moment. ‘I can’t remember, if I’m honest.’ And, after a slight hesitation, they burst out laughing.
‘Tragic, it was, for that to happen to someone so young and good-looking,’ Vicki concluded.
‘Sex on legs,’ Rhys threw in mischievously, which earned him a payback nudge in the ribs.
The afternoon was moving on and the sun lowering in the sky. They had been sitting in shadow for ages but so enjoyed each other’s company that neither of them noticed the sharp fall in temperature or increasing gloom. Eventually, Vicki looked at her watch and raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘God, is that the time? I told Karen I’d be back by four and it’s gone that already.’ She emitted a long sigh, not wanting to leave Rhys but knowing that she had to.
‘I suppose you’d better get a move on then.’ There was no mistaking the disappointment in his voice.
Rhys had been dreading this moment and, as they rose from the bench, hand in hand, they proceeded quietly back over the bridge and out of the park in the direction of Vicki’s car. They were both deep in thought. What now? Rhys asked himself. She’ll soon be back off to Surrey and Exeter. That’ll be it. The next time she comes to Wales, that’s if she ever does come back to Wales, will be God knows when. This knowledge depressed him and he lowered his head. His spirits lifted higher than the sky, however, when Vicki finally spoke, even if slightly hesitantly.
‘I don’t know what you think or what your work commitments are but I’d love it if you came to visit me in Exeter. A friend of mine is having a party on Saturday week and it’d be great if you could make it that weekend.’ Her heartbeat doubled its rate as she waited nervously for his response. To her ecstasy, her state of trepidation was as fleeting as the shadow of a passing bird.
‘I’d love it. In fact I can’t wait.’
The grip of their hands tightened and they turned their heads to face each other, their expressions as sunny as the afternoon had been. They soon arrived beside Vicki’s white MG Roadster with black, detachable vinyl roof.
‘What a fantastic car. Did you come up with eight score draws or something on the pools? It’s beautiful.’
Decade Page 4