‘Catch up with you later,’ Giles replied, looking over his shoulder and wondering impatiently where his doormat had got to with his drink. He was just being polite and did not mean what he said. He thought Rhys was just an unsophisticated, uneducated nonentity and, like his friends in Exeter University who had met Rhys, wondered what Vicki could possibly see in him once you stripped away the good looks. Fiona and Jeremy were also inclined to that way of thinking, judging by their initial impressions, though Fiona imagined a roll in the hay with him would probably be a fabulous experience. In a moment of pomposity, she thought herself as Lady Chatterley and Rhys as her gamekeeper lover. Fiona certainly had a high opinion of herself.
Thankfully, Vicki also found a reason to escape the obnoxious pigs and her stupid sister. ‘I just need to talk to those friends of my parents over there a min, Rhys. I’ll join you in the garden later.’ She touched his thigh lightly before walking over to a group of people standing by the window. Rhys left at the same time and made his way into the garden.
‘Hi, Kar.’
‘Oh, hi Rhys. How you doing?’
‘Good, thanks. Always nice to see a friendly Welsh face.’
‘Same here. It’s a bit intimidating in there if I’m honest. I can’t really understand what they’re all on about.’
Rhys nodded and grinned. ‘You can say that again. I just had to get away from Giles and that Jeremy bloke. God, they’re so dull.’
‘Yeah, you’re right. That Giles is a right wanker.’
‘Karen! Wash your mouth out with soap and water. I never knew nice Cardiff girls used language like that.’
‘We don’t usually but blokes like him bring out the worst in us.’
They both chuckled and gazed out over the secluded tree-lined garden with the lawn so immaculate it would not have looked out of place on the Centre Court at Wimbledon, though it extended so far and wide that Rhys thought it at least the size of a football pitch. With the sun still high in the sky, they both had to admit that the scene was idyllic. Other guests were mingling on the patio, enjoying the warmth, and when a couple left the swing seat Rhys tapped Karen on the shoulder and pointed it out to her. He walked over to it and Karen followed. They sat down on the soft cushions and gently rocked themselves back and forth, Karen holding her face up to the sun.
‘This is very pleasant, you have to say.’
‘Yeah, Rhys. Beats my backyard in Cardiff with the coal shed.’
‘It’s a different world here, innit? Vicki’s very lucky.’
‘Yeah, she is, but she’s so lovely you’d never think she came from such a privileged background. She’s so down to earth and caring. That’s why I like her so much.’
‘And that’s why I love her so much, too,’ Rhys declared.
Karen turned her face away from the sun and looked at him. ‘She loves you as well. You know that, don’t you? She’d do anything for you.’
‘And I would for her. She’s everything to me.’
Karen smiled before adding, half playfully, ‘I know she is, but if you ever hurt her, I’ll cut your balls off, and with a blunt knife at that, alright!’
Rhys laughed. ‘I’ll never hurt her, never, you can rest assured of that.’
‘Good.’
There was a lull in the conversation and they gazed around the garden at some of the other guests. Karen sighed in awe of some of the beautiful outfits worn by the young women. Rhys decided that the next time he needed some trousers, he would open up his mind and look for something other than denim jeans.
‘Her mum and dad seem nice,’ Rhys suddenly threw in.
‘Yeah, they are. They’re always really friendly towards me.’
Rhys wanted to agree the same towards him but hesitated. ‘I wish Vicki had warned me about the dress code. I could have worn the suit I bought at C&A the other day. When her father answered the door I could tell he wasn’t too impressed. He must have thought I was a right country bumpkin.’
‘Oh, I’m sure he was alright about it. He’s a real gentleman who’s done very well for himself. He started off with nothing, apparently, though Vicki’s mum comes from a wealthy family. He’s a top knob in the City now.’
‘We had a bit of a chat and I put my foot right in it, though I blame Vicki if I’m honest.’
‘Oh, what happened?’
‘Well, I mentioned the flat we’re getting together ’cos I thought they already knew but Vicki hadn’t said a word to them.’
‘You didn’t, did you?’ Karen looked at him wide-eyed, her mouth slightly open in surprise.
‘Yeah. Like I said, I thought they knew. They became decidedly frosty after that and I think Vicki’s in for it.’
‘God, I know Vicki was really worried about telling them. That must have been excruciating.’
‘Yeah, it was. I don’t know why Vicki hadn’t told them, though. Strange that.’
‘Well, it is a serious move, isn’t it? I think she knew she might have some trouble.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Well, I think they probably thought she’d find a nice young man from around these parts, preferably with a few quid in his pocket, like her sister has.’
‘I could never imagine Vicki going out with a prick like Jeremy.’
‘You’re right there, Rhys, no chance.’
‘So, you believe her parents might think I’m not good enough for her then? I thought they were only offy towards me ’cos they didn’t know anything about us moving in together and that it must have come as a bit of a shock to them to know that their little girl is finally leaving home to live with someone.’
Karen didn’t reply straight away because she knew she was treading on sensitive ground. She’d had many chats with Vicki about Rhys and her parents and knew exactly what they thought. When Vicki had spoken to them about him, his background, his education, his prospects, they had become very concerned. They were ambitious for their daughter and thought Rhys might hold her back. Karen was truthful but diplomatic in her reply to Rhys, knowing that the issue was more serious than she could reveal. ‘Umm, there is a bit about them not thinking you’re good enough for their daughter, I have to admit, but then again I think most parents believe that of their kids, so I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Vicki’s crazy for you and you know how single-minded she is. When she puts her mind to something, she always gets what she wants. Once they get to know you better, they’ll be fine.’
Rhys went quiet, thinking about Karen’s reply. Deep down, he had feared that her parents might disapprove of him, but, now that it had been confirmed, it hurt. ‘I was hoping her parents wouldn’t be such snobs …,’ but, before he could finish the sentence, Karen shot him down.
‘They’re not snobs, I tell you. Well, perhaps her mother is a bit. Her dad started at the bottom, slogging his guts out as a fish packer in Billingsgate Market in the East End of London. At the same time he was doing that, he put himself through night school to improve his education and eventually found an office job in the City. He’s running a top brokerage firm now. You’ve got to hand it to him. They just want the best for their daughter, that’s all.’
‘Oh, thanks, Karen.’
‘Sorry, but you know what I mean. It’s like what I said, once they get to know you better, they’ll be fine.’
Rhys wasn’t convinced but he wasn’t short of fighting spirit, either. ‘I suppose her dad’s story’s a bit like what I’ve got in mind. Now that I’ve got my foot in the door at Marks and Sparks, I’m gonna work my way up. It’s what I told Vicki. Being a post boy is just a start. You watch, Karen, I’ll make ’em all proud of me.’
Karen smiled and touched his arm. ‘Good for you,’ she replied. But she did not reveal her doubts and was unable to look him in the eye.
As midnight approached, only Vicki, her family, Karen and Rhys remained outside on the patio, relaxing after what had been an enjoyable but exhausting day. The temperature was still in the low twenties and they were sipping glasses of c
hampagne under a pitch-black sky pincushioned with stars. The bulb in the glass globe that sat on top of an ornate mock Georgian lamppost shone brightly and mixed with the light spilling through the windows behind them. Two floodlights fixed on the wall above their heads cast a carpet of white across the lawn as if searching for escapees from a prisoner of war camp, printing jagged black shapes in the areas where the shadows stood out sharp. Mrs Mitchell had finally kicked off her shoes, her feet sore and swollen. She was sitting on a white wrought-iron chair next to her husband, her head resting on his shoulder, her eyelids flickering every so often as she struggled to stay awake. Fiona and Karen were sitting with them around the garden table, chatting animatedly about the merits, or not, of David Bowie or, more cattily, surmising what on earth John Lennon could possibly see in Yoko Ono.
Unlike his wife, Mr Mitchell’s senses remained alert and he glanced over occasionally at his elder daughter sitting next to Rhys on the swing seat. Neither he nor his wife had allowed meeting Rhys, and the news he had relayed, to ruin their enjoyment of the party, resolving to put the matter aside until the next day. As the evening progressed, they had barely come into contact with him and deliberately moved out of his way if a coming together appeared likely. Now, as Mr Mitchell caught sight of him putting his hand on his daughter’s thigh, he just wished that Rhys would go up to bed, get up early in the morning and leave, and, most importantly of all, never darken his or Vicki’s doorstep again.
For her part, Vicki knew that she would be facing a difficult confrontation with her parents the following day. She was up for the fight, though, and made repeated loving gestures towards Rhys, such as grabbing his knee, kissing his neck and stroking his thigh, to demonstrate to her parents where her loyalties lay. It was fortunate that her mother was feeling sleepy for she would not have taken too kindly to seeing her daughter deliberately run her hand over his crotch. That even made Rhys jump.
‘I think it’s time we went up, darling,’ Mrs Mitchell suddenly said, stifling a yawn, as she moved her head from her husband’s shoulder.
‘You’re right. I’m whacked,’ he replied, sitting up straight and extending his arms high above his head.
Karen and Fiona were still babbling away as if the night was young, full of energy. Fiona had not even noticed her parents stir.
‘I think I’m ready for bed, too,’ Rhys whispered wearily to Vicki. ‘I’m knackered and all this champagne has gone to my head. It’s been a long day and I could do with a good night’s sleep.’
Vicki sat up straight and released him, extending her arms out in front of her like a cat stretching its legs after a long sleep. ‘Yeah, same here.’
‘I’ll go and get my bag from the car.’ Rhys stood up and walked back into the house and out the front door.
‘What time will Rhys be leaving in the morning?’ Vicki’s father asked.
‘About ten, I think, because he needs to get the car back to his father by mid-afternoon.’
Mr Mitchell noted the time and gave the slightest of nods.
‘That’s right. Rhys is giving me a lift to the station,’ Karen cut in, though Fiona wittered on as if she still had Karen’s full attention.
‘Oh, you mentioned you were meeting your mother in London. I remember now. You will pass on my regards to her, won’t you?’ Mrs Mitchell interjected.
‘I will do, thanks. We’re meeting at Paddington Station and then going on to Harrods.’
‘Oh, wonderful. You must visit the food halls. They’re stupendous.’
‘I’m sure we will. We might take in a show later on as well.’
‘You’re just a bit too early for Oh! Calcutta!,’ Vicki threw in with a laugh. ‘That doesn’t premier until next month.’
‘Judging by all the fuss, I think my mum would have a heart attack if she saw all that naked flesh cavorting on stage. She was brought up a good Baptist girl, you know.’
Everyone began to laugh, including Fiona, who made a mental note to see it at the earliest opportunity.
When the laughter subsided, Mr Mitchell took his wife’s hand and they stood up together. They wished the three girls a good night’s sleep and kissed them lightly on the cheek. After moving his face away from Vicki, her father looked at her sternly before saying in a low voice, ‘And we’ll have a chat tomorrow; you, your mother and me.’ Both Karen and Fiona heard the comment and looked away, knowing the reason why. Vicki just stood grim-faced and said nothing. Her parents departed, her father’s arm around his wife’s shoulders as they walked back into the house. They didn’t bother asking Vicki to wish Rhys a good night on their behalf.
A couple of minutes later, Rhys returned, bag in hand. ‘I missed your parents then?’
‘Yeah, they’ve gone up,’ Vicki replied a little unhappily. ‘I’ll show you to your room.’
Rhys picked up on Vicki’s air of discontent and put his arm around her, kissing her lightly on the head. Vicki smiled and her spirits lifted. Fiona noted that, though Rhys was a bit of a blithering idiot in her mind, he did at least possess good manners and charm.
‘Here you are,’ Vicki declared as she opened the door to one of the spare bedrooms upstairs. She switched on the light and they walked in. Rhys briefly took in the spacious surrounds before dropping his bag to the floor. Vicki half-closed the door behind her and, instinctively, they nestled in each other’s arms, kissing longingly and voraciously. ‘Sorry you can’t stay in my room tonight but my parents would never allow it, you know, under their own roof and all that.’
‘Oh, God, don’t worry. My parents would be the same.’
Vicki released Rhys and took a couple of paces back to the door. Before exiting, she turned round with a beaming smile and wished Rhys a good night before whispering, ‘Don’t lock it. I’ll see you later.’
Rhys’s smile mirrored Vicki’s. It had been a tiring and trying day but at least it was going to finish on the highest of notes.
CHAPTER 6
‘I’ll see you in London next Saturday then. Can you believe it? Our own place! I can’t wait.’
Rhys was as excited as a small boy meeting Father Christmas for the very first time. He was also feeling mightily relieved as he stood next to the lonely Mini, holding Vicki in his arms, for breakfast with her family had been purgatory, full of stilted conversation and unhappy faces. He had never felt so uncomfortable in all his life, gobbling down his cornflakes and toast more quickly than the time taken by Mrs Mitchell to butter a croissant. He couldn’t leave the house fast enough. But with everyone else slowly savouring their breakfast, all Rhys could do was wait and sit there like a dummy, staring at his empty plate and dish, uncertain what to do with his hands, and observing the faces of Vicki’s parents which expressed ‘uncouth’ loud and clear. It had not helped matters, either, that he had forgotten to pack another shirt, compelling him to wear the same one as the day before. Not even scrounging some deodorant from Vicki to spray on the shirt’s armpits could mask the unmistakeable stench of stale sweat, in total contrast to Mr Mitchell’s fresh, immaculately pressed Turnbull & Asser.
The doorstep farewells were equally uncomfortable but mercifully shorter. There were cursory handshakes but not for one second did Rhys witness a smile. And Vicki’s parents couldn’t even bring themselves to lie by saying that they hoped to see him again sometime. At least Fiona had been friendly, even managing a hug, pressing her crotch rather hard into his.
‘Yeah, I can’t wait, either. It’s like we’re starting new lives, just so exciting,’ Vicki replied, clutching Rhys tightly.
‘Come on, you two, or we’ll be here all day,’ Karen cut in impatiently, gooseberry-like. She had stood aside as the two love birds cooed at each other with nothing better to do than wonder whether Rhys’s Mini would get her to the station on time or, judging by the rust, at all.
‘Right, Kar, let’s get going,’ Rhys finally commanded, releasing Vicki and sliding into the driver’s seat. Karen jumped in next to him after giving Vicki a quick hug.
/> ‘I’ll call you in the week to tie up times for Saturday,’ Vicki advised, looking through the open driver’s window. Rhys gazed deeply into her eyes, smiled and acknowledged her with a nod.
The car started first time, much to Karen’s relief. Rhys made a three-point turn and, with a final flashing smile and wave, drove off down the lane, the exhaust smoking worryingly. Vicki stood and stared, wiping a tear from her eye. She loved him so much. The pain of his being away for only a week was enough to crush her.
When the car disappeared from view, she turned her mind to her parents. They had been so rude to Rhys, acting as if he didn’t even exist, she spat, no longer able to prevent her coiled anger from spiralling to the surface. Vicki knew that when she got back to the house, her confrontation with them would be immediate. Steeling herself, she took two deep breaths in an effort to summon up whatever reserves of strength she possessed for the battle ahead. She strode purposefully back down the lane and crossed the threshold of the front door with a skip for she was determined to be on the front foot attacking the bowling. She stomped into the kitchen, her face in a rage, and, with a furious tone to her voice, tore into her parents who were sitting with Fiona at the long, fashionably distressed, shabby chic table. ‘Well, I hope you’re proud of yourselves!’ she rasped viciously.
‘How dare you raise your voice at us like that, Victoria,’ Mrs Mitchell shot back, standing for no nonsense. ‘Remember who you are and who you’re speaking to, Madam, and what’s brought this on, anyway?’ she continued assertively, feigning surprise.
‘Oh, don’t give me that,’ Vicki volleyed back, moderating her tone. ‘You both know exactly what I mean, treating Rhys as if he were something the dog brought in. I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life.’
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