“I don’t mean how do you feel about your mother stealing someone else’s husband and being happy with him! I mean this,” she waved her arms, encompassing the children and the now silent Eric. “You, expecting me – the wronged wife – to come to your aid.”
“Dad has always told us how much you love children. I think the children would be safe with you.”
“And me? What d’you feel for me?”
“I think your friends will be impressed by your loving and noble act and think very highly of you.”
“You do, do you?”
“I do.”
“Why can’t you look after them? They’re more yours than mine.”
“Dad thinks living with you would benefit us all. Even my brother Danny, who goes to sea, will want a place to come home to. You’re the one. We need you desperately. After your own sad childhood and your desire for a large family. I—”
“I do not want my private affairs discussed!” Harriet, overcome, fled from the room. An hour later, Harriet was clearing the dishes after feeding her guests with soup and a salad.
Eric smiled at Harriet as he stacked the dishes preparatory to washing them. His smile was still capable of weakening her resolve. There was a beat of excitement in her heart. Telling others was going to be a challenge but the idea of a ready-made family was beginning to appeal. Time in her life for a change. Lucky seven indeed! Well perhaps it might be just that – if it meant Eric was back! She’d made him promise to go along with the story about amnesia though. He owed her that much.
Chapter Seven
Charlotte had walked out of the back door when her mother had sent her to her room like a naughty child and ran down the hill to find Joe. When they walked into Mill House a couple of hours later they thought they had become involved in a dream. The place was filled with children. One was sitting on the stairs picking bits of wallpaper loose, one sat cross-legged on the hall carpet runner, being pulled along by an older child, and from the kitchen, voices were raised in anger. Uncle Peter could be heard laughing and on investigation was discovered reading a story, with actions, to a solemn little girl aged about five.
“You’re back,” he said unnecessarily. “This is Isabelle, she’s five and already at school. Isn’t she beautiful?”
“Uncle Peter, what’s going on?” Charlotte demanded. “Where’s Mam and who are these children?”
“Best I let your mother explain,” he smiled. He turned back to the little girl, who sat waiting patiently for her story. “Now, Isabelle, where were we? Father rabbit was just bringing home a bag filled with carrots from Farmer Thomas’s field…”
Charlotte stared at Joe and he took her hand. They went to the kitchen door and, pushing it open, saw her mother and her father having a row.
“Dad!” She couldn’t hide the pleasure she felt at seeing him.
“I know this is a shock for you all, my dear,” Eric said. “But these children, and Miranda here, are my new family.”
“Miranda?” She looked at the young woman standing in the doorway, a baby on her arms.
“A sort of adopted daughter. These beautiful children are mine and Gloria’s. He said the names and added their ages and Charlotte and Joe listened in disbelief. “Miranda here, and her brother Danny, belong to a previous marriage. Their father was killed and—”
“Wait a minute, Dadda. You mean these are yours? They are my half-sisters?”
“And brother,” he said proudly, pointing to baby Matthew in Miranda’s arms.
It seemed to Charlotte that the four most active children, Ellie, Isabelle, who had tired of Peters stories, Louise and Petula, multiplied in number as she watched. Miranda nursed the baby but the other four ran amok without a word of stricture from the bemused Harriet, who seemed unaware of her carpets and rugs being used for sleighs, her polished floors for skating rinks.
Later, when they had departed by taxi, the silence trembled around the house for a long time.
“What are you going to do, Mam?” Charlotte asked, into the hollow silence.
“Emigrate!” Harriet said with a weak laugh.
“Mam,” Charlotte said in disbelief. “you’re going to take them in!”
“Good on you, Mrs Russell.” Joe whispered in awe. “Bloody good on you.”
* * *
Once Harriet had formally agreed to Eric’s family moving into Mill House, Eric began to order beds and, with Charlotte and Joe’s assistance, turned two of Harriet’s five bedrooms into dormitories with three beds in each, plus a cot for baby Matthew. He also arranged for Bessie to do an extra morning to deal with the ironing, and bought a washing machine. “Because,” he said to Charlotte, with his gentle smile, “I don’t want our arrival to completely exhaust you and your mother!” He hugged her and added, “Besides, you and Joe will be marrying soon from what I hear, and then your mother will be glad of any machinery that will reduce her burden. Glad I am for you, Charlotte. Joe seems to be a very decent and caring man. I’m sure you’ll be happy.”
Charlotte thanked him but wondered if this new chapter in the saga of Mill House would allow her marriage to take place as planned.
Once the news broke, there were many offers of help. People struggled up the hill to bring an assortment of furniture and china to help Harriet cope with the influx of the extra family. Cutlery and china appeared on the porch, brought by women who gave gladly. They talked about the event almost with pride. Even from those who liked Harriet the least, there wasn’t a single malicious word. Everyone was glad to help, and almost every household provided something to add to the comfort of Eric’s new brood. Outsized saucepans no longer needed by families who had grown up and dispersed, bedding, extra chairs and even a table, came up from Kath’s boarding house, carried by two of her boarders.
“The house is no longer ours, Mam,” Charlotte said one evening when, exhausted after pulling up a worn carpet and helping Joe to cover the floor of the bedroom with linoleum, they sat drinking a cup of cocoa.
“It’s worse than I imagined,” Harriet admitted. “I’d thought of all the extra persons but not their possessions, nor the furniture and bedding and the dozens of other things needed to accommodate them all. Their clothes alone need a small room! The house is so full I don’t think Bessie will be able to clean it.”
Charlotte was preparing to sympathise with her mother but to her surprise she saw that, far from needing comforting words, Harriet looked happy.
“What about Dad, Mam?” she asked.
“What about your father?” The response was sharp and Charlotte realised, too late, that Eric was a subject best avoided. Her mother would sort out how she felt about having her wayward husband sleeping under the same roof but it wouldn’t be solved as easily as fitting an extra seven people into Mill House. Eight, when Miranda’s seaman brother came home.
* * *
On June the tenth, the day on which they had planned to be married, Charlotte and Joe sat at the top of the hill above Mill House looking down at the town below. Neither was inclined to talk. They watched the early afternoon traffic below, both thinking about the flat above the ex-butcher’s shop that was to have been their new home; Joe remembering how he and Charlotte had hurriedly decorated the rooms so they would be ready for today, and Charlotte sifting through in her mind all she had collected in her “bottom drawer”, wondering if she would ever use them.
It was a dull day, the sun refusing to shine, the hills around them holding clouds around their peaks like scarves to ward off the chill.
“Come on, Joe, my thoughts are becoming melancholy.” she said. “Let’s go and have a cup of tea. Mam is probably out with Rhoda and Dad has taken Uncle Peter and the children to see a cricket match.”
In the living room sat her mother, Rhoda and Brian. Rhoda was in a frilly hat and summer dress, nylons on her shapely legs, slim feet in a pair of Joyce sandals. Brian was smartly dressed in a grey Hector Powe suit, blue shirt and soberly matching tie. His expensive shoes were polished, s
ocks a perfect match with his tie. A man, Charlotte thought, who would never answer the door before looking in a mirror and tidying his hair. Brian and Rhoda were a couple so alike in their attitude and behaviour she couldn’t imagine them apart. Of all the couples she knew, Rhoda and Brian were the most perfectly matched. Harriet ignored the couple’s arrival. Brian had just announced that he was moving into larger premises owing to the rapid increase in his business.
“Very clever. my Bri,” Rhoda said proudly, greeting her sister and Joe with a wave.
“My move has been postponed again, would you believe,” Joe said. “It should have been all settled. There’s some trouble with the buyer getting the loan, although it was approved some time ago.”
“You took a chance doing all that work in a shop that isn’t yet yours, then,” Brian said. “I hope the sale doesn’t fall through.”
“No chance of that. I suspect that the couple who’re buying the bicycle shop are delaying so they don’t have to start paying until next month,” Joe said. “Another couple of weeks and it should be all settled.”
“Bri said he shouldn’t have done all that work on the meat shop until it was his,” Rhoda confided in her mother. Harriet said nothing.
“The new shop is in a good spot.” Brian and Joe began to talk about stocking the new premises.
“Charlotte, can’t you see something different about me?” Rhoda said petulantly.
“No,” Charlotte frowned. “New hat? New sandals?”
“Not my clothes, silly. Me!”
“You look the same as always, dressed up for a wedding and you only going to the shops.”
“I’m a mother-to-be. Charlotte, I’m going to have a baby!”
“Rhoda! That’s marvellous! Oh what a thrill. That means I’m going to be an auntie!”
Joe smiled and winked at Brian. “Well done! Well done!”
“What d’you mean, well done?” Harriet asked. “What a thing to say in response to such news.”
“Congratulations to you both,” Joe said.
“So that’s why you didn’t go shopping today,” Charlotte said. “You came to tell us the good news.”
“My Bri took the afternoon off,” Rhoda said, “he’s coming to the shops with me. I can’t carry much you see, not now. He says I’ve got to be spoilt for the next seven months. And there’s so much to buy, isn’t there, Bri?”
“You should see the lists she made,” Brian groaned. “I didn’t dream babies could be so expensive.”
“With Rhoda everything’s expensive!” Charlotte laughed. “You should know that by now. Let’s all have a celebratory cup of tea.”
* * *
For the next few weeks Rhoda spent her time in a flurry of frantic shopping. She bought everything a child could need up to two years of age. She would have gone further in her desire for her child to “have everything” but, not knowing whether it would be a boy or girl, she had to stop at two.
“But we won’t need to make the garden fence higher until next summer,” Brian sighed one morning when she was looking through her lists and demanding that a sandpit must be prepared, and a play area cemented ready for the tricycle – which her mother had insisted on buying so Joe couldn’t. “We’ll have to slow down, Rhoda, the money is pouring out faster than I’m earning it. I can’t break into the money set aside for the second shop; it has to be fully stocked or we won’t attract customers. You know that the business is more important for the baby’s future than a sandpit and a new fence.”
His voice held a hint of irritation, and Rhoda was surprised. She had never known him to be angry with anyone and certainly not herself. It didn’t persuade her to ease up on her demands though. Instead she was more determined to get what she so resolutely believed to be the essentials for her child. He had to know straight away that their child was going to have all the necessary toys and activities he needed for growing into a healthy, happy and clever person. She knew he would be clever, and he was certain to be handsome, you only had to look at herself and Brian to know that.
The irritation grew and by the time Brian left for work his patience was sorely ruffled. When she gave him a grocery list to hand in for delivery later that day he threw it back at her.
“I can’t see to this today,” he said as he pulled on his coat and reached for his hat. “I have an important meeting with a new supplier from whom I want delayed payments. I want to concentrate on that. It’s our livelihood for God’s sake. You’ll have to attend to your own shopping, you’ve plenty of time after all; with the people I pay to do work here there’s nothing much left for you to do!”
Rhoda put on what she considered her pretty pout. “Oh, I see, so now our child is on the way I’m no longer important! Now you have shown yourself in your true colours, Brian Carpenter! Ignored I’m to be from now on! Nothing but a childbearing drudge!”
The door slammed. Her petulant expression vanished in alarm. Unbelievably, he had gone out without saying he was sorry. Their first quarrel and he’d gone without putting it right. She dressed herself, tearfully reliving every word of their disagreement, called a taxi and went to talk to her mother.
* * *
Brian was seethingly angry. He loved Rhoda and enjoyed the comfortable home and the loving atmosphere she provided.
A car came out of a side street and made him slow down. Irritably he pressed the horn, tooting repeatedly to show the inconsiderate fool behind the wheel how stupidly he had behaved. His tension tightened as two boys cycling to school wavered and made him stop to allow them to recover. His mind drifted from his driving, the gear changes, the overtaking became automatic. He overtook a bus and didn’t remember doing it. If he didn’t persuade this supplier to give two months’ credit the new shop was in danger of overstretching his resources. He wished he had listened to the advice of his accountant. He could be heading for disaster. For the first time, he blamed Rhoda.
There was a third incident in the short drive through Main Street. A little girl ran out of a shop and straight out into the road. Why hadn’t he gone the other way, through the small quiet streets like he usually did? It was Rhoda, getting him all ruffled. Today of all days he needed to be calm, cool, in control.
He accelerated once she had crossed the road and his speed increased in a snarl of acceleration. Leaving the town and its irritations behind him, he headed out towards Swansea where he had arranged to meet his new supplier. He wasn’t in the mood to talk business. This simply wasn’t the day.
A huge brewer’s dray was in front of him a few miles out of town and he tapped his fingers irritably as he followed, waiting for a chance to overtake. Surrendering to his impatience he overtook on a bend, wildly swinging the car around the dray, through the sharp corner and saw, to his alarm and disbelief, a lorry directly ahead of him. The vehicle appeared before he had straightened out from turning the corner and overtaking the dray. Before he could attempt to swerve from its path. with only time to scream “Rhoda…!” his car was half under the lorry’s bonnet and Brian was dead.
* * *
In Kath Thomas’s boarding house near the road bridge, Jack Roberts stared in disbelief as Kath’s words slowly sank in.
“You want me to leave? Find other accommodation?” he said. “But why?”
“I’ve decided to let my rooms to summer visitors.”
“But surely, one little room? I don’t mind changing. What if I used one of the attic rooms?”
“Best for you to go anyway, Jack.” Kath said. “Imagine, school holidays, all them kids charging about. This won’t be the quiet place you’ve known much longer.”
“No, I hadn’t thought of that. You’re right.” He shuddered dramatically. “I’ll start looking straight away. How long do I have before you want me to go, say, a month?”
“I’ve said the first lot can come next weekend.”
Kath was not telling Jack the truth. Bertha’s warning that Jack had been in possession of a lot of money had worried her. That, and the f
act that he had obviously been fighting on at least two occasions and had told her some story about falling down the stairs. He could be a burglar, or a blackmailer. The things you read in the papers these days made a woman fear for her safety when she allowed strangers into her home.
Her other three boarders were harmless enough, she was certain of that. Emrys Walker was a teacher in the local school. The other two worked on the roads, filling potholes, tidying the verges and maintaining road signs. Called Eb and Tad, they were very little trouble, spending much of their time out of the house. Work took them off at six-thirty in the summer and all three of them returned at four-thirty. But Jack had to leave.
While cleaning his room the previous Saturday, she had dishonestly searched through his belongings. The amount of money she found was more than she had ever seen in her life. Fivers, one pound notes, all piled together by elastic bands in hundreds. Her hands shook as she lifted them from the battered toffee tin which was filled with them.
It must be illegal, or they would be in a bank, she reasoned. Putting them back with care, she went downstairs and took a rare sip of brandy to steady her nerves.
* * *
Jack set off for work, disturbed at the prospect of finding fresh accommodation, but with an idea already growing in his mind. If he could persuade Gaynor Edwards of the advantages of having a lodger, things might be changing for the better. Her husband was a soft old thing, too lazy to get out of his own way, and he wouldn’t see the harm.
Peter wasn’t there when he got to work, so he went straight to find Gaynor.
“I’ll ask,” Gaynor said doubtfully. “but he doesn’t like too many people about.”
“Just till I find something. Like a mouse I’ll be. I won’t be any trouble, well – not trouble-trouble, but I might be a bit demanding of the right sort of attention.” Jack grinned.
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