There was no bathroom – which she had expected – and there was cold water from the solitary tap in the kitchen, but apart from the fire there was no facility for heating it. So far they had used cold, with a kettle boiled on the fire being sufficient for their needs. How was she going to keep them all clean?
Geoff solved the problem by finding a neglected but usable boiler in an outhouse that had not been cleared of the seemingly endless rubbish collected by Rhodri Masters. Marie had brought the long galvanized bath, so, with the boys organized into gathering wood for the fire underneath the boiler, the hot water supply was another difficulty sorted. Geoff also managed to find them a gas cooker, which he had fitted into the large kitchen.
Their belongings looked pathetic, boxed and packed or thrown into untidy piles. The removal had shown up the tattiness of many of their possessions. The six years of war and the years of austerity that followed had meant never replacing things that had worn out. Carpets with a hole worn in the middle had been given extra life by an oval of linoleum placed over the weak spot. Curtains had pieces added to the bottom to disguise the frayed ends. Chair and settee cushions had been covered with oddments of material to hide their worn state. Taking it out and putting it on to the removal van and the farmer’s cart had revealed everything in all its shabbiness. Only the few decent items of furniture she had bought when she had married Kenneth stood out. And these she had carefully wrapped with blankets to protect them, so the best pieces weren’t on view.
*
Jennie seemed unaware of her sister’s situation, or at least the thought of offering help had not occurred to her. When seven o’clock Saturday evening came, she was in the flat waiting for Bill to call. Since that first date, when he had taken her to a dance in a rather grand hotel in a nearby town, they had met twice more, each time going far away from Cwm Derw. Nothing was said to Mr James, and if he was aware of his son’s friendship with Jennie he chose to ignore it. With Bill’s flattering attentions and his generosity regarding small gifts and endless treats, Jennie began to feel confident in the relationship developing into something more exciting.
‘Why is it a secret?’ Lucy wanted to know. ‘If he really likes you then why does he hide you away?’
‘It’s not like that. He comes to the flat to pick me up and once I’m living back home it’ll be different. He’ll hardly expect me to wait for him out on a street corner, will he? He’ll have to come in then, won’t he? Meet Mam and Dad, and it will all be out in the open.’
Lucy had her doubts but Jennie put them down to jealousy. Lucy’s boyfriend was due to leave the RAF soon and so far he hadn’t mentioned a thing about their getting married. ‘I might be walking up the aisle before you,’ she said, unaware of Lucy’s hurt reaction. ‘Or we could have a double wedding. Wouldn’t that be fun?’
‘Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched!’
This Saturday evening she had dressed with care. Perhaps Lucy was right and she ought to make their courtship public. His kisses were becoming more demanding, and although she had never given in to a man she knew that it wouldn’t be easy to resist him for much longer, especially if he was offering a ring. Perhaps a few gentle hints might do the trick. Lucy was right, it wasn’t usual to be wary about meeting friends.
To her surprise, instead of calling with his father’s car, tooting the horn and waiting for her to run out, he knocked the door and at once caught hold of her and kissed her, pushing her back into the living room. Flattered at first, Jennie began to be a little nervous. Lucy was out visiting her future parents-in-law and wouldn’t be back for hours. Bill was strong and she knew that if he tried to force himself on her she stood no chance.
She wriggled out of his embrace and headed for the door but he grabbed her and began kissing her again. This time the kisses were not pleasant, they didn’t do delicious things to her body, they created panic. Afraid now, she pushed him away and shouted loudly for him to leave. At least Mrs Roberts upstairs might come down and complain, giving her the chance to get away.
He was persistent and she felt herself weakening, she couldn’t fight him off much longer. She felt increasingly vulnerable, so when an opportunity offered she bit him, her teeth pressing into his chin until he shouted with pain and pushed her away. She ran to the door and fled into the night.
Tearfully she ran to the bus stop. She had to get home to Mam and Dad. She wouldn’t be able to tell them what had happened, but explaining that she wasn’t well would be enough to have them fussing over her.
Before the bus came, she heard Bill shouting after her.
‘There are names for women like you. Flirting, teasing, giving the come-on then backing away like an innocent. I don’t know why I wasted my time on you.’
What had she done that he could treat her like this? A bit of flirting, that’s all, a bit of fun. It crossed her mind that he might be dangerous. One fiancée had vanished without a word and two others had ended up dead. She began to imagine him pushing her in front of the bus when it came, and she began to scream. When the bus moved into view and he moved away from her she cried out in relief. He disappeared into the shadows and she climbed on to the platform like a woman saved from drowning.
*
Over the weeks since the discovery of his father living in such poverty, Marie was increasingly aware of another change in Ivor. The man she had married, the confident, loving and caring family man, had disappeared a few months before. He had changed into an inconsiderate stranger. Now he had changed again.
He spoke to the children lovingly, but to her he addressed hardly a word. He answered politely when a reply was necessary but added nothing to reveal his thoughts or opinions. He went to work and came home, did what was needed without complaint, but seemed lost in his own thoughts. He seemed unwilling to participate in family life or the rebuilding of their home. Nothing she said could persuade him back.
Once they were in and they had all settled into the routine of coming and going from their new address, and life seemed to show hope of a return to normal, Geoff no longer came. He was aware of the difficulties Ivor faced now his secret life had been discovered and understood they needed time together to adjust.
News of the discovery of the old man living in the filthy house got out, as the deepest secrets always will. It spread from previous neighbours only too willing to talk about their shameful exodus from their home and the re-emergence of the forgotten old man.
Gossip about Marie and Ivor hummed in every tea shop in the town, the children at Violet’s school jeered at her for having a potty grandfather, as children will, and the twins faced both humorous and unkind remarks as they served customers in the chip shop and the wholesale fruit and vegetable store. The pain of it ate at Ivor and he seemed to shrink from the shame.
Meanwhile, helped by a caring nursing staff, visited regularly by his son and daughter-in-law, Rhodri Masters made spasmodic progress. Often he seemed unaware of where he was and who the people visiting him were, but other days he was lucid and pleased to see them. Marie hoped that once he had fully recovered then Ivor too would be able to hold up his head and, instead of being tortured by guilt, would accept praise for rescuing the old man whom everyone else had forgotten.
The weather became a serious problem as Christmas approached. Snow settled in great drifts and ice caused accidents and held up deliveries. Fuel was scarce and in many places factories closed for the lack of it.
The snow showed no signs of stopping. Every morning people were woken by the sound of scraping shovels as workmen and householders struggled to clear the overnight falls. Marie found it impossible to get home at lunchtime, so they took sandwiches and hoped for a quick thaw.
The court case was held in January and the twins were given a fine and time to pay. The light sentence was down to two reasons. Firstly a plea by the record shop owner from whom they had stolen, who insisted that with their family trouble, they had been temporarily distraught but had learned their lesson a
nd were unlikely to re-offend. Everyone in the town had heard various versions of the neglect of the old man and his subsequent rescue, and the murmurs of both approval and derision echoed around the court. The second point in their favour that day was the contentment of the magistrate, whose wife had recently returned from a long visit to her mother and who was therefore in a mood to be lenient.
As they left the court, with the forms signed and promises made, Marie was relieved. She turned to Ivor to tell him that this was their fresh start, a new and happy beginning, but he wasn’t there. He was hurrying towards the railway station heading for Swansea in South Wales, where they had once spent a happy holiday.
The realization that he had left them there came slowly to Marie. Seeing the children on to a bus to take them home, she waited until the small crowd around the court had dispersed and, when there was no sign of him, walked around the area, rushing as she came to each corner, convinced she would see him there. After an hour she went home.
All evening she waited, opening the door from time to time and standing in the cold darkness, listening, hoping for the sound of his quick footsteps. Frost glistened on the trees cementing the remnants of the most recent snow fall to their branches. Violet slept, grasping a book she had hoped Ivor would read to her; the twins went to bed, disappointed not to be able to talk to him about the events of the day. Still Marie waited, determined to be there when he came in, to offer food and a loving welcome. With all their worries behind them, surely it was time for each other they needed now?
It wasn’t until she went upstairs to turn down the bedcovers that she found a note, telling her he was going away for a while, to think things out. He assured her that he loved her and the children, but at the moment couldn’t face what he had put them through.
‘Ivor,’ she said aloud, ‘why can’t you talk to me?’
She told her parents what had happened, and they offered sympathy tempered with the usual hint of criticism. ‘Are you sure some of the fault isn’t with you, Marie? Ivor’s always seemed such a decent man and he did what he could for his father when he found him. A less honourable man would have walked away.’
Jennie was upset and wouldn’t explain why. Safely ensconced in her parents’ care she seemed unwilling to go out apart from to work and even then she called for Lucy to walk with her. She went into the hairdresser’s shop with her friend, afraid of coming face to face with Bill when she was alone.
‘Whatever her problem was, it can’t be as desperate as mine,’ Marie said to her father one day.
‘I know that, Marie, and so does your mother, but Jennie is such a butterfly. She can’t cope like you.’
Not for the first time. Marie wished she had been the helpless kind, it got you out of doing a great many things you didn’t want to do.
*
Jennie went to Mr James a few days after her last date with Bill. Having refused his most recent invitations she had to make up an excuse. She needed to know he was still a friend. ‘It’s Mam, Mr James,’ she began. ‘Since she broke her arm she’s afraid for me to go out at night. It’s why I’ve decided to leave the flat,’ she lied. ‘I know Dad’s there, but he can’t look after her like I can. And our Marie’s got a lot on her plate. That’s why I refused your kind invitations. I didn’t want you to think I didn’t enjoy our little outings because I did, very much.’ She gave him her practised ‘shy’ look. ‘You’re very good company, Mr James, really you are.’
‘All right.’ Mr James said, ‘we’ll go out on Wednesday afternoon. Alter any appointments that will make you late and we’ll go for a drive and have dinner somewhere.’
She looked prettily hesitant. ‘But Mam—’
‘We’ll be back before evening so your mother won’t be worried,’ he promised, patting her hand.
The afternoon was a success. He drove her to Swansea and to the small village of Mumbles where they walked along the cliff path and visited a castle that she learned was called Oystermouth. They ate in Swansea and she told Ernie about the mysterious events in the life of her sister.
‘Any man fortunate enough to marry you would never want to leave,’ he said, and there was a seriousness about the way the words were spoken that made her wonder whether a life with Bill’s father might not be a good way of paying Bill back for humiliating her. Besides insisting that she call him Ernest, he kissed her gently when they parted. She managed to look coy and even felt a faint blush rise in her cheeks. She hoped Bill would be upset when his father told him where they had been. He had hurt her badly but it wouldn’t happen again and she might have the last laugh.
*
One morning Marie received some money with a brief note from Ivor promising to send more when he could. She examined the envelope, with a South Wales postmark across the stamp. What was be playing at? Why didn’t he just come home?
She discussed it with Geoff, wondering where he was and who he was with, and Marie asked herself time and again why he didn’t come home. She blamed herself for his inability to talk to her, she believed she had failed him and it was eating her up with guilt.
Through the wintry weeks that followed, the one-sided contact continued, other gifts of money arrived without a regular pattern, without an address and no clue apart from the South Wales postmark. Marie put the money into a bank account and determined that one day she would go to Swansea and find him, bring him back to where he belonged.
The harsh weather dragged on and people were unrecognizable even to their best friends as they wrapped themselves up in extra clothing, wore wellingtons or put old socks over their shoes to stop them from slipping. Marie still couldn’t get home to get lunch for the twins and Violet and instead they met in the basement of the dress shop – a concession by Mr Harries that he sternly reminded them wouldn’t continue once the weather eased, and ate sandwiches and drank metallic-tasting tea from a flask.
The children didn’t mind the snow. Eating a sort of picnic in the basement of the dress shop was a novelty, something to boast about to their friends, and the walk home, all together, made a pleasant ending to the day.
Rhodri’s health continued to improve and he was allowed home to the now neat and comfortable house for several days each week. With plenty of kindling in the woods close by he had a fire roaring a welcome for them each evening and the house was cosy and warm. He enjoyed the fun provided by the snow, cheering as other children began to include the twins in their games.
He mimed throwing from inside the house as one or other of the boys pelted snowballs, laughing when they reached their target, booing soundlessly from behind the window pane when they did not.
During these raw days when it was agony to be out in the cold for long, the house was a welcoming refuge.
They moved the couch and chairs close to the fire and ate their meal from trays, the rest of the house being so cold. Going to bed was a mad dash from the embers of the fire up the icy staircase and a jump into bed to hug a hot water bottle, feet snug in bed-socks. Coats were thrown over the top of the beds for extra warmth, and Violet learned to put her clean underclothes under the covers with her so they would be warm to put on. Every morning ice decorated the inside of the bedroom windows with frond-like patterns that were beautiful but which few paused to admire.
In March the hospital decided that Rhodri was well enough to leave permanently, and Marie made a room ready for him. He was pale but otherwise he looked well for his sixty-six years. Conversations were sometimes vague but as he grew stronger he began to take an interest in the garden and took great pleasure, when the weather allowed, in untangling the muddle of old, dead bushes, trying to turn soil too ice-bound to succumb to the fork, and murmuring about his plans for the spring.
It was as he worked near the front fence, now fallen and overgrown, that he found the house sign. He called for Marie, who went running, thinking he might be hurt, and showed her the name. ‘It’s called Badgers Brook. I’d forgotten, but that’s its name. We live in Badgers Brook!’
Rhodri was still odd at times, lost in a world of his own. Twice she had found him throwing so much wood on the fire that it was falling out and on the verge of setting fire to the rug. On another occasion she found him struggling to haul large branches through the garden to pile up on the lawn.
‘Thank you, Rhodri. If we can saw and chop that lot, we’ll have fuel for the rest of the winter.’ It was piled very high and much of it was useless, thin and brittle, and wouldn’t give more than a short bright blaze. ‘What about finding some good thick pieces? I’m sure Roger and Royston would saw it into logs for us.’
Thinking that by suggesting wood gathering she had given him something to do during the hours they were all out of the house, she was startled to come home to find the whole lot burned, and neighbours throwing water on to the wooden shed that housed the boiler.
‘Don’t blame Roger and Royston, Marie,’ he said anxiously. ‘They love a bit of a blaze. We must remember they’re no more than boys still.’ He pointed a blackened finger towards Violet. ‘And she loved it, just look at her face.’
‘Why would I blame the boys?’ Marie asked. ‘They’ve just come home, with me and Violet. We’ve been out all day. How could I think they did this?’
The House by the Brook Page 13