He reached the front door and knocked, tentatively at first, then louder, but there was no response. A man walking along the lane called to him, ‘If you want Mrs Masters she’s gone,’ he called.
Ivor looked through the window and saw that the place was clean and orderly, the fire set ready in the grate, the old pine table scrubbed and put where they had found it covered in filth. He was too late. He called to ask the man where he could find them but the man shrugged. ‘Couldn’t pay their rent was what I heard. The landlord increased it, see, and it was too much, with her husband running off like he did. The swine.’
They were gone and he had no idea where to find them.
Ivor turned away, afraid that the man would recognize him as ‘the swine’ who had abandoned his family. He drove back to the town and went to see Marie’s parents. Surely they would know where he could find them? But once again he was denied.
He found Howard to be a very angry man. ‘My daughters deserve better than they’re getting,’ he ranted. ‘Jennie married to an old man and YOU, walking out and leaving our Marie and the children without a home. Get out, go on, clear off! Useless you are, promising to look after her and the children, and what did you do? Steal from them, lose them their home then run away. Get from my sight, you useless apology for a man.’
Stricken with shock and shame, Ivor heard Belle call from in the house, ‘Who is it, Howard?’
‘No one, dear. Only some beggar who should be ashamed to look an honest man in the eye.’
‘Please, tell me where I can find them. I need to see her.’ As Howard was closing the door, he asked, ‘At least tell me where my father is.’
‘Wherever they are they’re best without you,’ he shouted. ‘Get away from here, you don’t belong here any more.’
He went next to find Geoff, although he knew the man was hardly likely to be on his side. He went into the shop, which was dark after the bright sun outside, and for a moment he couldn’t make out who was standing behind the counter. Geoff had seen him before he had opened the door and had called to Marie to stay out of sight, unless she wanted to see him. That decision was hers and something with which he would not interfere.
‘Ivor?’ he said questioningly.
‘Where are they?’
‘It isn’t for me to tell. But if you want to see them leave me your address and I’ll pass it on.’ As Ivor hesitated as though to argue, he went on, ‘I think the decision must be hers, don’t you?’
There was a note pad on the counter, and on it Ivor wrote the address of the lodging house where he lived.
‘Is there any message?’ Geoff asked coldly, offering the pad and pencil once again.
‘I’m afraid that my father might be bothering them. He’s – well, you saw how he was living and I don’t want them upset. Was he the reason they had to leave the house?’
Geoff shook his head. ‘None of your father’s doing.’
‘He is still in hospital, then, isn’t he?’
‘Under their care, yes,’ was Geoff’s evasive answer.
‘I gather Jennie is married. Strange her marrying a man of that age,’ Ivor said, trying to delay his departure.
Geoff came around the counter and opened the door. It was clearly a dismissal and without another word Ivor left.
A tearful Marie took the piece of paper on which Ivor had written his address and tore it up, dropping the pieces into the waste paper bin. ‘Why should I want to find him? He has to find me,’ she sobbed. ‘Search with determination and face me, talk to me, not leave addresses and wait for me to find him!’
*
Ivor drove around for a while, passing the school and the shop where he presumed Marie still worked, but there was no sign of her or the children. Unable to take more disappointment, dissatisfied with his attempt to find them, feeling hated and despised by everyone, he drove back to the lodgings to find Effie waiting in the dining room.
It was only five o’clock and supper wasn’t until nine thirty so she suggested a walk. She went with him to return the car to its owner and pay for its use, then they caught a bus to the seaside village of Mumbles and walked along the from, following the road and paths to Langland Bay and then Caswell, while he talked.
He told her about his miserable childhood. About the bullying at school, where, as a badly dressed only child with a mother who had been in prison for setting fire to a school and attempting to burn a house, he was a gift to those who teased. A mother who had also burned a barn and a stack of hay, although neither had been proved, when the man had accused Ivor of poaching. As if his crazy mother weren’t enough there was his father, who wandered around, staring at people, often unaware of his surroundings. He was a farm labourer, who had been unable to work since his return from the great war in 1918, but with no wound about which a son could boast to explain his confused state.
Effie listened and swore to comfort him and help him to forget the woman who had cared so little for him she had allowed him to walk away once she found out about his family. She didn’t deserve him.
*
It was again Jennie who was the next to see Ivor. Ernie had invited her to visit the town, promising her a walk along the beach and tea in a smart hotel. Jennie wanted to scream. What she needed was a night out with Lucy. A dance with wild music in a hot, overcrowded hall, with plenty of make-up, her hair loosened from Ernie’s favourite tightly controlled style, with lots of young men admiring her and telling her how wonderful she was, not a sedate walk and tea in a nice hotel!
They parked the car beside the railway line, following the route of the famous, overcrowded Mumbles train to ride around the wide sandy bay towards the village of the same name. It was later, as they were driving past the Swansea shops as they closed for the evening, that Jennie again recognized her brother-in-law. He was going into the picture house with a young woman on his arm. Ernie slowed the car and stopped outside and they watched as Ivor put an arm around his companion to guide her through the entrance, where a small queue was already forming. The girl stood aside, opening her coat and easing off her gloves as he bought their tickets.
‘It’s the girl he was with before. What shall we do? We can’t tell Marie he’s seeing another woman, it would break her heart.’
‘I think she’d prefer to know,’ Ernie said, shaking his head as he held his hand out of the window to signal before easing the car back into the line of traffic. ‘I would.’
‘Perhaps later, but not now, her unhappiness is still raw.’
‘I think we should go straight to Geoff’s hardware shop and tell him what we saw.’
‘Good news about her new job. I might like to go back to work myself one day, Ernie.’
‘No need for you to think of doing that, my dear. We’re perfectly happy as we are, pleasing ourselves, going out for nice afternoons whenever the fancy takes us.’
Hoping she had successfully distracted him from what he saw as his duty, she said, ‘You’re right. Why don’t we eat out this evening, instead of my struggling to make a meal from some corned beef and a few potatoes?’
He agreed. ‘And we could call on Geoff to tell Marie about seeing Ivor.’
The following morning she went to see Geoff and, finding him alone, told him what they had seen. It was up to him whether or not to tell Marie.
Geoff thought about the information for a long time. He came to the conclusion that he needed to find out more before telling Marie anything. It could be perfectly innocent; they might have met by accident. They could have been part of a group of people out for the evening.
He thought of the many people he knew who went out regularly, the same evening every week, and, hoping this was true of Ivor, on the same day the following week Geoff went to the cinema where he had been seen, and watched. There were several other cinemas in the town but he pinned his hopes on them being persuaded back by the previous week’s trailer. He was lucky and, sitting in a café and then a public house until the programme finished, he was there
waiting as they came out, and he followed them back to the lodging house.
She was holding his arm, and laughter rang out occasionally as they discussed their evening. Geoff felt anger rising with every step he took. Ivor shouldn’t be laughing. He had no right to be happy. He went back to where he’d parked the car and drove home, trying to work out what he should say to Marie. Was this woman the cause of it all? Had Ivor tried to see Marie to tell her he’d found someone else? Marie was in bed when he went in and he sighed with relief. At least he had a reprieve; he needn’t make up his mind what to say to her until tomorrow.
Eight
Jennie was confused by Ernie’s neglect of her. Confused, hurt and deeply unhappy. She couldn’t tell anyone, as she believed the fault lay with her. Yet what had she done that was so wrong?
She had bathed and applied light make-up, arranged her hair around her shoulders as attractively as she could, and worn the most beautiful nightgown and matching negligée. It had been made by a professional dressmaker from delicate material and trimmed with lace and swansdown, which had taken a lot of finding and cost a lot of money. He hadn’t even looked at her wearing it.
On that first night when anticipation had heightened her desire, he had slipped into bed after undressing in the bathroom of their hotel and, turning his back to her, gone immediately to sleep.
Every night of their honeymoon had been the same. On one occasion he had kissed her lightly, briefly, almost apologetically, pulling away before she could sink into his arms as a wife should. Since then there had been nothing. Every morning he ate breakfast then immersed himself in the morning papers.
She watched him now, eating his breakfast toast, one and a half slices, never more never less. She could predict what would happen every hour from now till bedtime.
After breakfast and having perused the papers they would go for a walk and occasionally eat lunch in a restaurant. In the afternoon he dozed a little and the evening was spent listening to the wireless. At ten forty-five it was cocoa and bed. For a man of fifty it was a very dull life. Twice a week he went to his club and she went to see either Marie or her parents. For a lively minded young woman longing for romance it was utter misery.
A lady came to clean but Jennie was expected to cook their meals and do the shopping, wandering around like the other women of the town, looking for something with which to feed them. Domesticity, even with the help provided, did not make Jennie feel like a fulfilled woman.
Every night in her dreams she lived a very different life, with someone who roused her body from its torpor with love and attention. Every morning when she woke, the misery of her existence was revived.
There was no one she could tell. How could she admit such failure? Lucy would probably laugh, convinced that as usual she was exaggerating. Marie found it difficult to discuss such private concerns. Since the few revelations on returning from her honeymoon, Marie quickly changed the subject when anything private was mentioned. No, this was something she would have to cope with alone.
Early one evening, she was sitting outside the back door in the small boring garden, looking at the boring houses nearby, wondering how she had got herself into this boring situation, dreaming of a way out of it, when she became aware of someone watching her. She turned to see Bill leaning on the doorframe staring at her, his face stony and his eyes cold.
‘What time will you be getting supper?’ he asked.
‘Nine thirty on the dot, as always.’
‘As my father insists.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, turning away. ‘He likes the house to run to a timetable.’
‘Like the local railway station.’
She turned again to look at him: it was the closest they had got to a conversation for a long time.
‘How do you cope with it?’ he asked.
‘I’m very content.’ Her reply was spoken primly, and his response was to laugh. She stood up and tried to push past him. ‘It’s time for me to see Lucy and collect the appointments book and money,’ she said. His hand on her arm held her back. ‘Exactly twenty past five, on the dot,’ he said, his lips close to her ear. ‘Tea-time at six, supper at nine thirty. What time is fun?’
‘Get out of the way, Bill.’ She struggled but his arm came around and held her.
‘Be honest, you’re hating it. Marriage to my father isn’t the soft life you expected it to be, is it?’
‘I’m fine, leave me alone.’
‘Not quite yet. It’s almost half past five, so he’ll be in the bathroom, getting ready for the evening. Taking off his second best suit and changing into an older pair of trousers – still neatly pressed of course – and a sports jacket.’ Then he kissed her.
The effect on her was startling, then she was enveloped in a rush of hot desire. He released her and stared into her eyes, his breath fast. A need for him swelled and tearfully she pushed him away and ran towards the door to the shop. She didn’t go in, but stood there trying to compose herself, shame and an almost desperate need fighting within her. This was something else she couldn’t tell Lucy.
*
Geoff said nothing to Marie about seeing Ivor going into the lodging house with the young woman. He had watched them on two other occasions, always on the same night, always going to the pictures. Whatever was going on, it seemed Ivor wasn’t suffering loneliness.
Had it all been planned? The chance of him finding a woman friend so soon after leaving his family was remote. More and more he believed that Ivor’s departure had little or nothing to do with the revelations about his father, and instead had been to do with this other woman. Had he moved them from their home deliberately, avoiding the embarrassment of walking away while living among people he knew well?
If this were the case then his infatuation for this rather plain woman must be very strong. So how could he tell Marie?
*
Rhodri had found it easy to go out at night. He slept on the ground floor of Geoff’s shop so there were no creaking stairs to worry him. He simply unlocked the back door and walked down the path and out into the lane. The lock was well oiled, the doors a good fit, so he left without a sound. It had been raining but now the air was clean and fresh and he paused a moment to savour it.
There was a street lamp at both ends of the lane behind Steeple Street but the lane was shadowed by high walls and there was never anyone about. Stepping cautiously out on to the street, he straightened up and with a purposeful stride set off for Badgers Brook. He knew he would look less suspicious if he appeared to have some destination in mind rather than wandering around aimlessly.
The first night he went out he saw a For Sale notice propped carelessly against the gate and immediately picked it up. This couldn’t be right. Nearby was the house name sign. It had been broken, presumably by workmen as they pushed wheelbarrows and tools through the gate. Nearby was a scattering of oddments: paint tins, left over putty, pieces of wood. He carefully removed the wood and built it into a pile ready to burn. Struggling and having to stop repeatedly for a rest, he managed to transport both signs into the wood and hide them behind some straggly bushes.
For a long time he stood staring up at the house, and then he looked through the window. Devoid of people, the place was bare, unwanted, deprived of a purpose, and it bothered him. Houses should be filled with things, and alive with the sound of voices. For a moment he heard names called, the names of old friends, long gone, and the loved voice of his wife, which in its turn was overlaid by the calls and the laughter of Ivor, Marie and the children.
He rubbed the glass with his sleeve to see more clearly and choked back laughter when he heard someone approaching, whistling merrily the George Formby hit, ‘When I’m Cleaning Windows’.
He leaned close to the glass, which was cold against his face, and he could hear the hiss of bicycle tyres on the damp ground. Backing into the shadows as the early morning traveller came nearer, he leaned on the door, hiding his face against the freshly painted wood. The lock gave way, sen
ding him sprawling on to the cold slate kitchen floor. He jumped up quickly and pushed the door closed. He could still hear the whistler, the sound fading away, the melody uninterrupted.
Dawn was breaking and he didn’t have time for anything more than a brief look around. Then, smiling happily, he hurried home and was in bed deeply asleep when Marie came in to the storeroom where he slept, with a cup of tea to wake him. For a moment or two he wondered whether he had dreamed his escapade.
The following night he went out again. This time when he passed the front of the shop he saw a face staring out of an upstairs window, ghostlike in the darkness. He stopped and stared and a hand waved before the face disappeared. A moment later, an excited Violet emerged from the house and ran towards him.
‘Can’t you sleep either, Grandfather?’
‘l was going for a walk. Would you like to come?’
‘Please.’
‘Then could you bring some matches? I forgot to bring them. And get your coat,’ he whispered.
He led her to Badgers Brook and into the wood beside it, where he had hidden the For Sale notice and the house sign.
‘This is a mistake, you see,’ he explained, ‘and I think it’s best if we burn it. The house name, too, as it’s broken. I bet Geoff will make us a new one.’
They built a fire from paper taken from an ashbin of a nearby house and dry grasses found in the lee of a hedge, and added thin branches and the oddments he had gathered. Once it was blazing he added the two wooden notice boards. Once it was ablaze Rhodri touched Violet’s arm and pulled her away to hide behind a thick oak tree. ‘Remnants,’ he told her, ‘of a forest after which Cwm Derw was named.’
The House by the Brook Page 18