by Katie Flynn
Glenys hid a giggle behind an upraised hand but Mo flushed scarlet and stared hard at the old woman, her eyes flashing with indignation. ‘Our dresses are borrowed, not bought,’ she said, her voice rising. ‘And there’s nothing wrong with my father marrying twice because my own mam died, which makes Dad a widower. Anyone can marry a widower; it’s just if there had been a divorce . . .’
Nain nudged her granddaughter and pulled her away from the older woman. ‘Mrs Griffiths doesn’t mean half what she says,’ she whispered. ‘She’s soured because her daughter ran off with a seaman and was never heard of again. She was one of the blonde Griffiths, so I suspect the sight of you and Glenys upset her, made her think of Bethan.’
‘Not her,’ Mo said scornfully. ‘The only person she thinks about is herself. How dare she say Dad was shameless to marry again! She’s a spiteful old woman, as bad as Mrs Huxtable. No wonder her daughter ran away, like we did from Cyril and his horrible old mother. I wish we could find Bethan and tell her we don’t like her mother either. We could invite her to come and live at Weathercock Farm. What do you think, Aun – I mean Mam?’ She turned to appeal to Glenys, but Glenys had moved away and was talking to Taid. Nain, however, smiled and squeezed her hand.
‘It all happened a long time ago, cariad,’ she said consolingly. ‘The trouble was that Amelia was strong chapel and there were rumours . . . but never mind that! As you say Amelia’s just a spiteful old woman bent on upsetting folk.’ She smiled down into Mo’s flushed face. ‘Do you know, I believe the orchestra are about to play a barn dance. You wouldn’t want to miss that!’
‘Dancing!’ Mo said longingly. ‘Oh, and I’m still wearing my bridesmaid’s dress and I promised to take it off before I ate anything! But I was so excited that I only had a few sausage rolls, honest I did, and Dad wouldn’t let me taste the champagne – but I’d best go up to my room and put on the nice frock my new mam bought for me.’ She caught Nain’s hand. ‘Come with me, Nain. I need help to undo this dress, because it unbuttons down the back.’
But halfway back to the farmhouse Glenys caught them up, leading by the hand a weeping small neighbour who had spilt lemonade down her best frock and was saying, between wails, that her mum would scold her something rotten so she would.
‘No, she won’t,’ Glenys said comfortingly. ‘I’ll tell her it wasn’t your fault. You can’t help it if a boy carrying dirty glasses cannons into you.’ She looked appealingly at her stepdaughter. ‘Mo, poppet, I rather want a word with Nain. Would you be a darling and take Marian up to your room and just rinse the lemonade out?’
Mo was willing, so Glenys sent them on their way with a kiss and drew Nain to one side. ‘You know what you said about Amelia Griffiths’s daughter Bethan – that she’d run away with a seaman and never been seen again? I’ve just asked Taid when this all happened and he said . . . he said . . .’
Nain smiled at her; an understanding smile. ‘That woman is a terror,’ she said. ‘You don’t want to listen to anything she says. As for Bethan, all that is old history. Folk had it that the girl didn’t run away with a seaman, only from old Amelia, who never treated her right. Just you forget all about it, my dear. This is your day, and you mustn’t let someone else’s spite spoil it for you.’
Glenys started to speak, then changed her mind. ‘It’s all right, I was only going to say you were right, as always,’ she said when Nain continued to look at her questioningly. ‘And don’t you dare start washing up; there are others to do that.’
Nain squeezed her hand. ‘And here comes Sam to reclaim his wife,’ she said gaily. ‘And don’t you dare start washing up, either! As you say, there are others to do that. And no dwelling on what Amelia said,’ she added warningly, as Sam came to a halt beside them. ‘The past is past: best left to itself.’ She smiled at the groom. ‘I’m just telling your new wife not to listen to gossip; she’ll soon learn it doesn’t pay, in the end.’
‘That’s right,’ Sam said. He looked curiously at Glenys. ‘What’s up? Don’t tell me nothing, because I know you!’
Glenys hesitated. She had meant to tell Sam that Amelia Griffiths had a daughter who had run away from home thirty-three years ago, and that said daughter might – just might – be her own mother. But she looked at Sam’s kind, generous face and saw in her mind’s eye the fat and spiteful face of Mrs Amelia Griffiths. Why should she risk spoiling things by telling Sam a story which was, in all probability, just rumour and gossip? She had thought, once, that finding her mother was important. Now she knew it was not. She had Sam, the children, a heap of good friends . . .
‘Well, Miss Innocence? What’s on your mind?’
‘I’m wondering how long it will be before we can say goodbye to our guests and go to our new home. I love Nain and Taid but I’ve never had a home of my own . . . Oh, Sam, I simply can’t wait!’
Sam kissed her neck and Glenys swivelled in his arms and kissed him back. ‘Dearest Sam,’ she said lovingly. ‘Let’s go and join Mo in the barn dance. She’s been practising the steps for weeks!’
‘Not going to tell me?’ Sam said jokingly. ‘Never mind. I’ll find out when we’re alone!’
Glenys smiled and nodded; perhaps she would tell Sam about the mysterious disappearance of fat Amelia’s daughter when they were alone, but she knew suddenly that she would do nothing of the sort. The future stretched ahead of her, sunny and enticing; why should she go spoiling it, even for a moment? Yesterday Sam had talked of their new life, and that meant no looking back. A new life was a good thing, a beautiful thing. Glenys gave a contented little murmur, then spoke aloud. ‘Come on, let’s go to the barn and show them how it’s done!’ she said against Sam’s neck. ‘Oh, Sam, we’re going to be so happy! And this year we can give the children a real family Christmas!’
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Epub ISBN: 9781448185689
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Published by Arrow Books in 2014
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Copyright © Katie Flynn 2014
Katie Flynn has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First published in Great Britain in 2014 by Century
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ISBN 9781780892290