‘Powdered?’
‘What else?’ She poured a little – a very little – into his cup. ‘And sugar’s rationed. Haven’t you heard there’s a war on?’
‘I could pay extra.’
‘I’ve heard that you Yanks are rich.’
‘We’re well paid.’
‘Overpaid compared to the British Tommy, but money can’t buy everything in this country, especially extra rations in this café.’
Still hoping to circumvent her hostility he gave up on the sugar and flashed her his most charming smile. ‘It’s official, we’re staying in Pontypridd.’
‘Who’s we?’
‘Me and a few fellow Americans. Colonel Ford thought we should mark our arrival by throwing a party for the natives. A sort of “getting to know you” affair. I was hoping for some friendly advice.’
‘You’d be better off asking someone who has time to spare for parties.’
‘I was hoping you’d come, ma’am.’
‘I’ll be busy.’
‘You don’t even know when it is.’
‘I run this place.’
‘Every night?’ He lifted a sceptical eyebrow.
‘Every day and night,’ she reiterated firmly.
‘No time off for good behaviour?’
‘If we took time off, Hitler would be here instead of stuck on the other side of the Channel.’
‘We’ve reserved the blue and silver ballroom in the New Inn. Here’s the date and time.’ Scribbling a note in his book he tore out the page and handed it to her. ‘The tickets will be distributed just as soon as we can get them printed. I hope you won’t mind me dropping some off here?’
‘Suit yourself’
He made a face as he sipped the coffee. ‘We’re only trying to lighten the load you British have been toting, ma’am.’
‘I would have thought you’d do that best by joining in the fighting.’
‘And we’ll be doing that the minute we’ve finished training our troops. See you around, ma’am.’
Tina screwed up the paper he’d left on the counter and tossed it into the bin.
‘Didn’t you like the tip the Yank left?’
‘Ronnie!’ She started at the sight of her brother sitting at the corner table behind the door. ‘How long have you been there?’
‘Long enough to see the hard time you were giving that poor man. They are here to help, you know.’
‘What are you doing here at this time of day?’
‘They were short-handed in the factory, so I did a twenty-four-hour shift.’
‘You look as though you haven’t slept in a week.’
‘It was a toss-up whether to come in here to eat, or crawl up the hill to bed.’ He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.
‘After only a month of married life I would have thought bed would have been a better option.’
Opening one eye, he shot her a warning glance not to press family familiarity too far. ‘Diana’s opening the new shop in Treforest today. Come on, woman, I’m starving. Less talk more action, what have you got in the way of food?’
‘Pie and chips.’
‘Alma’s pie?’
‘Where else would I get pies?’
‘I dread to think.’
She shouted the order through the hatch, before rooting in the bread bin. Taking a couple of slices, she scraped a knife over a margarine wrapper, finding just enough to colour the greyish national loaf pale yellow.
‘So how’s the happy couple?’
‘Happy when we’re together.’
‘Don’t try and tell me about separation. You don’t even know the meaning of the word.’
Realising there was even more of an edge to Tina’s voice than usual, Ronnie changed the subject again.
‘What was on the paper you threw in the bin?’
‘Nothing much.’
‘Do I have to drag it out of you?’
‘If you must know, the date and time of a party the Yanks are throwing to impress everyone in the town.’
‘You don’t want to go?’
‘They can keep their party.’
‘From what Dai Station’s been saying, they’ve got food and drink we haven’t seen since before the war.’
‘So?’
‘Haven’t you heard from Will lately?’ he asked perceptively.
‘Not a bloody word. And Bethan called in earlier. The Clark girls’ father’s been killed. He was stationed in North Africa, just like Will.’
‘William will be fine, Tina.’
‘You keep saying that, but you can’t know. No one can.’
‘He came back from Dunkirk, didn’t he? Believe me, whatever he’s landed in, he’ll come up smelling of roses.’
‘And if he lands in a minefield?’
‘Carry on thinking like that and you’ll end up crazier than you are now.’
‘It makes me mad,’ she raged. ‘The Yanks walk in, lording it over the whole town, although the closest they’ve come to fighting is seeing the newsreels in the pictures, and everyone falls over backwards to fawn all over them while the poor sods at the front get forgotten.’
‘The Americans might be good for business,’ he suggested as the cook came out with his meal.
‘What’s the use of more customers if I’ve no food to sell them? For all the good they’re doing they might as well have stayed at home. At least then I wouldn’t have had to listen to their stupid accents.’
When Bethan walked into her house that evening she found Maisie, Liza and the children crowded into the kitchen singing ‘Ten Green Bottles’ at the tops of their voices while a stout, balding, middle-aged man with a chef’s apron tied over his uniform, poured batter into two frying pans set on the range.
She stood back, looking in from the hall while he flipped pancakes high in the air, occasionally tossing a finished one on to a plate Maurice held out for him. The younger children were all laughing, even Polly and Nell, she noted with relief. And Eddie was so excited by the party atmosphere, he would have fallen out of his high chair if Maisie hadn’t been restraining him.
The noise they were making had masked her entrance, so she could continue to watch. When the pile of pancakes had grown high enough to be in danger of toppling over, the chef dredged the topmost one in syrup and sugar, deftly rolled it, slid it on to a plate and handed it to Rachel. As he turned back to start on the next one, he saw her.
‘Sergeant Dino Morelli of the US Armed Forces, ma’am.’ He tipped his cap. ‘Hope you don’t mind me taking over your kitchen this way?’
‘Looks like I’d be outvoted if I tried.’
‘It’s a thank-you party for inviting them to live with us,’ Rachel chattered, as she carried her plate to the table.
‘So I see.’ Bethan helped her climb on the bench before turning to Maurice. ‘Did you move in all right?’
‘Fine, thank you, ma’am. Those are large, airy rooms you have up there. The colonel’s right pleased.’
‘And you have everything you need?’
‘Everything, ma’am. The colonel’s upstairs in his office with Lieutenant Rivers. He wanted to pay his respects as soon as you came in. I’d better tell him you’re here.’
‘I have some paperwork to do.’ She looked to Maisie as the corporal left. ‘I’ll be in the study.’
‘I’ve put your letters on Dr John’s desk, Mrs John.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Can Eddie eat some of my pancake?’ Rachel asked.
‘After Maisie’s tied on his bib.’ Slipping off her cape, Bethan lifted Eddie out of his high chair, hugging him close for an instant before setting him next to his sister on the bench.
‘Shall I bring them in when they’ve finished?’ Maisie asked, watching Bethan carefully to see if she was angry at the way the Americans had been allowed to commandeer the kitchen.
‘When the fun’s finished, not before. It’s not often they get a chance to enjoy themselves like this.’
H
anging her cape in the hall, she walked into the study and sat at Andrew’s desk. There was a pile of letters, one she noted with relief, from Andrew. She laid it on the blotter before opening her bag and taking out her visiting lists. Business first, pleasure later. She knew from experience that Andrew’s letters were best left to last thing at night, when she could go straight to bed after reading and answering them. She was checking the lists against her notes and diary entries when a tap at the door disturbed her.
‘Come in.’
She’d expected a crusty army veteran with a grey moustache and receding hairline, not a tall, slim, athletic-looking, fair-haired man in his thirties.
‘I’m not sure whether I should call you Mrs or Nurse John?’ He held out his hand. ‘I’m Colonel David Ford.’
‘Mrs will be fine. Pleased to meet you.’ She left the desk, shook his hand and sat on the sofa in front of it, indicating the easy chair beside her.
‘It was good of you to offer us accommodation. It was an offer?’ he enquired, as he sat down.
‘Let’s just say I had five rooms going to waste up there.’
‘I’m sorry if you were press-ganged. I guess people like Mr Williams and Mrs Llewellyn-Jones can be overwhelming.’
‘Mr Williams?’
‘I assumed he’d talked you into it?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘We’ll try to be as little trouble as possible.’
‘There are four of you?’
‘Myself, my aide, Lieutenant Rivers, my driver Corporal Duval – I think you met him this morning?’
‘And Sergeant Morelli now.’
‘He’ll be doing all our cleaning, washing and cooking so we won’t make any extra work for you. I hope you won’t mind him occasionally using your kitchen? We’ll be supplying our own rations and fuel, but there won’t be much for him to do here. We’ve already set up our own canteen in town and we’ll eat as many meals there as possible.’
‘There’ll still be breakfast and supper.’
‘It might help if we work out a schedule. Perhaps there are times when he won’t disturb anyone?’
‘As you can see,’ she indicated her uniform, ‘I work, so he will have to talk to my housekeeper.’
‘They seem to be doing that already.’ Colonel Ford sat back in his chair and gazed at her with incisive, navy-blue eyes. ‘If it’s all right with you, we’ll use the back entrance and staircase.’
‘Perfectly.’
‘I take it they were once part of the servants’ quarters?’
‘Not since I’ve lived here, Colonel Ford.’
‘We’ll try and stay out of your way as much as possible, but with the kitchen and bathroom on the lower floors I am afraid we won’t be totally unobtrusive.’
‘I didn’t expect you to be.’
‘About the bathroom. There is a special fund to adapt and furnish accommodation for the use of army personnel. If you have no objection I could arrange for a plumber to install a second bathroom in the small room above your existing bathroom.’
‘Wouldn’t that be horribly expensive?’
‘Only for the American army. There’ll be some disruption for a day or two, but on the plus side we won’t be able to take it with us when we go.’
‘In that case, how can I refuse?’
‘You have quite a family.’
‘Only two of the children are mine.’
‘Rachel and Edward. We’ve been introduced.’
She looked up as the door opened. Maisie walked in with a tray.
‘I thought you’d like tea, Mrs John.’
Bethan stared in surprise at the biscuits on the plate.
‘Sergeant Morelli made some chocolate cookies for the children. These were left over.’
‘Just make sure the children don’t eat too much rich food, Maisie,’ Bethan warned sternly, feeling that she was rapidly losing control of her household. ‘They’re not used to sweet things.’
‘They only had one each, Mrs John.’
‘And pancakes?’ Bethan reminded as Maisie retreated.
‘You’re strict with your children,’ the colonel observed as Maisie closed the door.
‘Routine and discipline are essential in an extended family of this size, but I wouldn’t want to bore a soldier about either of those things.’
‘From what I’ve seen, you could teach the average GI something about both.’ He glanced at the photograph on the desk. ‘Your husband?’
‘Yes.’
‘He’s on active service?’
‘He was captured at Dunkirk.’
‘That means he’s been a prisoner for …’
‘… two years and five months.’
‘I’m sorry. You must miss him.’
‘I’m too busy, Colonel Ford,’ she interposed briskly, negating any intended sympathy.
‘I can see that I’m taking up your time.’
‘I can spare a few moments, especially as Maisie has gone to the trouble of making tea. Would you like a cup and one of your biscuits?’
‘Just tea please.’
‘Milk and sugar?’
‘Milk, thank you.’
She poured out two cups and handed him his. ‘Colonel, as you’re going to live here, presumably for some time …’
‘Until we finish training our troops,’ he interrupted, giving her no hint as to how long that might take.
‘Perhaps we should lay down a few rules to ensure that all our lives run smoothly.’
‘Such as?’
‘I’m responsible for Maisie and Liza as well as the children. Given the shortage of men in Pontypridd it would be very easy for your staff to turn their heads.’
‘I have already given my officers a lecture on respecting the young ladies of the town. It will be passed down to the men.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
‘As for my immediate staff, Sergeant Morelli is forty: he’s a volunteer and wanted to ensure that he’d be in this war to the bitter end. He’s old enough to be Maisie and Liza’s father so I don’t think you need fear he’ll start chasing them.’
‘There’s still Maurice.’
‘An extremely naive twenty-year-old.’
‘I hope you’ll ensure he stays that way.’
‘I can’t promise that. I drove past Station Yard last night. There seemed to be an extraordinarily large number of ladies waiting to meet the trains.’
‘Every town in Britain has its Station Yard, Colonel Ford. It’s Maisie and Liza I’m concerned about, not the ladies waiting to meet the trains.’
‘Any problems, Mrs John, please feel free to discuss them with me.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And if you don’t want my staff mixing with the girls or the children …’
‘I didn’t say that.’
He looked into her eyes as he set down his cup and rose to his feet. ‘We’re strangers, far from home in an alien land, Mrs John. And your kindness is greatly appreciated.’
Chapter Three
For the first time since they had started work in the munitions factory Jenny Powell and Judy Crofter didn’t call in at either Ronconi’s café or the pub before going home. Turning under the railway bridge, they began the long haul up the Graig hill, halting outside Jenny’s corner shop at the top of Factory Lane.
‘Pick you up here at eight?’ Judy asked, as Jenny opened the door of the shop she had entrusted to an assistant’s care for the duration.
‘That gives me enough time to turn from a dust-coated frog into a princess.’ Jenny looked at her sister-in-law, Jane. ‘Coming with us?’
‘Not tonight, thanks.’
‘Your Haydn wouldn’t give up the chance to have a good time,’ Judy taunted. Jane’s husband, Haydn Powell, was one of the leading lights of ENSA and the newspapers were constantly printing ‘morale boosting’ photographs of him in uniform with his arms wrapped around scantily clad chorus girls.
‘I’m looking forward to putting Anne to bed. She
’s growing up so fast I feel I’m missing out on her childhood.’
‘Babies!’ Judy wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘I learned all I ever want to know about them from my younger brothers. Thank God they’re in the army now. There’s nothing like a kid hanging round your neck to cramp your style. You won’t catch me having any.’
‘I’ll talk to you when you’re married. See you tomorrow, Jenny.’
‘See you,’ Jenny called after them as she walked inside. Pushing past the crowd of women and children waiting to be served, she murmured a brief hello before diving through the door that led to her private quarters, closing it quickly lest she be roped in to help out. Running up the stairs she stopped and sniffed the air.
‘The lady of the house returns.’
‘I thought I could smell paint.’
Alexander Forbes, a former university lecturer, museum curator and conscientious objector who’d been conscripted to work in the pits, was standing in her living room dressed in a pair of khaki overalls, a brush in one hand, a pot of paint in the other. ‘You said you wanted to brighten the place up.’
‘How did you get in?’ Kicking off her shoes, she tossed her coat over the banisters.
‘I told Freda you’d asked me to decorate the living room. She took quite a bit of convincing.’
‘I’ve given her strict instructions not to let anyone up here when I’m at work.’
‘Blame me, not her. I can be very persuasive.’
‘Not that I’ve noticed. Why aren’t you working?’
‘Even “bloody conchies” get a day off now and again.’ Setting the tin on the dustsheet he’d laid over the lino and square of carpet, he stamped on the lid.
‘I thought paint was rarer than bananas these days.’ Jenny stepped tentatively forward, checking the cloth around her feet for paint splotches before examining the walls.
‘I asked Ronnie Ronconi. He knew a man …’
‘Ronnie always knows a man. If you’re not careful you’ll find yourself standing in the dock alongside him charged with black-marketeering.’ She glanced back at him as she walked around the room. He’d gone to a lot of trouble, and done a first-class job of covering the walls. Suddenly aware that she hadn’t even thanked him, she added, ‘You’ve certainly brightened the place up. Wherever did you get a light shade of green like this?’
Broken Rainbows Page 4