Broken Rainbows

by Catrin Collier

  ‘I’ll go into the café and grab a tea. I don’t suppose you know when that wife of mine is due to finish her shift?’

  ‘She’s got a day off.’

  ‘Great, I’ll go on up to the house.’

  ‘She’s visiting the RAF hospital in Church Village.’

  ‘She knows someone there?’

  ‘Bethan’s got a Yank doctor lodging in her house. He’s been drumming up volunteers to visit the men who have no one living close by. Jane offered to help.’

  ‘That’s my wife.’ He shook his head fondly. ‘I didn’t even know Bethan had a Yank staying with her?’

  ‘Five of them. You can’t move an inch in any direction without hearing their funny voices or seeing their uniforms. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen them?’

  ‘Not in Pontypridd, but I’ve only just got in.’

  ‘They act as though they own the town …’ Tina finally broke through the surface layers of paper. An envelope fluttered to the floor. Dropping the box on to a work surface, she dived down to retrieve it. Tearing it open, she didn’t even look up as Haydn returned to the café.

  Jane had never been so terrified in her life. Screwing her eyes tightly, she buried her face in the back of Tomas’s overcoat and clung to his chest as they tore along the road that wound back into Pontypridd. Rain soaked her hat and trickled down her neck, the roar of the engine and the wind deafened her, her skirt rode high above her knees. Paralysed with fear, it was as much as she could do to keep her grip on Tomas. When he finally turned into Market Square and slowed to a halt outside the side entrance to the New Inn, she was shaking too much to climb off the machine.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  She kept her eyes tightly shut as she nodded.

  ‘We’ve stopped.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Perhaps I should buy you something stronger than tea? It looks like you’ll need it before I take you up the hill.’

  Jane finally opened her eyes. Half-a-dozen women were staring at her. Making a supreme effort, she pulled down her skirt, took the hand he offered and stepped on to the pavement. Her legs were trembling so much she would have sunk to the ground if he hadn’t supported her.

  ‘I’m not going on that bike with you ever again.’

  He smiled. ‘It’s not that bad.’

  ‘I thought I was going to die.’

  ‘How about if I promise to slow down?’

  ‘No!’

  He steered her around the corner and through the main door of the New Inn. It took a moment for her to recognise the drenched, wind-blown scarecrow framed in the reception mirror as herself. She darted into the Ladies, hoping she’d remembered to pack a comb and powder into her handbag.

  By the time she’d returned, still damp, but smoother around the edges, Tomas had commandeered a corner table in the lounge, and was sitting back while a uniformed waitress laid out a selection of cakes, crockery and cutlery.

  ‘A taste of civilisation.’ He pulled a chair out for her.

  ‘I haven’t seen cakes like this since the night of the American party.’ Jane eyed the plate wishing she could take some back for the children, Phyllis and Evan.

  ‘Only one covering per cake allowed,’ the waitress declared as though they’d complained. ‘Jam, mock cream or chocolate.’

  ‘They all look wonderful to me.’

  ‘I wish you could see the fresh fruit flans my mother makes,’ Tomas said as he offered her first choice.

  ‘I love fruit cakes.’

  ‘Cuban fruits are very different to what you get here. We used to grow so many varieties in our garden. Oranges, passion fruit, pineapples, bananas, grapes. And vegetables -’ he kissed the tips of his fingers – ‘and such vegetables. Sweet potatoes, yams, squash, okra, artichokes …’

  ‘You lost me after oranges.’

  ‘Sorry, homesick.’

  ‘Tea?’ she picked up the teapot.

  ‘Please.’

  ‘Most Americans don’t like it.’

  ‘I’m not most Americans.’

  ‘You seem more Spanish.’

  ‘One of the first things I learned in the States is that there are no Americans except the Indians, and they’re even more socially unacceptable than the blacks and Hispanics. First, second, third, sometimes even sixth or more generations of natives of every country in the world except America. It’s immaterial if their family hasn’t set foot in their homeland for over two hundred years, they are still Italians, Greeks, Germans, French, English, Chinese … I could go on for hours.’

  Jane poured out two cups. ‘Milk and sugar?’

  ‘Black with sugar, please.’

  ‘Tell me about Cuba.’

  ‘The way Peter told you about Africa?’

  ‘You were listening?’

  ‘Only for a few minutes. It seemed a shame to disturb you.’

  ‘I love hearing about other countries. I’ve always wanted to travel.’

  ‘One day I’ll go back to Cuba and reclaim our house and farm. Then you can visit me.’

  ‘That’s a wonderful dream.’

  ‘Not a dream. When this war is over it will be possible to travel again, and Cuba is a fabulous country. Acres and acres of tobacco and cane fields, long beaches of white sand and deep blue sea. Bluer than any water I have seen since.’

  ‘Are there a lot of farms there?’

  ‘Thousands. But there is still some jungle left, and huge plantations of palms, coffee shrubs, bananas and villages and magnificent cities. Beautiful cities with splendid buildings of carved and decorated stone. The rich live in palaces, with patios and fountains smothered with flowers, the poor have only crude bamboo and thatch shacks, but they still have the flowers. Whenever I think of Cuba I see enormous clouds of purple bougainvillaeas, white and pink magnolias, camellias …’

  ‘And the sun? Is it hot there?’

  He looked into her eager, shining face. He had never known anyone so thirsty for knowledge.

  ‘Except when it rains. And believe me, when it rains in Cuba, it rains.’

  ‘Like here?’

  ‘Not cold and damp like here. Warm … warm and steamy.’ He looked away. He had never wanted to kiss a girl more. Not even his fiancée. Deliberately avoiding her eyes he stirred his tea. ‘You made quite an impression on Peter. That’s the most I’ve heard him say.’

  ‘I enjoyed talking to him as much as the others.’

  ‘Admit it – when I first asked, you didn’t want to be a visitor.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You assumed you’d have trouble coping with the patients’ injuries?’

  ‘No, not that. I was set to work on the old people’s wards in the workhouse when I was sixteen. There were a lot of men there who’d been injured in the pits. Some had lost arms or legs, and often their skin was ulcerated from old wounds. I used to help the sister and nurses to bathe and dress the open sores, so I knew I could cope with that. But I was afraid I wouldn’t have anything to say to them that they’d want to hear. Most of your patients are officers. I didn’t think they’d want to talk to an uneducated factory girl like me.’

  ‘You can’t be uneducated if you worked in a hospital. Were you thinking of a career in nursing?’

  ‘More like fancying. And it wasn’t a hospital it was a workhouse – a place where they put the poor who have no money and nowhere else to go,’ she explained. ‘I grew up in orphanages. When I was sixteen I was put back in the workhouse, that’s when I worked with the old people.’

  ‘No wonder you didn’t have a good education. But everything’s going to be different after the war. You will be able to do anything you want.’

  ‘I’m a wife and mother. My career’s mapped out for me.’

  ‘Why did you marry so young?

  ‘Living in the workhouse ages people. It certainly didn’t feel young at the time.’

  ‘I’m sorry, that was ill-mannered of me.’

  ‘I met Haydn when I worked in the theatre I told yo
u about. He was the star of the show and I was one of the usherettes. I fell head over heels in love with him, along with every girl in the cast and the rest of the house workers. Looking back, I can’t believe he noticed me, let alone married me.’

  ‘You don’t have a very high opinion of yourself.’

  ‘It’s not easy to be self-confident, when you’ve spent the first eighteen years of your life being told you’re a nobody and a burden to the honest citizens of the parish. But I’ve got over it,’ she smiled, steering the conversation on to safer ground.

  ‘I think I understand how you felt. I told you we had nothing when we went to America. It wasn’t easy for my parents to accept charity, but it was the only way we could survive until my father and brothers found work.’

  ‘Are they doctors too?’

  ‘My father is, but two of my brothers are teachers, the other’s a priest. You’re not eating the cakes.’

  ‘Neither are you.’

  ‘I eat well enough in the canteen so I think I should leave my share for the natives.’

  ‘And I think we can spare one for our noble allies.’ She slipped a chocolate sponge on to a plate and handed it to him. ‘It’s funny to be sitting here again. Haydn and I spent our honeymoon here, but I felt like an impostor, not a guest. I kept expecting someone to order me to the kitchens or linen cupboards to skivvy behind the scenes.’

  ‘How old were you when you married?’

  ‘Eighteen. ‘

  ‘Then you’d just left the workhouse?’

  ‘I worked for eight months before I married.’

  ‘Eight whole months?’ He smiled as she looked at him. ‘I was teasing you. Sorry, big brother’s habit.’

  ‘I am not your sister.’

  ‘I don’t know about you, but I’d like another cup of tea.’

  ‘And I’d like to take some of these cakes home for Anne and Brian.’

  ‘Then ask the waitress for a box.’

  ‘Not allowed.’

  He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. ‘I can see you’re not used to being with Americans.’

  Mogg was waiting for Evan at the entrance to the cage at the end of the shift.

  ‘It’s settled, you’ve no need to go to management.’

  Alexander heard the word management, and joined them. ‘You’re going to check the props?’

  ‘First thing tomorrow morning.’

  ‘We wanted today.’

  ‘No manpower.’

  ‘How many men have you detailed to the job?’

  ‘Three.’

  ‘And you’re going to examine the supports at the coal face as well as the main passage?’

  ‘All of them.’ Mogg lifted the lantern he was carrying higher so he could see Evan’s face. ‘Satisfied?’

  ‘I’ll let you know after it’s been done.’ Alexander shouldered his pick and entered the cage.

  ‘I was talking to you, Evan.’

  ‘It’s the Ministry of Labour you have to satisfy, not me. It would have been a pity to close this pit because of a fall.’

  ‘Well?’ Haydn looked at Tina as she emerged from the kitchen.

  ‘He insists he’s not badly hurt and I’m not to worry. But I thought they sent all the wounded home.’

  ‘Not if the wound’s slight enough to be treated in a front line hospital.’

  ‘He also says there’s no likelihood of him getting leave in the foreseeable future.’

  ‘What did he send you?’

  ‘He didn’t show you?’

  ‘Yes, but I’m supposed to report back on how you liked it.’

  She opened the box, displaying an ornately worked silver necklace, bracelet and earrings set with brilliant blue stones. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘Oh, Tina, wherever did you get those?’ Judy asked as she walked in with Jenny and Ronnie.

  ‘William. He’s been wounded.’

  ‘But he’s fine now,’ Haydn broke in quickly. He saw the moisture in Tina’s eyelashes. If he knew women, that meant she liked the jewellery, but he’d already decided to write and tell William that his wife would have much rather had him home than a present that had set him back a month’s card winnings.

  ‘Do me a favour, Judy?’ Tina’s voice wavered with unshed tears. ‘Nip down to the café and ask Gina to come up here when she closes the restaurant so I can go and see Megan. She’s been half out of her mind with worry the last month.’

  ‘Go now,’ Ronnie suggested. ‘I’ll take over.’

  ‘Do you mean that? You’ve been working all day.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have offered if I hadn’t. It’s a good time to go, Diana was taking Billy to spend the afternoon with her mother and Myrtle, so you can all have a good cry together. Not that William needs, or deserves your tears. But don’t forget to remind Diana I’m hungry and waiting for my tea.’

  ‘You can have pie and chips here.’

  ‘Women! Give them an inch and they take a mile,’ Ronnie complained as Tina grabbed her coat and ran headlong out of the door.

  ‘Speaking of which, it’s time I went looking for my wife.’

  ‘You haven’t been home yet?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Jane’s visiting the RAF hospital.’

  ‘So I’ve been told, Judy. Good to see you looking so well, Jenny.’ Haydn bent his head and kissed his sister-in-law’s cheek.

  ‘You home for long?’ Ronnie poured himself a tea.

  ‘Three days, then I have to go to Bristol to record the next series of shows.’

  ‘Can I buy you a tea, or a drink in the Hart?’ Jenny asked. There had been an awkwardness between her and Haydn since Eddie’s death that she was anxious to ease.

  ‘No thanks.’ He looked back at Ronnie. ‘Judging by that smug look on your face there’s no need to ask how you and Diana are enjoying married life.’

  ‘Nothing like it.’ Ronnie poured out two more teas for the girls. ‘If you get a move on you might catch that taxi pulling into Station Yard.’

  Alexander stepped out of the tin bath. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he opened the back door and heaved the tub into the yard, emptying the scummy water directly down the drain. Shivering, he hurried back into the washhouse, and ran a sinkful of cold water. Studying his face in the cracked square of mirror propped against the window, he soaped his flannel and washed it out well. When he was finally satisfied it was clean, he rubbed it around his eyes. No matter how thoroughly he scrubbed himself after a shift, vestiges of coal dust always lingered in his eyelashes, reminding him of a chorus girl’s eye-black. He’d long since given up trying to remove the grit embedded in his hands and nails. He wondered how long it would take him to feel really clean after he finally finished working in the pit. Always supposing he managed to do so.

  Hanging his filthy working clothes on a peg ready for the morning he reached for his clean underclothes, shirt and trousers. A splash of cologne, a fingerful of goose grease slicked through his hair – Vaseline had been impossible to find the last month – and another fingerful rubbed into the cracked and broken skin on his hands and he’d made himself as presentable as he knew how.

  ‘Your meal’s ready.’ Phyllis carried the saucepan to the table as soon as he emerged.

  ‘Just don’t ask what it is,’ Evan warned as Alexander sat opposite him.

  ‘Austerity stew, and the children ate it without a murmur,’ Phyllis asserted.

  ‘They have no memories of anything better.’ Evan pulled her to him as she passed, hugging her round the waist to show there was no malice in his teasing.

  ‘I’m sure it’s delicious, Phyllis,’ Alexander said as he helped himself to a slice of bread.

  ‘I wonder where Jane is?’ She put the stew back on to the stove and unbuttoned the overall she always wore in the house. ‘She promised she’d be back in time for us to go to Alma’s.’

  ‘And she will, love.’ Lifting Anne from the playpen Evan sat her on his knee and handed her a lump of b
read soaked in gravy. ‘Why don’t you leave the children with us for five minutes and go and get ready?’

  Phyllis was walking down the passage when the door opened and Haydn walked in.

  ‘Oh my God …’

  He put his finger to his lips. ‘I want to surprise everyone.’

  ‘Jane’s not back yet. She’s -’

  ‘… visiting in the RAF hospital. I heard in the café.’

  ‘But Anne, Brian and Evan are in the kitchen. Oh, Haydn, it’s so good to have you home in one piece.’ Always a little shy with Evan’s children, she hesitated for a moment before offering him her cheek to kiss.

  ‘Phyllis?’ Jane opened the front door, slamming it into Haydn’s back. ‘Haydn? What are you doing here?’

  ‘That’s a fine greeting for a husband after ten months’ separation.’ Haydn swept her off her feet, only to drop her when he noticed Tomas D’Este standing behind them.

  ‘I can see this isn’t the best time to make your acquaintance – ’ Tomas studied the insignia on Haydn’s lapels. ‘Captain Powell.’

  ‘You’ve been promoted?’ Jane asked, trying to hold Haydn at arm’s length so she could look at him in the crowded passageway.

  ‘Don’t worry, it isn’t a serious promotion.’ He scrutinised Tomas before offering him his hand. He was too young, exotic-looking and charming for Haydn’s liking. If Jane wanted to take up charity work in a hospital, why hadn’t she approached old Dr John or Evans? ‘You must be the doctor who’s lodging with my sister?’

  ‘Tomas D’Este. Pleased to meet you. And I’m sorry Jane’s late. It’s my fault. She had great success with one of my patients today. Quite transformed the man.’

  ‘Please come on in, Captain,’ Phyllis pressed him. ‘I know Evan would like to meet you again.’

  ‘No, really, I don’t want to intrude.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be.’

  ‘It’s all right, Phyllis, you go and change. I’ll see to everything.’ Jane stood next to Haydn, wanting to kiss him, but holding back. A hundred and one questions crowded in on her, but it didn’t seem to be the right time to ask, not in front of Phyllis and Tomas.

  ‘We’ve eaten, but there’s enough for you, Haydn, and you, Captain D’Este, if you’d care to join Jane and Haydn.’