‘I wish Uncle Roy thought so.’
‘He is a stickler for tradition. You being there would have upset him.’
‘What about upsetting me and my aunt?’
‘Lily, no one is going to mourn or miss Mrs Evans more than you. She knew that and you know it. I had a word with your uncle and borrowed my father’s car. If you want to go out to Oxwich to see her grave I’ll take you.’
‘Now.’ She jumped to her feet.
‘If you like, but your uncle and my father warned me that some people might think us going off together straight after the funeral odd.’
‘I couldn’t care less.’
‘That’s my girl.’
‘So you’ll take me?’
‘Yes.’ He reached for her hand.
‘I have to see Uncle Roy.’
‘He’s standing at the kitchen window.’
Lily looked up. Roy nodded and gave her the ‘thumbs-up’ sign.
‘You don’t have to go back into the house. The car’s in our garage.’
‘You thought of everything.’
‘I try.’
‘Joe, I ...’ Overwhelmed by emotion, she flung her arms round his neck and clung to him, burying her head in the shoulder of his suit, hoping he wouldn’t see the tears that had hovered perilously close to the surface since Norah had died. He held her close, stroking the back of her head and murmuring soft, gentle words of comfort.
Standing in the kitchen window, Roy was astounded by the intimacy of Lily’s and Joe’s embrace. It brought home to him as nothing else could Lily’s newfound status of womanhood. But the sight didn’t upset him as much as it did Martin, who was watching from his bedroom window a floor below.
Abandoning the tray he’d stacked with plates of sandwiches and teas for himself and Lily on his bed, Martin continued to watch Lily and Joe, hating himself for staring, yet unable to tear himself away. Could that have been him if he’d found the courage to ask Lily out as soon as he came back from National Service? Would she have turned him down?
He’d once heard Mrs Evans say that loving someone meant wanting the best for them. Lily would undoubtedly be better off with Joe, because Joe would be able to give her everything he’d never be able to. But as he watched Joe guide Lily out through the gate at the bottom of the garden, he remembered his mother and all her trite adages about money not bringing happiness and for the first time he could see truth behind the hackneyed words. There was something about Joe of romance and books, something unworldly that made him uneasy about entrusting anyone’s happiness to him. Especially that of the girl he loved more than anyone else in the world.
As they left the town and suburbs behind them and hit the open Gower Road that cut across Fairwood Common, Joe took one hand from the wheel, slipped it round Lily’s shoulders and hugged her. ‘Poor you, you’ve had a foul time.’
‘No more than Katie.’
‘It will be a long time before either of you will be allowed to forget what happened and remember your dead the way you want to. Swansea will be talking about Ernie Clay, and what he did to his wife and your aunt, for years. Even at the graveside in Morriston yesterday people kept looking over their shoulders to see if he would have the nerve to turn up.’
‘My uncle made sure he wouldn’t. I’m not supposed to know, but I overheard him talking to your father when they were making the arrangements. By putting Mrs Clay’s death in the paper with all enquiries to undertaker, they made certain the only people who would attend were people they knew about. Uncle Roy also mentioned that the police were questioning Mr Clay yesterday afternoon. I think he had something to do with the timing.’
‘I can’t believe Ernie Clay is free to walk the streets.’
‘Neither can I, but my uncle told me that legally ...’
‘Mr Clay can only be charged with minor offences. My father explained the technicalities. But I still think there has to be a moral as well as legal side to the law.’
‘Katie never wants to see him again.’
‘From the way Martin and Jack were talking yesterday, they intend to make sure she doesn’t. You and she are still going to live with your uncle, aren’t you?’
‘Of course. What makes you think we’re not?’
‘It’s just that ...’
‘The street gossips are saying he’s not related to us and young girls shouldn’t be left with an older man.’ She looked to him for confirmation and he nodded. ‘He says he’s going to advertise for a housekeeper, although Katie and I are perfectly capable of running the house.’
‘While working full time?’
‘While working full time,’ she reiterated decisively, turning to the window.
They drove on in silence as the road turned down through the woods of Parkmill and back up to the coast. Turning left just before the crumbling Norman wall that enclosed the eighteenth-century manor of Penrice, they gazed out over Oxwich marshes and the enormous sweep of Oxwich Bay.
‘I love this place, so did my auntie, but I never thought she would be buried here.’
‘Your uncle told me his family had farmed in Oxwich for over two hundred years.’
‘It still surprised us that she wanted to be buried here with her parents. Uncle Roy said that if her husband had had a grave she would have wanted to be buried with him, but he went down on a ship at Dunkirk.’
‘If you believe in God, they’re together now.’
‘You don’t believe in God?’ she asked, as he turned at the end of the beach and drove up the narrow lane that led to the tiny Norman church.
‘I think everyone has their own idea of God,’ he answered evasively, parking the car in front of the gate. After helping her out, he led her through a small side gate, around to the beach side of the church. On a gentle rise overlooking the sea lay a mound of multi-coloured flowers. They grated, incongruously garish against the old grey stone and subdued greenery of the church and yard.
She stood for a moment in absolute silence. When she moved, Joe allowed her to walk on alone. This was her last time with Norah and if he gave her that, perhaps she’d allow the rest of her life to be his.
Brian glanced through the door of the kitchen into the dining room and balked at the idea of walking in there. Every room on the ground floor was crammed with people; both newly arranged parlour and dining room filled with neighbours and elderly relatives of Constable Williams.
The ten days since Norah and Annie had died had been interminable. Sharing rooms with Martin and Jack had made him feel as though he’d been stranded in limbo. One or the other, or both of them, had vetoed every suggestion he had tried to make. Nothing could happen or be discussed, no decisions taken until ‘after the funerals’. He was ashamed that during Annie’s funeral the day before he hadn’t felt much sympathy or grief for either of his flatmates, only relief that it would soon be over so his life and theirs could continue.
‘Has the kettle boiled?’ Judy bustled in with a tray full of dirty cups and an empty teapot.
‘No.’
‘Put it on. Mrs Jordan and my mother are screaming for more tea.’
Brian obediently lifted the kettle from the range as Judy dumped the cups and saucers into the sink and ran the hot tap.
‘I don’t blame you for hiding in here. It’s bedlam out there and people are saying the stupidest things. Some ghastly old relative of Mrs Evans’s has just asked Mr Williams for her clothes because “our Norah always dressed nice when she was going out and promised I could have them when she passed on”. Considering she’s about ten times the width of Mrs Evans, I’m sure no such thing was ever said. She also cornered Lily before she made it through the door into the garden and asked her when she was going to the orphanage.’
‘What did Lily say?’
‘Fortunately Mr Williams overheard and answered that Lily was a little old for orphanages, considering she worked in a bank.’
‘I don’t think people mean to be tactless. Funerals are a strain; no one knows the
right thing to say, so they blurt out the first thing that comes into their head.’
‘I’m not so sure. You wouldn’t believe the number of women who are insisting Norah promised them something on her death.’
‘I would.’ Tipping the tea leaves into the bin, he swilled the teapot out under the running tap. ‘I’ve seen it in my own family. My half-brother and I had to escort my father’s first wife out of the house after my father’s funeral when we caught her pocketing my mother’s spoons and china.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know your father had died.’ Judy was more shocked by the idea of Brian’s father having two wives alive at the same time than his being dead, but politeness overcame her curiosity and she kept her questions to herself.
‘It happened three years ago. I’m used to the idea now of him not being there, but I miss him like crazy. Especially when something bad or’ – he smiled at her – ‘extra good like meeting you happens.’
‘Extra good,’ Judy echoed. ‘We know nothing about one another.’
‘A situation which will be remedied as soon as you go out with me.’
‘Judy, isn’t that tea ready yet?’ Joy interrupted as she walked in from the dining room.
‘Kettle’s almost boiled.’ Judy dried the last cup.
‘As soon as it’s made, bring it in and don’t forget fresh cups.’
‘You think people would have hung on to their cups if they wanted a refill,’ Judy grumbled, stacking china on the tray as Brian made the tea.
‘How do you fancy escaping down to the basement and sitting with Katie, Martin and Jack after I’ve carried this in for you?’
‘Sounds great, but I’ll have to wait until I won’t be missed.’
Given the way her mother was watching her, Brian thought that moment wasn’t likely to happen, but he smiled anyway. Lifting the heavy tray, he carried it through to the dining room. Joy Hunt had already cleared a space for it on the sideboard.
‘Take these sandwiches round.’ She pushed plates into both his and Judy’s hands. ‘I’m sure everyone is hungry, they’re just too polite to be the first to eat and we’re going to be left with mountains of food if you don’t persuade them to stop hanging back.’
Judy gave Brian a look of commiseration as she headed for a corner dominated by a group of elderly women with badly fitting false teeth.
Joe walked to the sea wall and looked over the rocks to the smooth, broad sweep of the sandy bay. He savoured the moment, absorbing the scenery and composing lines of verse, secure in the knowledge that when she had said her goodbyes to her aunt, Lily would join him. The beginnings of a poem came to mind, even the title, ‘The Last Goodbye’.
‘Thank you, Joe.’ Lily, looking lost and even smaller than usual in her plain black costume, was at his side.
He opened his arms and held her, then taking her hand, led her to the furthest point of the churchyard. ‘The view from here is fantastic. It’s one of my favourite places on Gower.’
‘You come here?’
‘As often as I can, particularly in winter. The entire history of old Oxwich is encapsulated in this churchyard. Look.’ He pointed to the remains of rough limestone stonework set between the rocks on their left. ‘Those are the foundations of eighteenth-century houses that were swept away by the sea. If you want tragedy, here it is.’ He showed her a grave that held four members of the same family who had all died before their eighteenth birthdays. ‘Parsimony.’ He indicated a grave marker that could have qualified as wartime utility if it hadn’t borne the date 1850. ‘Romance’, the inscription on an even earlier stone chronicled the details of a married couple who had died ten days apart.
‘They might have been killed by the same disease, perhaps cholera,’ Lily suggested. ‘From what I remember of Swansea history the dates are about right.’
‘I prefer to think broken heart.’ He leaned against the wall. ‘That situation we were talking about earlier, you, Katie and your uncle.’
‘There is no situation,’ she countered. ‘Uncle Roy is the nearest thing to a relative I have. He and Auntie Norah have always taken care of me and now we’ve lost Auntie Norah’ – she hated herself for saying the words, as if they somehow made her aunt even more dead – ‘we have to take care of one another.’
‘You have me as well.’ He removed a small box from his coat pocket. ‘I intended to do this during a perfect sunset on the cliff overlooking Pobbles, but I should know by now that every time I plan something it never happens the way I imagined. I hope you and your aunt will forgive my bad timing, but I think it’s important you know how I feel about you.’ He opened the box. Inside was the single glittering diamond solitaire she had admired in the jeweller’s shop just over ten days that seemed like a lifetime ago. ‘I love you, Lily. Will you marry me?’
Lost for words, she stared helplessly at the ring.
‘Please don’t say we’ve only been out a few times.’
‘Twice,’ she murmured, finally finding her voice.
‘We’ve known one another most of our lives and we won’t be able to marry until next June when I take my degree, so it will be a fairly long engagement. And if you’re thinking about money, don’t. I have a trust fund, enough to buy a house of our own when I start work. Say something,’ he pleaded, ‘anything, that is, except no.’
‘Joe, my aunt’s just died ... everything is so uncertain ...’
Taking her hand in his, he slipped the ring on to her finger. ‘That’s why I’m asking you to marry me, so you will have some certainty.’
‘It fits.’
‘Of course. We’re made for one another.’ Leaving the ring on her hand, he kissed the tips of her fingers. ‘Do you love me?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered.
‘Now I’ve established that, the rest will be simple. I’ll find the right moment to talk to your uncle, we’ll organise ourselves a wedding – a quiet one because of your aunt – and then I’ll try to ensure that you live as “happily ever after” as possible.’
Judy dumped a tray of dirty cups in the kitchen. She looked at the sink, half full with cold, grey, sudsy water, and balked at the idea of scrabbling around for the plug to empty it. Opening the back door, she walked out on to the top step of the flight of metal stairs that led down to the garden and sat.
‘On strike.’ Brian sank down beside her.
‘Hiding from my mother, Mrs Griffiths, Mrs Lannon and Mrs Jordan. I can’t face another dirty cup or plate. Or all those people talking twaddle.’
‘Well-meaning twaddle, Judy. You’re being oversensitive.’
He opened a packet of cigarettes and she helped herself to one. ‘I didn’t know you smoked.’
‘I’ve just started. And the twaddle isn’t well-meaning. If I hear one more woman whispering to another about the unsuitability of Roy looking after Katie and Lily I’ll scream. And who is that frightful old woman with false teeth that rattle when she talks?’
‘I think she’s a relative of Constable Williams.’
‘Judging by the way she’s been ordering me around she must be a duchess. “I like more milk in my tea than that, miss, and one level spoonful of sugar, not heaped. I can tell by the taste it’s been heaped.”’
He slipped his arm round her waist to steady himself as he lit her cigarette, leaving it there when she unexpectedly and rather gratifyingly leaned against him. ‘How are Katie and Lily bearing up under the strain?’
‘When I saw them earlier they both looked like death warmed up. Mam said it’s not going to hit either of them for a few days but I’m not so sure it hasn’t hit them already.’
‘Adam’s cut up about it. He’s fond of Katie and doesn’t know how best to help her.’
‘He can join the club. Helen and I only agreed to play serving wenches to our mothers’ ladyships so Katie and Lily could escape. The kindest thing we could do for them was give them half an hour’s peace and quiet away from this pandemonium.’
‘Very generous of you.’
<
br /> ‘There’s no need to be sarky.’
‘I wasn’t, I meant it. You doing anything tonight?’
‘Lying prostrate, given the amount of clearing up my mother will expect me to do here after this little lot have gone home.’
‘If you have the strength to sit on my bike, we could go somewhere nice and I could lie prostrate with you.’
‘Given that twinkle in your eye, chance would be a fine thing, Brian Powell.’
‘So you won’t go out with me?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Judy, what on earth do you think you’re doing?’ Joy shouted from the kitchen window.
Hastily dropping her cigarette, Judy ground it to dust beneath her shoe. ‘Talking to Brian, Mam.’
‘You call that talking?’ Joy stepped out of the kitchen.
Brian dropped his arm from Judy’s waist and rose to his feet. ‘I was just asking Judy if she could think of any way we could help Katie and Lily, Mrs Hunt.’
‘By we, I assume you mean you and the boys.’
‘Adam, Martin ...’
‘I think Katie and Lily are best left on their own, Constable Powell,’ Joy snapped icily.
Brian looked her in the eye. Her steely expression suggested there wasn’t going to be a better time. ‘I also asked Judy if she’d like to go out with me tonight.’
‘Judy will be busy tonight.’
‘No, I won’t.’
Joy gave her daughter a look that might have intimidated a girl with less spirit. ‘Do I have to remind you that you have college work to complete?’
‘I’m up to date with my homework.’
‘If you’re busy tonight, Judy, perhaps we could go out another time.’ Brian smiled at Joy, hoping his conciliatory gesture might result in a weakening of the opposition.
‘I’m really not doing anything tonight, so I’d like to go out with you, Brian.’
‘But your mother ...’
‘I’d rather not have said this in front of Brian, but frankly I’d rather you didn’t consort with policemen, Judy.’
‘What’s wrong with policemen? Daddy ...’
‘Need I say more?’ Joy interrupted. ‘Brian, Judy is grateful for your invitation but I cannot allow her to accept it.’ Turning, she walked back into the kitchen – and Roy Williams.
Swansea Girls Page 31