‘And you think he’s the one? After such a short time?’
‘Oh yes. The others have all been fun, still are to be honest, but Paul is different.’ She was silent for a moment, wondering if she dare reveal her feelings to her sister. Then she said, ‘I can’t explain how I feel about Paul, but my insides are warmed just thinking about him, and when I think of marrying him, standing at the altar and hearing him say all that about “till death us do part”, I feel sick with the excitment of it all. Doesn’t sound romantic, does it, feeling sick with excitement, but I do. I’ve never met anyone who gives me such strong desires.’
‘I wonder what he’d think of tonight’s little escapade?’ Giggles threatened again and Marion asked, ‘What about you and Matthew? He doesn’t make you feel like that, does he?’
Sobered at the thought, Patricia said, ‘Although I’ve known him for years, and saw him daily when I was at Caradoc’s farm, when he came to collect the milk, it’s all a bit too sudden and, to be honest, Marion, I’m a bit scared. If we were living here with Dad it might be different, but, I can’t imagine me living alone up at the cottage while he’s in the army.’’
‘Don’t marry him then. Tell him you made a mistake, confused passion for love.’
‘I couldn’t say that!’ Passion was a word too embarrassing to actually say aloud.
‘Honestly, Patricia, he isn’t the man I see as your partner for the rest of your life. Too dull and too weak.’
‘Of course he isn’t weak!’
‘Oh no? Fancy meeting you and telling you he loves you and being afraid to finish with Vanessa first. Getting you both caught like that by Mrs Drew. He shouldn’t have put you through that, should he?’
‘He didn’t intend it to happen.’
‘Didn’t he? I bet he did. What better way to bring it out without him having to face telling Vanessa alone? And at the same time putting you in the wrong so you are the one blamed for Vanessa’s woes and not him.’
‘Don’t be stupid! Go to sleep.’
Patricia lay silently contemplating Marion’s words. Who was she to talk, flirting like she did and pretending to have found the man she loved? But the words held back sleep. They were very close to what she herself had been thinking – and trying to deny.
A noise in the early morning woke her from the semi-dose, which was all she had managed. Someone was knocking on the back door.
‘Oi, you up there! What’s that ladder doing on that wall? Ladders are supposed to be locked up! Heard of the Germans, have you? Eh?’ Silence for a moment, then furious banging against the front door. ‘Open up, Mr Lloyd. Don’t you know better? Eh? You being in the Home Guard an’ all!’
While Patricia prepared cups of tea and started to prepare breakfast, Marion leaned out of the bedroom window and offered suggestions as to how the ladder had moved itself from the shed and propped itself against her bedroom window.
‘Someone mistaking the house?’ she suggested innocently.
‘A thief. Probably a tramp, wanting something to sell for the price of a meal,’ was Leonard’s suggestion, but he was glaring with ill-disguised fury at his wayward daughter.
‘But it might have been Germans!’ The warden insisted. ‘What would happen then, eh?
The warden, who, during his off-duty moments was a Mr Dennis, road sweeper and occasional grave digger, waited tight-lipped while the ladder was replaced to his satisfaction. He strutted about importantly, wearing his tin hat with the letter W on the front, while Leonard carried the ladder in and padlocked the shed, before walking off warning them to, ‘Take more care, eh? Them Germans could be here in a flash and then where would we be. Eh?’
‘All right, Mr Dennis, I promise you I’ll be extra vigilant,’ Leonard said. But he was glaring at Marion and not at Mr Dennis, Warden of Nant Cysgu. Matthew was waiting one Friday evening as Patricia came out of the school, having closed up after the Youth Club. It was late, almost nine-thirty, as she had been collecting money for a saving scheme she had just begun.
‘I’ll ask Elizabeth to sort this out for me,’ she sighed, after explaining that the totals in the box and the book didn’t correspond. ‘She’s always been good at sums. Did you know she does the accounts for Caradoc? Clever that is. And she helps Mrs James deal with her army pay and all that.’
‘You’ll manage household accounts though, all women manage that. So there’s nothing to worry about, is there?’
‘We won’t have much money, you on army pay and me earning a few pounds at Sally Drew’s. I was wondering, now Dad and Nelda Roberts are going to marry about the same time as us, wouldn’t it be a good idea for us to ask Marion to share the cottage with us. Then, when you are away I’ll have some company and—’
‘No fear! I’ve lived in lodgings all my life. I want a place to call my own, not have to change from a lodger to a landlord!’ He hugged her as they walked through the dark streets, without a glint of light to guide them on their way. ‘Patricia, love, I want us to have a home just for you and me. It will be our private place, with no one else to even suggest changes. It will be completely yours and mine. Isn’t that what you want too?’
Anxious at once to reassure him, she agreed. ‘Of course, Matthew. I can’t wait to live there. I’ve shared a room with either Marion or Elizabeth and I’d love to have a room for myself.’
‘But it won’t be just for yourself, will it,’ he whispered as they reached her door.
Why, she asked herself as they entered the warm, familiar living room, why didn’t that thought make her sick with excitement, like when Marion thought of marrying her Paul?
* * *
Nelda was worried. On three consecutive evenings Leonard had promised to come to the flat and later had sent a child with a note to say he was unable to make it. At school he was his usual polite self, avoiding any hint of a friendship greater than that of a teacher and the school caretaker. Her pregnancy would soon be apparent to the rest of the staff and although nothing had been said, most knew that she and Leonard were often in each other’s company. Something had to be decided, and quickly. She had been driven by desperation to make her midnight visit and although they had seen each other since, he had not been able to confirm a wedding date. The stumbling block was his daughters, she knew that, but she was adamant she would not start married life with a houseful of girls. On the night of the Home Guard training she went to the community hall and waited outside, smiling a little at the memories of waiting on very similar occasions, when the Boy’s Brigade met, so she could ‘accidentally’ be passing at the very moment a boy she hoped to meet would walk out and practically bump into her. Imagine, here, she was a grown woman, waiting now for the man of her dreams to appear and walk her home.
‘Leonard,’ she called, as he came out of the darkened doorway with a group of chattering men. ‘I hoped I hadn’t missed you.’
‘Nelda, love, come and meet some of the boys. We’re all going for some fish and chips, fancy some?’
The ’boys’ ranged from a sickly nineteen-year-old to several men in their late sixties.
‘Yes, Miss Roberts, come on, we’ll get a table and sit down to eat it, make it a bit of a party, like,’ she was urged.
Holding Leonard’s arm, she listened to the reports of their latest preparations against the invasion and wondered how many of them believed they would ever actually be needed for duty. They squeezed through the double angled passageway, which prevented the escape of any light, and pushed their way into the chip restaurant. When they had found themselves a table, she asked, ‘You won’t really be needed, will you? Hitler won’t have men to spare to invade us, will he? Not now with the Italians on the run and Tobruk fallen. They’ll be kept too busy to invade this little island.’
‘We’ll be ready Miss, and that’s the main thing. Besides, tides turn and we might see action yet,’ said one grizzled old man.
‘We already have,’ said another with a wide grin.
‘You’ve seen action, Jeff?�
�
‘Only last week. We cut through Caradoc’s orchard and woke up his geese. Damn it all they made more row than turning out time at the pub. There’s me, backing away from a particularly vicious gander and along comes old Caradoc with a shot gun. Thought he’d got himself a couple of German parachuters he did, mind. Damn it all, believed my last hour had come I did, mind. He had to give me a pint of his home made cider to help me recover. And a second one to keep me from telling on him. That gun isn’t legal see.’
It was as they were leaving that Leonard made his announcement.
‘Nelda and I are getting married,’ he said. ‘There’s proud I am to be saying that. This lovely young lady has agreed to be my wife.’ He smiled at her and held up her hand. ‘She’ll be wearing my ring this time next month and I want to arrange a celebration, so will you write to Hitler, Joe? Tell him to keep the date of April twenty-sixth clear of bombs and air raids, will you?’
* * *
‘Why did you announce it like that, Leonard?’ she asked as he walked her home.
‘Afraid I was, afraid you’d changed your mind. That’s why I’ve been avoiding you, like. I thought if I didn’t give you the chance to say the words I dreaded, it wouldn’t happen.’
‘And I’ve been worried thinking you’d changed your mind.’
‘What a fool I’d be to let my chance of happiness slip. No I haven’t changed my mind. In fact I’ve booked the registry office for two o’clock on the twenty-sixth of April, but it can be altered. It hasn’t been confirmed. I know you’d like to choose the actual day, but it made me feel better having booked it. Made it more of a certainty. We can change it to whenever you wish, but please say you haven’t had second thoughts?’
‘Twenty-sixth of April. This baby is due in August. It isn’t going to fool anyone is it?’
‘Shall we make it earlier, not have a party or anything, just go ahead and get married?’
‘A hole in the corner affair? What would your daughters think of us? No, we’ll celebrate and give the old busy bodies their bit of fun.’ She waited a while, afraid to spoil the happiness of the evening, but as she reached her flat she knew it had to be said.
‘What have you decided, about the girls?’
‘Nothing.’
‘But Leonard love…’
‘Tonight I’ll explain that you and I want to start our life together either here, in your flat, or in the house which they will be leaving soon anyway. I’m sure they’ll agree to leave us and find a place of their own.’
‘Patricia is marrying Matthew Morris soon anyway, and going to live in that cottage isn’t she?’
‘And I’m sure Elizabeth will move in with Farmer Caradoc and wait there until Will comes home on leave. Planning to marry then, they are. Funny isn’t it, three weddings all within a few months. Happens a lot lately that does, young people snatching at happiness while they can. A family up near Cardiff had a group wedding of three daughters and the mother all marrying servicemen.
‘There’s only Marion,’ he added slowly, ‘and I am worried about her. She’s a bit of a handful, see, and, well, I daren’t think what she’ll be up to without my being there keeping an eye.’
‘If Patricia and Elizabeth go I’m prepared for Marion to stay, a while, until you feel happy about her managing on her own. How will that be?’
‘You mean it? I thought your mind was made up. I can’t believe you’d agree to her of all my daughters staying with us! Patricia, yes, she’d be a great help. Or Elizabeth, but Marion! Nelda, you’re a marvel.’
‘I mustn’t get too predictable must I? What’s a marriage without a few surprises?’
‘I’ll make sure she’s no trouble. There’s this Paul Symons, she seems quite keen on him. Perhaps she’ll surprise me too, and settle down and behave!’
* * *
One Sunday morning Patricia went to see Julia. Matthew was working and she didn’t want to stay in the house where Nelda and her father were measuring for new curtains and deciding what items of furniture to keep and which to throw away. Their plans had usurped hers and Matthew’s completely and the excitement and congratulations she had expected hadn’t materialized.
‘You seem subdued, my dear.’ Julia said, as she prepared coffee for them both. ‘You should be blooming and full of happiness with only a few weeks to go before your wedding. Isn’t marriage the culmination of all your dreams? No further need to think about what you want to do with your life? Ambition no longer expected of you?’
‘I am happy. It’s just that with Dad and Nelda marrying and sorting out everything at home ready for the twenty-sixth, it seems my plans, mine and Matthew’s, aren’t important. I did expect to feel a bit special for a little while.’
‘They would be more excited for you, I suspect, if you were marrying someone you really loved and who would encourage you to develop a place for yourself instead of making you into a shadow of himself.’
‘Why do you dislike Matthew?’
‘I don’t. He’s a nice enough fellow, I suppose. But you are capable of so much more. The flower shop could be a good career if only you’d stop believing that marriage to the first man who asks is the pinnacle of life’s hope for a woman.’
‘It is for some. Besides, you married, didn’t you?’
‘I married a man who expected me to continue with my career. We had a daughter and she was clever and extremely talented, but a man took her dreams away and buried her in domesticity. I don’t want that to happen to you.’
‘I’m going, Julia. Thanks for the coffee, but Matthew and I are meeting after dinner, we have to finish painting the window sills.’
‘What can I say that would keep you from such excitement?’ Julia replied dryly.
Matthew didn’t turn up until she had almost finished. They completed painting the sills as they had intended, but he was quiet and distant. He told her he had been to see Vanessa and he showed her the embroidered table cloth she had made them as a gift. Patricia’s instinct was to throw it in the ash bin but she smiled and said it was beautiful and wished she was as clever as Vanessa and her sister Elizabeth.
‘You’re clever at so many things, who cares that you don’t make embroidered cloths,’ he said. The words, meant to be loving and flattering only sounded polite and false and she was glad when it was time to leave.
It was well past five and already too dark to paint. They had to manage the clearing up without putting on the lights. They couldn’t draw the curtains over the wet paint to form the necessary blackout. Putting things away as best they could, they set off down the lane.
Patricia saw the man staggering across the road and wondered where he had managed to get drunk so early in the evening. And on a Sunday, when only clubs were open to sell alcohol. That he was drunk was without doubt.
‘I’ll leave you here,’ Matthew said when they reached the end of the lane.
‘Would you walk a bit further, I don’t like the look of that drunk over there,’ she said. ‘It’s pitch black and with everyone locked in behind their blackout curtains I’d be on my own if he started to be a nuisance. In fact, I’m a bit nervous of him.’
‘Nonsense, Patricia, you’re the brave one. Don’t start sounding like Vanessa for heaven’s sake.’
‘I’m not. I’m afraid he’ll come over and I don’t know how to cope with men like that. There’s no one about. Just come to the end of Woodcutter’s Row, please Matthew. It isn’t far out of your way.’
‘Scared-y-cat!’ He kissed her lightly and turned away.
‘Matthew. Wait, please.’ He wasn’t really going to leave her here, was he? She waited a moment half smiling, expecting him to turn and come back laughing at the result of his teasing but he did not. He disappeared into the night, invisible in moments and even the sound of his footsteps faded almost as quickly. Patricia ran across the road, praying that the man had moved on, but as she approached the gates of the school on the corner of Church Lane, she was startled by his sudden appearance.
His arms held her and his mouth covered hers, the foul smell of drink on his breath made her feel sick. He was strong and determined, and she was very frightened. Between breaths she called for Matthew.
‘Let her go you idiot!’ It was not Matthew but Roland who pulled the man from her and forced his hands behind his back.
‘Sorry. I’m sorry. I’ve had too much to drink and – I’m sorry, miss,’ the man muttered.
‘I thought it was you,’ Roland said, giving the man an angry shake. ‘Now, go home and get some sleep. If I see you around here again I’ll report you to your officer. Right?’
The man, sobered by the sudden appearance of Roland and the shaking he had given him, walked swiftly away.
‘Are you all right?’ Roland asked.
‘I feel a bit trembly,’ Patricia admitted. ‘Not as bad as when we were in that air raid, mind,’ she said, sitting on the cold grass verge to recover from the shock. ‘Honestly Roland, there’s always trouble when I see you!’
He chuckled as he sat down beside her and gave her his greatcoat, keeping his arm tightly around her trembling shouders. ‘Trouble is the last thing I’d want for you.’ He helped her up when she felt stronger and walked towards her father’s house. ‘I’ve been walking on the hill and I saw you as I came back into the village, but I thought Matthew was still with you. Why did he let you pass that drunk alone? It was obvious what would happen and he must have seen him.’
‘I did ask but he’s in a bit of a hurry.’
‘Really?’
‘Roland, did you know that man? Was he dangerous? Shouldn’t he be reported?’
‘Yes I know him, he’s been through a particularly difficult time, wounded in a horrendous battle in Italy, where he saw several of his friends who were standing beside him, killed most cruelly. Then he came home to find his mother had been killed in the blackout and his fiancée had found someone else. He goes back to face Heaven alone knows what, tomorrow. I think he just needed human contact, trying to forget, briefly, the insanity he’s going back to. Poor chap. I understand how frightened he feels, and I don’t think he intended to harm you. I could be in that state myself one day. That’s why I didn’t want to report him.’
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