Ignoring what was being said quite clearly, that Patricia could not abandon her business and return home for a few months, Nelda smiled and said, ‘You’ll manage. Julia will think of something. A good organiser she is for sure. And Marion seems to be keen to help. It’ll only be for a few months, until I can get Mrs Francis up at the farm to take him.’
‘I can’t come. It’s impossible. But I’ll talk to Mrs James and I’ll see you on my half days and…’ But Nelda was not listening. She shut herself off from what she didn’t want to hear. This baby was not going to ruin her life. Leonard promised her that she’d have help, someone to take the child off her hands as soon as she was out of hospital. If he hadn’t she would have visited Milly Morgan and this time no one would have talked her out of taking the old gwrach’s potions.
The weather was gloomy. Once the café filled, they didn’t stop for more than a few minutes at a time until they closed the doors at nine p.m.
Their first day had been far more successful than they had hoped. Visitors wandering around in the drizzle took advantage of the neat new premises and within days the locals had found it too. If Mr Forest hadn’t turned up and attended to the preparation room and the kitchen, they would have ground to a halt on more than one occasion during the first few days.
From then on, there was no time for Patricia to worry about their precarious finances, or feel guilty about not promising to help Nelda and take responsibility for the new baby. There wasn’t even much time to think about Roland’s continuing absence, during the day. Only last thing at night, before she slept, did thoughts of Roland fill her heart with longing. Then she would relive their last meeting and imagine a thousand different things she should have said, all ending with him being here beside her, his lips touching hers.
Only on very bad nights did she think of him being entertained by important art dealers and slipping out of her life forever. Then her spirits were depressed as she told herself she was a part of the life he had left behind. Other, more glamourous women would cross his path and blot out her image from his mind.
Crowds continued to pour into the town. Charabancs and coaches and trains brought them from the valleys and further afield for their annual holiday. Whole families arrived; grandmothers, parents, aunts and uncles, children and dogs. Patricia saw one elderly lady carrying a bird in a cage as she stepped off the train.
There were times when the café was filled with piled up luggage as families stepped off the train without anywhere to stay and Dad would leave Mum and the kids with their first ice cream of the holiday and go off in search of accommodation. For Patricia, it was a completely new world and one that charmed and delighted her.
As she and Julia had hoped, increasing numbers of the local people found the little parlour and began to use it. And to Patricia’s joy, the place was filled during the early evening by young boys and girls, who sat and looked at each other, boys at one end and girls the other, gradually getting braver, talking across the room, exchanging insults, then making dates.
On the second Saturday evening they were both exhausted. Patricia looked at Julia as she sat waiting for a taxi to take her back to Rose Cottage and a day of blissful rest. There were lines of exhaustion on Julia’s face. This mustn’t go on, she decided. As soon as possible, I have to get someone to take over and allow Julia to spend far less time here.
‘I agree,’ Julia said at once when she suggested it. ‘I don’t think either of us was prepared for just how busy we’d be.’
‘We have to do something soon. We don’t want to wait until we’re too tired to think about it.’ Patricia reached over and kissed Julia affectionately. ‘One thing we must do is arrange for you to stay here during the week. You can’t keep going home to an empty house so late in the evening.’
Patricia spent her precious day off, with Jacky and Marion’s assistance, making a bedroom comfortable for Julia. On Sunday evening Julia moved in, and at eight o’clock they both went to bed pleasurably exhausted.
There was no word from Roland as the days passed. She wrote to him but Julia advised her not to send her letters. ‘Best you wait until things have settled down for him. He is very involved with his work now. Another exhibition is promised for November, in London this time. Small but with the promise of great things. Leave it, dear, you both need to concentrate on your careers for a while.’
Career, Patricia thought irritably. She hated the word. All this determination to find a career had achieved was separation from Roland. But that wasn’t true she admitted. The decision had brought her to this lovely town and given her the opportunity to do what she had so often dreamed of. If only Roland were here to share her happiness she would ask nothing more of life. Marion seemed to have shaken off the gloom and depression of her unsuccessful marriage and Patricia wondered if Matthew had begun to take better care of her, or if Jacky’s attentions were having the favourable effect. Certainly when Jacky was with her there was greater feeling between them than just friendship would explain, and twice, Patricia had caught them if not actually kissing, then with that dark-eyed look that told her they had just been so occupied.
Why couldn’t Matthew see what was going on? Didn’t he want to save his marriage? She shuddered at the thought of a divorce in the family. There had been plenty since the war, according to the newspapers, but surely not now, and in her family?
* * *
The business continued to thrive. Word spread that ‘Julia’s Ices’ was one place where they weren’t expected to eat up and then get out, and groups of young people began to appear regularly. There simply wasn’t time to deal with their plan to find an assistant. By the end of August they knew they had to get someone immediately, or collapse.
‘What about me?’ Marion suggested, on one of her now regular visits. ‘I know enough about the place to be a help. Better than you having to train someone. Weeks it’ll be before they’d be any use, and it’s now you need help, not next month when all the visitors and trippers have gone back.’
‘It might only be for a few weeks,’ Julia warned. ‘We don’t know how well we’ll do once the season’s over. Not many people want ice cream in winter.’
‘I hope they’ll want coffee though,’ Patricia said.
‘We should still see the youngsters here, glad of a place to sit and talk.’
‘I hope so too my dear,’ Julia said, ‘but we might find we can do without your help then.’
‘Make it tea as well as coffee,’ pleaded Marion, ‘and I’ll come for as long as you need me. There isn’t much to do at the flat. Jacky works all day, Joanne is busy with her baby and – well – Matthew doesn’t give me enough money to spend my time at the pictures and cafés every day.’
Patricia and Julia shared a look and then nodded agreement.
Julia couldn’t help feeling a surge of excitement. With Elizabeth helping with the accounts, she now had her three precious granddaughters working with her. It had been fate that had led her to Rose Cottage to find that it was for sale.
‘From now on, you are employed by us as counter assistant, wiper-down-of-tables, washer-uper and anything else that needs doing. Right?’ Julia smiled.
‘That’s fine by me! And you’ll have Jacky as well whenever he’s free. He’s beginning to enjoy this life.’
‘Oh, one more thing,’ Patricia added. ‘We can’t pay much. Right?’
‘Right! If it gets me out of the flat I’d almost be willing to pay you!’
* * *
Mrs Drew saw a change in Roland. From the moment he had confronted her with Vanessa’s diary their relationship had not recovered. She remembered with anguish the expression of disbelief on his face as he hoped for an explanation to excuse her actions, to hear her denial. But there had been no excuse. She had blamed Patricia because that had been easier than facing the truth about her daughter. That she regretted it made no difference; she had ruined his happiness.
She would watch him, wondering what was going on in his head, as he s
at and stared into space. She would turn away when he looked at her and insist there was nothing wrong when he asked why she was frowning. But she was worried, Roland was becoming withdrawn and, apart from when he had work to do, he rarely left the house.
During the following weeks, as autumn crept in from the hills, changing their colour and returning the once flower-filled gardens to drab brown parodies of former glory, Mrs Drew began to wonder if she ought to do something to redress the situation for which she was at least partly responsible. Not because I feel guilty, she reminded herself, but because Vanessa is dead and Roland is all I have in the world.
‘I hear Patricia and Julia Llewellyn’s ice cream café is doing well over in Castell Newydd,’ she said one morning, when she sat with her son eating toast and marmalade. ‘Why don’t you go over and have a look at what they’re doing. Pleased to see you she’d be.’
‘Patricia doesn’t want to see me,’ he said sharply.
‘When did she tell you that?’
‘Months ago.’
‘That was then, things change.’
‘Julia has made it clear that things haven’t changed.’
‘Wfft on Julia! Living here befriending Patricia and not telling a soul she’s the girl’s grandmother. Fine one she is to listen to.’ She spread marmalade angrily. ‘Dishonest she is and why should you believe what she says? She lied before, so why shouldn’t she be lying now to suit some purpose of her own?’
Roland had often seen the ice cream parlour, passing by and looking in at Patricia. She didn’t see him at the window watching while she served from behind the glass and chrome counter, or tripped around the room carrying trays and smiling at every customer and looking happy and contented. He had almost made up his mind to defy Julia’s advice and go and see her, talk to her, risk facing the truth. Now, with his mother telling him he should, he found he could not.
He felt more anger against his mother at that time than ever before. Suggesting it had been Julia who had separated him from Patricia was irritating enough, but telling him that he should now ignore Julia’s advice and go to see Patricia was worse. He went into the room where he still occasionally worked and upended a tray of brushes and pencils.
* * *
On Wednesdays ‘Julia’s Ices’ closed for a half day. Patricia usually spent an hour or so on the books, which Elizabeth had set up for them, and then walked on the beach. Julia went back to Rose Cottage to check that all was well.
On an afternoon in late September when most holiday makers had gone home and the air was no longer filled with the happy shouts of children, Patricia felt keenly her loneliness. She was thrilled with the way the business was developing and saw a future in which she continued to enjoy its hectic summers and quiet winters. She had never felt better suited to anything. But there were the empty hours, and no one with whom to share the success. Only Julia. She tried not to think of how she would cope without her. Her grandmother was an elderly woman but strong and healthy. Surely she would have her for a few more years yet?
The sight of a shabbily dressed family walking down to the sands made her stop and watch. The mother unpacked buckets and spades, and a greaseproof package of sandwiches. A bottle of ‘pop’ was passed around from mouth to eager mouth and they laughed as if the poor picnic was the finest treat. The scene brought a lump to her throat. They had so little but they were glowing with happiness. Where did a career come in their mother’s order of importance? A long way from the top, she guessed.
Why hadn’t she ignored the nonsense Mrs Drew had shouted? She should have insisted that the woman faced the fact that Vanessa died trying to act out a foolish game. Roland would have supported her, and the anger might have died down. She should have calmly but firmly stood up to her and made her admit she was putting blame where there was none. Now it was too late. She might never know the joy of having a family like those on the beach below her. If Roland had loved her, had really wanted to marry her, he would have come.
She went into a café and ordered tea and cakes, not because she was hungry, but because she needed to be with people, to delay returning to the empty rooms above ‘Julia’s Ices’. Julia wouldn’t be back until late and seeing that happy little family made her ache with loneliness.
Marion was waiting for her when she eventually turned the corner and the parlour came into view. Seeing her sister, Marion ran to greet her and Patricia saw at once that something was wrong.
She opened the door and led Marion up the stairs and filled the kettle for tea. With hands that trembled Marion put out the cups.
‘Patricia, I’m going to have a baby,’ she said, then she burst into tears and hugged Patricia like a frightened child.
‘But that’s wonderful,’ Patricia soothed. ‘This is probably just what you and Matthew need. You’ll be a proper family and if he’s like our Dad with young Richard, he’ll be in his cups.’
‘You don’t understand,’ Marion gulped through tears.
‘Now, don’t tell me you don’t want a baby. I’m sure you aren’t the first to be a bit frightened. It’s a big responsibility and one you’re stuck with for life. But you’ll love the idea when you’re used to it.’ Not giving Marion a chance to speak, she went on quickly, ‘And Matthew will be so proud to have a daughter or a son. Just wait a few days and you’ll be over the moon about it, I’m sure.’
‘Listen to me!’ Marion almost screamed, frustration distorting her face.
‘I am listening love.’
‘I can’t have this baby!’
Marion was inconsolable. Patricia felt inadequate, talking in clichés and old, worn-out platitudes, when what Marion needed was some one to listen. ‘I’ll go with you to see the doctor,’ she said finally.
‘No. A doctor won’t help me.’
‘Of course he will. He’ll reassure you about it all. I’m sure it’s only nerves and the fear that Matthew won’t be pleased. But it will be all right. Thrilled he’ll be for sure.’
Marion stood up, tears glistening in her eyes, her face pale. Reaching for her coat she said in a low, growling voice, ‘Why won’t you listen?’ and walked out.
‘Please love, go to the doctor, it’s important.’ Patricia called after her but with her coat flying like a cloak in her wake, Marion ran along the road and didn’t look back.
* * *
Marion didn’t see a doctor but Julia did. The condition of which she had been aware for some time, was worsening. A heart complaint that would gradually disable her. She had to find a way of telling Patricia. She looked down at the tablets in the palm of her hand and wondered how long they would keep her going without it becoming obvious. Soon, no matter how careful she was, Patricia would guess.
She smiled as she approached the café with its sign bearing her name. Pity it wsn’t the full name, Julietta, but it would do. How pleased grandfather Andriotti would have been. How proud of Patricia.
She had done the right thing, separating Patricia from marriage to Roland. She would have been happy, there was no doubt of that, happy but unfulfilled. She had done something for Patricia. She’d prevented another wasted life.
A few years of running the ice cream parlour, making a success of it, having that wonderful feeling of achievement, that’s all she asked for Patricia. She would still be young enough to marry, then Roland could re-enter her life and she would approach marriage as a successful business woman. Better than marrying and being a shadow all her life. Yes, she smiled, as she paused after the first few stairs, although she hated seeing Patricia so hurt and lonely, what she had done would be fully justified.
Nelda came often to the café, and she never left without trying to persuade Patricia that her duty was to come home for a few months until the new baby was established and could go to Mrs Francis. But she always chattered first, bringing Patricia up to date on the latest local news. On the day after Marion’s disturbing visit, Patricia thought she might have come to discuss the news and Marion’s unhappy reaction. But it was of
Jacky she spoke first.
‘Jacky is worried about a piece of land opposite his garage being sold. He’s heard rumours that another, bigger garage is going to set up there.’
‘They couldn’t! Not after all the work he’s put in, building that business?’
‘Oh, yes they can, and will, if they’re sure of a profit.’
‘How is Roland?’ Patricia asked, when this news had been digested.
‘Roland is in the local paper again this week. See? I brought the cutting to show you.’ The picture showed Roland standing in a gallery, beside a very elegant woman, who held his arm in a proprietory manner.
‘Who is she?’ Patricia asked, trying to sound casual.
‘Valerie Swinton-Jones. She’s been to stay with Mrs Drew once or twice. So Sally Drew says.’
‘Very smart she looks.’
‘Does she? I think she looks a bit ‘starchy’ myself.’ She gave the paper back to Patricia and asked, ‘How’s business then? Quiet now the season’s finished, is it?’
‘The local people still come but we aren’t getting the crowds like we had last month.’ Patricia held her breath. She was well aware of what was coming next.
‘It’s well timed then, this baby, I’ll give it that. The quietest time of the year, it won’t harm you to shut for a few weeks will it? Never do much in seaside places in the winter. Barry Island closes down until Whitson, doesn’t it?’
‘This place won’t,’ Patricia said. They’d had this conversation so many times before.
‘Good heavens, Patricia, you can’t tell me you’ll lose much in October and November. No one wants ice cream in winter.’
‘Perhaps not. But there’s coffee and snacks and it will still be a place for people to meet. We have to tick over and pay our way or we’ll be unable to survive until next season. Don’t you see, Nelda, I can’t let Julia down.’
Ice Cream in Winter Page 24