‘Best for you, too!’ Mavis said, returning to her polishing. She sat on the floor and pulled the duster around the table legs, back and forth, back and forth, making the dark wood gleam. ‘Glad you’ve come to your senses about that, my girl.’
‘Maurice is coming home,’ Sheila said and once more succeeded in stopping her mother from her work.
‘Maurice? He can’t! Having you on, he is. He has to stay in Australia for at least two years.’
‘His family are paying his fare and refunding the passage money so he can come back. I had a letter a few days ago but I haven’t said anything until the money was all fixed, in case there was a disappointment. Mam, he’s hoping we can get together again.’
‘You’d better move right away from that Delina Honeyman then!’
‘It’s me he’s coming back to, Mam. He’s had time to think and he’s coming back to me.’
‘Don’t rely on him, Sheila. He’s let you down badly once and there’s always a chance he’ll do it again.’
‘Mam, can’t you be happy for me?’
Mavis sank into a chair and nodded. ‘I’m sorry, Sheila, I know I always expect the worst, but, fair play, when has it ever been anything else with you?’ She went to put the kettle on. ‘Have another cup of tea and we’ll talk about what to do when Maurice comes home.’
‘Can’t you wish me luck?’
‘I do, but I’m afraid you’ll—’ Mavis stopped, smiled and said hurriedly, ‘I do wish you luck, Sheila. I really do.’
‘I’m still moving out of Gran’s. I’m going to live with Ethel, get to know my mother-in-law. I’ll find a job and stay with her. Best I get to know my new family at last, isn’t it?’
‘Why bother? Your own was never very important,’ Mavis sighed.
They drank their tea in silence then Sheila stood to leave. ‘I’ll come and see you soon. Say hello to Dad for me.’ She felt the weight of her mother’s presence slide from her like an unwanted coat as soon as she was outside and she ran, joyfully, as excited as a child. She saw herself in the romantic role of wronged wife, loyal and loving, waiting for her husband’s change of heart and winning through by patient devotion. Her footsteps slowed as she walked up Sheepy Lane. She hoped Maurice wouldn’t hear about Nigel and of her plans to go and live near Freddie.
* * *
The last main item the village had organised in aid of the church-hall fund was the sale of work. It was to be held on the following Saturday in the school, where there was more room for the stalls to set up their assorted wares. Lights shone from the building from early in the morning as Mr Evans the caretaker made sure everything was clean for the invasion of enthusiastic ladies who would arrive in cars and on foot with heavy boxes and baskets of things to sell.
Mr Evans fixed ribbons across the front entrance which Mrs Norwood Bennet-Hughes had been invited to cut as she declared the sale of work open. All the helpers went in through the back entrance, leaving their raincoats on the pegs used during the week by the children.
The rain, which had begun the previous day and showed no sign of stopping, disappointed the organisers. Glum-faced, they gathered in groups, discussing the likelihood that numbers would be down because of it. Many would chose to stay home rather than face dressing up in raincoats and hats and carry umbrellas to push their way through similarly dressed women, all hoping for a bargain.
Bert was there early, and he helped Mr Evans set up the tables which the ladies would decorate and fill with their handiwork, which represented many hours of patient labour.
Prue came home for the weekend and, instead of handing in her usual pile of knitted and crocheted garments for the handicraft stall, said it was her intention to buy.
‘Bound to see some home-knitted dresses and cardigans to fit Sian,’ she told Amy. ‘I hate to see a child of mine in shop-bought clothes.’
‘Baby-minding I can manage standing on my head, running a shop, and organising a home, fine, but knitting and I don’t get on at all!’ Amy laughed.
‘I wasn’t criticising…’ Prue began, then changed back to her usual ways and added, ‘But as you mention it, I will be glad when I’m dressing her myself. You haven’t the flair, Amy.’
* * *
As Amy and Mavis both wanted to go to the sale of work, they had agreed to share the hours at the shop, which would probably be very quiet, anyway. As Amy slipped on her coat and went through the shop she saw a bus-load of people from Llan Gwyn alight and enter the school, to wait outside for the arrival of Mrs Norwood Bennet-Hughes. The crowd at the entrance swelled minute by minute and Amy recognised Delina and Dorothy Williams, for whom Nelly worked, walking past with Fay, all huddled inside their coats and umbrellas against the weather.
Margaret had gone to help set out the stalls and Amy wondered where Oliver was. Her question was answered a while later when the Chartridges’ car hissed past. Evie was driving and she recognised the small face of Oliver looking out of the back window.
‘Who was that with Evie?’ she asked Mavis. ‘It can’t be Timothy, he’ll be over there waiting for Mrs Norwood Bennet-Hughes.’
‘I think it was Johnny,’ Mavis said. ‘I know she’s asked him to help with her driving. Determined to pass her test, she is. She seems to get plenty of practice, what with Timothy and your Victor.’
‘He isn’t my Victor. Married he is, remember?’
‘Poor little Oliver, stuck there with nothing to do for ages while she practises her three-point turns or whatever.’
‘Yes, he doesn’t get much consideration, does he?’
An ambulance drove past a few moments after Evie turned up Sheepy Lane.
‘Going to collect Ethel for her treatment,’ Mavis said. ‘Victor’s wife goes too, something about a painful shoulder.’
Amy did not reply. Why was Mavis talking about Victor with every breath? She knew that was an exaggeration but Victor was on her mind and each time his name was spoken her heart gave a leap. She imagined guilt showed clearly on her face.
That evening, she and Victor were going on a rare evening out. First to town, where they planned to have a meal together, then, after a drink in some out-of-town pub, they would travel home on separate buses.
‘Evie should have left Oliver with me,’ Amy said, to take the conversation away from Victor’s wife. ‘He’d have been better off here than driving around the council houses on a morning like this.’
The rain had not eased and a chill wind blew through the shop each time a customer entered. Mavis looked out and the streets seemed empty of people, apart from the growing crowd at the school. Only the cars parked on the green verge showed the presence of extra people.
‘I think everyone is staying indoors by their fires, or are already at the school,’ Mavis said.
Just then a large Vauxhall car drove up and the crowd cheered a welcome to the large, fur-coated figure of Mrs Norwood Bennet-Hughes.
‘You’d better go and get in quick or there’ll be nothing of the best things left.’ Mavis said.
‘Yes,’ Amy agreed, pulling the hood of her coat higher. ‘I want to buy a couple of embroidered tray-cloths, mine are in ribbons!’
Inside, on the stage, Mrs Norwood Bennet-Hughes was aware that the Reverend Barclay Bevan was avoiding standing near her. She wondered at first if it was because of the perfume with which she had covered herself before setting out, but later decided that he was shy of her. The thought amused and flattered her. Whenever they were together he shuffled about nervously and always managed to arrange that someone stood between them. She would have been more amused if she had known the real reason. Barclay Bevan was short, plump, balding and vague. From past, well-remembered experience he knew that as she spoke, Mrs Norwood Bennet-Hughes had a habit of turning her body rather than just her head, as she addressed an audience. He lived in constant fear of being buried in her fur-covered bosom.
During her speech, Phil sneaked in and helped himself to a cup of tea from the large urn and a welsh-cake whic
h Brenda Roberts had been about to offer to her husband Bert. Brenda slapped his hand and the sound of it travelled through the crowd but it was Brenda’s face that blushed and debates began about the possible cause, making her blush deepen. Phil chuckled and went on with his deliveries.
When Amy had finally paid her entrance fee and walked into the school hall she saw it was packed with women, each trying to push their way through to the front of the stalls and find what they needed from the wide selection. The cakes were almost sold out and the handiwork stalls, always so important a feature of these affairs, were spreading their remaining pieces to fill gaps in the displays where items had been sold. She found three tray-cloths and stayed a while, looking to see if any of her friends were present.
Nelly was easily found. Amy only had to follow the sound of her laughter to see her talking to Netta and Fay, in the corner where Brenda Roberts was selling tea.
‘Bought anything, Nelly?’ she asked.
‘No, just lookin’ Amy. Always good fer a laugh, this is. Blimey, you should ’ave seen Tedious Timothy trying to get things started! Waited fer Evie fer ten minutes! She still ’asn’t arrived. Gorn with young Johnny, Gawd ’elp ’im, fer a drivin’ lesson.’
‘Yes, Mavis and I saw them going up Sheepy Lane. Poor little Oliver was stuck in the back. I bet he’ll be glad to get here!’
Amy left them and began looking for Prue. She was glad she had left the baby with Mavis; it would have been frightening for the little girl amid all these shouting people, and the smell of plastic macs and ancient rubber-backed coats was overpowering. She thought she would find Prue and then leave.
Trade was so brisk that several of the stalls were already clearing away the last of their goods but there was no sign of people leaving. In the corner near the door of school kitchen Brenda’s tea-and-cake stall continued to do business and it was there that Amy found Prue.
Florrie was with her and it was clear the two women were becoming good friends. Prue had an armful of baby clothes and she was extolling the quality of the dresses and the embroidered cot-covers she had bought to anyone who would listen. Amy smiled. Her sister’s health was improving by the minute and her joy in her baby daughter a joy to see.
When Amy tapped her on the arm, Prue turned and a blush suffused her thin cheeks. Amy guessed that her name had been spoken and probably in criticism of the way she had dressed Sian.
‘Got some nice dresses and coats, I see,’ Amy said. ‘Have you bought anything for yourself?’
‘No,’ her sister replied, ‘but I bought you a present for Christmas so you mustn’t look.’
‘There’s lovely! The excitement’s starting already and it’s only October!’
Timothy was clapping his hands and asking for silence. It was time for a few closing remarks for Mrs Norwood Bennet-Hughes.
‘Oh my goodness!’ Amy gasped, ‘and I promised not to stay a minute. Mavis will be too late for anything!’
Timothy stood on a chair and looked over the heads of the people gathered. He was obviously looking for someone.
‘Has anyone seen Mrs Norwood Bennet-Hughes?’ He asked. ‘I would like to prevail upon that lady to give us a few closing words.’
‘She’s ’ere, talkin’ to me.’ Nelly stood up, spilling the sweets she had just bought and she scrambled down to gather them up from the parquet floor as Mrs Norwood Bennet-Hughes stood and began to walk towards Timothy.
‘Goodbye, Nelly. Thanks for talking to me,’ she smiled. ‘I’ll come as soon as I can to see the improvements in your lovely home.’
‘Come any time yer like,’ Nelly shouted back, the look of pleasure on her face diminished only by her daughter’s absence: it wouldn’t be the same just telling her what her grand friend had just said. ‘Cor,’ she whispered to Netta, ‘if my Evie ’ad only ’eard that!’
* * *
Evie was driving in ferocious slanting rain through the council houses. Up Hywel Rise, she went, along St Illtyd’s and around St Hilda’s Crescent, stopping to reverse into the small streets and closes. She grew more and more agitated as her driving became worse and not better as time went on. She was determined to master this reversing and turning the car before she went back down to the village, although she sensed that Johnny had had enough.
Oliver began to complain. He wanted to see if there were any second-hand toys at the sale of work as there sometimes were, and he had promised to meet Margaret there. That increased Evie’s tension and the fact that Johnny had his hand hovering over the hand-brake did not help either.
‘Do you have to look as if you are about to jump out?’ she said irritably. ‘I’ve been driving for weeks and weeks, you know. I’m not likely to do anything stupid!’
‘Look out! Duw annwyl!’ Johnny shouted as Mary-dairy’s van moved slowly out of St Non’s Road.
‘It’s all right, I did see it!’ Evie said, although she was shaken. Putting the car into fourth gear instead of first, she struggled to move off up the hill. Patiently, Johnny suggested she went into neutral and tried again.
‘Don’t you think we should call it a day, Evie? Jesu Mawr, poor Oliver must be fed up sitting there all this time.’
‘Just a couple more hill-starts, Johnny, then we’ll go back. I promised to show myself at the sale of work before Mrs Norwood Bennet-Hughes leaves.’
‘Cutting it a bit fine, then.’ Johnny glanced at his watch. ‘Once more up Heol Caradoc and we’ll call it a day. Right?’
‘Very well.’
In the back seat, Oliver shared a look with Johnny and gave a sigh of relief.
Johnny relaxed slightly as they climbed the hill and, as they approached St David’s Drive, he suggested they reversed in. They had not seen the ambulance cross over from collecting someone in St Illtyd’s Road and when Evie suddenly put on her brake she missed her footing, panicked and touched the clutch and accelerator and the car went backwards down the hill. With a crash, they hit the ambulance which went skidding on the brown decaying leaves as the driver tried to avoid her.
Johnny pulled hard on the brake and clutched the wheel, swinging the car deftly into its skid and straightening it up in seconds. When they were still, he checked Oliver, who had fallen to the floor, and found him frightened, crying but apparently unharmed.
He ran then, swearing at the sobbing Evie, to where the ambulance was slewed across the pavement, its side against a bent lamp-post. He helped the driver to open the door, asking as he did so.
‘Ethel Davies, is she in there?’
‘No, no,’ the driver said as he struggled to open the damaged back doors. ‘Dropped her on the way up.’
The doors gave under their combined efforts and they went in to find Victor’s wife on the floor between the two bench seats. She was lifted back on to the seat and, with her assurance that she was all right, they ran back to see Evie and Oliver.
Oliver was still crying in the back seat and Johnny swore at Evie, who was sobbing and trembling, oblivious to her son’s distress. He hauled the little boy out and told Evie to get him home.
‘Uffern dan, Evie. Can’t you see the boy is frightened?’
He stood the boy down and saw that his thin legs were trembling too much for him to walk. ‘Go you,’ he said irritably to Evie. ‘Sit in the car. We’ll have to wait for the police.’
‘I think I’d better get Mrs Honeyman home,’ the driver said. ‘I can’t leave her sitting there while we find the constable, can I?’
He walked back to the ambulance and opened the doors again then he gave a horrified shout. ‘Here, come quick, I think the woman’s dead!’
* * *
Mrs Norwood Bennet-Hughes was announcing that they had raised enough to make a start on the new building, when the news reached them. PC Harris came in and asked for attention. Voices rose then fell silent as he asked, ‘Is Mr Honeyman here?’
It was Delina who pushed her way through to the constable. ‘Why do you want my father, what has happened?’ she asked anxiously.
<
br /> ‘I’d like to talk to your father first, Miss Honeyman. There’s a bit of bad news I’m afraid.’
‘You’d better tell me,’ she insisted.
He led her out into the empty school kitchen and told her about the accident.
‘Can’t say for certain, like, but they think it was a heart attack. Rushed to hospital she was, but there was nothing they could do for the poor lady. I’m sorry, very sorry. Is there someone who could stay with you for a while? At least until we find your father.’
Tad appeared at her elbow and asked if he could help. ‘I heard the crash and went out to see what I could do,’ he explained. ‘I’m so very sorry. Can I go with you to tell your brothers, or help find your father?’
‘Dad is meeting Daniel in town after he finishes work, Daniel needs new shoes.’ Delina spoke as if in a daze.
PC Harris explained the situation in a few whispered words to Tad.
‘Can Dawn stay with you, Nelly?’ Tad asked, before leading Delina out to walk with her, silently, to wait until her brothers and her father could be found.
‘I’ll wait for the next few buses and try to catch them before they get home,’ Harris told Tad.
Bert pontificated to anyone too polite not to move away about women drivers.
‘Best not let Johnny hear you talking like that, mind,’ Archie warned. ‘His Fay’s been driving safely for years.’ In the school hall people seemed unwilling to leave. They stood around in groups, talking in hushed voices, waiting for further news, sharing the little that was known. Few of them knew Mrs Honeyman as, apart from exchanging her books at the mobile library, she rarely joined in the life of the village. But Delina and Victor were liked and, for them and the boys, they all felt sympathy.
* * *
Prue was upset when the news of the sudden death reached her. It revived for her the shock of Harry’s death. Florrie Gwyn, seeing the distress on her face, insisted they went straight home. Others slowly began to leave, some leisurely, hoping for more details, others, like Nelly and Dawn pushing their way through the doors in haste. Amy followed her sister, but seeing that Florrie was taking care of her, went back to the shop with Margaret. She was numb and it was Margaret who told Mavis what had happened.
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