As Connie took Geoff’s arm and hurried through the dark streets, Phillip sat on a garden wall and began to invent his story. A word with Matthew to make sure of his corroboration and, really, this could be rather good fun.
Seven
Connie walked up to the door of Ty Mawr and knocked loudly. She stared at the door half hoping there would be no response. Her shoulders were back and she held her head high and wore an aggressive look which hid her nervousness.
She had imagined seeing Phillip’s mother first, but it was Freddy who opened the door and asked what she wanted.
‘I’m Connie,’ she said. ‘Phillip’s Connie?’ she added when a lack of understanding creased Freddy’s brow.
‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid we don’t know many of Phillip’s acquaintances.’
‘I’m more than that.’ Anger flared in her eyes. ‘I’m – I’m his wife. We’ve been together for more than a year.’ When Freddy still didn’t say anything she went on more loudly, ‘And I kept him for most of that time!’
‘Please come in, Connie. Phillip isn’t at home but I dare say he’ll be back when he’s hungry.’ He showed her into the large, shabby room that overlooked the garden and invited her to sit. ‘Forgive me, but I know nothing about this. Phillip isn’t a good correspondent, and in the few letters he did write he told us nothing about his marriage.’
Connie slumped with disappointment. ‘He just walked out. As he did with the others.’
‘The others?’ Freddy coaxed.
Her voice was low, as though she had forsaken any hope, and, to Freddy, it was more convincing than loud anger.
‘Women who kept him,’ she said, ‘believing that he would become a successful artist, be grateful and love them for ever. They soon learned that he had neither talent nor determination. And the only love he knows about is self-love. Before me the record for his pretend marriages was four months. I had the determination others lacked and managed to persuade him to stay and take a job in a school.’
‘Teaching?’ Freddy seemed surprised.
‘No. Although he did have a chance; being ex-army, he was offered opportunities. But no, not teaching. I managed to persuade him to take a job as a school caretaker, although I’ve always done most of the work. The truth is, Mr Murton, your son is an untalented, lazy dreamer and depends on fools like me who’re prepared to share his pretence, even if it’s only for a while.’ She raised her head and stared at him, revealing the hurt and bitterness. ‘I lasted the longest, so that must make me the biggest fool, eh?’
‘These others, pretend marriages, you say?’
‘That’s all they got for all their efforts: pretence and promises.’
‘And you, Connie?’ he asked softly.
She stared at him, about to deny her status, then she lowered her gaze. ‘I was a fool like the others, Mr Murton. We were to have been married. At least that’s what I believed. But then, when I became a tiny bit too persistent, he just walked away.’
‘Yet you came after him. Can you still want him back, after this?’
‘I just need to know why.’
Freddy wanted her out of the house. He needed to talk to Marjorie before she and Connie met, and make his wife see that this was a time when she couldn’t insult someone whom she would automatically dislike and disbelieve. He escorted her to the place where she was staying and walked back wondering how best to explain the visitor to Marjorie. He was convinced by Connie’s story and he had to persuade Marjorie to at least listen before she went off into a predictable outburst of critical disbelief.
He didn’t go straight back home after seeing her to her lodgings. He needed to talk to someone, and he went to the place where he usually found understanding and a sympathetic ear. The Ship and Compass was the one place where he always felt comfortable.
*
Days passed and Freddy didn’t see Connie again. He began to think she had left, given up on Phillip and gone back to wherever they had lived, and he didn’t think he could blame her.
He hadn’t seen Phillip, either. His son was rarely in the house. He left early, before they were awoke, and returned long after they were asleep. The kitchen showed evidence of him preparing meals but that was the only sign of him having remained in the area.
In the days between his conversation with Connie and Davy’s birthday, Freddy tried several times to tell Marjorie about their surprise visitor, but each time something prevented it, usually Marjorie’s determination to avoid listening. He didn’t want to come out with Connie’s revelations without preparing Marjorie for the news, and every time he broached the subject of Phillip’s idleness he was deterred by fears of her misunderstanding. Since he was never to be seen, he had said nothing to Phillip at all.
*
Preparations for Davy’s third birthday party were slowly gathering momentum. Hope had decided that as the evening would be dark she would decorate the room to add extra brightness. When the children arrived they would be immediately caught up in the excitement of the event. Joyce helped and after they had completed their day’s work they sewed banners and stitched together long lines of bunting made by cutting into triangles oddments of material left from garments they had made. They laughed as they remembered each piece of material, and sewed a piece of Marjorie’s nightdress alongside serge from Gladys Morgan’s husband’s trousers. A bridal gown was in close proximity to lace from the christening gown made for the baby who had been born five months later. A section of Stella’s summer dress was attached to one of Colin’s gardening gloves. Pieces of Bessie Howells’s summer blouse had pride of place in the centre, and each side of it was a strip of curtaining to which the words ‘Happy Birthday Davy’ had been appliquéd.
Days passed and people called with gifts of food, as was usual in the years of severe shortages, everyone combining their efforts to ensure the party was a success. It wouldn’t be simply for the children. Any excuse for a celebration was met with enthusiasm. Even children’s birthdays were something for the whole community and involved everyone within walking distance and many beyond. A list was made of who had offered what, and it showed promise of a good spread. Cakes, sandwiches, jellies and even a precious tin of salmon were on the list or in Hope’s cupboard awaiting the day.
Hope looked around her at the house that lacked so many luxuries and knew that, whatever had happened to her, this place had helped. Its warmth and peaceful atmosphere had soothed her and helped heal the pain of Ralph’s death as nowhere else could.
*
On the day of the party Marjorie was the first to arrive, and Hope began to look for tasks she might like to do, but Marjorie simply sat and watched. There was an undercurrent of disapproval as the children began to arrive. Marjorie warned them to behave, insisted they wash their hands and instructed them to whisper not shout.
Fortunately Kitty came soon after, and Joyce returned to help. Peter, Bob and Geoff called, too, plus a few of the mothers, and they helped Freddy organize a few games of hide and seek. Marjorie demanded headache tablets and a glass of water.
It was great fun, and it was only in quiet moments that Hope grieved for the absence of Ralph, who would have enjoyed it so much. In his place she had tried to involve Marjorie and Freddy with the preparations, but although Freddy had helped previously by making a couple of stools to accommodate the extra children, Marjorie had made it clear she didn’t approve.
‘It’s only months since Ralph died,’ she had said when Hope had asked if she would like to make some cakes. ‘How can you celebrate anything, let alone his son’s birthday? It’s as though you were marking his absence with joy instead of sadness.’
‘Davy isn’t aware of how many weeks have passed since he saw his father.’ Hope replied softly. ‘It’s his birthday and he’s been longing for the day when he opens presents and invites all his friends to tea.’
‘Encouraging greed,’ Marjorie retorted.
‘I want to make it special. He deserves that, doesn’t he?’ She tried
to make her voice pleading, but could see from Marjorie’s expression that, as usual, she had offended. She tried again to please. ‘You are here, and that makes it special too. He loves you and Father-in-law; we’re such a small family, and he needs and loves us all.’ She turned to watch as Peter led them with a new game. ‘Oranges and lemons said the bells of St Clements…’ they all sang.
‘Phillip won’t come,’ Marjorie said, covering her ears at the noise. ‘He’s too sensitive to understand how you can be so calm about it all.’
‘Then Davy will be disappointed. But Phillip must make his own decisions.’
Again Marjorie took offence. ‘Are you suggesting I don’t allow him to decide for himself?’
Hope stifled a sigh. ‘Of course not, Mother-in-law. Now, shall we have a cup of tea? I made some Welsh cakes this afternoon. Some for the party and some for us.’ She walked away swiftly through the throng of excited children chanting ‘Here comes the candle to light you to bed, here comes the chopper to chop off your head,’ followed by screams as they made their escape. Hope laughed and clapped as the game ended, determined not to try to explain or apologize, as she had so often in the past when she had done nothing except try to cope with the difficulties life had thrown at her. Marjorie was exhausting when she was in this critical mood.
There were as many adults as children there as the afternoon wore on. The room had been decorated with the banners they had made, and on the walls she had displayed lots of Davy’s cheerful drawings. On each one Hope or Kitty had written a title given to them by Davy, but which no one could see represented in the pictures. These were duly admired and Davy promised to make more “when he had time”.
Hope laughed ruefully. ‘I must say those words too often,’ she admitted. ‘He’s used them several times recently.’
Marjorie didn’t say it suggested lack of attention, but Hope read it in her eyes.
Peter had brought a gramophone and a pile of records and these were used to play several musical games. They tired of each activity quickly and, without the help of Peter, Joyce, Kitty and Bob, and the patient Freddy, who seemed to enjoy the occasion at least as much as the children, the lively three and four-year-olds would have run riot over the house.
When the last child had been collected and silence had settled over the house, and Davy was fast asleep hugging his favourite new toys, Peter went into the kitchen, where stacks of plates awaited washing. He returned to the living room with a tray of tea. Hope and Kitty were picking up the last of the muddle and Marjorie was wiping the table of its sticky remnants.
‘Come on, you can finish off later. It’s time for a breather,’ he announced, and, gratefully, Hope sank into the soft armchair. Peter allowed Kitty to pour the tea, and sat on the arm of Hope’s chair.
‘I enjoyed that,’ Geoff said, ‘but I wouldn’t like it every day, would you, Peter?’
‘There’s trifle on this settee!’ Marjorie said in outrage. ‘I told you you should have bought leather, Hope, then it would wash off.’
‘I’ve got something in the shop that will clean it,’ Geoff promised, winking at Hope.
Geoff left early, having promised to meet Connie – although he said nothing to Freddy, or to Marjorie, who still didn’t know of Connie’s existence. ‘I’ll bring the cleaner tomorrow,’ he promised as he left the warm room and stepped out into the cold of the October night, sad to leave Hope but with a sense of relief to be parting from the tenseness created by Marjorie, in spite of Hope’s efforts to overcome it.
As she lay in bed that night, trying to sleep, Hope thought that, although she had filled the hours with her automatic complaints, Marjorie had enjoyed the afternoon. Why did she pretend it was weakness to admit to being happy? Grief did odd things to people, she understood that, but Marjorie had always disapproved of anything under the heading of fun.
Her three sons had been brought up inhibited by strict rules of behaviour. Marjorie wouldn’t accept that laughter was an essential ingredient for health as well as happiness. The war had taken them away from her and new priorities and values had distorted everything she had taught them.
A belated freedom to think and become aware of the less constricted lives most had led had made them consider with deep concern all they had been told, and had made a nonsense of their attitudes to learning and obedience. Their ignorance and outdated views had at first made them the butt of many jokes.
Richard had told her a little of this, Ralph, a little more, although he seemed to settle easily back into life as it had been before the army had interrupted it. Both Richard and Phillip had changed considerably from the men they had been under Marjorie’s regime.
*
Phillip had been waiting when Marjorie and Freddy reached home after Davy’s party.
‘I have something to tell you.’ he said as he took Marjorie’s coat. ‘There’s a woman called Connie who seems to have followed me and I’m afraid she might intend being a nuisance.’
‘Friend of yours?’ Freddy asked, not admitting they had met.
‘Well, yes, I did befriend her for a while, but when she began to expect more than an occasional treat, like a meal or the pictures, a box of chocolates, you know the sort of thing, well then I had to back off. When I left to return home to you I thought I’d seen the end of her, but somehow she found out where you live and now she’s here.’
‘Connie, you say,’ Freddy asked innocently. ‘Pretty young woman with a delightful hint of a Birmingham accent?’
‘You’ve met her?’
‘We had an interesting conversation, yes.’
‘Don’t believe a word she utters. She’s lying if she says we’re more than casual acquaintances.’
‘Not living together with the promise of marriage, then?’
Phillip sat down and hid his face in his hands. Useless hands, Freddy thought irrelevantly. Hands that wasted every day, allowed life to slip through without a thought, while he used other people to support him in his idleness. Marjorie sat beside Phillip and demanded that Freddy get him a drink.
‘Let him get his own,’ he said calmly. ‘It’s about time he did something for himself, even if it’s only to pour a drink he hasn’t paid for.’ With a glance at the startled expression on both faces, he added, ‘And for the record, I believe Connie.’ He went to bed.
It was very late when Marjorie came to bed. He hadn’t slept and didn’t think he would.
‘Are you awake?’ Marjorie hissed. ‘Phillip has told me everything. You’ve left a very upset boy down there. How could you be so cruel?’
‘Easily when I know that our son is a cheat and a liar and will continue to be unless he’s made to face up to things.’ He got up, shivering in the cold night air, and went downstairs. He tried and failed to make himself comfortable on the leather couch, which was cold and unyielding, and stared into the darkness. After an hour he rose, relit the fire, made a cup of cocoa and settled to read. The next few days were not going to be easy. When he went back up the stairs, sleep was still a long time coming.
*
In Badgers Brook, Hope was also giving up on sleep. In a contrary way it was because of the hectic and long day. Rising early, running around getting food prepared and decorating the room as a surprise for Davy should have exhausted her. But instead of making her tired, she was left feeling effervescent, still filled with excitement. Sleep was a long way off.
Taking her mind away from Marjorie’s unhappiness she smiled as she remembered incidents from the party: the chaos of tea time, the shouts of excitement as games were won and lost, Davy’s rosy checks as he joined in with everything that went on, stopping occasionally to run and hug her. Giving up on sleep she rose, wondering whether a hot drink might help.
She wrapped herself in Ralph’s dressing gown, which she had been unable to throw away, and with a blanket over her shoulders she was still shivering as she lit the gas cooker and put the kettle on the circle of flames. It was half past one and, for no particular reason, she
opened the door as she waited for the kettle to boil. There was always the chance of hearing an owl, or perhaps a fox.
She often opened the door when she was alone, especially at night, and wondered what impulse made her do it. Was it an indication of her loneliness? A connection with other people, however tenuous? Invisible people, but out there, friends who cared.
A voice called to her and she began to close the door. No friends would be calling at this time of night. Memories of the broken window returned, scaring her.
‘It’s me, Peter. I won’t come in, but I saw a light and wanted to make sure you and Davy are all right.’
Heart racing, she stood back for him to step inside.
‘What on earth are you doing around here at this time of night?’ she asked, going to deal with the kettle that was hissing and popping its lid, demanding attention.
‘I’ve been watching the badgers. I took some food for them then hid while they ate it. They come out soon after nightfall, at different times as the evenings change with the seasons. I sometimes watch them leave, sometimes wait for their return. They can be a noisy lot, playing chase in the farmer’s orchard as they make their way to the wood where they feed.’
‘Oh Peter, Davy would love that.’
‘One day, when he’s older, I’ll enjoy taking him.’
They were standing in the kitchen where she was preparing two hot drinks, and Peter saw her shiver. Instinctively he put an arm around her shoulder. ‘Come on, I’ll need to revive the fire if we’re going to sit and drink this.’
While she wrapped the blanket more tightly around her, she watched as he efficiently dealt with the fire, which was soon emitting smoke and desultory flames and very little heat. ‘It’ll take a while before it’s any use,’ he said.
A Girl Called Hope Page 16