She needed to go into Cardiff to replenish her stock of sewing accessories and buy a few gifts for Davy. Not as many as she’d hoped, but she was determined to make sure he had some parcels under the tree. While she was in Cardiff she would also have to dig deep into her meagre savings and buy some things for the room Connie would use. The house was not fully furnished and she wanted Connie to recognize that she had made some effort to make her comfortable. A small rug bought second hand, new sheets and a blanket were all she had so far.
Pushing a chattering Davy in his chair, she was lost in calculations, wondering whether she might afford a table lamp, when she saw Marjorie walking up the station approach in front of her. Oh, no. Surely she wouldn’t have company all the way? She caught up with her as she bought her ticket and took a deep breath before saying, ‘Hello, Mother-in-law. Davy, say hello to Grandmother.’
To her utter disbelief, Marjorie stared at her as though they had never met and walked to the furthest end of the platform. She ignored little Davy’s greeting. Marjorie had ignored her before, but this was so blatant, Hope wanted to run home and hide. When would this end?
The train was rather crowded and when Hope alighted in Cardiff she didn’t catch sight of Marjorie. Perhaps she’d be lucky and the day would pass without their meeting. She didn’t know how to handle this, she really didn’t.
She was edgy as she set about searching for her purchases. Only half of her mind was on the shopping, the rest was preparing for coming face to face with Marjorie, or someone else who disliked her, blamed her for Ralph’s death. So it was with that dread she turned in answer to someone calling her name.
He wasn’t her favourite person, but she was so relieved to recognize Matthew she greeted him with a smile. ‘Matthew. Are you Christmas shopping too?’
He turned and took the arm of a pretty young woman beside him and said, ‘Meet Hope, darling, the widow of poor Ralph. Hope, meet my lovely wife, Sally.’
After handshakes and the conventional remarks the two women didn’t seem to know what else to say, until Matthew said. ‘Come on, you two, let’s go and find some tea and cakes.’ He led them towards a café, and after seating them waved encouragingly at the waitress and placed an order. ‘No point spending half the afternoon discussing what we each like, so I’ll ask for assorted cakes. Is that all right?’ he asked belatedly. Hope looked at Sally and they shared a smile.
The rather unexpected introduction had meant Hope was unprepared and she groped through her memory to remember something about Matthew and his wife. Relieved she remembered their daughters.
‘You have two daughters, I believe.’ she said. Within minutes they were talking enthusiastically about sons and daughters, embarking briefly on the sadness of Marjorie’s tragic losses. Hope quickly changed the subject, superstitiously afraid that the speaking of her would cause Marjorie to materialize and ruin what seemed to be a pleasant interlude.
Sally explained that she and her daughters sang and took part in amateur dramatics. Matthew interrupted and said there was nothing amateur about any of his girls, they were all extremely talented. Hope was aware that, when he made a little effort, Matthew could be utterly charming. Sally’s glowing cheeks and her bright eyes supported her opinion.
‘It started during the war,’ Sally explained. ‘I used to have quite a good voice as a child and I took part in concerts to entertain the forces, you know the sort of thing. But I began to enjoy it and later I joined the local drama group, and the girls joined in and, well, it goes on, we’re all addicted.’
‘Apart from me, sad to say,’ Matthew said. ‘Although perhaps I might have become a willing stagehand if my job hadn’t made me so unreliable.’ He looked at his pretty wife and said, ‘I’m so proud of my three girls, and one day we’ll all work together, won’t we, darling?’
While they were finishing a second cup of tea, Matthew excused himself, explaining that he had some secret shopping to do.
‘Something small and expensive for you, I hope?’ Hope whispered.
‘Oh, he does the right thing sometimes,’ Sally said, watching as Matthew threaded his way through the tables. ‘Just when I despair of us, he does something to make me change my mind.’
‘You seem very happy together.’
‘We are, or I think we are – when we’re together. But he only comes home when he has to. He prefers to stay in hotels and spend the time among strangers than with us. D’you know he’s never been to any of our performances?’
‘He does cover a large area, doesn’t he? It must be difficult to get home sometimes.’
‘Sometimes, yes, but being near enough to get home and preferring to stay away is difficult to understand.’
Hope was unsure how to deal with the unexpected confidences. A hint of criticism would be remembered when Sally was feeling more benevolent towards Matthew, yet she didn’t want to appear indifferent to Sally’s unhappiness.
Sensing her embarrassment, Sally said. ‘I’m sorry, I don't know why I said all that. Matthew is my problem, and only rarely do I seek comfort from discussing him with others. You have a very sensitive manner and it encourages confidences.’
Hope smiled ruefully. ‘I don’t think my mother-in-law would agree with you.’
‘Look, shall we meet again, and perhaps talk of more cheerful things? Bring Davy, he’s a darling and so well behaved.’
They spoke easily, and the conversation drifted to many things, including Christmas and the surprises they had planned for their children. As they stood to leave Hope said, ‘I believe you have Phillip staying with you.’
‘Yes.’ Sally’s face clouded. ‘Not for much longer, I hope. He’s making himself too comfortable and Matthew refuses to tell him to go.’
‘I expect he’ll go home for Christmas, his mother will want him there.’
‘Like Matthew he seems unable to decide what he wants. I sometimes wonder whether it was the war that unsettled so many of the men, although after all this time you’d think they’d have forgotten the horrors and be thankful they’re safe. wouldn’t you?’
‘It isn’t my business, Sally, but remember it’s your home. Why don’t you tell Phillip to leave? You’ve nothing to lose, have you?’
Sally was silent for a moment and Hope began to worry that she’d spoken out of turn, then Sally looked at her and smiled. ‘You’re right, of course.’ She went home with the words echoing in her mind. She would tell Phillip, the moment she got in.
Hope went through the busy market loaded with her packages, back to the railway station. All the time she looked around her, dreading seeing her mother-in-law, wondering what she was doing in Cardiff and hoping it would keep her there later than the train she and Davy intended to catch. She sighed with relief when she found a seat in the overcrowded carriage without seeing her.
*
Marjorie had called at a rather exclusive art gallery. She barged in, pushing aside a couple who were considering a seascape, and demanded to speak to an artist.
Bemused, the well-dressed young man said, ‘I’m sorry, madam, but we sell quality art here, we don’t employ artists to sell what they produce.’ He spoke haughtily, but Marjorie’s outdid him.
‘My son is Phillip Williamson-Murton. You’ll have heard of him?’
The young man shook his head. ‘Sorry, but there are several new names appearing. Perhaps you could tell me a little more about him? But when I have finished attending to these ladies, if you please.’ He spoke politely but firmly, turning aside from her, clearly displeased with her intrusion.
‘I’m planning a surprise for him and I need to talk to an artist about my ideas. It has to be perfect, you see. His studio. North light, adjustable easel, sable brushes, you know the sort of thing.’
‘Er, of course, madam. Please take a seat, and as soon as I’m free,’ he said pointedly, ‘I’ll see if I can find someone to help you.’ He raised a supercilious and disapproving eyebrow toward the purchasers, which fortunately Marjorie didn’t
see.
She was on the same train as Hope but made sure she wasn’t observed. She didn’t want anyone to see them together and think she had forgiven the girl who had stolen Ralph from her then driven him to suicide.
*
For Hope, starting back at the Ship and Compass was a sobering thought. Arriving home feeling filthy and wondering if the smell would ever leave her, day after day, was not a cheerful prospect, but money had to be earned. She thought wistfully of the life she and Ralph had imagined: two or maybe three children, a place they could comfortably afford, and perhaps one day, buying a house of their own; a typical middle-class family with enough money not to feel afraid.
After the first morning, while Davy sat near and Betty prepared lunch and restocked the bar, she wondered if she was right to stay in Cwm Derw. The world was huge and she didn’t have to stay in one small part of it.
Connie gave Davy a chocolate bar. ‘Lovely boy, he is, I bet Freddy’s real proud of him,’ she said, as Hope collected her apron and prepared to leave. ‘Never had a chance to enjoy his own sons. Poor Freddy. Marjorie was always in complete control. Don’t let her get her hands on Davy, will you?’
‘No one looks after Davy except me or Joyce, and, on rare occasions, Kitty and Bob Jennings.’ She sighed. ‘Pity is, if I had someone to help I could find a better job than this. Oh, Mrs Connors, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’m glad to be able to do this and be allowed to bring Davy with me.’
‘If you were free I’d like you to work in the bar, but I don’t think staying up till after ten o’clock would be right for young Davy, would it? Even though I’d love to have him here.’
There was something nostalgic about the way Betty said those words, and in the way she looked at a sleepy Davy as he settled into his pushchair clutching his chocolate bar and a favourite teddy in gloved hands. His cheeks were rosy and plump, captured by the knitted balaclava. Hope idly wondered what Betty’s story was. She knew she’d been widowed when her husband was killed while working on an airfield and, so far as she knew, there were no children. Betty’s brother, Ed, helped with the heavy work and a cousin was the pot man during opening hours.
Like me, once the door closes she’s on her own, she mused sadly. The pub was busy all evening with customers coming to drink, chat, argue, play cards and darts and dominoes, and the contrast, once the place closed, must be worse for Betty Connors than it was for Hope.
Badgers Brook was her home, chosen by herself and Ralph, and she would have felt disloyal to have moved away, as though she was walking away from Ralph and their marriage. Now, looking at her dirt-stained clothes and rubbing her sore knees, she wondered if her decision had been a wise one. Had loyalty been the true grounds for her decision? Had her reasoning been emotional? Or was there an unwillingness to let go, step out alone, a fear of further change?
She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what Ralph would have suggested, but no answer came; all she could see in her mind’s eye was him glancing at his mother for her to make the decision for him. She had never felt so alone.
As she headed for the bus stop she saw the bus approaching. On impulse she turned aside. It was time to tell Marjorie what she had been reduced to by her unkind and untrue gossip. She admitted to herself that she had taken the job offered by Betty Connors partly to embarrass her mother-in-law so she wouldn’t have long to wait until she was seen by someone who would enjoy telling Marjorie about her daughter-in-law’s latest shameful behaviour. She would go now, this minute, let her see what she had done to her and Davy, show herself in her shabby clothes and red, sore knees. The action was childish but that didn’t stop her.
She knocked on the front door of Ty Mawr as she no longer had a key, and when there was no reply went around to the back. She was surprised to see several workmen there, near the doorway of the brick-built outhouse, in which several holes had been knocked, presumably for windows. The men were drinking tea and Marjorie was there offering biscuits.
‘What’s going on, Mother-in-law?’ she asked, her anger subsiding and being replaced by curiosity. Marjorie saw them and came across. Ignoring Hope she held out her arms to Davy and said, ‘Come and see what these men are doing, David, dear. We’re planning a surprise for your Uncle Phillip.’
‘What are you doing?’ Hope asked again, and, when Marjorie still didn’t reply, she went to one of the builders and asked him.
‘An artist’s studio, missus, that’s what we’re making.’ He glanced at the other two men and added with a laugh, ‘Never been asked to do one of them before, have we, boys?’
‘Hurry up.’ Marjorie bustled over to them with Davy in her arms. ‘I have to get to the shops.’ She put Davy down and snatched the cups and saucers from the men, waving her arms as though she were shooing geese. ‘Let’s get on, shall we? You promised this would be finished by the weekend.’
‘I thought Phillip was going back to his job as school caretaker?’ Hope queried. ‘At least that’s the rumour.’ She emphasized the word rumour, but Marjorie showed no sign of guilt.
‘Not a word to your Uncle Phillip if you see him,’ she warned Davy, handing him back to his mother. ‘Now I have to go.’ Noticing for the first time how badly Hope was dressed she demanded, ‘What are you thinking of, going around dressed like a skivvy?’
‘That’s what I am, Mother-in-law. Thanks to the untrue gossip that’s been spread by some malicious tongues, I need money that the people around here won’t let me earn, so I’m back cleaning for Mrs Connors.’
‘You’re taking David to that place?’
‘Betty Connors loves to have him there.’
‘You must bring him here, leave him with me and find a decent job.’
Hope didn’t even bother to remind her that she’d had a growing business until it had been ruined by Marjorie and her friends. It was the unfairness that hurt. Ralph dead and his son without a decent standard of living. And Phillip, who had achieved nothing, was being treated to a studio.
She walked to the bus stop as Davy dozed, snuggled in a blanket and clutching his chocolate bar and his teddy, and felt a sudden sympathy for the woman who had tried too hard to make her sons succeed and had ended up losing all of them. If she were allowed, she would treat Davy in the same way, forcing him to follow the route she believed was the right one, and lose him too.
Phillip wouldn’t thank her for offering him a studio. He’d be expected to show some output and, from what she could see, that was something he was unable to do.
*
Phillip was in a public house with Matthew Charles. Near them, a group of men were discussing a man from Scunthorpe called James Fielding, who had come home from the army to be told it was impossible to find him a house in which to live with his wife and children. Together with others they had taken up residence in an abandoned army camp, and more and more people had followed. Groups of families got together and removed animals who they considered better housed than they, cleaned the place, organized supplies of water, coped with primitive sanitation and called themselves squatters.
Candles had provided the only light at first, but gradually improvements had been made. Partitions were put in place, separating living from bedroom space, walls were painted, curtains and rugs appeared and the community took a pride in what they had achieved. When thousands enthusiastically followed their lead, local councils stepped in and, under strong and growing pressure, provided running water and electricity.
Phillip listened with amusement and was thankful that he had escaped from the tribulations of married life. Imagine being responsible for a family and having to go to such lengths to provide for them.
He’d been fond of Connie and he missed her. He felt a modest pride in the fact that he had actually accepted a job and had worked for Connie, unlike the others. It had begun to get him down eventually, though, and although a part of him wanted to go back to her, he knew it would be a mistake. Better forget her and start again in Cwm Derw where his mother would be on hand
for a bit of financial help. Just as long as he handed her an occasional daub as a pretence of working, she’d look after him. Not a long-term prospect, putting up with her devotion; but being kept fed and warm would suffice for the winter months. Then he’d move on.
His mind returned to the men discussing the squatters, and one of them was saying, ‘I wish I had the nerve to do something like that. Me and the missus still live with her mother. Three kids we’ve got, and still living in rooms in the home of my mother-in-law.’
‘Go on, Arthur, find yourself a nice barn, kick the animals out and move in,’ one of them teased.
‘Lead me to it,’ Arthur groaned.
*
It was Geoff who met Connie at the railway station. Getting off the train she glanced around expecting to see Hope, but there was no sign of her. She stood looking apprehensively around her at the scurrying passengers who all knew where they were going. Strangers, with their own lives, looking around for their own people and unaware of her standing alone.
Two young women pushed her aside, one after the other as they ran towards the exit. Another called to a friend and startled her with her loud impatient yell. ‘Over here, come and get my case, for heaven’s sake.’
Just when she began to think she was invisible a voice called and she looked up without much hope, to see Geoff waving and smiling widely.
‘Hello, Geoff, what are you doing here? Have you seen Hope? She’s supposed to be meeting me.’
‘Sorry, but will I do instead?’
‘Oh, is Hope all right? Am I still going to stay with her?’
A Girl Called Hope Page 19