A Girl Called Hope

  Freddy was almost certain that the willing helper had been Phillip, who probably thought it a joke. He didn’t tell Marjorie; she wouldn’t have believed him anyway.

  ‘They can’t have brought much, there isn’t room,’ Hope commented.

  ‘People like that don’t worry about a decently arranged room. Everything is thrown in so they can hardly move, from what I managed to see before the door was slammed in my face. Beds, chairs, and a huge roll of lino, blankets, pillows and clothes, all higgledy-piggledy. It seems they plan to stay,’ Marjorie wailed. ‘We’ll have to move; I won’t be able to face people after this.’

  Throughout the day the crowds increased, with people coming to look and offer advice, many bringing food, all ignoring the fact they were invading Marjorie’s garden. Marjorie stayed inside, the wireless turned up to blank out the voices and laughter and merriment.

  Hope did the only thing she could: she made tea. Within moments of the kettle boiling, two women came into the kitchen laden with cups, saucers and packets of tea, sugar and milk. Who cared about rationing at a time like this? Next week they’d be a bit short, but that was hardly a novel situation. Cakes were found and cut into small pieces so everyone had a share. The party went on all day with Arthur, Catherine and their children opening the top of the door to join in the party atmosphere and shutting it the moment Marjorie or anyone with the stamp of authority appeared.

  Hope stayed with Marjorie and said very little. A brief word with Freddy had told her who he thought was responsible and she grieved for the unhappy woman who had brought so much misery upon herself.

  ‘They tell me that we can’t do anything immediately.’ Freddy said after several discussions with the police and others. ‘It seems they’ll have to stay until accommodation can be sorted. They had a number of the points needed for re-housing, but not enough; staying here will increase their chances.’

  ‘Seventy points for not having hot water,’ someone explained. ‘Thirty points for no proper bathroom.’

  ‘I think I’ll do the same as that lot,’ another said stoutly. ‘Time we were out of the two miserable rooms we live in.’

  ‘I’ll have you know that lot weren’t in miserable rooms, and I’ll thump anyone who says they were,’ an angry voice declared. ‘And that includes my apology for a son-in-law, Arthur Gleaner!’

  Arthur, who had been listening to the debate on how many points he had earned, darted for cover when he saw his mother-in-law approaching. Catherine’s mother was large, overweight and dressed in a man’s overcoat and boots. With hair apparently uncombed, and red in the face with anger, she looked like a boiler about to burst.

  ‘Cup of tea?’ someone offered, taking one of Marjorie’s better cups from the dresser.

  Marjorie took a deep breath, about to complain, but Hope began to laugh. ‘This is better than a farce.’ she said, choking on her words, pointing outside. Marjorie looked out to where Arthur’s mother-in-law was trying to hit him, leaning through the top of the door with an umbrella, while Arthur shouted for her to stop and tried in vain to close it.

  Some of the crowd cheered, others growled in disapproval and wrestled to remove the weapon from the angry woman’s hand. Arthur managed to get hold of the point of the umbrella, and it went to and fro, in and out, as first one then the other gained strength. The ferule came off in Arthur’s hand and the victor leaned in. But a man from the crowd dashed forward and tickled the woman in a place where no one should have dared, and she turned around and began hitting him instead of the hapless Arthur.

  Freddy was outside trying to restore order. A couple of women had gone home for fresh supplies and Catherine’s mother had turned to telling everyone who would listen how good and kind she had been to Arthur, how she had loved him as a son. She followed this by calling him a very long list of names without pausing or taking a breath, which increased Hope’s and Marjorie’s laughter even more.

  When the angry woman had been consoled and the excitement had eased, Marjorie was still laughing and, as they exchanged glances, Hope realized this had been the first moment of shared emotion between them. Even in grief after Ralph’s sad death they had been alone. This laughter must surely break down barriers?

  Building on what had been achieved, Hope said softly, ‘How marvellous of you to help them, Mother-in-law.’

  Marjorie seemed about to argue but relaxed and nodded agreement.

  ‘Everyone will be so impressed with your kindness,’ Hope added later after listening to another round of argument and watching strangers preparing further cups of tea, while the curious still filled the kitchen.

  ‘Kindness?’ Marjorie said honestly. ‘I don’t feel kind! The house is filled with strangers I didn’t invite and who have taken over my kitchen and are offering me cups of my tea!’

  ‘Hope is right: if people think you arranged this to help a family in trouble, they’ll admire you.’ Freddy touched his wife’s arm, stroked it, as though to soothe her. ‘How many others can boast of helping a family find the home they deserve? The man’s an ex-soldier, fighting for us in conditions we can only try to imagine, then coming home to find there is nowhere to live. Most condemn them, call them troublemakers, but you offered them a home.’

  ‘But I have complained, called them troublemakers.’

  ‘That only makes your generosity more admirable.’

  ‘Father-in-law’s right. Keeping your support a secret shows you didn’t do it for praise.’

  Marjorie went into the kitchen where a muddle of cups and plates met her. She began to complain, but what Hope and Freddy said made sense, she could become a local hero if she held her temper for a while. ‘More tea, anyone?’ she asked with a rather forced smile.

  *

  Phillip fingered the money Arthur Gleaner had given him for the key to the shed-cum-studio and made a decision. Cwm Derw no longer had anything to offer. He’d made a mistake coming home. He might have settled into a uneasy peace with his parents, safe in the knowledge that the house would be his one day, if he could persuade Hope to leave and forget any claims her son might have, but after the joke of the squatters had been turned around and made into a victory, his mother and Hope seemed to be reconciled.

  Being spoiled by his mother would have been just bearable, but having to share the house with visits from Hope and three-year-old Davy wasn’t something he would enjoy. No, it was time to move on. He went to see Connie.

  *

  Connie had been dreading seeing Phillip. When she had returned it was in the belief that he would have left, and it had been a shock to find him still there. She had settled into the room in Badgers Brook and had been offered a job in the bar of the Ship and Compass by the kindly Betty Connors, which she had accepted. She felt completely at home in the house, considered Hope a good friend, and the town was filled with friendly people. Her life was beginning to settle.

  Geoff Tanner was very kind and often called to see if she was free to go out in the van, usually providing a few cakes bought from the bakery and a flask of coffee. She looked forward more and more to seeing his slightly hesitant approach, guessing his insecurity but unable to reassure him without being too presumptuous. Besides, memories of the hurt she had suffered, when Phillip had made it clear she wouldn‘t be a part of his future, were slow to fade.

  She was cleaning the kitchen in Badgers Brook when there was a knock at the door. She opened it expecting to see Kitty. and her welcoming smile faded when Phillip pushed his way in.

  ‘Hello, Phillip,’ she said calmly.

  ‘Darling Connie. How are you?‘

  ‘The name is Connie, just Connie. and I’m fine.’

  ‘I feel so ashamed of the way I treated you.’ he said, his voice tight with emotion. He walked up and down, the epitome of a man under stress. ‘The truth is, Connie, I was frightened of how much I love you. I’ve never intended to be part of a life-long partnership. Marriage and all that was for others. Feeling so strongly about you, loving you so much, I had
to get away, try and settle my feelings.’

  ‘And now you have?’ For a moment she was tempted. It would be all right. They would go back to the job they’d had before and work together and— Pulling herself up she shook her dark head. ‘I needed time to consider too.’

  ‘Of course you did. I can understand that. Marriage is a big step.’

  ‘Marriage?’

  ‘If that’s what you want then I want it too.’

  ‘I do want marriage, Phillip.’ She watched his face as it struggled with the attempt to show pleasure. ‘But not to you. Not any more. Any chances you and I might have had are long gone. I don’t think you’re the marrying kind.’

  ‘But I am,’ he protested. ‘Just give me the chance and I’ll prove it.’

  ‘Loving, sharing, and caring for each other? That isn’t something you’re able to do. Go away, Phillip, find another fool, there are plenty out there. But now, at long last, I can say I’m not one of them.’

  *

  Phillip was whistling cheerfully as he waited for the train the following day. His father and his mother, unaware of the double transaction, had each given him money to start him in a new life. He had hugged them both and promised to keep in touch, and with a package of food for the train and an extra few shillings – again from each parent – for a meal when he arrived at his destination, he was on his way.

  He had booked the short distance to Cardiff and there he planned to call on Matthew and Sally. Their children were at least old enough to be less of an intrusion if he stayed a while.

  For the first stage of the journey he was alone in the carriage, and he read the Daily Chronicle and thought about what he would do next. At Dinas Powys a young woman got on and he moved along the seat as though the empty carriage didn’t offer enough choice, and smiled at her. A quick glance showed a lack of wedding ring. The way she sat opposite him and crossed her rather lovely legs, the wide-eyed smile, tempted him into conversation.

  ‘Going far?’ he asked. Not exactly a scintillating start but she answered in a voice that was low and utterly charming.

  ‘Only to Cardiff. And you?’

  ‘I’m not really sure. Cardiff to begin, then the world is mine to take what I will.’

  ‘Lucky you.’

  ‘Not really,’ he said, putting on his downtrodden-but-brave expression. ‘Drawing a final line under a romance that a young woman thought would last for ever is very sad. And now I’m forced into leaving my home town, when Christmas is almost upon us, utterly alone, with hardly any money.’

  He looked at her and the gloomy expression vanished as his handsome face broke out into a wide smile before he threw back his head and laughed. ‘I really got your sympathy then, didn’t I? Truth is, I’m free and I can do what I want and go wherever the fancy takes me.’

  ‘I bet you’re an actor,’ she said.

  ‘How did you guess?’

  ‘Oh, I can always tell. An observer of human nature, I am.’

  Lying, flirting, changing seats to sit together as other passengers joined them, they were like close friends by the time the train reached Cardiff. Phillip had extended the lie that he was an actor with stories of his time in ENSA during a fearsome war through to his turning down a top part in London’s West End when his mother was taken ill. The girl said little, just widened her eyes in admiration of his bravery and talent.

  Arm in arm they walked from the station to find something to eat. The packet of sandwiches his mother had provided was thrown into a waste bin. He had money, so why not spend it? Tomorrow would be a cause for worry when it came, and that was soon enough to be concerned.

  Over a generous meal and several drinks, she told him her name was Ariadne and she was a stage designer.

  ‘Oh, I see. That’s how you recognized me being an actor?’

  She thought he was a charming waster, but she didn’t say anything, just smiled and gave a saucy wink.

  After the meal and a walk in Sophia Gardens and along the river Taff, she led him to a tall house with peeling paint and a door that didn’t close properly, with cardboard where there should have been glass. He followed her up the stairs, smiling blearily, to a room for which she apologized, describing it as a temporary flat. ‘I’m off to London in a couple of weeks. Perhaps, if you really are footloose, you might come with me. With our connections in the world of theatre we can help each other, can’t we?’

  ‘That sounds a perfect plan.’

  He woke up the following morning with a severe headache and for a moment couldn’t remember where he was or how he got there. Then he thought of Ariadne, and his face, creased from heavy sleep on the lumpy pillow, opened into a smile. His hand slid to the other half of the bed, and when he found it empty he sat up and called. The room, a very dirty and shabby room, was empty.

  Filled with cold dread and holding his aching head he slid out of bed to find his wallet missing and only the few pounds he had cautiously stuffed in his shoes still intact. When he roused himself and went downstairs the landlord stopped him and demanded the two weeks overdue rent for the room.

  Hungry and humiliated, he hitchhiked to Matthew Charles’s house.

  ‘I’m sorry, Matthew,’ Sally insisted, ‘but Phillip isn’t staying here. With only a few weeks to go before Christmas we’d be stuck with him. I don’t want that.’

  Matthew didn’t want Phillip there either. He hoped that over the festive season he and Sally might repair some of the damage he’d inflicted on their marriage. His friend being there would make it more difficult. ‘You’re right and, to be truthful, I don’t want him here either,’ he admitted.

  ‘I’ll tell him if you like,’ Sally offered. ‘Or you tell him and blame me. I don’t mind, just as long as he goes.’

  ‘We’ll both tell him, together. It’s what we both want, isn’t it? I want Christmas to be just you and the girls and me.’

  *

  Phillip borrowed a few pounds and walked to the main road, where he stood holding out a cardboard sign with ‘London’ written on it. He knew very few people in London and couldn’t imagine any of them welcoming him as a visitor at this time at of year, but he was broke and alone, and might as well try there as anywhere else.

  *

  Connie enjoyed working in the Ship and Compass. Betty was patient as she taught her the running of the bar, and Connie was a willing pupil, anxious to please, always doing more than she was asked. When Hope was there cleaning she would arrive early and help her, sometimes by minding Davy, sometimes with the cleaning.

  ‘Wonderful team we three make,’ Betty told them. ‘Pity you can’t work in the bar, mind. Wasted you are, pretty little thing like you, washing floors and hiding your trim figure under a sacking apron.’ Before she left that day, Betty asked what they were planning for Christmas Day.

  ‘There’ll only be the three of us for dinner, so why don’t you join us?’ Hope said on impulse, liking the idea as soon as it was spoken.

  Betty was delighted and, having been assured that Hope really meant it, promised to provide a chicken and vegetables, which she would order from Peter.

  ‘Wonderful! Four is a much nicer number than three.’ Hope said, wondering at the same time whether she might invite Peter and Geoff to join them too. ‘Badgers Brook is large enough for several more, and the house always likes being filled with people,’ she told Connie whimsically.

  ‘If you trust me to look after Davy, we could perhaps share the bar work?’ Connie suggested to Hope one day.

  ‘I don’t think I’d be any good at it,’ Hope admitted. ‘Not confident enough, really. I’m most happy sitting in my own room sewing for people who only see the end product.’ She hoped that now she and Marjorie were better friends work might become available once again.

  It was the end of November and customers were slowly returning, wanting a dress for a dance, a party or a special occasion. Marjorie had let it be known that she had been misinformed about Hope and Peter, and that the friendship had not been
the cause of his death.

  Although wary of criticism and a revival of the rumours, Peter began calling on Hope again, making sure it was always at a time when Connie was there. Initially he kept his growing feelings for her to himself. The uneasy peace between Hope and Marjorie could so easily break down. But after a more passionate kiss, stolen in the garden, while Connie was in the house with Davy, he declared his burgeoning love.

  Hope pulled away from him in distress. ‘What am I doing, encouraging you.’ she gasped. ‘I’m sorry, Peter, but I could never risk loving anyone again.’

  ‘But why? Is it because I have so little to offer? I love you, and I adore Davy. I’ll look after you both and do everything I can to make you both happy.’

  ‘It isn’t possible, and not because you aren’t rich, Peter. Money isn’t the reason.’ But she refused to tell him what was. How could she explain her fears? That she had driven one man to suicide and was afraid she would do the same thing again. She was a determined woman, too strong minded, and a man needed a partner, not someone who forced him into doing things that made him unhappy to the point of desperation.

  Tentatively Peter extracted a promise that when more time had passed and people began to forget what had happened, they would meet more openly, show the town how their love was growing. But he had the feeling that her idea of time passing would be a lot longer than his own.

  *

  The squatters were removed from Marjorie’s studio after only a week spent providing entertainment for the town. The day they left was an excuse for more excitement, and people called with a few sweets and small gifts and the makings of tea to wish them luck in their new three-bedroom house. Many were still amused that it was the stiff, haughty Marjorie who had been involved in the plight of the squatters and were surprised to find her changed and on better terms with her much-maligned daughter-in-law.