‘I’m relieved,’ Cecily said, unconvinced. ‘I was beginning to think I’m not worth your time or your money.’
‘You’re worth everything I’ve got in the world.’ The statement was a surprise almost as big as the meal, but there were more surprises to come.
She didn’t know Cardiff very well but enough to realize they were not heading for the bus stop. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked, taking his arm.
‘To get a drink. All right with you?’
‘Of course, but I don’t want to be too late. We have an early start, remember.’
‘That doesn’t stop you when you go dancing. Not worth your time, am I?’
‘Of course you are. I wouldn’t have come otherwise.’
‘D’you still see Danny Preston?’ he asked. ‘All the gang thought, even after the wedding was cancelled, that you and he would eventually marry.’
‘So did I for a while, but we were like hot fat and water, spitting and fussing all the time. Better off apart. Anyway, he’s married to Jessie, isn’t he?’
He didn’t answer as he guided her across the road. It was a clear, frosty night and there were plenty of people about so he held her close as they pushed their way past others on the narrow pavements. Cecily felt warmth for him swell as his hand tightened on hers. Could she learn to love Gareth? she wondered as he led her towards the lighted doorway of a public house.
‘Willing to go in there or shall we find another cafe?’
‘Not another cafe!’
He looked in then frowned. ‘This place is crowded.’ They tried five. Some too crowded, some too seedy and others he declared too swanky. Cecily longed to get back to the bus stop. Her feet were cold, and wandering around searching for a place to have a drink she didn’t want was not her idea of a good evening out. What on earth was the matter with him?
When they finally went inside one, there was the usual raising of heads and faces showing disapproval of the woman’s presence. Two men walked out muttering complaints of the intrusion. Other faces just held curiosity and were lowered immediately on seeing that the new arrivals were not known to them.
Cecily was defiantly bold. She walked in and glared around as though those already seated were the intruders. But she was ill at ease. A public house was not the place she expected Gareth to take her. Why was he treating her this way?
He found them a corner seat and went to fetch the drinks. He didn’t ask what she wanted, returning with a small glass of beer for himself and an orangeade for her.
‘I would have preferred a port and lemon,’ she told him coldly. ‘Aren’t I allowed a choice?’
‘I don’t like to see women drinking,’ he said. ‘Different if we’re home.’
‘Thank you for taking such good care of my morals, Gareth!’ She poured the drink into a convenient ash tray and stood up. ‘I’m going home.’
Walking briskly away from the public house, she heard him running after her. She had no idea where she was, or even if she was walking in the right direction. Gareth caught up with her and dragged on her arm. ‘Stop, Cecily, please.’
‘If I ever see you again, please don’t expect me to speak to you. Now, where’s the nearest bus stop?’
‘Please, Cecily. I’m sorry.’
‘How lovely it will be never to hear you say that stupid word again!’
To her alarm he dragged her around to face him then, with eyes lowered, he said in a rush, ‘Mam found out I was seeing you and she hid my money. There. Now you have it. I’m a weak bullied idiot, scared of my mam. That’s why the evening was such a disaster.’ He slowed down and explained more calmly but still unable to look at her. ‘I spent an hour trying to find it and another half hour searching for the shop keys so I could borrow from the till, but she’d hidden them too.’
Cecily felt the tickle of laughter touch her cheeks.
‘In the end I went to the tobacconist in The Wedge and borrowed from him, but it was all in threepenny pieces.’ He pulled out a handful to show her, the coins glinting mockingly in the light of a street lamp. ‘The larger the bill the dafter I looked, see. They’ve been frowning at me convinced I’d robbed a child’s money box.’
Cecily began to make strange noises and Gareth was alarmed until he realized she was choking back laughter. He grinned, his face losing its glumness, laughter lighting up his face and making him once again the attractive companion Cecily knew. Their laughter rang out as they walked, arm in arm, back to the bus stop.
Cecily was still smiling when she went back into the shop and again Ada felt the prickle of jealousy but she greeted her sister with a smile, demanding to know all about the evening, and when she was told the tale, she laughed with genuine enjoyment.
Cecily and Gareth went out together several times in the following weeks and gradually he became less embarrassed at the prospect of teasing and began taking her to local places. When they went dancing, Ada always went too. Van would stay with Bertie and Beryl, or occasionally stayed overnight with Waldo and Melanie. Cecily and Gareth were accepted as a couple.
Mrs Price-Jones was not thrilled with the development although less against it now it was common knowledge that the girls had their father’s money.
‘Find out what their long-term plans are, mind, before you say something you’ll regret,’ she warned her son. ‘I wouldn’t put it past that Dorothy Owen to make them promise to leave it to her son one day. You don’t want to marry an heiress and find she’s given it all away.’
‘Hardly an heiress, Mam. Besides, if I can buy the two shops in The Wedge and take on an apprentice, I won’t be exactly poor, will I?’
‘If and buts won’t feed the baby!’
‘Too early to talk about weddings and babies,’ he replied. But not too soon to think of it, he added silently.
Somehow, the disastrous evening with Gareth had changed Cecily’s attitude of him. She smiled affectionately at the memory of his huddled attempt to pay without her seeing the small coins he was using. He really was rather a dear, and when she saw him talking animatedly to one of the girls at the dance she felt a surge of dismay. She knew at that moment that thoughts of Danny were fading and Gareth was finding a place in her heart.
The shop was busy, business growing all the time. They began to stock the many items their father would never allow. Paraffin, cleaning equipment, household dyes, washing powder, blacking for grates, soda to soften the water, and barrels of vinegar sold by the pint into customers’ own bottles. They increased their stock by vast amounts, storing it in the cellar below the stable, ready for the new orders they hoped to get from the beach traders.
Cecily had begun to discard any stock that was not completely fresh, selling it cheaply at the end of each day with a final clear out on Saturdays. This had created a small band of customers looking for bargains to feed their families and resulted in the shop getting a reputation for selling only the best.
Ada was worried about the extravagance. It did cost a lot of money at first but it was now beginning to show results in extra trade and the stuff they sold cheaply was never a complete loss. Both girls were beginning to feel optimistic about the way their lives were shaping.
Because they were tied up in the shop for so much of each day, they decided to employ a servant to look after the house and prepare their evening meal. Gaynor, the Richards’ maid, had a sister and it was she whom they agreed on after a series of interviews at which both Melanie Watkins and Beryl Richards were present to give the girls the benefit of their experience. So Winifred Rees came to work for them one sunny day in April.
‘She’s like a little mouse about the place,’ Cecily reported when Melanie asked about the girl’s progress. ‘She scuttles through the door when we open it each morning and we hardly see her after that, but the place is clean and she seems quite happy with us.’
‘She spends some time making “sheep’s eyes” at our Willie,’ Ada chuckled, ‘but I don’t think it’s getting her very far.’
Afte
r a week, they had to admit that Winifred was a terrible cook. Besides ruining quite a lot of perfectly good food, she had broken three cups, four plates and destroyed a saucepan. She resigned and they settled for a once-a-week cleaner.
The business was growing and the beach orders, although the season hadn’t begun, were already keeping them busy with finding suppliers. Orders for the shop were increasing all the time and Willie was rushed, going out several times each day with deliveries on the horse and cart. One day, the sisters asked him to come and see them when he’d finished for the day.
‘Willie,’ Ada began. But she was stopped by Cecily.
‘Hush, Ada, love. I’ll tell him. You go all round the world sometimes and Gareth is calling for me in an hour.’
Ada sat back and waited for Cecily to speak. She was smarting with the reproach. Everything these days was how Cecily wanted it. The risks they had taken buying in all that extra stock, widening their ranges to include lines they rarely sold: she was like a runaway train and without a moment to listen to her opinion.
‘Willie, love, we have to find some help for you,’ Cecily said. ‘What d’you think of having an assistant to deliver some of the local orders? We thought of getting him a bike. You’ll still have the horse and cart and of course take the important beach orders. You’ll be responsible for training the newcomer too.’
‘I think that’s a good idea,’ Willie replied. ‘And while you’re thinking of it, why don’t you get a phone? It’s daft, me trotting all the way to the beach and coming back to find another order waiting for me. It would save a lot of my time and yours. What do you think, Miss Ada?’
Ada just nodded noncommittally. Even the stable boy thought more of her opinion than her sister, her so called partner.
‘Do you know anyone. A relation, perhaps?’ Cecily asked.
‘What about one of our relations,’ Ada gave a wicked smile, good nature returning. ‘What would Dorothy say if we invited Owen-Owen-named-for-his-grandfather to be our errand boy?’
‘We daren’t!’ Cecily said with a laugh. ‘But wouldn’t it be fun to ask!’
‘Mrs Dorothy isn’t fussed about Annette, is she?’ Willie said slowly. ‘I mean, she doesn’t think she has a right to the shop. What about asking her? She only works occasionally over the beach serving in a cafe. She stays home most of the time, seeing to things while her mother works. She’d be glad to get out for a few hours each day, for sure.’
‘A girl couldn’t be an errand boy!’
‘What if she puts up the orders, to take some of the work off you two and only delivers the very local ones that she can easily carry?’
The sisters looked at each other, nodded and agreed to talk first to Annette then Dorothy.
‘Go and fetch her now, shall I?’ Willie offered. ‘It’s half day but I haven’t taken the horse out of the cart yet, in case you wanted to go to the beach. Annette won’t mind that it’s not the trap.’
‘I’m going out in less than an hour,’ Cecily said hesitantly. ‘D’you think you can see her and explain?’
‘Of course!’ Ada’s voice was sharp. ‘I’m not exactly second in command here, am I?’
‘Of course not, you silly ha’porth. But we usually do things together, don’t we?’
Ada turned to Willie. ‘I’ll go with you and we’ll call on Annette, unless you have something you have to do?’
‘I’ll just change my coat,’ he said, hiding a smile of delight.
‘You’ll be back in time for Van?’
‘When am I not?’ Ada said the words quietly but in her eyes was a hint of censure. Every day it was she who was tied to meeting Van from school. No taking turns these days. Cecily sensed rather than saw the expression and added, ‘Oh, Ada, love. If you have time, will you call and collect the new price lists from Phil Spencer? We’ll take them to the beach next week. If we both keep next Wednesday free we can meet Van from school and all go.’
Slightly mollified at the thought of seeing Phil Spencer and his lovely mother, she began to set the table for their meal. The slightest of nervous glances passed between the sisters, each aware that a difficult moment had arisen.
Cecily called goodbye as she went out to join Gareth and for the first time there was no cheery response from Ada. But it was irritation Cecily felt as she slammed the shop door, making the bell jangle in reproof, not guilt.
The day was a blustery one. Clouds raced across the leaden sky, roof-tops reflecting the dull colour. Trees swayed in leisurely dance; the grass rippled like a gaudy sea. The horse objected to the gusts which brought dust to irritate his eyes and nostrils and he snorted and shook his head as he trotted along the road.
Ada rode with Willie, a big scarf wrapped around her hat to hold her hair neatly in place. They tied the horse to a convenient lamppost near Dorothy’s house and knocked on the door. Dorothy Owen wasn’t the type to approve of visitors calling and walking in. There was no response so they went around to what Dorothy called the tradesmen’s entrance and walked in.
They found Annette busily scrubbing out the big larder cupboard under the stairs. She was flushed with her efforts and the colour deepened when Willie walked in behind her aunt. She dried her rounded arms and quickly removed the sacking apron she had been wearing to protect her clothes.
When they explained the reason for their visit, she was delighted at the suggestion she helped at the shop.
‘Mam works all week at the department store now and uses her half day to visit friends,’ she explained. ‘Apart from occasional days at the beach helping with trays, I stay home. Mam thought it best I manage the house – she can earn more than me, after all. It makes sense and … I like housework,’ she added firmly as though to convince herself.
‘But you’d prefer to help us?’ Ada coaxed. ‘See a bit of life rather than be stuck here on your own?’
Willie stood just inside the door, cap in hand, his best coat worn over an old white shirt and a brown tie. The grey pin-striped trousers were clean and neatly pressed. Ada saw the girl’s eyes dart to him before she replied.
‘Yes, Auntie Ada. I’d love that. I expect Mam and I will manage the work between us.’
‘Pity she doesn’t make your Owen help.’
Annette laughed. ‘But he’s a boy!’
‘The coal and sticks for the fire? He could see to that.’ Ada picked up one of Annette’s hands and looked at the redness and the damaged nails. ‘Beautiful you are, and you should be showing a healthy vanity about your hands as well as the rest of you at your age. Don’t you agree, Willie?’
Embarrassed, Willie stuttered then managed to say, ‘Yes, Miss Ada. Beautiful, yes.’
Ada smiled. It was unkind to tease them, but irresistible.
After a cup of tea and some biscuits made by Annette, they left her to discuss their proposal with her mother and set off again. They had to be at school to meet Van but first they went to the old village where Willie lived, and called on Phil Spencer, the printer.
Phil worked from the small cottage he shared with his mother. He had been knocked over by one of the charabancs that took trippers on days out a few years previously and walked with a serious limp. One leg was permanently twisted and bent awkwardly at the knee. He was a popular and cheerful man although few would trust him with either their money or their daughters.
He was in the garden when the cart stopped outside his gate and he waved and came to meet them. ‘Well, well. There’s a lovely sight! Ada Owen in her best bib and tucker and arriving on a delivery cart! Bringing her for me, are you, Willie?’ Phil was pale with a face many described as weaselly, and his fingers were constantly engrained with black ink, but his light-hearted manner always brought a smile. ‘Did you dress up special for me, then, Ada?’
‘I wouldn’t dream of coming to see Phil Spencer in anything but my best,’ Ada said, patting the frilly hat she wore.
‘Come on in, both of you, I’ll just wash my hands.’ He darted in his ungainly way into the house and
came out a moment later, drying hands that looked the same as when he went in on a grubby towel.
‘Mam’s putting the kettle over the fire, come in, come in.’ He stepped forward to help her down, his movements jerky, his manner enthusiastic.
There was a sharp intelligence about his face with its shrewd blue eyes, but Willie, through various rumours and his own instinct, saw greed; an impression that he was counting values and costs even through his smile. Willie saw Phil Spencer as a man who loved money and didn’t care how he got it. Ada saw a man who was a flatterer, a flirt and someone ready for fun.
She was genuinely disappointed that they couldn’t stay for tea. ‘I just want to pick up the price lists we ordered. We need them for next week and you know how reliable you are at getting them to us on time!’ She smiled to soften the criticism.
‘Cup of tea! Now that won’t take a moment,’ Phil insisted. ‘You too, Willie Morgan. Tie the horse to the gate. It’s a bit loose, mind, that gate. I hope he doesn’t fancy a walk!’ Chattering non-stop, ignoring Ada’s plea that they couldn’t spare the time, he escorted them inside to where his mother was already pouring out teas. Before she spoke to them, she snatched the stained towel from her son.
‘Fancy taking that outside! I don’t want this lady to think I’m a slummock!’ She turned to her visitors, bright blue eyes so like those of her son. ‘Give him rags for the workshop. Dirty mochyn he is, showing it outside for the neighbours to see.’ She pulled chairs out from the table and gestured for them to sit. ‘Teisen lap?’ she asked and Willie nodded enthusiastically.
‘Yes please, Mrs Spencer. No one makes that like you do.’
‘You must take some home with you, Willie. Poor boy, too, without his mam.’ Willie stopped her mentioning the absence of his mother and sisters with a shake of his head.
‘Seen the paper today?’ Phil asked quickly. ‘That Amy Johnson has flown all the way to Australia. There’s a woman for you, eh?’
‘Arrived in Darwin, she did.’ Mrs Spencer showed them the piece in the paper. ‘Took twenty days in her plane, called Gypsy Moth. Funny name, isn’t it?’ She put down the paper, which she couldn’t read, but by having memorized all her son told her she convinced most that she could.
Goodbye to Dreams Page 9