Goodbye to Dreams

by Grace Thompson

  Willie thought Jack’s customers were hardly going to make him rich but Jack was confident. ‘Everybody’s got to eat. They’ll buy what’s cheap and fill up on it whether it’s turnips, spuds or bananas.’

  ‘Is that what happens when you eat too many bananas?’ He pointed to where Horse leaned against the wall, his legs curled like the fruit, their stiffness preventing him from falling.

  ‘I’ll straighten him up later with some rhubarb,’ Jack promised.

  Buying as before, offering low prices to clear unwanted goods from the wholesaler and bringing it back on a wheelbarrow, Jack began to attract trade. He spent a lot of time cleaning the poor quality stuff and what he put on display looked appetizing enough to convince the poorest families around the lanes to come and buy. That he succeeded was shown in the diminishing sales at Owen’s, not far away in the more favourable area.

  ‘Damn me.’ Peter Marshall was amused when Cecily told him about Jack Simmons’s venture. ‘You should have employed the man yourselves. And your Willie helping him too! Fancy that. Who told on Willie?’

  ‘Willie told us himself. There’s nothing wrong with helping a friend and Jack’s shop certainly helps the poorer families around the lane.’

  Sundays were precious to Willie. He set off very early to cycle the twelve miles to Barlow House to see Annette. It had been difficult at first as the girl was not allowed any time off except one afternoon during the week and Willie could only make the journey on Sundays. But Annette had persuaded her employers that she wished to go to Sunday school in the nearby village, and they allowed her to do so.

  They met at a barn on the road reached by crossing two fields and the church she purported to attend and they both usually managed to bring food. Whatever the weather they would picnic in the shelter of the ancient walls and with the rubber-coated mackintosh Willie carried and the extra coat Annette struggled to wear, they were warm and cosy.

  Making love was a continuous joy and Annette avoided pregnancy following the advice of the cook, who had seven children and insisted she might have had seventeen, and the parlour maid who’d never had a boyfriend.

  ‘Only two months to go,’ Willie said as he kissed her goodbye one blustery march day. ‘Come May and we’ll be together and no one will be able to stop us.’

  ‘Mam is expecting me home for my birthday.’

  ‘And home you’ll be, love. Our home, yours and mine, and home is where you’ll stay.’

  He stood beside his bicycle and watched as she walked back across the fields to Barlow House and the chores awaiting her. Tea on Sunday was her responsibility and she had to hurry back to make sure the cakes she had made before leaving were arranged on the beautiful Ainsley china with its rich gold on the rim and handles of the cups. She loved that china and thought it compensation for being away from Willie, working with such beautiful things. In her hands she carried a black leather prayer book, which disguised the real reason for her regular walk across the wet friends. Superstition made her stop at the little church, go in and offer up a prayer, asking forgiveness for her deceit.

  After the long delay, Ada and Phil’s wedding was arranged for the end of May 1935 and it had been decided they would live in the rooms above the shop, where Cecily had once planned to live with Gareth.

  ‘It was decorated but that was five years ago and you’ll need to make changes.’

  Ada and Phil went up the stairs, Phil limping and walking more slowly by the time they had reached the top of the house. Together they examined the three rooms under the roof.

  ‘They’re small, but we don’t need a lot of room, do we? You’re no giant,’ she teased and he growled in mock anger.

  ‘As big as you can cope with, Ada Owen soon to be Ada Spencer. Small I might be but you’ll see, I’ll be a giant of a man when I get you alone.’ He pounced on her and she laughingly led him back down the dark stairways and corridors.

  ‘Fine they are,’ he told Cecily. ‘Sure you don’t mind us using them? You decorated them for you and Gareth after all.’

  ‘That was five years ago, and no, I don’t mind. Glad I am. I wouldn’t manage very well without Ada here to give me a hand.’

  Ada’s lips tightened. There it is again, the implication she was seen only as Cecily’s assistant. Phil saw the brief look of displeasure.

  ‘That’s a funny way of looking at things, Cecily. You needing Ada to give you a hand? I thought you were equal partners?’

  ‘But we are.’ Cecily looked at them in surprise. ‘Equal partners we are and always will be. I need Ada here and she’d say the same about me if it was me thinking of moving out. We understand each other, don’t we, Ada?’ She smiled at Ada’s nod of agreement.

  Phil was limping badly when he went ahead of her to open the car door.

  ‘Your leg, Phil? Is it hurting more than usual today?’

  ‘Them damned stairs. Play hell with me, stairs do.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say? Perhaps we ought not live there after all if it makes your leg painful.’

  ‘It’ll be all right, and I know how much Cecily needs you here. Leans on you she does, just like I should lean on a walking stick. Ada! That’s it! I’ll get a walking stick. That’ll help me up the stairs a treat.’

  ‘No, Phil. We’ll do what you first suggested and go and live with your mother.’

  ‘Ada, you’re wonderful. What have I done to deserve you?’ He offered her his hand to rise from the car seat. ‘Come on, let’s go back and tell Cecily straightaway.’

  They explained that with Phil’s weak leg, the stairs would be a problem. Phil was pleased with the way his bit of play-acting had succeeded, aware of Cecily’s fear of being left in the rambling old building with only Van for company.

  When the excited couple had gone, Cecily took a candle and climbed the stairs to the attic rooms, wandering from one to the other, remembering where she had decided to place each item of the furniture she and Gareth had chosen. She touched the wallpaper they had selected together and disconsolately straightened the pretty flowery curtains.

  She had tried to hide it, but she did mind that Ada was getting married. She occasionally sensed something less than pleasant behind Phil’s jokes and laughter, like when they had explained about not using these rooms. She had caught a transient look of delight on his face which made her wonder about his motives. Phil Spencer was no great catch and she shuddered at the thought of sharing a bed with him, but he made her sister happy and she had to accept that.

  She wondered whether Dorothy had ever regretted spoiling her own wedding plans. Her sister-in-law was still obsessed with the conviction that Owen would one day own the shop. And Cecily was anxious that there might be a titbit of scandal attached to Phil that Dorothy could find and use to ruin that wedding too. The motivation for her son to inherit was very strong.

  These rooms, where she and Gareth had planned to start their married life, seemed cold and unfriendly in the flickering light of her solitary candle. She went down the first two flights of stairs and blew out the dancing flame and the smell of hot wax filled the air. At Van’s room she stopped and went in to stand looking down at the sleeping girl. Her arms were thrown back against the thick pillows in the sleeping position of a contented child. Cecily smiled and moved the covers up near the tranquil face. The night was not cold but the need to make the caring gesture was ignorant of necessity.

  Waldo and Melanie Watkins called late that evening. Waldo looked at the books. His thin face was lined but his eyes behind the wire-framed glasses were bright and alert.

  ‘We saw old Horse and that wife of his on the corner singing while arguing about whose turn it was to fetch water to wash. They don’t do much of that!’

  ‘I don’t know how they survive,’ Melanie said.

  ‘People are kind and spare a few coppers and cafes sometimes give them left over meals. As long as they have their rent and enough for food they don’t ask much more of life.’

  Waldo tapped his pencil again
st the paper to draw Cecily’s attention to the figures he had arrived at. ‘For the time of the year you’re doing well,’ he said, passing the books to Melanie for her to agree. ‘Down a bit on fruit and vegetables, mind. Strange that. But up on other things so altogether you’re in a good position as we approach the start of the summer season. Well done.’

  Cecily explained about Jack Simmons taking a few customers with his cheap produce.

  ‘Damn me, if he has customers like old Horse and his wife, he won’t get rich and that’s a fact!’

  ‘They tell me the town is expecting even more visitors this year,’ Melanie said. ‘In spite of the unemployment and poverty, many still get away to give their children a breath of sea air. Sleeping on the sands they’ll be, like last year. Some with babies, little bundles wrapped against the night air, their parents having barely enough food, scant clothing and with just their return tickets and a few coins in their pockets.’

  ‘They come to find work, too,’ Waldo added. ‘Walk miles they do for the slightest hope of a job, bringing the children and the wife and in some cases the dog too. It means he can survive longer if the women look for work as well, at least while the weather’s kind.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s why these burglaries are taking place – men desperate to feed their families.’

  ‘We forget, don’t we,’ Cecily said. ‘Us with our cars and comfortable homes and full larders. It’s easy to forget the thousands who aren’t so lucky.’

  ‘Yet some succeed. Look at your Willie. He owns two houses and he and Danny are making a name for themselves as makers of fine furniture, although heaven knows where he finds the time.’

  ‘Willie finds more hours in the day than the rest of us,’ Ada agreed. ‘He’s never idle, always potching about with something or the other, that boy.’

  ‘Not a boy – he’s twenty-one next month,’ Waldo reminded her. ‘How the time flies.’

  ‘Nine he was when he started with your father.’ Melanie smiled. ‘A skinny little urchin he was too. And now he’s a man. It’s hard to believe.’

  ‘He’s the same age as Annette,’ Cecily reminded her. ‘Their birthdays are only days apart.’

  ‘Shame about that lovely girl, being sent off to scrub floors and slave for some other family when her mother couldn’t afford to keep her at home. Pity she didn’t send that fat lazy Owen instead!’ Melanie didn’t try to hide her dislike of Dorothy. ‘Treating the child like that. If we’d had a child we wouldn’t have treated her so harshly, no matter what the circumstances.’

  ‘Spoiled her rotten you would have,’ Waldo said. He kissed his wife on her cheek, smiling at her in great affection, and for a brief moment Cecily was an intruder.

  Then Waldo said, ‘I’ve often wondered if lack of money was the truth. There was never a satisfactory explanation for the suddenness of Annette’s disappearance, was there?’

  The arrangements for the fast-approaching wedding filled every spare moment and the house was full of clutter and paraphernalia which increased by the hour. Lots of gifts arrived each day, including a fine silver cutlery set from Peter Marshall. The three attic rooms were filled with parcels and, behind doors, the dresses were hung.

  Ada’s dress was in white brocade, with a lace over-skirt and matching bodice and with lace sleeves which ended in a point at the back of each hand. The train was gathered lace and richly embroidered with seed pearls. It had cost the earth and had been Cecily’s gift to her sister.

  Two other dresses hanging in the attic room were blue. One was Van’s and not dissimilar to the one she had intended to wear at Cecily and Gareth’s wedding. The second was for Van’s cousin, Marged, Rhonwen’s seventeen-year-old daughter. The dresses fascinated Van, who spent hours admiring them and keeping guard to prevent anyone seeing them before the day.

  Cecily found her up there one morning when she took up a pile of presents that had arrived by the first post. It was Saturday and Van was still in her nightdress.

  ‘Van, lovey? Aren’t you going to get dressed? Edwin will be calling for you soon and there’s you still looking like an unmade bed.’

  Van lifted the corner of the tissue over the dresses. ‘They are lovely, aren’t they? Specially mine.’

  ‘Beautiful. Now, come on, let’s get you back to your room and find your clothes. What are you wearing today? What are you and Edwin planning to do?’

  ‘We’re walking across the docks to the Pleasure Beach.’

  ‘It’s a bit chilly, you’d better put on your warm coat.’ Talking about the day to come, Cecily led her daughter back to her room. She could see there was something on the girl’s mind and waited, hoping to be told what it was.

  ‘Mam, who was my father?’

  ‘Van, lovey. I’ve told you many times, he’s been gone this long time and there’s no point in me talking about him. Except, as I’ve said, he was a kind, gentle and loving man and you’ve inherited all his best qualities.’

  ‘You could have saved me a lot of teasing. You shouldn’t have pretended to be my auntie when you were my mam.’ Van pulled away from her angrily. ‘You could choose not to be my mother but I can’t choose not to be your daughter!’

  ‘Would you? If you could?’ Cecily regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.

  ‘Yes, I definitely would!’

  ‘Van, I did what I thought was best for us all.’

  ‘For you, you mean! Because you didn’t want me. You didn’t love me.’

  ‘Of course I love you. From the first moment I looked at you, I loved you very much. With Auntie Ada and Gran and Granddad, you had all the love we had to give.’ Van allowed her mother to hold her then, but her eyes didn’t lose their resentment; they remained cold and with the glitter of anger.

  Cecily left her to dress and went downstairs to the ever busy shop, trembling with emotions raw from the encounter. Van stayed in her room, staring at herself in the mirror over the wash stand. She stared until her eyes watered, the image shattering like a stone thrown into a pool. She was trying to see in herself a reflection of the man she resembled and who had such a loving nature. I’m not loving or gentle like him, she told herself. At least not towards my mother, who denied me until I was seven years old.

  Chapter Eleven

  ADA WOKE EARLY on the morning of her wedding and jumped out of bed at once to check on the weather. It was perfect. The sky, or what she could see of it from the sitting-room window, was a clear blue and, when she opened the window wide, the air felt warm and silky on her arms and throat. Cecily’s side of the bed was empty and she guessed she was downstairs making a tray of tea, and went down to join her.

  Neither knew what to say. They both wanted to talk, to explain how they felt at the strong partnership and loving friendship being set aside, with a husband coming into their lives. They poured a second cup of tea before they began to speak their thoughts. Cecily thought Ada had never looked more beautiful, and she told her so.

  ‘And just wait till you wear that dress. Phil will think himself the luckiest man in the world, and so he is.’ Cecily looked at Ada seriously. ‘Oh, Ada, love. I do wish you the very best of luck.’

  ‘Thank you. I know you do. I don’t suppose this is the greatest love story ever but I do know Phil makes me laugh and I’m never happier than when I’m with him. I’d find it hard, now, to face life without him.’

  ‘Sounds like love to me.’ Cecily thought of Danny and how he had so often made her miserable, yet she too had dreaded a future without him. Was that love? Looking at her sister’s happy expression she knew it was not. She envied her sister her love, but in an affectionate way, wishing it had been like that for her and Danny all those years ago. She had never found the happiness with Danny that Ada had found with Phil Spencer.

  The wedding was arranged for eleven o’clock and from the moment they went downstairs, it was chaos. But out of the chaos, Ada appeared, dressed in her beautiful gown and with her attendants gathered around her.

  Ce
cily was wearing a dress of palest violet, figure-hugging and with a skirt reaching halfway down to her slim ankles. Her hat was pillbox style, still popular after being made fashionable by Princess Marina in 1934. It had been specially made to match the dress. She knew she looked elegant. She felt elegant, but almost spoilt the whole thing by crying when she saw her sister in the dress and veil, with Van and Marged beside her.

  Waldo was giving the bride away and he arrived looking very smart in a grey suit. He hugged Ada carefully and told her she was beautiful, and kissed Van and Marged and told them the same. Then Cecily and the others left, with Melanie staying to see the bridesmaids on their way. Bertie and Beryl were to take Melanie when the rest were gone.

  Johnny Fowler drove the wedding car. He worked for a taxi firm and did many of the special services like weddings and even drove the twenty-eight-seater charabanc on day trips to Porthcawl and along the Pembrokeshire coast to Tenby. He was grinning widely as he helped his cousin Ada into the be-ribboned and highly polished car.

  ‘Should have been a pony and trap, really, Ada,’ he said as he helped her straighten her skirts. ‘You look a real treat and it’s a pity that you’re hidden, and on a day like this too.’

  Ada sat beside a proud Waldo and stared through the window, smiling at people they knew, who had lined the pavements to see her pass. She waved excitedly at special friends and teased Waldo, who sat stony-faced.

  ‘Smile,’ she said with a laugh. ‘It’s me who’s supposed to be nervous, not you!’

  At the church the roads were full of well-wishers, many dressed in their best and wearing flowers in their hats and on their lapels. There was a policeman on duty to ensure that the roads weren’t blocked, but the crowd moved without his instruction, automatically forming a double line for Johnny to drive through and stop at the lychgate.