Goodbye to Dreams

by Grace Thompson

  The eyes snapped open then, wickedly full of laughter.

  ‘Cecily, it was those stupid pyjamas that did it. I really did intend to stay in my room like a good boy. Really I did. But you looked so lovely and I looked so ridiculous and—’ His hands began to move over her skin, deliciously sensual, and her resolve was not strong. Soon they were kissing and murmuring endearments and, as passion grew, the bed became too small and they fell to the floor, pulling the blankets with them so they were cocooned, held captive, neither wanting to be free.

  Street noises grew and slipped through the curtains; the sun moved up until the light washed the walls in a glowing light.

  ‘We have to move. If Van should come and see us—’ Cecily reluctantly crawled out from the imprisoning sheets and searched for her nightgown. Danny left the room and they both stifled laughter as he tiptoed along the passage.

  He dressed quickly and after a brief kiss and a promise to come back later, he went down to the shop. He held the doorbell silent while he slipped out and as he did so, a voice asked, ‘Hello, Danny. Are you my father?’

  Sick at the thought that the child might have seen him with Cecily, he decided to presume she hadn’t. ‘No, my lovely girl, I wish I were. It would be great to have a daughter as beautiful as you, young Van. Indeed it would.’

  Cecily appeared then and looked with startled eyes from one to the other. Van was staring up at Danny. ‘No,’ she said solemnly. ‘I don’t look like you.’

  ‘Ugly old thing I am, and you as fair as a summer’s day.’ He glanced at Cecily and said, casually, ‘That’s the crates sorted. I’ll come back later and we’ll pack the empties for Willie to return in the morning, right?’

  ‘Yes, thanks for coming so early,’ Cecily said, following his line. ‘Nice to get the muddle out of the way quickly.’

  Van said nothing. She and Edwin had discussed what men and women did in bed and what she had seen in Cecily’s room confirmed it. She glared at her mother and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. She cooked only for herself and ate it without a word.

  Chapter Twelve

  WILLIE ROSE EARLY the day after Ada and Phil’s wedding and, thankful that the weather was dry, began his long cycle ride to Barlow House to see Annette. She was waiting for him in the barn and greeted him with affection.

  ‘Just think, the next time we meet it will be to go away together,’ Willie said as he hugged her. ‘Only a week and I’ll be here with the van to take you to Mam’s in Cardiff.’

  ‘Pity there’ll be none of the family there to wish us luck,’ Annette said wistfully. ‘A wedding day is so special it should be shared with all the people you love. But never mind,’ she added quickly when she saw her words were upsetting Willie, ‘the one I love best in the whole world will be there and the rest of the family will soon know, won’t they? What fun it will be to tell them!’

  It had been arranged well in advance of Annette’s twenty-first birthday that she should go to Willie’s mother to wait out the necessary period before the wedding could take place. It was to be in a register office with Willie’s mother, sisters and stepfather present. He wished he could have made the wedding a huge affair with her family joining in the celebration alongside his, but they both knew that was impossible. Annette’s mother had showed clearly what she thought of Willie as a suitor for her daughter when she had sent her daughter away to Barlow House. The wedding would be a small one but he would make it up to her. He’d be a good husband and provider and show Dorothy she was wrong.

  ‘Don’t look so sad, love.’ Annette smiled. ‘I don’t think any wedding has been as exciting as ours will be. Imagine telling our children about how we defied everyone and you did it on your own. Booked the wedding, built up our home, planned my escape. It’s been wonderful, Willie. I wouldn’t change a thing.’

  ‘All that’s left for me to do is ask Cecily for the loan of the van. If she refuses, and I think that’s unlikely, I’ll borrow one from Peter Marshall. Nothing will stop me getting my lovely bride away and safely hidden. No one will stop me marrying you.’

  ‘My clever and brave Willie,’ she murmured happily. ‘How lucky I am.’

  ‘Don’t forget to tell your mother you can’t get home for your birthday,’ he reminded her later as they parted for the last time. ‘Not too soon, mind. We don’t want her writing to Barlow House to plead for them to let you to come. If we time it right no one will miss you for a while. Barlow House will think you’re home and your Mam’ll think you’re at Barlow House.’ He kissed her and watched as she ran across the fields, clutching the prayer book that always accompanied her to ‘Sunday school’.

  On the following Sunday Willie again left early but this time in more comfort. The van was as familiar to him as the horses had once been, although he still missed the company of the animals. You couldn’t talk to an engine, he thought as the miles passed under the wheels and signposts told of his progress.

  When he reached the barn Annette wasn’t there. He left the van doors open to cool the interior and lay on the grass, chewing a stalk and waiting without alarm as the day grew steadily hotter. Then after half an hour had passed he began to worry. He stood up and stared across the fields as if seeing further would make her come more quickly. The horizon and sky and grass remained empty.

  As he watched with growing fear, the skies began to darken, the heat became more oppressive and soon, large rain spots wet the ground, raising the scents of dried grass and dust, redolent of long hot summer days. He sheltered in the barn for a while, then, wondering if Annette was on her way and needing help with her bag, he ignored the downpour that was increasing in intensity and set off over the field to Barlow House.

  He had been to the house before, accompanying her back regularly until they were almost seen by the lady of the house on a casual walk through her grounds. He knew which window was hers, too. Right at the top of the building over-shadowed by the jutting roof.

  Stepping out from the shrubbery surrounding the back lawn he saw a face at the window and a hand, waving furiously. The window opened and a note fluttered down. He caught it and opened it, his heart thumping with anxiety. Surely she wouldn’t change her mind? Not now? Rain dribbled over the scrap of paper. Thank goodness she had used a black lead and not ink or it would have been illegible.

  ‘I have hurt my knee and can’t walk far. What shall we do?’

  Taking a chance on being heard he shouted up, ‘Come down here. I’m coming back with the van. Get in while I’m knocking the front door. Right?’ He waited for her to nod agreement then ran back through the lashing rain and the distant growls of thunder, to the barn.

  He drove carefully back through the increasingly violent storm and approached the main door of the house. He stepped out as lightning filled the air, which was quickly followed by a crash of thunder. It was dark. More like a winter evening than a May day. As the doorbell echoed through the house, a flash of lightning heralded another loud roll; fast, brilliant and close. The door opened and a young man asked him his business.

  ‘I’m lost, sir,’ Willie said. ‘Making for Brecon I am and without an idea of where I am. Can you help me, please?’

  Willie moved closer to the door as the young man attempted to step out to direct him. Willie didn’t want him to see the small figure creeping around the corner, half carrying, half dragging a heavy bag. When the van door opened and closed and he knew Annette was safely inside, he suddenly understood the instructions the man had repeated several times. As lightning flickered and another roll of thunder rumbled around the house, he ran back, pausing only to shout his thanks, and drove away.

  ‘We’ve done it!’ he shouted jubilantly. ‘We’re on our way! No more partings, no more uncomfortable barns. You’ll soon be Mrs William Morgan and used to nothing but the best. How does that sound?’

  ‘Willie, it’s marvellous, and just in time too.’ She patted her stomach and smiled at him her eyes glowing with happiness. ‘You’re going to be a daddy!�
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  ‘What timing! What a clever baby he’s going to be!’

  Singing, and laughing at everything and anything, they planned the next stage of their adventure as the little van bowled along the road to Cardiff.

  ‘Annette is missing!’ Dorothy burst into the shop one morning waving a letter. ‘She isn’t at Barlow House and she lied about coming home for her birthday.’

  As Ada ran to get brandy for the distraught woman, Cecily hurriedly served the few customers waiting, hurrying them out and ignoring their curious questions.

  ‘Dorothy, haven’t you any idea where she might be?’

  ‘All I know is that she wrote telling me she couldn’t get home for her birthday, when I promised to talk to her about coming back for good. She told them she was coming home.’ She handed Cecily the letter and took the glass Ada was offering. ‘What shall I do?’

  ‘The police? Have you told them?’

  ‘Of course. They think she planned it.’

  ‘It does seem that way,’ Cecily said hesitantly. ‘Is there a boyfriend?’

  ‘No, indeed there is not! I told them to keep a strict eye on her. She never went out alone.’

  ‘Poor girl,’ Ada muttered.

  ‘Never?’ Cecily asked.

  ‘Well, only to church. I was glad of that, but she was never home a minute later than promised.’

  ‘Every week?’

  ‘Not at first. She’s been going regularly since.’

  Ada and Cecily looked at each other. They went into the shop to serve, leaving Dorothy sitting in the room behind the shop.

  ‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’ Cecily whispered.

  ‘That our Willie goes out every Sunday and last week he borrowed the van.’

  ‘He wouldn’t! She wouldn’t!’

  ‘What shall we do? Tell Dorothy our suspicions?’

  ‘Best not. We’ll wait and see. We don’t want to get our Willie into trouble.’ Neither admitted it aloud but they both hoped Willie and Annette were together. They winked at each other, silently wishing the couple all the luck they needed.

  They jumped with guilt as Dorothy called plaintively, ‘Where’s that stable boy, Willie Morgan?’

  ‘Delivering orders over the beach.’

  ‘He might know something. He once had high-faluting ideas above his station and thought he could marry Annette.’

  ‘Go home, and we’ll ask him when he gets back,’ Ada said, her tone suggesting it would be a waste of time, but Dorothy didn’t move.

  When Willie returned, whistling cheerfully, Dorothy was still there. ‘Good morning, Mrs Owen.’

  ‘You haven’t heard from Annette, I suppose?’ Dorothy asked, then she looked at his clothes and his grubby hands and shook her head. ‘No, of course you haven’t, what was I thinking about.’ So he was saved the problem of lying.

  ‘Willie, come in here, will you?’ Ada asked. ‘There’s a problem you might be able to help us with.’ She followed him through the shop and closed the door. ‘Annette is missing and her mother is worried frantic. I don’t suppose you know something about it?’

  ‘I only know she shouldn’t have been sent away. Unhappy she’d be up there, far away from her family and friends. If anything’s happened to her it will be her mother’s fault.’ He stalked out of the shop and into the yard without further comment. But when Ada went to see if he had loaded the second delivery, he was whistling cheerfully, and she frowned.

  Over the following days, more news filtered through. A van driver had stopped at Barlow House to ask directions for Brecon on that afternoon. There had been a heavy thunderstorm at the time and the man-servant was unable to tell the police the make of van or give a useful description of the driver. The search spread to Brecon and the villages around but no trace of the van or its driver were found.

  ‘Does Willie ever use the van?’ Dorothy asked one day.

  ‘Sometimes, not often. Only when he has to buy wood for his furniture-making. The wood yards don’t open on Sundays, do they?’ she added innocently.

  The sisters were not certain if Willie was involved. They preferred not to know, so they didn’t ask. They decided that it was unlikely, as he would have surely put Dorothy out of her misery by at least telling her Annette was safe.

  The police asked Willie a few questions and he admitted to taking the van out for a joy-ride sometimes.

  ‘To Barlow House?’

  ‘Where’s it to?’ Willie asked vaguely.

  ‘Fond of cycling, are you?’

  ‘Now and then, like. It’s a need to get out of town and find a bit of peace and quiet, more than the effort of pushing the pedals around. I don’t go far, just for some quiet.’ Willie seemed open and honest, if slightly less bright and well spoken than usual, and unperturbed by the questions. He did feel guilty about Dorothy’s worries but he couldn’t risk her finding out where Annette was, and ruining their happiness a second time.

  It was Dorothy’s idea that they should call on Willie’s mother and her new husband. She forced the address out of Gladys Davies, who tearfully told Ada what she had done. This was a Friday evening and Willie was on his bike as soon as the news reached him, via Ada. It was late at night when he reached his mother’s house and the place was in darkness. His legs were trembling with the effort of the fast journey when he dismounted at the gate.

  The back door was never locked and he went in and straight up to where Annette was curled up fast asleep.

  ‘Wake up, love, they’ve guessed where you are.’ He threw her things into a bag and together they crept down the stairs and out of the house. As they turned the corner, pushing the bike which was loaded with her belongings, a van pulled up outside the house.

  They stayed the night at a boarding house, a small, insignificant place in the poorer part of the town and the following morning arrived, rather more bedraggled than either had hoped, at the register office for their appointment to become man and wife.

  Willie’s family were there and, as a surprise for Annette, the tall, sturdy figure of Peter Marshall was beside them. He opened his arms wide and hugged them both.

  ‘Thank you for inviting me to share this joyful occasion with you. I’m standing proxy for the many others who’d be here to wish you luck if things had allowed.’ He handed them an envelope containing two five pound notes and insisted that today he had the right to kiss the most beautiful and radiant bride he’d seen in years. ‘Can I ask what your plans are for the rest of the day?’ he asked when the brief ceremony was over.

  ‘Home. I’m taking Annette to our home.’

  ‘Then let me drive you.’

  They sat in the back of Peter’s car and smiled at each other, holding hands, as the houses of Cardiff made way for fields and occasional villages, then the outskirts of their home town as they headed for the neat, white cottage and the beginning of a life together.

  They stepped inside, where everything was neat and orderly, with the new curtains, chosen by Annette so long ago. The fire was lit and the heavy black kettle was humming a welcome. Willie took her upstairs to where he had already started making the second bedroom into a room for the baby, due in the autumn.

  An hour later, Willie left her to examine everything and admire the furniture he and Danny had made. Having discarded his bicycle in Cardiff, he walked to the shop to explain his absence.

  Dorothy was there discussing the latest news with Cecily. Willie was whistling as he walked through to the yard and stables and into the house.

  ‘Willie, at last. Where have you been? We were beginning to think you’d disappeared, like Annette.’

  ‘Annette? She hasn’t disappeared, she’s home, where she belongs.’

  Dorothy jumped up. ‘What have you been doing to her? I must get home to her. The police will hear about this – this – kidnap!’

  ‘Not your home, Mother-in-law, our home. Annette and I are married and she’s expecting our first baby.’

  Willie stood smiling as the three wome
n began talking at once. Ignoring their questions and looking from one to the other as if they were specimens from a strange race, he walked to the door. ‘Better get on then, these orders will be late and I don’t expect young David has dealt with many.’

  ‘Willie!, Cecily said in exasperation.

  ‘Oh,’ he said, turning back to face them again. ‘You’re all invited to tea on Sunday. Right?’

  ‘I’ll give you tea! I’m telling the police,’ Dorothy shouted.

  ‘I’ve already told them you knew all about it and they might be questioning you about wasting their time,’ was his parting shot.

  Dorothy soon accepted the situation, although she found it impossible to be civil to Willie. She gave out news of her daughter’s wedding as if she had been the confidant of the couple’s need for a ceremony and by twisting the facts implied that the whole romantic affair had been stage managed by her. Willie called her Mother-in-law and treated her with respect but with an attitude of superiority that infuriated her.

  ‘A stable boy,’ she wailed. ‘After all my dreams of a good match for her, she marries a stable boy.’

  Ada lost her temper. They had put up with this for long enough. ‘Stop calling him a stable boy!’ she shouted and Dorothy looked at her in alarm. ‘We haven’t had horses for ages, so how can he be? And besides, don’t you realize what a remarkable man he is? He owns his house and another, and he’s buying a third.’

  ‘A twll of a place this latest one is too.’

  ‘It’s in need of repairs that he can do with ease,’ Cecily interrupted. ‘He also spends his spare time – and we don’t give him much – making furniture with Danny Preston. Furniture the best shops are glad to sell for them. How can you pretend to be better than him? What have you done, compared with that boy?’