Goodbye to Dreams

by Grace Thompson

  Ada was putting out the barrels and sacks of animal feed and he helped her. Then he shook his head when she offered him breakfast.

  ‘No, I’m going away for a while,’ he told her.

  ‘Going away? Where?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I’ll just drive where the fancy takes me.’

  Willie came in then and overheard him. ‘If you’re passing through Cardiff, call on Mam and the girls. They love visitors.’ He reached into his pocket for his order book and wrote out her address. Peter took it, thanked him and was leaving when Cecily appeared.

  ‘Peter? Did I hear you say you’re leaving?’

  ‘Just a little break before the season starts.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I’m telling you now.’ He smiled and turned to go.

  ‘Come on, Peter, you haven’t just thought of this. You must have known for ages so why didn’t you say anything?’

  ‘It was a sudden decision.’

  ‘How sudden? You saw me.’ She looked at him curiously. ‘Was that when you decided? When you saw me with Danny?’

  ‘It isn’t my business.’

  ‘I ran out of petrol and Danny was passing and—’

  ‘Danny told me what happened,’ Willie said. ‘How embarrassing, you forgetting to lift the brake and pretending you hadn’t an’ all!’

  ‘Willie, he shouldn’t have told you that.’ Willie and Ada were laughing and Peter hurried away.

  ‘I’ll check on the places from time to time to make sure all is well,’ Willie promised, shouting after his departing figure.

  Cecily was upset and shocked by the suddenness of Peter’s departure. He must have presumed she and Danny were seeing each other and although he was right and it wasn’t his business, she wanted it to be. She wanted him to be a friend who cared; cared a lot.

  Van and Edwin had a secret. They had escaped from parental care and gone out at night and wandered around the lanes looking for Horse and his wife. They found them hiding in a corner of a yard not far from the docks road. It was Horse’s cough that helped them to locate him and while they talked to him, his wife returned with a meal of sausages which they cooked on a paraffin stove. The smell of them cooking made the children hungry but they refused a share.

  ‘What will you do if you’re thrown out of here?’ Edwin asked. ‘I wouldn’t know what to do if I didn’t have Mam and Dad to run home to.’

  ‘There’s always a place to sleep. Some better than this, others a lot worse.’

  Horse entertained them with stories of the various nights they had spent sleeping in rooms and sheds and barns and being chased off by landlords, farmers and shopkeepers. He made it sound like fun. Van laughed but Edwin, always more serious, wanted to know more about how they survived.

  ‘The thing is,’ he told them, ‘Myfanwy and I worry about you both and we want you to know—’ He stopped to allow Van to finish.

  ‘We’ll unlock the stable door every night and you can go in if you haven’t anywhere better.’

  ‘But your aunties won’t like that.’

  ‘They won’t know. It’s just an emergency, for when you have to sleep in places like this.’ Van’s face curled with disapproval. ‘As long as you don’t stay too late in the morning and Willie finds you, you’ll be safe and you can go there any time.’

  Edwin saw Van safely back to the stable and watched her go in, giggling and blowing him a kiss. Then he went home and slipped through the hedge and in through the back door and up the stairs without his parents being aware of his absence. He didn’t quite approve of what they had done, but Van’s enthusiasm was sometimes impossible to resist.

  The stable with its assortment of filled and empty boxes was a palace compared with many of the places Horse and his wife had used in the past and after one night, it was unthinkable of moving to a place with less comfort. They made their way there every evening, making sure they were out with all their bedraggled belongings before Willie arrived at eight.

  Sometimes Van crept down to see them, opening the door from the yard and calling to let them know it was she and not one of the aunties. Sometimes she brought food and stayed to have a midnight picnic even though it was only nine o’clock and the gas-light was still showing from the living room behind the shop. Her secret made her smile a lot and if Cecily and Ada noticed her improved humour they didn’t ask themselves why, but just hoped it would continue.

  At night, once the sisters were in bed, Horse lit a fire. He built it from the paper, cardboard and wood lying around, close to the small exit door where the smoke would escape into the lane.

  Steam rose from their damp clothes and the warmth gave them a joy that few would understand. It was sheer luxury; the warmth, the heat, the cheerful glow, flickering flames and fascinating shadows. Things they hadn’t seen, apart from in their dreams, for many years.

  After a week, Horse’s wife dared to light the paraffin cooker which they carried in one of their bags, and warmed a tin of soup, and as they became braver they cooked eggs or sausages and put some for the kittens to find in the morning.

  Gareth’s mother was a constant irritation to him but this was too much. She was constantly asking if it was his intention to marry Rhonwen, reminding him that she was a widow and had a daughter who might not like having a stepfather. Many times he had explained that at present and in the near future he wasn’t in a position to marry anyone and that he and Rhonwen were good friends. She still continued to ask. Her friends were questioning her and she wanted to be able to tell them the news and enjoy the congratulations, boast about the wonderful plans for a high-class wedding. For Gareth it had reached the stage when he simply refused to answer her repeated questions.

  He and Rhonwen were meeting regularly, usually with Rhonwen’s daughter Marged too. They went to the pictures, for walks and bus rides and on the train into Cardiff where they visited the museum and the parks. One day after another argument with his mother he closed the shop without telling her – although he hoped she wouldn’t find out – then took Rhonwen and Marged to Cardiff for the day, filled with proud defiance. They had lunch at Marged’s favourite cafe out of doors near the Cardiff market then to the market itself. After looking around the busy colourful stalls they went upstairs where pets were sold and Marged stared longingly at the kittens.

  Gareth looked questioningly at Rhonwen, who sadly shook her head. She promised her daughter that one day they would have a kitten, but not yet. ‘Not while I’m working,’ she explained. ‘It wouldn’t be fair on the little creature.’

  Gareth thought it might be the day to ask or at least hint about asking Rhonwen to marry him, but he put the thought aside. He was saving for something very important, something that would improve their future. Best he didn’t discuss it, though, in case someone heard and ruined his plan.

  Now was not the time. He wanted to buy the other side of the shop called The Wedge and extend his business, take on a second hairdresser and then he’d be financially secure. He hurried them past the jewellers to make sure Rhonwen didn’t think he was showing an interest in the glittering rings on display.

  A few days later he became aware of half-smiling glances and a few innuendoes about married men and engagement rings. He took the opportunity of seeing Johnny Fowler to ask if he’d heard any strange rumours. Taxi drivers heard all sorts of gossip from the driving seat of their cab.

  ‘About what?’ Johnny asked, grinning widely.

  ‘Well,’ Gareth waved an arm vaguely, ‘there’s some talk about an engagement. Definitely not mine. I just wondered if it’s someone I know.’

  ‘Come on, Gareth, everyone knows you and Rhonwen are getting married. Your secret’s out. Your mam told my mam and it’s reported in every parlour and tea room in the town. Everyone’s saying, “Someone’s caught Gareth Price-Jones at last.”’

  ‘It isn’t true! Mam’s making it up. Short of gossip she is so she makes it up. Please, Johnny, tell everyone you see, tell them it’s not
true.’

  ‘It’s a bit late for that, boy. Dates are being discussed and engagement gifts chosen.’

  Gareth didn’t go home. He had no concern for the wasted dinner and prepared no words of apology for being late. He wasn’t sure that he’d go home at all. He went to a hotel where they served meals and using the day’s takings and money from his pocket he ate well and drank well and was feeling happy and defiant when he left. He still didn’t go home. He had to wait until his mother was in bed or he’d completely lose his temper.

  Besides making him look foolish, she had almost certainly ruined the lovely friendship between himself and Rhonwen. I would have married her, he thought, but now, with rumours and denials, she would probably avoid him. The humiliation was hers to suffer too.

  He refused to speak to his mother all that day and avoided Rhonwen too. When he closed the shop he went to a restaurant for a meal, ignoring his mother’s plea for him to eat the favourite meal she had made, and then went to the pictures. He stayed until the show – two films, the news and a couple of short items – had been around twice and finally, when the programme ended and ‘God Save The King’ had been sung, he left and went over to the beach.

  There were few people about. The place was silent, his footsteps echoing around the empty buildings, and the occasional bus drifted past with few passengers. Still unwilling to go home, and thinking of Rhonwen and Marged, he stood for a long time looking across the docks, lights showing the outlines of ships large and small, and wanted to leap onto one and be taken far away.

  Outside Owen’s shop, Gareth watched as the lights were dimmed. When all the lights were out he still stood there. He didn’t want to go home. Life was such a mess and it was all due to his interfering mother. It was almost midnight, and still reluctant to reach his destination he walked away via the lanes, the longest way, and it was then that he smelled smoke. An investigation led him to the stables at the back of the shop and he ran to the front and banged on the shop door. Ada answered it, in her dressing gown and with curlers in her hair.

  ‘Gareth! Whatever is it?’

  ‘Grab a coat and get out – there’s a fire,’ he shouted. He ran to the stairs and called anxiously for Cecily to wake Van and do the same.

  ‘Where?’ Ada asked. ‘There’s no sign of it here. The living-room fire’s out and the one upstairs was damped down with tea leaves.’

  ‘Don’t argue! I’m going for the fire engine. Just get out and wait across the road till I get back. Wrap Van up warmly, mind, and wait there. Right?’

  Cecily came down and although they couldn’t see a sign of a fire they began to smell smoke. Cecily woke Jack next door and sent him to tell Danny and Willie. She didn’t feel able to phone Peter since their recent uneasiness with each other. They crossed the road to where lights were appearing and neighbours were coming out onto the pavement dressed in an odd assortment of clothes and blankets. Willie came and banged on the door of the shop adjoining theirs before going to investigate. He quickly realized that the source of the fire was the stable.

  Cecily and Ada hugged Van, all were shivering mainly with fright. A scream from Van chilled their blood and Cecily and Ada stared at each other for a long moment as the girl pushed herself free of them and ran across the road. They raced after her as she tried to get back into the shop and was being stopped by the couple from the shop next door.

  ‘Horse!’ she screamed. ‘Horse and Honoria! They’re in the stable!’

  ‘What are you talking about? Who’s Honoria?’ The sisters held her as she struggled to go through the door.

  Willie held her shoulders and demanded, ‘Stop screaming and tell me what you mean? Is Horse in the stable? What’s he doing there? How did he get in?’

  ‘I left the door open for them,’ she sobbed.

  He didn’t wait for any more and as the sound of the fire engine was heard approaching, he ran through the shop and out into the yard.

  Jack followed and as the first fireman entered and quickly followed, he shouted, ‘Give a bit of a squirt over my shop next door with them hoses, boy! All I’ve got is in there.’

  Annette sent a neighbour to tell her mother what was happening, even though it was the middle of the night. Dorothy woke Owen to tell him and he said, ‘Can I go there, Mam? The firemen will be there and lots will be helping, won’t they?’

  ‘You silly boy, of course you can’t go. Wonderfully brave of you to want to help, but I can’t let you go.’ Dorothy hugged him, overcome with pride at his offer of help for her sisters-in-law.

  ‘I don’t want to help,’ he said in surprise. ‘I want to see the fire engine.’

  She slapped him and sent him back to bed.

  The firemen organized themselves with a speed that amazed those watching. As the officer was asking Willie for as much information as he could give, the hoses were already being carried through the shop. Following instructions as well as directions from Willie, some checked the house and others opened the door and hoses were dragged across the yard. Before they saw Horse and his wife, hiding in a corner behind piles of wooden boxes, the water was pouring over the middle of the room where flames were engulfing the cardboard boxes and supplies of paper bags.

  The firemen went through the room swiftly and methodically, looking behind everything that could be hiding someone. They gave a shout when they found the couple cowering against the double gates that led out into the lane. They had been trying to get to the small gate set in the large ones to escape, but the fire was preventing them reaching it.

  One man picked up Horse’s little wife and another carried Horse and they hurried out of the burning building. Willie was told to leave but he stood outside, urging them to look to make sure there were no other uninvited guests sleeping there.

  Waldo had arrived, and Bertie was there with a sleepy Edwin, having been phoned by Willie. Gareth was outside the shop, insisting that Cecily, Ada and Van were to sleep at his mother’s house, assuring them that his mother would be glad to help them after such a frightening incident. They turned to look at Van but she wasn’t there.

  ‘I bet she’s gone back in for the kittens!’ Cecily said, and Willie went back into the house and ran up the stairs. He didn’t find Van but the two kittens were sleeping peacefully on her bed. Willie carried them down, placing them in a basket usually filled with potatoes. Ada had found Van sitting in the fish and chip shop cafe drinking pop, the two owners making tea and sandwiches for others.

  The sisters refused Gareth’s invitation, imagining the expression of pained tolerance on his mother’s face, and instead went back with Waldo and Melanie. They slept for a while but rose early and went to see what damage the shop had sustained. Apart from the smell of smoke and the mess caused by the people filling the place through the night hours there was no damage to the shop. It was too early to judge the state of the stable but Willie felt confident it was only clearing the debris and whitewash for the smoke damaged walls that was needed. The structure was unaffected.

  ‘Thank goodness Gareth couldn’t sleep,’ Cecily said. ‘We were so lucky he saw it so soon.’

  ‘He didn’t come,’ Ada said softly. ‘Danny didn’t bother to come. Willie told him but he didn’t come to help.’

  ‘He told Willie it wasn’t his problem and to ask someone else,’ Cecily said brightly. ‘Puts me in my place, doesn’t it?’

  They didn’t open the shop that day and as soon as they could they went to the hospital to see Horse and his wife, who Van insisted was called Honoria. ‘She hates the silly name,’ Van told them, ‘so he just calls her Wife.’

  Horse was unrecognizable and they had to ask which was his bed in the long ward with two rows of patients. He was shining clean, as though he had been scrubbed and polished. He wore a pale blue nightshirt and his hair had been cut into a neat short back and sides. Honoria was sitting in a chair beside him, her hair washed and brushed, her face as clean and as wrinkle-free as that of a baby, and they looked so angelic they might hav
e been born out of a fairy tale for children.

  They were full of remorse. ‘Don’t blame your Myfanwy,’ Honoria pleaded. ‘She was just being kind to us. We’ll never go there again, we promise, but don’t be cross with her, lovely girl she is, so kind.’

  Horse said nothing. He was breathing harshly but seemed comfortable in the unfamiliar cleanliness. Cecily decided to make some enquiries about his army service. ‘Perhaps he’s entitled to a pension,’ she suggested to Bertie later. Bertie promised to find out what he could.

  As the shop closed, the phone rang and Peter asked if they were all right. ‘I’ve just seen the news about the fire in the local paper. Are you all right? Is anyone hurt? Is Van safe? Is the house damaged? Why didn’t you ring me?’ he asked, not giving time for answers between the questions.

  ‘Peter, we have a meal ready, please come over and share it and we’ll tell you all about it.’

  Van began the explanation, admitting her part in the near tragedy.

  ‘They should never have agreed to what you offered without checking with Ada or Cecily first, so the blame isn’t yours,’ Peter told her.

  She looked defiant. ‘I did it because I felt sorry for them. I’m glad I let them stay.’

  ‘Lucky the kittens weren’t out there – they might not have survived,’ he told her seriously. ‘The smoke would have been enough to kill them. That’s the risk you took. Are you sure you aren’t sorry you didn’t check with Cecily or Ada?’

  ‘I wouldn’t let Penny and Pip sleep in the stable,’ she said defiantly, ‘even though she told me to.’ Glaring at her mother, she stroked the soft furry bodies purring beside her.

  Ada went to bed early and Cecily stayed talking to Peter.

  ‘I know I can’t be anything more than a friend, but Cecily, my dear, I always want to be the one you turn to whenever difficulties arise. You know how fond I am of you. I want you to promise that I’ll be the first person you call, every time you need help, whether it’s as serious as a fire or as trivial as not being able to open a jar of pickle!’