‘Careful,’ William said as he switched off the hall light, ‘we don’t want to have to sell the ring to pay a twenty-five-bob fine.’
‘Any more talk about nun’s underwear and there won’t be an engagement.’
‘Skirts, not underwear. You didn’t really tell your father I was out to seduce you, did you?’
‘I didn’t have to, he suspected it all along.’
‘Someone should enlighten him on the differences between Welsh and Italian boys’ intentions. Ours are strictly honourable.’ Scooping the vast folds of the blackout curtain into his arms he finally managed to shut the door.
‘What if your mother doesn’t like me?’
‘Unlike your father, my mother likes everyone.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I’ve been talking to Trevor.’
‘Papa gave him a rough time over Laura, but then she was the first one of us to get married. I think Papa just doesn’t like the idea of any of us growing up.’
‘Ronnie was heading for thirty when he married.’
‘But Maud was only sixteen, and it wasn’t long after Trevor and Laura. There hadn’t been enough time for Papa to calm down.’
‘Trevor’s a doctor. Compared to him, what prospects have I got to offer? Not even a steady job after Monday.’
‘Charlie will keep your job open for you.’
‘Charlie might not be able to keep the shop open for himself if rationing gets any worse,’ he prophesied gloomily. He helped her off with her coat, shouting, ‘It’s only me,’ before leading her to the back kitchen.
It was warm, bright and cheerful after the damp, dark hill. Megan was sitting in Evan’s chair, Bethan at the table beside her nursing her baby. Phyllis was bustling around making tea and, judging by the splashes coming from the wash-house, Evan was bathing after his shift down the pit. There was no sign of Diana.
‘It’s good to see you, Tina. Come and sit down,’ Megan said as soon as the initial greetings were over.
‘You’ll have a cup of tea and something to eat, Tina?’ Phyllis offered.
‘I could murder a cup of tea, but we’d better not eat.’ She glanced slyly at William. ‘I promised my mother we’d have tea in our house.’
‘No doubt your father’s got me down for the first course.’
‘Sliced, battered and fried,’ Tina agreed. ‘It’s good to see you home, Mrs Powell.’
‘It’s good to be home. What’s this I hear about you and my Will?’
‘It’ll come to nothing if her father doesn’t like me.’ William crouched beside Bethan and poked his finger into the shawl-wrapped bundle on her lap.
‘This isn’t the great confident William Powell I used to know.’ Bethan pulled back the shawl to reveal a tiny, scrunched face and a mop of reddish brown hair partially hidden beneath a bonnet.
‘You know what he did to Trevor, and he threw Ronnie out of the house.’
‘Trevor was still alive the last time I looked, and so are Ronnie and Maud,’ Bethan reassured him.
‘I suppose I’d better wash and change. Sackcloth and ashes do?’ he asked Tina.
‘You sure you know what you’re doing?’ Bethan asked Tina after William had disappeared through the wash-house door.
‘I think there’s possibilities for improvement there,’ she said with mock gravity. ‘Mind you, I’ll be careful to keep him on a tight rein.’
‘I’m glad you’ve decided to wait until the war’s over before getting married, love.’ Megan reached over and took the baby from Bethan.
‘That’s William’s doing, not mine,’ Tina confessed. ‘I’d marry him tomorrow.’
‘If you do, you’ll avoid all the rows people usually have in the first year of married’ life,’ Bethan said practically.
‘How’s my granddaughter?’ Evan asked as he walked in, his face scrubbed pink.
‘Angelic, but then what do you expect with the mother she’s got.’ The front door opened and closed.
‘Diana?’ Evan asked.
‘No,’ Megan replied, a small frown creasing her forehead. ‘She sent a message up with Roberto Ronconi to say she’s stocktaking for Wyn and she’ll be home late.’
‘My brother’s really upset that it’s over between them,’ Tina contributed clumsily.
‘It could be just a lover’s tiff,’ Bethan said kindly.
‘I don’t think so.’ Megan lifted the baby on to her shoulder and rubbed her back. ‘But then Tony and Diana are very young.’
‘And they haven’t been courting anywhere near as long as Will and I’
‘They didn’t start in infants’ school, if that’s what you mean,’ Megan laughed.
The doors to the wash-house and passage opened simultaneously and Andrew walked in the same time as a spruced-up William. Bethan looked at her husband and William sensed the whole room lighting up. Registering the look on Andrew’s face he suffered an uncharacteristic pang of envy. It must be absolutely marvellous to look into someone else’s eyes and know their thoughts, as Andrew and Bethan so clearly did. He wondered when, if ever, that kind of intimacy would develop between him and Tina.
‘Hello, beautiful.’ Andrew walked over to Megan and planted a kiss on his daughter’s cheek.
‘See what I mean?’ Bethan complained to Megan. ‘All the books warn wives not to exclude their husbands from the family circle when the baby arrives. But this husband of mine totally ignores me in favour of Rachel.’
‘You’ve got to admit, she’s far less demanding than you,’ Andrew grinned. ‘It’s good to see you home, Megan. Sorry I didn’t have time to come in this morning.’
‘Bethan said you had ward rounds.’
‘And an endless queue of patients. This war has flushed out every hypochondriac in town, not to mention doting mothers who clog up the surgery asking how ill their sons have to be to avoid the call-up.’
‘You can’t blame them for wanting to hang on to what they’ve got,’ Megan said softly. ‘Not after last time. It cost Pontypridd dear.’
‘That depends on whether they’re worth hanging on to. Some of the darlings I saw this morning are liabilities, even for their mothers.’ He turned to William: ‘You’re dressed like a dog’s dinner.’
‘William’s braving Papa Ronconi to ask for Tina’s hand,’ Bethan announced.
‘Can I shake your hand while it’s still dangling from the end of your wrist?’
‘Very funny.’
‘Hope you get off lighter than Trevor, but then you’ve picked a good time. I think Papa Ronconi might be in a good mood now there’s imminent prospect of a grandchild.’
‘Laura’s in labour?’ Bethan asked eagerly.
‘Not exactly.’
‘First time I’ve heard of a woman being “not exactly” in labour,’ Megan observed.
‘Trevor is planning on taking her for a bumpy ride in his car up Graigwen Hill to Llanwonno and back. He asked if you’d be around if he needed a midwife.’
‘Of course I will.’
‘Tea, Andrew?’ Phyllis asked.
‘Have I got time?’ He looked at Bethan.
‘All the time in the world, but if Trevor telephones to say they need me when we get home, it means you’re going to have to take over your daughter.’
‘Any time.’ He tickled Rachel’s toes. ‘Yes please, Phyllis, now that no one wants me to do anything for five minutes, tea would be wonderful.’ He sank down on the chair opposite Megan. ‘You don’t have to worry about the boys, they’ll be all right,’ he said, reading the look on her face.
‘I wish I had your confidence.’
‘Don’t forget they’ve got Eddie waiting in the regiment to look after them, and,’ he rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, ‘no Nazi in his right mind will go near that one.’
Everyone burst out laughing. Eddie had knocked out Andrew when he’d been courting Bethan.
‘More tea?’ Phyllis asked Tina and William.
‘No, thank you,’ Tina answ
ered. ‘It’s time we were on our way.’
‘You’ll let us know what happens?’ Bethan asked.
‘If I live,’ William replied as he and Tina went out.
Constable Huw Davies plodded slowly up the Graig hill. The standard, police-issue blackout torch dangled unlit in his hand. He’d been walking the beat in Pontypridd for close on twenty-five years, and knew every lamp-post, every pothole and every loose paving slab.
As he drew alongside the shops in High Street he checked the windows for small yellow lines that might signal an infringement of lighting regulations. He liked to do the rounds ahead of the duty ARP wardens; they thought nothing of reporting the tiniest ray escaping from a scratch in the line of black paint most of the householders had edged their panes with, whereas he found a warning was generally more than enough to black out a house whose occupants would be hard-pressed to find the twenty-two-shilling-plus fine the magistrates invariably imposed. As he reached the first shop he tested the lock. He had found the tobacconist’s door open once, and two wide boys from Treforest hiding under the counter. He was kind-hearted, but not gullible, and the cock and bull story they had told him about searching for a lost cat had hastened their appearance before the town magistrate.
Satisfied that everything was sound and secure he went whistling on his way.
Diana heard her uncle’s whistle and drew comfort from the familiar sound. She was curled into a corner behind the counter of the sweet shop, her back to the shelves, an untouched pastie from Ronconi’s in front of her. She looked down at the book in her hand and turned the page. She hadn’t a clue what the book was about or even why she was going through the motions of pretending to read it. She couldn’t remember a single word on the page she’d flipped over, but hiding away was better than facing people, even kind, well-meaning ones like her mother and brother. How could she even begin to explain to them that her life was over? That she’d forfeited all right to happiness and a normal life; that she’d brought nothing but shame down on to the head of everyone who’d ever loved her.
Chapter Five
William’s nerves were stretched to breaking point by the time he and Tina had negotiated the short cut between Illtyd Street and Danycoedcae Road. He tripped over the kerb as he left the rough ground for the street, and, in putting his hands out to save his clothes, managed to ingrain his palms with gravel and coat his fingers with thick, sticky mud.
‘Just practising my grovelling,’ he said as Tina accidentally walked into him.
‘From my point of view I’d rather you did it in the light.’
He hauled himself to his feet, only just resisting the temptation to wipe his hands on his trousers. ‘I suppose you’ll expect me to wash before I shake your father’s hand?’
‘It might be an idea.’ Now that they were drawing close to her house, he could detect traces of nervousness in her voice that matched his own. He hung back, holding his hands stiffly away from his clothes as she opened her front door. He tried to remember what Eddie had said about his most fearsome boxing opponents: ‘They’re only men. Like us they put their vests on over their heads, haul their trousers over their bums and unbutton their braces to go to the ty bach.’ Crude but effective.
‘Are you going to stand there all night?’ Tina’s voice was muffled by the inevitable blackout.
‘You’d better switch off the passage light and hold back the curtain, I don’t want to get it dirty.’
‘I haven’t switched the light on. It’s us – Tina and William,’ she shouted. ‘William’s coming through to the back, he fell over and needs to wash his hands.’
‘Now they’ll think I’m clumsy as well as stupid.’
‘No one thinks you’re stupid,’ she retorted irritably as she closed the door.
‘Yes we do,’ came a disembodied chorus of voices.
Tina switched on the light. Sitting on the stairs were her two youngest brothers, Alfredo and Roberto, in front of them her three younger sisters, Theresa, Stephania and Maria, and all of them were staring at William with critical, dark eyes.
‘Only a stupid man would moon over a girl like you,’ twelve-year-old Alfredo declared flatly.
Wyn Rees waited until the main film had run for ten minutes after the interval before closing his confectionery booth in the New Theatre. He checked the money in the till, separating the takings from the float which would be returned to the cash drawer the following morning. Bagging the coins into two canvas bags he pocketed them, then scanned his depleted shelves. His stock was running pitifully low. Two more nights at this rate of sale and he’d have nothing left, and no means of replacing it. Life was so unfair. It had been a struggle to keep the business ticking over during the depression, then, just as the pits had reopened putting money back into the miners’ pockets and increasing trade levels, the war had to break, bringing a rationing that threatened to bankrupt him if he didn’t diversify into something else – and soon.
The question was, what to sell that wasn’t rationed? It was a problem that was beginning to preoccupy not only him, but every trader in Pontypridd. He glanced at the half-empty boxes that were left. He may as well go up to the shop in High Street now, and check on what remained rather than leave it until the morning.
After locking the kiosk he walked around the corner to the Old Tram Road where he had parked his van. Was there really any point in shuttling stock between the two shops? Perhaps it would be as well to wait until one or the other ran out, and close that one first. Then, with only one shop to run, there was nothing to stop him handing it over to Diana’s care and joining up. The thought was an attractive one. Life with his increasingly cantankerous father and put-upon sister was no picnic, and he’d have the dubious consolation of doing something for his country if he was in the army. But he had the niggling feeling that army life would be even worse than civilian for a man like him.
Straining his eyes into the darkness, he drove the short distance to High Street. Why did night always bring memories of his friend who had gassed himself? Was death like this, a conscious darkness? Or did suicides writhe in a specially constructed, torturous hell reserved for self-murderers as the officiating minister at the funeral had assured the mourners? He didn’t want to believe it. His friend had encountered enough of a hell on earth from his unforgiving father and the people of Pontypridd without burning after death. If there was a God, and sometimes he wondered, wherever his lover was, he’d be at peace.
He pulled up outside the shop in High Street, left the van, and unlocked the door. To his amazement, light flooded out when he pushed back the curtain.
‘Diana?’ he called out uncertainly as he pulled-the curtain swiftly over the door. He stepped inside looking for signs of a burglary.
‘I’m here, Wyn.’
He looked over the counter, watching as she struggled to her feet.
‘What are you doing here at this time of night?’
‘Nothing.’ Averting her eyes, she went to the stockroom to get her coat.
He glanced at the floor where she’d been sitting and saw the pastie and book. ‘It didn’t work out between you and Tony, then?’
She left the stockroom in tears. He embraced her clumsily, pulling her head down on to his chest. ‘It’s not the end of the world. You’ve been through worse than this and survived. Come on, you’re frozen stiff. Put your coat on and I’ll take you home.’
‘No!’ she protested forcefully, between harsh, rasping sobs.
‘You can’t sleep here, you’ll catch your death of cold.’ Taking her coat from her, he wrapped it around her shoulders. Forgetting the stock he’d intended to ferry down to the other shop he led her to the door.
‘I won’t go home …’
‘I’ll take you somewhere else.’
‘I’m not going to your house.’
‘No.’ He smiled at the thought of what his father might say if he brought Diana in her present state into the house. ‘We’re going for a drive to give you a chance to pull
yourself together, then I’m going to buy you supper.’
‘I can’t go anywhere looking like this.’ She rubbed her eyes with a grubby handkerchief she’d found in her coat pocket.
‘You can eat fish and chips in the van.’ He switched off the light and opened the door. ‘And I’m not taking no for an answer.’
The silence was intense enough to send buzzing noises through William’s head. Mr Ronconi sat at the head of the table; Mrs Ronconi closest to the range so she could serve everyone with ease. William had been placed at her right hand, Tina on her father’s left, and in between five pairs of round, black eyes stared solemnly over the edge of the table scrutinising William, while everyone crunched on the crackling of the leg of pork Mrs Ronconi had bought for the occasion. Aware of the sacrifice of the family’s ration coupons in his honour, William took as sparing a portion of the meat as Mrs Ronconi would allow.
Used to the banter around his uncle’s table, he found the silence imposed at mealtimes by Tina’s father, disconcerting.
‘More mashed potatoes, William?’
‘No, thank you,’ he replied politely, choking on nerves and a dry throat.
‘Mama’s mashed potatoes are very special.’ Tina handed the dish down the table with a sickly sweet smile. He obediently heaped spoonfuls he didn’t want on to his plate.
‘Gravy?’
He could quite cheerfully have taken the jug from Tina and poured it over her head.
‘No, thank you.’
‘You can’t eat potatoes dry.’ Theresa took the jug from Tina and splashed gravy on his plate until it overflowed on to his trousers. ‘I am sorry, I’ll mop it up.’
‘I’ll do it.’ Tina ran out of the back kitchen into the wash-house and fetched a tea towel.
‘Tina!’ Mr Ronconi’s warning voice boomed before her hand touched William’s trousers.
‘I’ll do it.’ William took the towel from Tina, laid it over the puddle of gravy on his lap and hobbled out to the stone sink. He ran the tap and dabbed at the stain, wondering what he was doing in the Ronconis’, apart from getting thoroughly embarrassed. He should have kissed Tina goodbye and cleared off to the Guards, then when the war was over he could have come back and married her. Just like that. No poncing about with permission and family inspections. Just a quick ceremony in a registry office and a long honeymoon.
Pontypridd 05 - Such Sweet Sorrow Page 8