So many dreams. Where had they all gone? Had William found his damsel in Tina? She hoped so, especially now when she knew she would never find her knight.
‘I’m sorry you had to witness that.’ Wyn walked in, his face flushed from humiliation and the unnaturally high heat in the middle room. ‘It was a mistake to bring you here. Dad’s not himself…’
‘Really, it didn’t bother me,’ Diana broke in, wanting to save him embarrassment. ‘And I promise I won’t say a word, to anyone.’
‘Thank you.’ He pulled back one of the chairs from the table and sat close to where she was huddled on the hearthrug. ‘I’ve taken the coward’s way out and left Myrtle to it. She’s always been better than me at calming him down. She’ll join us when she can. In the meantime I think we should start.’
‘I couldn’t eat a thing.’
‘Myrtle will be offended if you don’t. Please,’ he pulled out a chair alongside his. ‘Tea?’ he picked up a potholder from the fireplace and lifted the kettle on to the fire.
‘Yes, please.’
‘Milk and two sugars?’
‘You remembered.’ She looked back to the fire, strangely reluctant to release the memories the flames evoked; almost as though the simple act of repeating a childhood pastime could roll back the years and restore the innocence and youth that Ben Springer had destroyed.
‘Looking for dragons?’
‘You know?’
‘When I was small I used to spend hours staring into the fire, imagining dragons living in the glowing caverns between the coals.’
‘And castles and beautiful ladies …’
‘And heroes in shining armour. So children aren’t that different after all?’
‘It doesn’t look like it.’
Myrtle must have boiled the kettle once already. It started hissing and Wyn reached for the teapot and caddy. Warming the pot with a splash of water that he poured into a slop bucket he spooned in tea-leaves and poured on the water. ‘To tell the truth, I’m glad in a way that you saw what you did. It’s going to make what I’m about to say easier. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for a few days. It’s not a spur of the moment decision, I’ve been thinking about it for some time.’ He paused for a moment and she turned away, afraid that he was about to ask her to marry him. Much as she valued and respected Wyn as a friend and boss, and wanted marriage, and a normal life with a husband and children, she knew that she could never be happy with him. Quite aside from the gossip, after what he’d said about loving the boy from Pwllgwaun, she realised life with him would be anything but normal.
He took her hands into his. ‘I won’t be offended if you say no, or want time to think about it, but I’d like you to take over the running of the business. I’m all too aware that what I’m asking is no small thing.’
‘But why?’ The notion of him abandoning the shops shocked her even more than a marriage proposal would have done. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘Join up.’
‘Wyn, how can you, your father needs you …’
‘My father needs nursing, and that’s woman’s work. There’s nothing I can do to help Myrtle on that score. You saw how he is with me. He hates me. I’ve always been a disappointment to him. I wish I could be the son he wanted, but I can’t and that’s an end to it. And no matter what I do, how much I try, all I ever succeed in doing is upsetting him. Every time I go near him he starts shouting, and it takes hours for Myrtle to calm him down. Please, Diana, just keep the shop running in the theatre with whatever stock you can get. The round will have to go, but since sugar’s been rationed I’ve practically nothing to sell anyway.’
‘What about the shop on the Graig hill?’
‘I’ll put it in the hands of a letting agency. I don’t think there’ll be any problem in renting it out. There’s no talk of vegetables being rationed and one or two of the market boys are looking to open up a greengrocer’s on the Graig. I know it means that you’ll be on your own, that you’ll have to make all the decisions about the shop and stocking it, and do the banking after you’ve taken your wages out of the takings, but I’ll increase your wages to match the responsibilities. What do you say?’
‘I think you’re mad to consider joining up.’
‘William and the Ronconi boys have.’
‘They’re mad too.’
‘Diana, this war isn’t going to last a few months, it’s going to last for years. I know nothing much is happening at the moment, but it soon will, and when it does, the army is going to need every man it can get.’
‘And because you’ve lost the person you loved, and you think no one else needs you, you’ve decided to be in the forefront when the killing starts?’ She looked up to see Myrtle standing in the doorway, a shocked expression on her tearstained face, a handkerchief clutched to her mouth.
‘I’ll be going whether you decide to run the business for me or not, Diana, and if you don’t, Myrtle may crack under the strain of trying to look after both my father and the shop.’
‘But you don’t have to go. You can wait until the call-up …’
‘As I said, I’ve been thinking about it for some time. I’m going to the recruiting office first thing in the morning, and I’d really appreciate an answer before I go. What is it to be?’
‘I’ll run your business,’ Diana said softly, but she was looking at Myrtle not at Wyn. If she had nothing to look forward to, Myrtle had even less. Besides, wasn’t Wyn offering her exactly what she needed? A business to throw all her energies into? If she could a run a shop successfully for him, one day she might be able to do it for herself.
‘I’ll walk down with you to the station in the morning and wave you off.’
‘No,’ William protested. ‘I’d rather say goodbye to you tonight.’
‘I’d settle for that, if I could think of somewhere private we could spend a couple of hours together.’ Tina shivered as they made their way across the deserted Tumble.
‘Cold?’ He put his arm around her and turned up the collar on her coat.
‘A bit,’ she admitted. ‘Come on, Will, there has to be somewhere we can go. Can’t you smuggle me into your house?’
‘My mother would have a fit.’
‘It looked like she, along with your uncle and Phyllis were settling into Charlie’s for the evening.’
‘Don’t you believe it. They won’t be far behind us. Phyllis won’t let Brian stay up late, and they’ve Bethan’s baby to look after as well, remember?’
‘And Angelo is sleeping in the café,’ she grumbled, looking back under the railway bridge at the shadow that was all that could be seen of the Tumble café. ‘But,’ she hooked her arm into his, ‘if we call in to see how Laura is doing, we might find out how long Mama and Papa are likely to be.’
‘Tony and all the others will be in your house.’
‘Sometimes I think you don’t want to be alone with me.’
‘If by that you mean I’m likely to lose my head, I’ll agree with you.’
‘The same way you lost it with Vera Collins?’
‘You promised you’d never mention her name again.’
‘I hate to think of you and her …’
‘It meant nothing.’ Drawing her close, he kissed her lightly, gently, as though she were so delicate that even the simple act of placing his lips on hers might hurt her. ‘Not like you and me,’ he whispered as he hugged her shoulders and carried on walking.
‘You’re a funny boy, William Powell.’
‘For getting engaged to you?’
‘That’s just one reason. Look, there’s two flashes of white running boards parked outside Laura’s house. That means Andrew’s still there. Let’s walk up and find out if I’m an auntie.’
‘You like babies?’
‘I hope I’ll like mine better than I’ve liked my brothers and sisters, but I must admit even most of them were all right until they started to talk and were able to answer back.’ She tapped quietly on Laura�
�s door before tentatively opening it. ‘Anyone around?’
‘In the kitchen,’ came an answering masculine cry.
‘You too.’ She pushed William ahead of her.
‘Not likely.’
‘Laura won’t be having the baby in the kitchen, stupid. Go on.’
William reluctantly walked down the passage and into the tiny kitchen. Mrs Ronconi was scrubbing the top of the already immaculate range with a blackleading brush. Mr Ronconi, Andrew and Trevor were sitting around the table, an untouched bottle of brandy and four glasses laid out in front of them.
‘If you’ve come to toast the baby’s health you’re in for a long wait,’ Trevor greeted them dolefully. ‘Bethan says it could be hours yet.’
‘Trust Laura to rush off and break up my engagement party for nothing,’ Tina complained.
‘The poor girl is having a dreadful time,’ Mrs Ronconi countered resentfully, ‘and all you can do is think of yourself.’
‘Tina was joking, Mama,’ Mr Ronconi cut in, all too aware of his wife’s ability to create a three-act drama out of a small crisis, let alone a birth. ‘Here,’ he handed Tina a bunch of keys. ‘These are Laura’s keys to all three cafés. You’d better keep them if you’re going to take over the Taff Street place tomorrow. In by six to supervise the pastrycook, and open by eight, mind you,’ he ordered. ‘And a good night’s sleep first, which means you take her straight home, young man.’
‘I will, Mr Ronconi.’
‘Don’t worry about a thing, Papa. And I’ll help Tony to put the little ones to bed.’
‘Check they wash behind their ears, clean their teeth and …’
‘Don’t worry, Mama,’ Tina kissed her mother’s cheek. ‘Tony and I will see to everything between us.
Give Laura my love, and tell her I’ll call in on my way to work tomorrow.’
‘If you do, you may find all of us in bed with exhaustion,’ Trevor griped.
‘One thing’s certain: Laura couldn’t look any worse than you.’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure of that if I were you,’ her mother disputed. ‘Men, they always get off lightly, they –’
‘Don’t worry, I think both father and mother will survive the experience,’ Andrew reassured her.
Hearing a sound upstairs, William backed down the passageway. Tina followed. She couldn’t wait to leave. She had a key to the café in High Street and it was only five minutes down the road. William couldn’t possibly object to stopping off there to make sure the premises were locked properly, could he?
The flat above the grocer’s shop on the corner of the Graig hill and Factory Lane was shrouded in silence, just as it was every Sunday evening. Jenny’s mother had returned from chapel and gone to bed early, not that she ever went late, and her father was drinking illicitly in the Morning Star next door, as he did every Sunday night. Even before the war the landlord had kept the back door open for regulars.
Jenny lay on her bed and listened hard. She could hear footsteps on the hill. William and Tina, perhaps? She closed her eyes tightly, trying to fight a tide of jealousy that she knew from bitter experience would do nothing to ease her own pain, or terrible sense of loss at Eddie’s absence.
It was ridiculous! When they had been together she hadn’t wanted him except as bait to make his brother Haydn jealous. And afterwards, when Haydn had made it plain that he no longer wanted her at any price and she had allowed Eddie to make love to her, it had been nothing more than lust. A burning, all-consuming passion that had driven all thoughts other than when, where and how they could arrange the next time, from her mind. She had learned the hard way that passion and sexual fulfilment, no matter how exciting or pleasurable, was no basis for marriage.
But at moments like this, when she was totally alone and had time to remember the small things, she suspected that for Eddie their relationship had been based on more than simply lust.
Closing her eyes she pictured the bruises on Eddie’s face and the gleam in his eye when he had asked her to marry him after the last boxing match he had fought in Pontypridd. The pride with which he had showed off the expensive engagement ring he had bought her to his family and friends. That one magic night when they had gone swimming without clothes in Shoni’s pond and made love – for what had turned out to be the last time. Because after Eddie had seen her kissing Haydn in the wedding reception in a way no bride should kiss a best man, there had been no more lovemaking.
She longed to be with him. Ached for the feel of his naked body against hers, the cool touch of his lips on her bare skin, the sheer strength of his physical presence; a glimpse of his dark brooding eyes that could magically lighten at a smile from her. His quiet, undemonstrative dependability, that would have been such a good quality in a husband, if only she had given him a chance to be one.
She picked up the writing pad and fountain pen from her bedside cabinet. She had persuaded William to stop off at the shop on his way down the hill in the morning. If Eddie was still in the Guards camp ‘somewhere in France’, and she had no reason to think otherwise, William had promised to find a soldier bound for the place. Someone reliable and trustworthy who would seek Eddie out, and put her letter in his hand.
She knew that Eddie had been given embarkation leave, because every soldier was given at least forty-eight hours free between training and active service, and it grieved her to think that Eddie had preferred to spend that precious time somewhere other than Pontypridd. But there had to be other leaves. There had to. And in the meantime there were letters that she could send – but could never be quite sure he received.
She clung to the hope that Eddie would feel duty bound to answer one that was put directly into his hand, although he hadn’t replied to the daily missives she had sent since his father had given her his address. She looked down at the writing pad and read what she had written for the tenth time, wondering if these particular words would elicit a response when so many others had failed.
She had tried to make her letter light, appealing, wanting to make him miss her, and more important still, return to Pontypridd for his next leave. She stared at the paper, trying to imagine him unfolding it for the very first time.
My darling husband,
I thought it would be easier once you finally left Pontypridd and there was no chance of my seeing you, but, if anything, I love and miss you more with every passing hour. I try to keep busy helping my father in the shop, but every time the bell clangs on the door I look up, knowing it won’t be you, yet hoping against all reason that it will. Please, Eddie, come back to Pontypridd the minute you have leave. I have saved some money, enough for us to stay at a hotel for two weeks, if you can get that long. Perhaps we could go to Cardiff, or Swansea, or Porthcawl or Barry Island? I know it won’t be like having a holiday in the summer, but it would be so wonderful if we could spend time together, just the two of us.
She stared at the words until they danced before her eyes. Should she mention their disastrous honeymoon, the quarrelling that had led him to punch his brother, Haydn, through a plate-glass window in a jealous rage? How much she wanted to make up for everything he had suffered on her account? Or should she plead with him to give her one more chance?
Everyone said that soldiers’ letters were censored. Did that mean the officers read the incoming as well as the outgoing mail? Picking up the pen again, she unscrewed the top and held it poised over the writing pad until a large blob of ink fell from the nib, disfiguring the creamy white paper. Eventually she began to write, quickly, instinctively, without thinking too hard about what she was saying, concentrating instead on an image of Eddie. But it was no use. Every time she succeeded in picturing his tall, hard, lean body, his dark curly hair and handsome, bruised boxer’s face, the image faded before she could imprint it on her mind. It was worse than trying to catch water in her fingers. Elusive, quick-tempered, impatient Eddie. No different in her imaginings than he was in life.
Of course if you want to stay in Pontypridd, I’ll u
nderstand. I’ll get rooms for us somewhere. I just want to be with you, wherever that is. Please my darling, write soon, let me know how you are and if you need anything that I can send. I have saved every penny of the army wife’s one pound thirteen shillings a week allowance, as my father is still paying me for working in the shop. It is surprising how it’s mounting up. I don’t want the war to last a day longer than it has to, but already between your money and what I’ve saved from my earnings, we have quite a bit set aside to put towards a home of our own. I wish you were here, Eddie so I could give you a great big kiss goodnight, and a whole lot more. I long to hold you in my arms…
She stopped writing … was it wrong for her to feel this way? No one had ever told her that a woman could want a man this much. Naked and in bed, the same way men were supposed to want women.
Please my darling come to me the minute you can,
Your ever loving wife, Jenny
She’d written from the heart, she could do no better. Resisting the temptation to read what she’d said, she etched a line of crosses beneath her name, pressed blotting paper over the page and folded it into an envelope. Now it was up to William – and Eddie. If only she could be sure he’d open the envelope and read every loving word.
‘Tina I don’t think we should do this. What if someone sees us?’
‘You know anyone who can see in the dark?’ she whispered as she fingered the keys and the lock, scraping metal on metal in an effort to home in on the right one.
‘I promised your father I’d take you straight home.’
‘We’re checking his property to make sure it’s safe.’
‘A constable or an air-raid warden could come …’
‘So what? I’ve every right to be in my own family’s café. Open Sesame!’ The door swung open and she stepped inside. ‘Come on, quick!’
He followed her, standing in darkness while she checked the blackout. Only when she was satisfied that all the drapes were drawn across the windows did she finally switch on the light.
‘There, want a cup of tea or something?’
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