“Not all evening!”
“Well, I walked about a bit, ’til nine. That’s when I got home.”
“Maggie Wilpin says different. She told me you and Barry walked up together and were talking outside the shop at eleven o’clock.”
“Well, that’s right, but I promised Barry I’d say nine so he won’t get a row from Rhiannon.”
“Oh yeh?”
“It’s true, Jack!”
* * *
Later that day, while Viv was trying to avoid being seen, hiding his bruised face behind ledgers and staying in the office above the shop floor, Jack returned. He ran up the stairs and Viv prepared himself for another blow.
“Before you start. I didn’t harm her,” he almost shouted. To his relief Jack held out a hand.
“Sorry, Viv, I was too angry to wait for a reason. I had to swipe someone. Sorry. Megan has assured us she didn’t recognise the man who attacked her.”
“Could it have been that Terry Jenkins?”
“Megan denies it. She insists she didn’t know the man and wants to forget it. She doesn’t want to go to the police and she refuses to see a doctor.”
“D’you think I can see her?”
“Looking like that you’d be a revival of her worse nightmares. Wait till your chops are less lumpy and the colour of your eye has toned down a bit, eh?”
“You did this!” Viv said angrily. “Used me for a punchball you did, to ease your anger. Damn it all, Jack. I should be going to the police and suing you!”
“I’ve said I’m sorry haven’t I? What more d’you want?”
“This!” Viv curled a punch that landed on Jack’s mouth and they both danced around in pain.
Honour satisfied, they went to The Railwayman’s for a pint and as many explanations for the bruises as they could invent.
* * *
Megan made Joan promise to tell no one about her fears of a pregnancy and although her sister pleaded with her, Megan said she would not see a doctor.
“I’ll just wait a while and see what happens. If there’s nothing wrong then I’d regret mentioning it to anyone. Besides, the doctor might been honour-bound to tell Mummy if I ask for a pregnancy test.”
“All right, but if you think there’s even the slightest chance that you’re expecting a baby you’ll tell me and we’ll go together. All right? Promise?”
Megan hugged Joan but she avoided making the promise. She would see this through herself. She would be strong, and cope with all the decisions and make sure she wasn’t forced into taking an action she would later regret.
Chapter Eleven
The anniversary of the accident that killed Lewis-boy Lewis and Joseph Martin was so near Christmas it made a mockery of mourning. Lewis went to the cemetery with Nia and again with Dora, Viv and Rhiannon keeping a secret from both women of his other visit. While crowds of people filled the florists ordering door wreaths as part of the preparations for Christmas, Lewis went twice to buy flowers for his sons’ graves.
Lewis and Dora’s son, Lewis-boy, had been killed in an accident in which Nia Martin’s son, Joseph, had also died. During the horror and grief of the deaths, Lewis had told his wife he was the father of both boys: Nia Martin had borne him a son at the same time as he and Dora had been celebrating the birth of Lewis-boy.
The deaths of the two young men had changed everything. From that time he had no longer been able to keep the parallel elements of his life apart. He couldn’t end the long-standing affair with Nia and Dora was unable to accept his double life. Even now, standing beside their son’s grave, Dora’s blue eyes glared as if with anger, hiding the sadness of the death that had coincided with the end of her marriage.
* * *
For Nia, that Christmas-time – which brought back painful memories of the tragedy – there was the addition of a birthday to consider. On the day of Gladys Weston’s party, she would be fifty. A time when she should be settled, instead of hovering on the edge of change.
Thankfully, her name had not been included on what she considered to be a very peculiar guest list. It included people with whom Gladys Weston would normally never share a room. Perhaps that dreadful business with her husband accused of arson and her son-in-law of fraud had turned her mind. Why else would she invite the Griffiths boys? She was unlikely to allow them to dance with her precious granddaughters!
The reason she was pleased not to have been included was that Lewis Lewis wasn’t going either and, as his wife was responsible for the evening’s food, she dared to hope they would be free to spend the evening together. Of all the people she loved, Lewis Lewis was the one whom she would choose to share it. She was fifty. She said it aloud and it had a doleful ring.
It was a sobering reminder of how far she had travelled along the allotted route to old age. It was no longer a day to be celebrated, but simply another milestone and best forgotten. Widowed from Carl Martin, she had been Lewis Lewis’s lover for well over twenty years and had given him a child, who had died exactly a year ago. Then moving to London and marrying poor dear Laurence Davies when Dora discovered their secret. Laurence was a hasty marriage, certainly repented at leisure. He had left her after a few months, unable to compete with the physically absent yet ever-present Lewis.
With just over a week to go before Christmas Day, her birthday was the end of a year and the end of the time in which she could consider herself young enough to forget about old age. At fifty she had to decide where she was going and who – if anyone – would travel with her.
She telephoned Lewis’s office and left a message that ‘Temptations’ needed him to call. Pointless really to indulge in the transparent subterfuge; everyone in the office knew about them and Temptations was in the area covered by Jimmy Herbert. The office girl was polite as she took the message but Nia thought sadly that once the receiver was replaced stifled giggles would pass from desk to desk. At fifty, the young girls would think her too old for more than a chaste kiss, she thought with increasing gloom.
* * *
That evening, after the Lewis family had eaten, Lewis made his excuses and went out. Dora didn’t even look up and certainly didn’t ask what time to expect him. She was poring over lists and prices, working out what to charge Mrs Weston for the food they were supplying. Lewis would have been a help with the estimations but this was something she needed to do for herself.
Thankful to have escaped without a row, Lewis drove to the flat for which he still paid rent, and joined Nia.
“It’s my birthday on Friday,” she told him.
“I know, you can’t catch me like that, my love. Have I ever forgotten?”
“I’m fifty.”
“I know that too. That’s why I’ve arranged a special celebration.”
“What is there to celebrate? Fifty is old,” she said sadly.
“We’re none of us children,” he laughed. “I’ll be forty-four next year. What does it matter? If we had two birthdays a year you’d be a hundred and I’d be eighty-eight! And you’d still be beautiful.”
“Idiot.” She smiled.
“Good of the Westons to have their party on the same day, isn’t it? With Dora doing the food we’ll be free.”
“Never free, darling.”
“Oh dear, we are melancholy tonight. Wait till I tell you what I’ve arranged.”
“Tell me.”
“I’m taking you up to London. I’ve booked an hotel and the theatre, and we won’t come back until Sunday evening.”
“We can’t! What will you tell Dora and the others?”
“I did think of making up some story about a conference. A number of firms are arranging these now, sharing ideas and encouraging their salesmen, it’s the latest thing. If we aren’t careful we’ll be having courses on Pressure Selling like they have in America.”
“But you aren’t telling them there’s a conference?”
“No. I’m telling Dora that you and I will be going to London. It’s up to her what she tells Rhiannon and Vi
v.”
“That isn’t very wise, Lewis. We don’t want a recurrence of her illness.”
“I don’t think that will happen, not when I tell you the rest.”
* * *
“You want to do what?” Dora shouted when Lewis told her the rest.
“I want to make this house completely over to you, and go and live with Nia. Just now no one is happy; if I do this at least two of us will be.” He looked at her to see the effect of his words but she seemed hardly to have heard him. Her eyes were staring into a future he was unable to see. “Naturally I’ll pay you an agreed sum each week.”
“All right.” Dora stared up at him, her bright blue eyes challenging. “If you agree to one more thing.”
“And that is—?” Lewis asked, expecting the impossible.
“Instead of a weekly sum, give me enough money to build a professional kitchen here.”
“Dora, you can’t just start catering, you have to know what you’re doing. You could go broke within months.”
“I’ve put my name down to start a catering course at night school. It’ll mean starting a term late but I’ll catch up. I don’t want to be a drain on you. If we separate then let it be a true split and a fresh start for us both.”
Lewis was so surprised he kissed her. She was so surprised she let him.
He went out to tell Nia that it was out in the open, and their lives were going to change for the better, leaving Dora staring at the chips she was cooking for their evening meal.
She look around the kitchen, at the clean but shabby collection of cupboards and shelves, and she stared for a long time at the place she had set for herself to eat, apart from the rest of the family. Sadness crossed her face and tears became a threatening lump in her throat but she shook the chips in the fat and forced the disappointment and regrets to subside. She had realised for some time that the situation with Lewis pretending to live at home, while all the time wanting to be with Nia, couldn’t continue. She had avoided a solution, afraid of the gossip, afraid of being so indisputably alone, unable to face an empty future in this house that had once been filled with the noisy shouts and laughter of her three children.
Rhiannon would be home for the next few years if she remained true to her promise and waited for Barry’s divorce. Viv showed no sign of marrying, he was so wrapped up in the impossibility of a romance with one of the Weston Girls. But things could change. In a few short days they could both have found someone and begun to plan homes of their own and where would that leave her? Rattling around in this house waiting for one of them to take pity on her and call? No one to talk to, no one needing her. She thought again of a dog. At least it would give her a reason to go out!
These thoughts, which had kept her awake night after night had become less frightening. Some subtle change had occurred to ease the negative outlook on her future. Now she had some definite plans of her own, the fear of gossip ruining her peace of mind had subsided until she thought of it as a mere irritation.
Let people talk. There were few houses in Pendragon Island that would survive an investigation into the inhabitants’ apparently successful relationships. Many of the people she knew were living very unhappy lives tied to each other no longer by love but by convention and the fear of gossip. She was not going to end up a bitter and resentful woman. Today would be a new beginning, Christmas 1953 the cornerstone of her new life.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror near the sink. Behind her was reflected the tray on which she had been eating her meals to show Lewis she couldn’t bear to eat with him. She tutted at her reflection. Eating her meals out here to show her disapproval of Lewis and Nia, it was so childish.
As she set the table she arranged a place for herself at the head of the table. Lewis’s place was at the other end, but if he failed to turn up, well, so what? The chips were going to be overcooked or cold anyway. From this moment Lewis was no longer a vital part of her life. Why wait for some catalyst? Now was as good a time for the new beginning as any.
She began humming the catchy Lita Rosa song, ‘How much is that doggie in the window, woof woof—’. It had been in her mind for days. Her first words to Rhiannon and Viv as they walked in together, were, “Your dad’s leaving and I’m going to buy a dog!”
* * *
Ryan was unwanted. The only time Sally spoke to him was to ask him to move out of the way while she reached something or wanted to vacuum the floor! Since the lodgers arrived she was busy making sure they were comfortable and needed nothing, she rarely spoke to him apart from mealtimes, after which he was expected to wash the dishes. What a life. Sitting here being ignored day after day.
Joan was at the wallpaper and paint store much of the day, and Megan was mooning about, presumably recovering from the attack on her, which he thought was partly her own fault for wandering around the countryside playing at being friends with those Griffithses. He didn’t even have Islwyn to visit for a good moan these days, he was cooking chips twice daily. The last time he’d seen his brother-in-law was when Islwyn had told him about cancelling the caterers for old Gladys’s party. That had seemed a joke at the time, he had even emulated it by passing on Viv’s idea about selling carpets along with the wallpaper and paints to the attractive woman in the new decorators’ suppliers.
They’d had a good laugh but all it really meant was less chance of the Weston’s Wallpaper and Paint recovering and Old Man Arfon being able to restore his wife’s allowance.
* * *
Joan and Megan tried to keep the attack on Megan secret but news got out as it always does in a small town, and because of the sympathy constantly on everyone’s lips, she stayed in. Jack and Viv were her only visitors. When Terry came, anxious not to be suspected of involvement, Megan refused to see him.
“I don’t want to see anyone until my wounds have healed and the bruises have faded.”
“You’re sure Terry wasn’t the attacker?” Viv and Jack asked at the same time. Viv’s fists tightened indicating how willing he would have been to deal with the man.
“Terry wasn’t with me, I was on my own and the man in the lane wasn’t him,” Megan spelled out, carefully avoiding another lie.
“I wonder who it was and if it was the same man who attacked our Rhiannon?” Viv muttered. “I think we should watch that lane and see who uses it, besides the Griffithses and us.”
“Forget it, please,” Megan pleaded.
“Only if you agree to come to Grandmother’s party. There’s bound to be more gossip if you don’t,” Joan whispered. “So far people only think you were beaten. If they suspect you were—”
“Don’t go on about it, Joan. I want to forget it.”
“And you’ll come to the party?” Joan insisted.
Megan began to smile then. When asked to share the joke she pointed to Jack and Viv; bruises from their fights still clearly visible. “What will people think of Grandmother? Blackmailed by us into inviting the Griffithses, then us turning up with an assortment of bruises fit for a match against Randolf Turpin!”
“We can use pancake make-up. Whereas these two,” Joan said glaring at her cousin and Viv, “they’ll just look like a couple of thugs.”
* * *
Unable to persuade Megan to accompany him, Terry sent a note with his apologies to Gladys stating he would not be attending the party. His cousins, Edward and Margaret also declined a few days later as they were unable to find anyone to take their place in the restaurant at Montague Court. When Joan and Jack went to see her on the Tuesday, she seemed on the point of tears.
“Why not give some of your old friends a ring, Grandmother?” Joan suggested. “A written invitation takes effort to answer, a phone call seems more friendly and makes it easier to say yes.”
“Or no,” Gladys said. “Besides, a telephone call is not polite. A written invitation gives people time to consider.”
“They’ve had long enough. Come on, hand me that list and I’ll telephone a few to start you off.”
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“Grandmother wondered if you could confirm that you are coming on Friday, Mrs Moffat?” Joan began and, giving little time for hesitation, received an acceptance. From then on, she and Jack took it in turns on the telephone, and by quoting the names of those who had accepted, made it easier to persuade the rest.
“You are an ill-mannered lout and I wouldn’t want you or your sister there if you begged,” Joan said on one occasion and she grinned unrepentantly at her horrified Grandmother. “That was Felicity Greg’s brother Felix. I only rang to tell her I didn’t want her there. His attitude helped. They’ve both been so clearly avoiding us since – the trouble – I thought I’d make sure she continues to do so!”
“Really, Joan,” Gladys admonished. But there was worse to come with Jack, when a one-time friend made it clear he did not want to renew acquaintance with the Westons.
“You, Desmond Bowen, are a shit,” he said slamming the phone down.
“What did you say?” Gladys demanded.
“D’you want me to repeat it?” Jack asked.
“No I do not!”
In spite of several refusals, two hours later, their Grandmother’s list was completed, and happily, Gladys said, “Thank you, dears. Now I won’t have to invite those awful Griffithses!”
“You didn’t invite them Grandmother. We did, verbally, weeks ago. There’s no escaping them, I’m afraid.”
“Have a word with them, Jack. If they do come, you must see that they behave!”
She rang for Victoria to tell Arfon she wanted to see him, and as he was only in the study along the hall, Victoria sighed with irritation. She desperately needed the money Mrs Weston paid her but how she had to work for it!
“I’m glad they’ve seen sense at last, my dear,” Arfon smiled when she told him how her list had grown. “Now all you have to do is look forward to enjoying yourself.”
The Weston Girls Page 18