Her euphoria didn’t last long. A Tom Jones was announced and two circles were made, men in one, women in the other, and they moved in opposite directions until the music stopped and each had to dance with the person facing them.
Jimmy was lost to her and, not in the mood to face anyone else, she moved off the floor and sat pretending not to care, watching the dancers swirling around to the music of the seven-piece band with an increasing feeling of dejection. She was relieved when she saw Barry arrive and she stood and waved to him, but he waited by the cloakroom door until Caroline joined him and took her straight on to the floor.
When Jimmy left his partner at the end of the dance and walked towards her a fit of pique made her pretend not to see him, and she went into the kitchen to see her mother. When she came out he was dancing again, this time with Megan. Confidence pouring out of her by the second, she wanted to go home.
Gladys sat with Arfon in a corner near the band. “Can we go home yet?” Arfon asked her for the third time and she slapped his hand playfully and told him ‘no’.
“I want to see who Joan and Megan dance with so I can invite them to call,” she told him. “So far they’ve only danced with Jack, and that Viv Lewis and that awful Frank Griffiths! I knew we shouldn’t have invited the Lewises and the Griffithses, dear.”
The food was a success and once it was cleared away, Sian and Dora came in to watch the dancing.
“Come and say Hello to Mother,” Sian ordered and Dora trotted after her to where Gladys was ‘holding court’ to some of her grandchildren’s friends.
“Mother, Daddy, you know Mrs Lewis, Viv’s mother.”
“Of course I do dear. Hello, Mrs Lewis. The food was quite satisfactory, wasn’t it Arfon?”
“Not good? Only satisfactory, Mummy?” Sian said. “Pity about that, Dora and I are thinking of going into the catering business together.”
“Not now, dear. I’ll listen to your little jokes tomorrow.”
Sian and Dora shared a smile and returned to the kitchen. “She’s going to be the biggest hurdle,” Dora warned. “Chip shops and cafés are not what she expects of her children.”
“Leave her to me. I’ll persuade her we sink in splendour or learn to swim.”
“I don’t think she likes either alternative, she’d rather you stayed clinging to a rock!”
* * *
Jack left the hall before supper was served. Taking some food parcelled up by his mother and Dora, and grabbing a few balloons, he went down to Goldings Street and presented an instant party to Victoria for her younger brothers and sisters. The new baby had arrived and was sleeping peacefully in a drawer taken out of the large chest at one side of the fireplace. It had been cosily filled with pillows and hand-sewn blankets and the pretty coverlet had been embroidered with flowers.
Most of the children were in bed but hearing the visitor arrive they crept down the bare wooden stairs and peered hopefully around the corner.
“All right, just five minutes,” Mrs Jones told them and for half an hour they enjoyed the balloons, the food and the attention of Victoria and Jack. It was with genuine regret that Jack took his leave and made his way back to the Hall.
He could hear the sounds before he reached the door but it was not music and for a moment he decided that the supper interval was still in progress, yet the voices were not happy and cheerful, but raised in anger. He ran in through the door and saw a fight in progress. A quick glance around the room showed his grandmother hiding her face and others standing near the stage in groups, aghast at the spectacle. Men had their arms protectively around their partners, women squealing but trying to see what was going on.
“The Griffithses! I knew we shouldn’t have invited them,” Gladys wailed. “Always fighting. Known for it they are.”
But it wasn’t Frank and Ernie. They stood near the doorway looking as disappointed at not being involved in the affray as Gladys was at being a witness to it.
“What happened?” Jack asked and Frank pointed to where Terry was being frogmarched out of the room by someone Jack vaguely recognised. He ran to intercept the two men as they were about to leave the room and then, as the stranger turned to back his way through the swing doors, he saw that it was Gethyn Howells, a friend from army days.
“Gethyn? What the hell’s going on, man?”
“This Terry Jenkins, that’s what’s going on! Left my sister a week before their wedding, he did! What’s her and the baby going to do now? I want him to tell her why he did it. Right?”
Jack followed them out, stopping in the doorway to gesture to the band to begin playing. As the door swung closed behind him he heard the drums starting a rhythm that was picked up by the saxophone and the leader was calling for everyone to “Take your partners for a quickstep.”
Outside, Jack saw Terry being held against the wall by Gethyn. Gethyn’s fist was raised as he shouted questions at Terry.
“Hold it!” Jack shouted running towards them. He succeeded in calming the couple down and insisted that they went to the pub to talk it through.
“He’s not going anywhere. I want an explanation. Right now.” Gethyn said angrily. “Searching for him for months I have. Sent letter after letter and they came back unknown at this address. When I rang his grandfather I was told he was still in London.”
“I was in—” Terry tried to explain.
“Hiding behind an old man, there’s brave you are. Running from a woman and hiding behind an old man!”
It was a while before Gethyn allowed Terry to speak and when he did, Jack had no doubts on the truth of it.
“I just lost my nerve,” he told them. “I just lost my nerve. Renting a flat, plans to save for a house, taking responsibility for two human beings, I couldn’t manage it. I’m sorry, Gethyn. Angharad didn’t deserve it.”
“Deserves to be rid of you, mind! You got that part right! But why run off and leave her to face the questions and the sneering laughter, eh? Call yourself a man?”
“If this is true,” Jack said, “you owe it to Angharad to go back and tell her.”
“I can’t marry her,” Terry said.
“She wouldn’t have you! Not after this. Someone who lets you down once will do it again!”
“I’d better get back inside and give some sort of explanation to my grandparents,” Jack said.
“And to Megan. I came hoping to talk to her, you see.” Terry muttered.
“Fat chance of that!” Jack retorted.
There was a murmur of anxiety when Jack returned to the Hall but seeing him walking calmly across to talk to Gladys, the dance continued and the conversations returned more or less to normal, although several pairs of eyes swivelled, hopefully following his progress. The band did its best to re-create the lively atmosphere by choosing cheerful dances, and the evening continued on a happy note. All but Megan seemed to relax and put the frightening moments aside. She was white-faced and embarrassed by the scene, wondering if anyone knew it was her Terry had come to see.
Unaware of her sister’s discomfort, Joan laughed and said, “So much for Terry wanting to talk to you.” She passed on what she had learned from Jack about the incident. “What was he doing, coming here? D’you think he came here to tell you about his fiancée?”
“Leave it, Joan,” Megan said. “Let me get through this evening before we have an inquest, will you?” She forced a smile and went towards one of the young men who was obviously going to ask one of them to dance.
* * *
Barry and Caroline left soon after. Barry led Caroline over to where Rhiannon sat with Viv and Jack and Jimmy and the Weston Girls and said goodnight to them all with equal politeness. He hadn’t danced with Rhiannon once, having explained that he didn’t want to leave Caroline standing alone as she was so shy.
Jimmy said nothing but watched Rhiannon’s reactions with interest.
Gladys was taken home by Arfon just before the last waltz was called and she hated having to miss the buzz of conversations she knew would mull ov
er the evening’s bizarre happenings, once they had gone.
“If there’d been a convenient cupboard to hide in in that cloakroom, I’d have used it, Arfon, dear!” she said through a mouth tight with anger. “What will people think, Arfon?” she asked sadly as they went into their house. “Sian announcing to all and sundry that she and Dora Lewis are going into partnership to run a café, and that Terry, who I thought was so gentlemanly, causing a fight over something as sordid as a jilted girl and the police being called by her brother to sort it out! What a fiasco!”
“Nonsense, those who refused to come will be as mad as hell to have missed it!” Arfon chuckled.
* * *
During the interval, Jimmy sought out Dora and asked if he could stay the night.
“The couch will do, Mrs Lewis and I won’t be any trouble.”
Staring at him for a moment, Dora finally nodded but warned, “You stay on that couch, mind. One of them stairs creaks and I’m not about to tell you which one!” She chuckled as she told Sian, “Jimmy blushed so bright that I thought we could manage without the electric! And poor Rhiannon was shamed, but she’ll get over it, give them something to laugh over later on, it will.”
* * *
Dora left the Hall with Sian, as soon as the dishes had been cleared after supper. They walked through the cold, dark streets chatting about the events of the evening and wondering what was the truth behind the fight involving Terry Jenkins.
“Mother was expecting trouble, but not from that quarter,” Sian smiled. “I think she was almost disappointed that the Griffithses behaved impeccably.”
“Why didn’t you stay?” Dora asked. “Your mother would have been glad to have you there.”
“I’ve had enough. I’m tired! Us working girls need our sleep,” she said. “Now. After the weekend, we’ll start making enquiries about renting the Rose Tree Café. Right?”
“Right. Lewis will help with – sorry,” Dora said. “Forget I said that. You and I will be able to deal with it ourselves. Won’t we?”
“Every last nut and bolt,” Sian assured her as they parted.
Dora walked from Trellis Street down to Sophie Street in a trance. Could it really happen? Could she and one of the Weston Women work together? Run a business together? Lewis had always told her she was good at figures and would be an asset to a small firm, well, he was going to be surprised at how right he was!
Chapter Thirteen
For Megan, Christmas 1953 was fraught with worries about a possible pregnancy. She told herself it was unlikely, that what she and Terry had done could not result in a baby growing inside her. She made promises to herself of things she would do, of faults she would cure if only the worst didn’t happen. She prayed and made promises to God that she would be a better, more considerate person if only He would get her out of her present mess. But days passed and there was no sign to give her relief.
One of the decisions she made, which had begun as a promise to God, was, if she were reprieved from the burden of motherhood, she would find work and earn some money instead of expecting her parents to keep her.
She thought about this for some time without reaching an idea of what she could do. A long and expensive education had prepared her for being kept by a rich husband, nothing more. And there were too few of those to go round!
Messing about with paint tins was out, and so was cooking. Neither activity appealed. It was seeing Gwennie Woodlas that started her on the right track. Clothes, now that was something she could enjoy. Fashion was a subject she could be very good at, but how to exploit that skill? She didn’t reach any conclusions, but at least it took her mind away from babies for a while.
* * *
Christmas 1953 was a new beginning for several families. In the days between the Westons’ party and everything closing down for Christmas, Sian and Dora had made enquiries, declared an interest and begun preparations to become tenants of the Rose Tree Café.
“Islwyn keeps trying to get involved,” Sian told Dora. “He’s so sure I need his advice. But he feels my elbow every time he comes near and I think he’s beginning to realise that this is ours: yours and mine. And Ryan, that idle brother-in-law of mine, he keeps calling in telling me what to do and offering, oh, so generously, to give his precious time and expertise to show us how it’s done.”
“What a nerve! My Lewis offered to help too, convinced we couldn’t manage without a man holding our hand. The funny thing is, Nia also offered. She wished us luck via our Rhiannon, and said if we needed someone to talk things through or even an extra pair of hands in the early weeks, she would be pleased to help in any way she could.” She looked at Sian, her bright eyes sparkling with the anger which was always close to the surface, then her expression softened and she smiled. “Funny thing is, I think she was genuine. We’ve known each other for years, Nia and me, been friends even. Although I didn’t think what we had in common included my husband!”
“You aren’t bitter?”
“Not now. I tried to keep him, using blackmail, guilt, illness and all the rest, but I came to face the fact that he wants to be with her and not me. I could see the years slipping by, being wasted in regrets and futile dreams. Facing it now, while I’m young enough to make something of my life makes better sense. So, blue skies – or roses – all the way, right?”
“Right.”
* * *
Lewis stayed with Nia in the flat for most of Christmas. Nia had expected him to stay with his family, but Dora had made no secret of the fact that he was not welcome.
“I’ve got things to do, Lewis, so unless you’re desperate to see us I’d prefer you stay away. Viv will be going somewhere with Jack and the Griffithses, Rhiannon will probably be seeing Barry. In and out they’ll all be, so Sian and I can get our heads together and work out our plans.”
“Oh! All right,” Lewis said in surprise. Dora had always made so much of the family gathering on that special day. He wondered whether it was too late to arrange something with Nia but decided not to ask for fear of spoiling her arrangements. She had family too.
He bought a chicken and persuaded one of his friends, young Cathy at The Firs Boarding House, to cook it, and prepared himself for a solitary day eating chicken sandwiches alone in the flat. It was by sheer luck he learned that Nia would also be on her own.
“Did you know Barry and Rhiannon have been invited to the Griffithses’?” Viv asked him on Christmas Eve. “I don’t think Rhiannon’s going, but Barry is. He can’t wait to show young Joseph the toy he’s made him.”
“I’ll call over there myself some time today,” Lewis said. “I’ve bought a little something for him and for Eleri’s baby.”
“Strange though, Barry leaving his mother on her own on Christmas Day, don’t you think?”
“She won’t be alone.” Lewis tried not to show his pleasure. “Your Mam doesn’t want me around either, so we’ll be two outcasts together.”
He went to the shops and bought what extra food he could find, then drove up to Chestnut Road to tell Nia they were both free.
All the devious planning meant Dora was able to go to the Griffithses too, being fairly certain Nia wouldn’t appear.
“It’ll be nice to be a part of a family for a change. Why don’t you come with me?” Dora asked Rhiannon. “I can’t go unless you do. I won’t go and leave you here alone on Christmas Day.”
Rhiannon wasn’t keen to go, convinced she would be alone anyway, even amid the crowd, on her own, with Barry involved with Caroline and her son.
“There’s a good show on television,” Dora coaxed. “Arthur Askey, Max Bygraves and Shirley Abicair.”
“You might see it, but I doubt you’ll hear it,” Rhiannon laughed. “That’s the noisiest house I’ve ever known!”
“Better than rattling round here,” Dora said and Rhiannon finally agreed.
Dora hummed along with the radio as popular songs and carols were played on ‘Family Favourites’, then, with the food prepared for th
e following day she sat and listened to ‘Life With The Lyons’ and ‘Take it from Here’, laughing along with the audience and looking to Rhiannon to enjoy the fun.
She sensed all was not well with her daughter but didn’t feel able to question her. Rhiannon would talk when she was ready. Perhaps she was fed up both with working in Nia’s sweet shop and with waiting for Barry’s divorce? She admitted to herself that it would be a relief to see her cut those particular threads.
* * *
On Christmas morning Joan and Megan opened their presents, then, following the regular ritual, dressed in new clothes and walked with their parents to spend the day with their grandparents and the rest of the family.
Jack went with his parents and wished he could find an excuse to stay away. He was surprised when the door was opened by Victoria.
“What are you doing here?” he asked as she held out an arm for coats.
“Your grandfather asked me to come and help for the morning. I think your grandmother is exhausted after all the fuss about that party,” she managed to whisper. “Don’t worry, I’m not cooking!” she added with a smile.
“You aren’t washing up either!” Jack said through tight lips.
“Grandmother, why have you asked Victoria to come in? She has a mother, and brothers and sisters who are entitled to have a family Christmas the same as us!” Jack asked, when he’d gone through to the sitting room to see his grandparents.
“It was your grandfather’s idea, Jack. He thought it would be too much for me.”
“You mean we can’t manage without messing up her holiday? Nine of us and we can’t cope?”
“Let her go home, Mother,” Sally said. “I didn’t realise she would be expected to help. We’ll manage.”
Jack went into the kitchen where Victoria was finishing peeling the potatoes for roasting. “It’s all right, Victoria, we’ve had a family conference and Grandmother says you can go home. Thank you for being so generous and coming in, oh, and they asked me to give you this.” He handed her two pounds. “That’s for messing up your day.”
The Weston Girls Page 21