Paint on the Smiles

by Grace Thompson

  ‘Well, Dorothy,’ Waldo said quietly, ‘that’s another beautiful thing you’ve ruined with your vicious tongue. Aren’t you ever going to learn to be quiet?’

  ‘Not when I can harm the sisters! They stole that business from my son.’

  ‘Who? Old get-up-and-go there?’ Melanie looked towards the overweight, podgy-faced boy who was eating the last of the potatoes, which he’d rescued from the ashes of the once-glorious fire. ‘And what would he do with it if he had it? After he’d eaten the contents, that is!’

  ‘He’s as capable as those two of managing a shop,’ Dorothy retorted. ‘He’s been with your husband long enough to learn to run it properly. Sharp he is, my Owen. Your husband will tell you.’

  ‘Oh, yes. He tells me how sharp he is. Sharp at getting out of any real work!’

  Cecily didn’t speak to Danny again. She pushed him away every time he tried. She watched him carry Victor up the rocky path and get into Willie’s car. Why did she punish herself by dreaming, if only for a moment, that she and Danny could ever be anything but a disaster?

  Danny told stories to Victor on the way home, making them all laugh as he dragged humour from everything and anything to hide his inner torment. He knew he’d made the wrong decision again and it had blown up in his face. If he hadn’t been persuaded to join the picnic he’d intended to go to Foxhole Street and try again to arrange to see Danielle. No chance now with Dorothy reporting his every move.

  Perhaps it would be better if he did what Jessie had advised and went away, leaving them both in peace. Peace was something he seemed unable to find for himself.

  Cecily and Ada were artificially cheerful as they went back to the shop. Van didn’t speak, her disapproval showing on her face, and when they got back to the shop she went straight to her room. Ada pleaded a headache and went to bed early. Cecily unpacked the sad remains of the lovely day that had been ruined by Dorothy. Although, she admitted to herself, the day was really spoilt by Danny. Always Danny. Whenever he appeared he ruined everything.

  She wished then that they had thought to invite Peter. Danny was synonymous with disaster but Peter was her shield against all her stupidity. The one uncomplicated person who made everything all right. It would all have been different if Peter had been with her. The significance of that thought kept her awake for a long time.

  Chapter Three

  VAN TOLD HER mother she was going shopping with friends but instead of walking up to the main road, she went down to the railway station and caught the train for Cardiff. They wouldn’t expect her back before late afternoon. She went past the house where Willie’s mother and sisters lived and on to the house she was now visiting regularly, to see her gran. The fact that she had found her was a secret from her mother and Auntie Ada and that alone was a delight. What was also very pleasing was the way she had convinced Gran that the sisters wouldn’t welcome her if she tried to make up the long-lasting rift in their relationship.

  ‘I’ve tried,’ she would tell her gran with what looked like sincere regret, ‘but they get upset if I suggest looking for you, and insist they wouldn’t speak to you if you met.’ Then she would comfort the old lady and promise she would never stop coming and bringing news of them.

  When Kitty left their father, Owen, she had written many times but each letter had been intercepted by Owen and destroyed. Birthday cards and gifts had been thrown into the ash bin; Christmas gifts treated in the same way. He had convinced the sisters that their mother simply didn’t care.

  The fire was burning brightly in the neat, well-furnished room where Gran waited for her. It smelled of polish and the welcome was as bright as everything else.

  ‘Darling girl, lovely to see you. I’ve made some of your favourite cakes and Mr Gregory has made you a little gift.’ She handed Van a package, which when opened surprised her with a cleverly carved kitten. Van hugged her in delight. ‘He knows how you love cats,’ Gran said proudly.

  When Mr Gregory came home, Van told him how pleased she was with the gift.

  ‘Perhaps I should make a second as you have two cats,’ he said.

  ‘I wish I had a father to make me things,’ Van said sadly. ‘Gran, you must know who he is. Why won’t you tell me?’

  ‘I don’t know, lovey, so I can’t tell you.’

  ‘Am I like him?’

  There was a brief pause. ‘How can I know? I haven’t met him.’ She frowned. Was Van sharp enough to try and trick her? she wondered. ‘You’re like your mother,’ she added.

  ‘No. Don’t say that. I’m not like her and I hate it when you say I am. She lied; said I was a daughter of a friend.’

  ‘Having a baby was considered a shameful thing and everyone tried to persuade her to go away, have you adopted so no one would know.’

  ‘Why didn’t she?’

  ‘Because from the moment she knew, she wanted you.’

  ‘She still pretended.’

  ‘People could be so unkind.’

  Changing the subject, unsatisfied with the responses, Van asked, ‘Why didn’t you go to Grampa’s funeral?’

  ‘I did go. I sat at the back of the church and no one recognized me.’

  They sat and ate the meal her grandmother had prepared, and the three of them talked more freely and laughed a lot, and Van was smiling when she left to get the train home.

  Gran smiled sadly as they waved her goodbye. ‘We have these conversations so often and I don’t know what to say to help her to understand.’

  ‘Growing up, more experience of life, that’s probably the only way she’ll understand. Something will happen to disperse the bitterness in her heart,’ Mr Gregory said. ‘It might have been easier if Cecily had told her earlier perhaps. Children usually accept what is their life without question.’

  ‘Maybe. It’s certain that Dorothy blurting it out as she did was the worst possible way for her to learn.’

  In the shop, Ada was sorting through the post. There was a letter from her mother-in-law and she opened it in haste. ‘Something’s happened to Phil,’ she muttered, panic making her fingers struggle with the envelope. She read the brief letter and then read it again more slowly before handing it to Cecily. ‘Phil’s coming home next week,’ she sobbed.

  Later, when Ada had calmed down, Cecily asked, ‘What shall we do about the jewellery and money we found?’

  ‘I don’t know. She doesn’t even tell me the exact time that he will be home. He won’t even let me be there to greet him. I seem to have lost my marriage completely. He’s gone back to his mother. What an unbelievable situation. How do I get out of this? Why doesn’t he want me to be the person waiting for him? To be the first person he sees when he steps through that door?’

  ‘Go and see her. She must see that it’s important for you to be there. Tell her you want to know the exact time of his release. She can’t forbid you to be there.’

  Ada went down to the cottage where his mother lived and an hour later she returned, hurt and tearful. ‘Phil was released from prison two days ago and tomorrow he will be coming home at four o’clock. He’s been staying at a boarding house, giving himself a chance to rid himself of the smell of prison, she told me. Buying some new clothes too.’

  They discussed it for a while and decided to take the stolen items and go down to wait for him the next day. Ada didn’t altogether trust his mother so, while Willie stayed in the shop, they went to sit with Mrs Spencer at three o’clock.

  They heard him coming and Ada’s heart was racing as she prepared for her first sight of him. She held the bundle of jewellery in her hands, still unsure how she would approach the revelation of their discovery. Her strongest thoughts were the loving greeting which she would have to share with his mother and Cecily.

  She stepped outside, her arms ready to enfold him, but instead of running to her as she had imagined in her dreams, he ignored her and went first to the workroom and looked up at the light fitting. Disappointment and hurt, then anger, enraged Ada. Why hadn’t she been hi
s first thought after all these months? She ran across to the workroom and threw the jewellery and the notes in front of him. ‘Phil, is this what you’re looking for?’

  His mother followed her out and gave a scream.

  ‘They’re mine,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I paid for them.’

  ‘Paid? Not stolen? Mrs Watkins and Mrs Richards gave them to you, did they?’

  ‘Paid for with the time I served in that place. They’re mine.’

  Mrs Spencer gave another scream, grabbed the jewellery, ran back and threw the items onto the fire. Phil stepped inside and stared at it with no apparent concern. ‘I paid, the insurance paid, so how can you say it isn’t mine?’ He reached with some tongs and the poker and pulled them out, tipping coals onto the hearth while his mother stared at him.

  Ada left the cottage and walked with Cecily to where they had parked the car. Nothing was said during the short journey and when they got back to the shop, Willie reported a few queries and orders for the next day, and went back to the stable to continue with his work.

  ‘It’s as though none of it happened,’ Ada said later, when they were preparing their meal. ‘My marriage to Phil, living with his mother, the happy times, then the arrest and imprisonment, it’s all a horrible dream.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have gone with you, Ada, love. You’ll see him tomorrow and everything will return to how it was, you and Phil happy together.’

  ‘I sometimes think we should sell this shop,’ Ada surprised her by saying. ‘I’m not really superstitious but Dorothy has ill-wished us ever since Dadda left it to us. We’ve had nothing but bad luck.’

  ‘Bad luck, you call it? I call it Dorothy’s vicious interfering. She’s our bad luck, not our small inheritance.’

  ‘I mean it. If we didn’t have the shop we’d be free to have some fun.’

  ‘Running this place is fun. Besides, where would we live? You’d go back to Phil and his mother but what about me and our Van?’

  Later that evening, Van was out with Edwin and his parents, and Cecily and Ada went out to put some empty boxes into the stable. They looked around the smoke-stained walls and the charred beams where the upper floor had been burnt away. The loft had only been used for storage but it would be handy if they were going to increase their stock.

  ‘We ought to think about getting this properly restored,’ Ada said. ‘Willie and Danny would do it. Willie has already worked out costs.’

  ‘I don’t want Danny working here,’ Cecily said, then she stopped and listened. She smiled as they heard voices singing hymns, recognizing the strong voice of Horse and the tinny sound of his wife accompanying him. They opened the small door in the large stable door and looked out. The couple were sitting on the ground in the lane, eating what looked like cold soup from tins.

  ‘Evening, miss,’ Wife said, waving her tin of tomato soup. Her mouth was like a cartoon with the lips beyond bright red from the food.

  ‘Wait there,’ Ada said and ran back to the house to give them half a loaf and some cheese.

  The homeless couple had been responsible for burning the stable but aware that the cause of the blaze was mostly down to Van, the sisters had not accused them of starting the fire, insisting they had left a lamp burning. They were thankful that the couple had been unharmed. ‘Van did it because she enjoyed having a secret from us,’ Cecily said. ‘I worry sometimes that her resentment towards me will spill over and cause some serious trouble for us.’

  ‘She’s young. What harm can she do? She’ll soon be too busy having fun to worry about upsetting us.’

  ‘I’m not so sure.’

  ‘So we’ll talk to Willie about replacing the loft floor?’

  ‘Yes, and I suppose I’ll have to accept that Danny will be helping. They work together, don’t they?’

  Willie had removed most of the debris from the fire and he and Danny made a start on cutting away the damaged beams and measuring for replacements. Danny delivered post each morning and worked in the afternoon. Willie joined him in the evenings and at the weekends when he could, but the Pleasure Beach was keeping him busy with deliveries during the weeks of high summer. So it was mostly Danny who was there whenever Cecily looked out of the back kitchen window, and Danny whom she heard singing as he worked.

  ‘At least he’s more tuneful than Horse,’ she commented dryly.

  August Bank Holiday was warm and sunny. Cecily rose early and took a cup of tea in for Ada and for Van, who was already dressed when she went into her room.

  ‘Edwin and I are playing tennis before the day gets too hot,’ Van explained.

  Van was growing into a long-legged bronzed beauty. Her blonde hair shone with health and she was proud of it. She brushed it regularly and washed it frequently so it fell in gentle curls about her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were sky blue but with a touch of scorn in them which Cecily found disconcerting but the boys loved. The small mouth was perfectly formed but also wore a suggestion of discontent. Although this didn’t detract from her attractiveness either, Cecily realized, only adding to the appeal she had for all the young men in her circle of friends.

  She wondered idly if Van and Edwin would stay together, or whether the separation when Edwin went to university would end their long friendship. They looked so right together, her small features and slimness beside Edwin’s powerful build, her fairness beside his dark good looks.

  Cecily and Ada hadn’t planned to go anywhere. Waldo was ill and the books he usually attended to needed some work. Then, being a Bank Holiday, there were the beach orders to prepare. Willie was already loading the van with the first deliveries before the breakfast dishes were washed.

  They worked until midday, then Ada threw down her pen and suggested they went to the beach. ‘Van is spending the day with Edwin and we’d only be sitting here dealing with books that can easily be done tomorrow. It’s daft not getting some fresh air while we can,’ she added, thinking of how Phil had been locked in his cell for most of the day, week in, week out.

  She had gone to the house to see him often but he seemed to be unaware of her presence, hardly acknowledging her when she arrived, just a brief nod when she left. Pausing at the door she would hear him muttering quietly to his mother, then she was hurried out, Mrs Spencer insisting it was ‘too soon’.

  She tried to put aside the disappointments and prepare for a day out.

  When the last of the orders had been piled onto the van and Willie was on his way, they caught a bus. The weather would have brought out hundreds of motorists and, with the visitors already staying and more trippers bringing extra buses to the popular town, parking would be difficult.

  The buses were full too but they managed to find seats in separate parts of the overloaded vehicle, clambering in between children carrying buckets and spades and beach balls, and the harassed parents staggering with extra clothes, packages of food wrapped in white tea towels and bottles of ‘pop’, shouting with little hope of success to their children to ‘be quiet’. They began to enjoy the bustle and excitement. ‘It’s like we’re on holiday too,’ Cecily shouted above the noise.

  ‘We are!’ Ada shouted back, laughing.

  The beach and the promenade were unbelievably full. The roar of voices and the screams from the funfair rides met them as soon as they alighted from the bus. People covered the golden sand and it looked as though there wasn’t room for a coin to fall between them, but families still went down and somehow managed to find a space.

  Ada pointed to the cliffs rising from the sand. ‘Shall we go up there?’ she suggested when they finally reached the sea wall and looked down on the mass of people on the sand.

  Cecily shaded her eyes to look. ‘It’s just as crowded up there.’

  ‘Not as hopeless as this.’

  They threaded their way through the lively families, holding hands to prevent being separated, and by two o’clock were sitting on the grass high above the beach, laughing with the exertion and wondering how they’d find something to eat
. The queue for the nearby cafe was long and even the ice-cream sellers below them looked likely to run out as hot, eager children jumped up and down with impatience, waiting for their turn to be served.

  ‘Let’s not try,’ Ada said. ‘I don’t think I could face the battle.’ She found a packet of boiled sweets which were stuck to the paper bag but edible. They sucked them and watched the scene below; the sea with its border pattern of bathers, the pleasure boats leaving with full loads to sweep the bay then return to spill out its cargo of brightly clad customers and refill with more. The sky was a rich blue, the air still and very warm, even on the cliff top, and the noise from below a regular murmur that relaxed them.

  They had been sitting there for more than an hour when, gradually at first, a change came over the sky. In the distance, darker clouds began to build and as they watched, indifferent to the threat they contained, a storm gathered momentum, rushed towards them, then, with a suddenness that made them gasp, burst right above them.

  By the time they realized the angry clouds were not going to blow past them, it was too late. Heavy drops of rain touched their shoulders as they began to hurry to the path that would take them down to the promenade. Everyone was trying to leave at once, filling the narrow path, shouting, crying, pushing and struggling to stay in groups, mothers frantically trying to check that all their charges were with them.

  Most were only half dressed, dragging cardigans on in a vain attempt to stay dry or at least warm as the rain came in a deluge. There were screaming youngsters wrapped in towels, badly packed baskets spilling their contents, people growling in frustration as they tried to put on clothes that stuck to their skin. The hurrying crowd was made up of the merry, the complaining, the anxious and the stoic.