Paint on the Smiles

by Grace Thompson

  Although customers were few, the stream of visitors to Owen’s shop didn’t lessen. Bertie and Beryl called often, bringing news of the baby and descriptions of the house which Van had bought and to which neither Cecily nor Ada had been invited. Johnny brought his family over to tea one Sunday and this became a regular event. With Uncle Ben and Auntie Maggie, Gareth and his mother, and even Dorothy also appearing from time to time for a meal of sandwiches and homemade cake, there was little time to grieve.

  The sisters mused over how people had changed. Uncle Ben, white haired, less large and important-looking but still with the booming voice of old. He called with his small but less disapproving wife and offered any assistance in ‘matters you girls can’t manage’. He had returned to his easygoing self, always too willing to burst into song or thump out a melody on the piano. Dorothy too found nothing to complain about in the sister’s behaviour, and took opportunities to be kind whenever one offered. Gareth’s mother seemed to have found a fondness for Cecily that no one would have imagined. War had harmed so many, had touched almost every life with tragedy, but perhaps it made some more content, remembering how much had been lost and how thankful they should be for what they still had.

  With Christmas approaching, Cecily sometimes went over to the beach and just wandered, reviving memories of days spent with Peter, and already planning ways of coaxing the stall holders to become customers of Owen’s shop again. This Christmas was something to ignore. Without Peter, and with Phil in a hospital for the mentally ill, how could they decorate the house and pretend everything was fine? Then she stopped her tearful thoughts and hurried home to Ada.

  ‘Ada, love. This is the first Christmas of peace, we can’t let it slide by as if it isn’t important. Whether you are aware of the religious meaning or not, it’s still a family celebration. This house has always welcomed family and friends and this year won’t be any different. Right?’

  ‘If only Mam would come back.’

  ‘If only.’ Cecily sighed. ‘It’s obvious she doesn’t want to or she’d have come for Dadda’s funeral, or our weddings, or the birth of Van’s baby. No, she cast us aside all those years ago and her coming back to us is a dream we might as well forget.’

  Whatever the weather during the early days of December 1945, Ada went to see Phil in hospital and Cecily went to the beach where she walked from one end of the promenade to the other. The biting cold winds of early winter helped to blow away the frowns. The buffeting gusts made her laugh, releasing some of the fun that had been locked away since Peter’s death. She would smile, remembering other days, other gusting winds and other rainstorms she had shared with him.

  One cold, damp Wednesday, she had just reached the bus stop, preferring to be a passenger, the others on the bus making her feel less alone, when the door of the barber’s shop opened and Gareth stepped out with his trainee. He was locking the shop when she called to him.

  ‘Where are you off to on your afternoon off? Feel like a blow, over the beach?’

  ‘The beach? In this weather? You must be mad, Cecily Owen.’

  ‘Why not?’

  He grinned and agreed, ‘Why not?’ He called to his apprentice and asked him to take a message to his mother, then stood with her waiting for the bus. They walked together over the deserted promenade, laughing at the wind’s attempts to bowl them along with a few discarded pieces of paper. They ate at a cafe at the far end of town but on the following Sunday they met again and this time Cecily took pasties made with potato, onion and a scrap of cheese, and they found a spot sheltered from the wind and ate their simple picnic. They sat and reminisced, looking out to sea and along the sad, empty sands, remembering all that had happened to them since the days when they had danced together.

  Ada was on her way back from seeing Phil and began talking to someone sitting beside her on the bus, and by chance she mentioned Jack Simmons and his search for his family.

  ‘Thought he was dead, she did, and married again. At least, she took the man’s name. I don’t remember any ceremony,’ she was told.

  Excitedly, Ada asked for the name. ‘Jack wants to find them and understands that, like many others, Sally might have a new husband. They’ll sort it out if only he could find her.’

  ‘Let me think.’ The woman was irritatingly slow and Ada was convinced she would reach her stop before the woman remembered. She would stay on, travel to the next town if necessary. ‘Robbins, yes, I think he was called Bertie Robbins,’ the woman said at last. Although she knew she wouldn’t forget something so important, Ada wrote it down. ‘You don’t know where they lived, do you?’

  ‘Somewhere near a railway station, but I don’t know which one. I just remember her saying that the children used to enjoy watching the trains passing.’

  Ada ran into Jack’s shop and called excitedly, ‘Jack, I think I’ve found a couple of clues!’

  Jack left Dave in charge and went for the bus, intending to start at one station and work his way through them all, as far as Cardiff. He needed a car. Whizzer and the cart wasn’t any use for all this wandering. He tried not to get excited, but spent the journey working out the best way of approaching her if he found her. Sally would still believe he had been killed. He was sure of that. She’d have come back to him if she knew he had survived. For him to suddenly appear could be a shock, but how could he approach her without her thinking he was a ghost?

  For two days he searched the area around the small railway stations through the town and the smaller places, spending hours knocking on doors, asking passers-by, but no one had heard of a Mrs Robbins who had three children including twins.

  ‘Could you have misheard the name?’ he asked Ada, who shook her head.

  ‘I wrote it down.’ She showed him. ‘But she might have been mistaken – she did take a long time before coming up with the name. Robbins. Could it have been Robinson?’

  ‘There’s a pub called the Railway Inn. Closed now and abandoned, but that used to be nicknamed the Station. Could she have been mistaken about that too?’ Jack wondered.

  Jack set off again and two days later he found her. The area was very run down and he almost didn’t bother to ask, but someone pointed out a place not far from where the railway line ran. A pair of small cottages were near the old public house. Curtains were at the windows, the door stood open and they looked occupied.

  He stood at a distance and watched. A small, thin, poorly dressed woman came out and began hanging out washing. It wasn’t Sally. Dejected he began to approach her and ask if she knew where he could find his wife, then the young woman called, ‘Dolly, love, will you bring some more pegs?’ And he recognized her voice. Then a child ran out, a young child, too young. Not his.

  ‘Sally?’ He almost whispered the name and she looked up and stared, before bursting into tears.

  He went into the sad little home, sparsely furnished but surprisingly clean. Clothes hung over a wood fire and there was the smell of something cooking in the oven. He took all this in in seconds, then opened his arms for his wife.

  It took a while before they could relax and talk to each other, both unsure what the other would want, but Jack quickly asked the most important question and learned that, yes, there had been someone else but, no, he wasn’t there now.

  He left, promising to come the following day and talk again. A week later, he went with Whizzer and the cart and brought his family home.

  Cecily pestered the warehouses and wholesalers for anything she could sell to encourage lost customers to come in. The shop windows were filled with whatever vegetables she could buy, some tins of fruit were decorated with tinsel tarnished with age and some silver stars cut from the lining of cigarette packets to add some cheer and hide their emptiness.

  Jack came in with his wife Sally and their children, Sam, who was eight, and the twins Jennie and Susan, who were seven, and Amy, his little surprise, as he called her, who was two. He proudly introduced them all.

  Sally spoke honestly about the man
she had lived with and who had left her once he learned about the baby. To their surprise, Jack, who had once had a reputation for fighting, seemed unfazed by the life his wife had led after being bombed out of her home and he showed no difference between his children and his ‘little surprise’.

  ‘There seems to be so much to celebrate this Christmas,’ Cecily said as the little family trooped out carrying gifts the sisters had found for them. Ada agreed and they began planning how they would fill the two days of that special time.

  ‘It will seem like a week off, with Sunday, followed by Christmas Eve, then the two days of Christmas. We’d better get the food planned,’ Ada said practically, ‘or we’ll have people knocking on the door and nothing to feed them on.’

  They were woken late that evening by loud banging on the door. On opening it they were surprised to see two policemen there. ‘Can we speak to Mrs Spencer?’ one of them asked.

  ‘Is it Phil?’ Ada asked, already looking frightened of what they were going to tell her. ‘What’s happened to him?’

  ‘He’s all right as far as we know, but he left the hospital, slipped out when no one was about and we think he might be heading back here.’

  They were invited in, the two men assuring her that they had no reason to think he’d come to any harm. ‘He talked about coming home and as you know, Mrs, Spencer, he isn’t well enough yet, so he must have made up his mind not to wait for the doctors to decide and to come anyway.’

  It seemed like an echo of what happened when Peter was missing, but this time Cecily made certain that the cellar was properly searched by more than one person. Yet, deeply wrapped in hay, near the horse which he had been so thrilled to see, Phil sat and watched as the search was carried out. As the door closed behind the searchers, Phil crept out and fondled the horse’s soft coat and talked to it, telling him all about his journey from the hospital and the places he had stopped to admire the trees and the river and all the things he had missed.

  Cecily feared for her safety. He had always disliked her and locking Peter in the cellar was, she believed, a way of hurting her, rather than anger against Peter. She said nothing of her anxiety to Ada and tried to share her sister’s concerns for Phil out in the cold darkness. She and Ada sat all night in the small room behind the shop, neither able to consider going to bed to try to sleep.

  Morning came and they stood in the shop, looking out at the people hurrying past on their search for something extra to add to Christmas. It seemed like a world to which they didn’t belong.

  Jack was told and he promised to lock up securely after feeding Whizzer. ‘I won’t be taking the cart out today,’ he told Ada and Cecily. ‘I intend to spend the time introducing the children to the shops, buy them clothes and some decent presents.’

  ‘How are they, Jack, are they settling in?’

  ‘Slowly. They’re surprised at the home I had waiting for them. I’ll have to decorate a couple more rooms, though. Sally is very happy to be back with me, although it will take time before she feels she belongs. Plenty of time for all that. I’m just grateful to have them all back, and with Amy, our little surprise. Aren’t I the lucky one?’

  He wished them luck with their search and hoped Phil was safe, then went to the stable and fed the horse, unaware he was watched by Phil.

  When Jack had gone, Phil harnessed the horse, his hands delighting in the well-remembered routine. Opening the large sliding doors, he walked the animal out and closed the doors after him, then set off up the lane, walking beside the horse, smiling happily, holding the reins and talking to the patient animal.

  They had no reason to check the stable again but Ada went to get some fresh wood for the fire and noticed that neither the horse nor cart were there.

  ‘I thought Jack said he wasn’t going out with the cart today?’ she said when she returned to the shop.

  ‘He isn’t, he’s taking the family shopping.’

  ‘Well, the cart isn’t there and neither is Whizzer.’

  They told the policeman who was nearby and at once he sent out a message for people to search. ‘Something as big as a horse and cart can’t be hidden for long,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Spencer, he’s obviously all right and we’ll catch up with him in no time.’

  It was Willie who found him. He was sitting near his old home, watching the twins rebuilding the ancient walls, measuring for new windows, chatting to each other about their work. Willie sent one of the twins to tell Ada and went inside to telephone the police. Then he sat and talked to him.

  Phil seemed calm and all he talked about was the horse, how much he had loved working with his, before the delivery van had made him redundant. When the police came closely followed by Ada, he smiled, shook hands and asked Ada how she was managing without him. Then, when Ada began to hope that he was well again, he went on to say, ‘I have to go now, dear, my mother will have dinner ready and you know how anxious she gets if I don’t get there on time. Goodbye, Ada, I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  Ada watched as Phil was led away. He was talking to the policemen as though they were friends, and when the ambulance came, he shook hands with them and thanked them for arranging the lift. She went with him but he seemed to be unaware of her presence. Willie followed in her car, to bring her back. Jack collected Whizzer.

  She talked a lot when she got back home later that day and Cecily just listened as she reminisced about their marriage, and the fun Phil had been, and gradually seemed to accept that the man she had loved and who had made her so happy was gone from her.

  ‘I’ll still visit as often as before and talk about the old days, which is all he seems to remember, but I’ll no longer hope for some magical recovery.’

  ‘Come on, then, there’s still a lot to do before Christmas is upon us,’ Cecily said brightly. ‘We still haven’t decided how we’ll spend Christmas Day.’

  Edwin walked in two days before the day and invited them to share Christmas dinner with himself and Van and baby Richard. ‘We’ve been promised a goose,’ he said to persuade Cecily, who was hesitating to reply. ‘Lovely crackly goose. Do come, both of you. Van will be so pleased to have you at our first Christmas.’

  ‘Sorry, love,’ Cecily said. ‘We’d love to come, but we’ve made arrangements now.’ She looked at Ada for support. ‘Jack Simmons, he’s coming for dinner with all his family. And there’s Uncle Ben and Auntie Maggie. She isn’t up to cooking a big meal any more, and—’

  ‘And we’re going to Annette’s and Willie’s for tea,’ Ada finished.

  So Edwin, out of uniform and dressed in a smart new suit and overcoat, kissed them and wished them both a Happy Christmas. He handed them three parcels, one being for Phil, and left, with disappointment showing in his dark eyes.

  ‘Why didn’t you say yes?’ Ada asked when he had left the shop. ‘You should have taken the olive branch when it was offered.’

  ‘Not unless the olive branch was offered by Van. Now, we’d better get some invitations out. We don’t want to look like Tom Peppers, do we?’

  Ada smiled at the expression for liars their mother used.

  Van still visited her grandmother but insisted that she was still trying to persuade Cecily and Ada to forgive her and were not yet prepared to meet. Edwin warned her that if she didn’t put things right before the end of the year, he would tell Kitty exactly who was to blame. Van didn’t know how to end her deceit without admitting her dishonesty, so during each visit she talked about the baby and the shop and said very little about her mother and her aunt Ada.

  Christmas Day passed happily for Cecily and Ada. A fire was lit in the large room above the shop and it was there they set a festive table. Jack and Sally and their children enjoyed the unexpected invitation and tormented Uncle Ben with renderings of Christmas carols sung off-key and with the wrong words. Uncle Ben thumped out his revenge on the piano, playing melodies they hadn’t heard for years, bringing poignant memories of childhood. By volume alone, Ben tried to convince Jack he was wron
g.

  They had a taxi to Annette’s and Willie’s for a late tea, which Annette served on her beautiful Aynsley china. They came home after midnight, if not happy then content that their day had been spent among people who cared.

  On Boxing Day they went to see Sharon and Johnny, their daughters, their three cats, the dog and a goldfish called Gloop. The place was chaos with Sharon trying to dry dishes so she could offer them tea, and watching potatoes boiling over the stove, tripping over the cats and laughing at the attempts of Leonora to dress the dog in pyjamas.

  They stayed to admire the children’s presents and drink tea made by Ada, during which time she had managed to restore some kind of order to the kitchen, to Sharon’s delight. The three girls had made them each a present: a doll each from Victoria made from a dish mop, a handkerchief from Debora and from Leonora a sweet each which she assured them had only been sucked once.

  The visit to Peter’s old home should have made Cecily sad but it didn’t. The chenille cloth was still on the table and the place still lit by gas. The few ornaments he had left were there but carelessly placed as if they had been moved during one of Sharon’s infrequent and frantic dusting bouts and left where they happened to be at the end of the onslaught-by-duster!

  That they were happy there was no doubt. Laughter rang from the walls and in the middle of Sharon trying to cope, contentment was on every face. Cecily swallowed the lump in her throat and smiled across at Ada, who was separating a kitten from Sharon’s knitting.

  ‘Your Peter was so right making it theirs, wasn’t he?’ Ada whispered.

  ‘He was right about so many things. I miss him very much. But I’m so grateful for the time we did have.’

  ‘As I am for the years with Phil.’ She spoke with a hint of defiance, as if expecting her sister to argue or repeat her accusations about Phil causing Peter’s death, but Cecily smiled and nodded. ‘At least you still have Phil.’