Valley Affairs

by Valley Affairs (retail) (epub)

  ‘Yes, for five years for a start.’ He put an arm around her. ‘Sheila, will you write to me? Be my girl? It would be great to have a picture of you to show to the other boys, and having a letter, well, I’d be proud.’

  ‘I haven’t got a photo.’

  ‘We could get one done. Monday lunch-break. I’ll meet you and we’ll go to the photographers together.’

  They had almost reached the field and the lane was dark, the bonfire not yet lit. People could be heard milling about, torches sent beams of light into the dark reminiscent of search lights, and children laughed and screamed. Freddy knew many of them would be dressed as Guys themselves to add to the fun; he had done so himself just a few years ago.

  He pulled up the wire fencing and held it for Margaret and Oliver to slide underneath it, then held out his arms.

  ‘Lift you over, shall I?’

  ‘Go on, you two,’ Sheila said to the waiting youngsters and Freddy’s heart leapt. She was going to stay with him.

  ‘Give the bonfire a miss, shall we?’ He kissed her head. Her hair smelt fresh and sweet and a heady perfume rose from her warm body.

  ‘Hold my coat a minute, will you?’ She threw the school mackintosh at him and began to shorten her skirt, rolling it under the waistband until it was well above her shapely knees. The blouse was pulled free from the skirt and fell to the hem, like a short loose dress. Reaching into the pocket of her coat she took out a belt which she fixed around her waist, and then took her socks off. She smiled, her teeth white in the darkness.

  ‘Sheila! You look fantastic.’

  ‘Yeh, I suppose I do.’ She reached up and kissed him lightly on the cheek then gave him a push. ‘Now get lost. I’m meeting someone. Don’t worry, I’ll see myself home.’

  ‘Sheila!’

  She went under the fence and ran across the field. He began to run after her and as he ran, her figure was suddenly silhouetted as the fire flared into life and he lost sight of her as a hundred figures danced about in the glow.

  Children were shouting in excitement, adults shouting at them to be careful. Freddy ran towards the mass of local people and recognised no one. Flickering flames distorted each face and a dozen times he saw Sheila, ran closer, and each time turned away disappointed. He went closer to the fire, but the brightness dazzled him and he walked disconsolately through the muddy field, around which groups of people were gathered, all being lectured by parents to stay close and keep well back behind the safety line.

  As he watched, a line of children were arranged in a row by Bert Roberts and given a sparkler to hold. Then they sang a song which they had learnt at school. He was close enough to hear that the words sung by Arthur Toogood and some of his friends were slightly different from the school version, but he hardly took it in. He gave up looking for Sheila. She had used him again and if she wanted to find him she could easily do so.

  He heard someone ask where Nelly was and the reply that she was home of course, taking care of her dogs. Milly Toogood was telling Phil Davies they had heard Fay was looking for a council house. Phil said it was nonsense, and in the gloom behind Milly, Freddy saw Sybil Tremain, who followed her friend around constantly, shake her head.

  He wandered around the field like a ghost: unseen, unheard and detached from the scene and the excitement. As the singing finished, the fireworks began from high up on the field close to the woods. Sparks of every colour lit the night and rockets shot up and whined for attention. Stars sparkled into life and then were gone, only to be followed by others, each vying for the loudest roar from the crowd. The fireworks threw strange shadows and made the place a magical landscape. But Freddy couldn’t enjoy the spectacle and went over to join the men by the bonfire. Bert Roberts was poking at its edges and turning the potatoes set in the ashes to cook. He went and kicked a fallen log a bit closer to the flames and Bert shouted, ‘Not so heavy handed, will you?’

  A jacky-jumper firework was thrown among a crowd of women and Constable Harris marched up and clipped Arthur Toogood around the ear.

  ‘What makes you think it was him?’ Milly demanded.

  ‘Who else would it be?’ Constable Harris said with resounding conviction.

  Sheila had met Maurice as arranged at the top of the field, far away from the three men setting off the fireworks and hidden in the extra darkness beyond the field. She tried to bring him around to talk of weddings but was interrupted by hearing her mother and father calling her name. She began to cry.

  Maurice got up quickly and disappeared into the trees, whispering promises, and Sheila was found by her mother, hurriedly trying to straighten her clothes. Freddy heard her crying and when he saw her, by the light of a flaring firework, coming out of the trees, he ran forward to comfort her. But behind her, hurrying her on, were her parents.

  ‘So it’s you, Freddy Prichard! Pretending to be so innocent and all the time leading our poor girl on!’ Freddy stared at them, unable to begin to explain, and he went home with their accusations ringing in his ears.

  * * *

  A few days later, the letter Amy had been dreading to see arrived. Phil brought it and if he guessed what it contained he said nothing. He handed her the pile of post with the official-looking envelope at the bottom of the stack and, without waiting for the usual chat, hurried on.

  She handed it to Freddy and waited, fussily changing the position of tins on a shelf, while he opened it.

  ‘It’s my papers, Mam,’ he said.

  ‘I thought it must be, love,’ she said, trying to keep her voice normal. ‘When do you go then?’

  He handed her the letter and walked away to stare out of the door.

  ‘It isn’t too late I’m sure, if you’ve changed your mind,’ she said hesitantly.

  ‘It is, and I haven’t,’ he turned to face her. ‘What is there to stay for? There’s nothing for me here. I have to get away.’

  ‘Because of the gossip? About you and Sheila Powell? That will soon pass. As soon as there’s something more interesting happening it will be forgotten.’

  He flinched at the thought of his true reason for going – that was even more scandalous.

  ‘I want to go, Mam.’

  Something in his voice told her not to argue, but the future was beginning to look lonely and empty. She helped him pack his bag ready for his departure. She had not thought before how temporary children were.

  Chapter Six

  Amy opened the shop door and, seeing Nelly walking towards her, burst out laughing.

  ‘Nelly! It isn’t Coronation Day again, is it?’

  Nelly patted the hat she wore, into which she had fixed both the Union Jack and the red dragon of Wales. ‘Prince Charles is five years old today. That’s worth celebrating, ain’t it?’ she shouted. She came into the shop, dragging her two dogs. ‘I’m just off to “do” fer Mrs French, but I thought I’d call and ask you what time you want me tomorrer. The big day, ain’t it?’

  ‘Yes, we’re moving into the house at last. But without Freddy it won’t be half as exciting.’

  ‘Go on with yer. ’E’ll be ’avin’ leaves an’ bringin’ all ’is mates to visit. An’ young Margaret—’ she lowered her voice ‘—she don’t know about the—’ she mouthed the word ‘piano’, ‘—does she?’

  ‘No, Nelly, I wonder if you can help with that?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘It’s being delivered this afternoon. Could you go and wait for the men to bring it and make sure they put it in the right place? You know what it’s like trying to be in two places at once and without Freddy to help—’

  ‘Don’t go on about it, Amy. ’E’s doin’ what ’e wants and that’s ’ow it should be fer kids. No matter what we want for ’em, they makes up their own minds if they got any sense.’

  ‘You’re right. But I miss him so. I suppose I depended on him too much, made him grow up a bit quicker than was fair. It’s different with Margaret, her being a girl I suppose.’

  ‘You done well by them bot
h. Now, do me a favour an’ get out a couple of flags and stick ’em on the window. Make a bit of a show fer young Charles’s birthday, will yer?’

  ‘All right. With all I’ve got to do and with the hundred and one things running through my mind, I’ll get out a couple of flags!’ Amy laughed. ‘Go on, get your doing done, but don’t work too hard, we’ll have a busy day tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll go straight to the ’ouse from Mrs French’s, shall I, to wait fer the…’ she mouthed ‘piano’ again and when Amy nodded, went on her way, dragging Spotty on three legs away from the carrots just in time.

  ‘See you later,’ Amy called, aiming a kick at the dog as he slithered out of the door.

  Saturday morning was not a good time for deliveries and the shop was full when Vic Honeyman poked his head around the door and shouted for Amy to open the back gate for him.

  ‘You’ll have to wait,’ she said. ‘I can’t come for a moment, you can see how busy I am.’ She was always flustered when she saw him. Attracted as she was, she had refused to go out with him when she had learnt from Nelly that he had a wife and three children. Since then she had made her disapproval clear. She refused to speak to him if they met, except when he brought goods from the wholesalers in town.

  There had been two loves in Amy’s life and both men had been married. She swore to herself it would never happen again. For years she had believed Harry Beynon, whom she had loved all her life, would eventually leave Prue and come to live with her and her children, but he had died still married to Prue, who was expecting his child. So much for promises.

  The affair with Richard French had happened when they were both unhappy, Richard because he had not heard from his son, who was fighting the enemy in Europe, and Amy because, once again, Harry had chosen Prue and not her. That brief affair had given her her beautiful and talented daughter, and the finances to start the shop.

  To have a happy, honest relationship seemed beyond her, especially when a few meetings with Vic had ended with her being told about his family. Now she was never less than rude to him.

  ‘Give me the key and I’ll get them in for you,’ Vic said now, pushing through the customers waiting to be served.

  ‘Here, take the money for this cauli will you?’ A woman pushed a shilling piece into his hand and he gave her a piece of newspaper from the pile cut ready.

  ‘Five pounds of potatoes, please,’ another voice demanded and without asking Amy’s permission, Vic went outside and weighed the potatoes and put them into her bag. She paid and he went back inside and handed the coins to Amy.

  He managed to attend to three more customers, including Oliver who had come to spend his Saturday threepence on sweets, and who spent an age deciding. Then the shop was finally empty.

  ‘Thanks,’ Amy said as he handed her the last of the money.

  ‘Make me a cup of tea and we’ll call it quits,’ he grinned.

  ‘All right. I’ll have it ready when you’ve unloaded.’

  The shop filled and emptied several times before they were able to drink the tea. While she served, Vic packed away the boxes of beans and peas and carrots in the orderly store room in the yard.

  ‘It’s so tidy out there, it’s easy to see where things go. A marvel of orderliness, you are, Amy Prichard.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said again, watching him warily, almost daring him to suggest a date.

  ‘I hear you’re moving tomorrow. Sunday’s a funny day to be moving, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s easier than trying to close the shop for a day. Nelly will help me and Margaret will be out of the way. She’s staying with Oliver’s parents over the road while I get things straight.’

  ‘Want any help?’

  ‘No thanks!’

  ‘No strings. I’ve got a loan of my brother’s van at the moment and I could make a few journeys a bit earlier than the furniture van to get things in order. It’s up to you though. I’ll bring one of my kids so you won’t think there’s any ulterior motive,’ he added.

  ‘Now how could I think that, a happily married man like you?’ she said sarcastically.

  ‘I’m not “happily married” and you know it, but that’s something different. Do you want some help or not?’

  ‘Thanks, yes, I would be glad of an extra hand. Freddy’s gone see, and it’s difficult without him. Any good at putting up shelves are you?’

  ‘Damn good.’

  He arranged to call at seven the following morning. Amy spent the time between the next rush of customers straightening up the displays of vegetables, fussily rearranging the cauliflowers and cabbages, and rolling down the neck of the potato sack until everything was again as neat as she liked it, trying to find reasons to disapprove of Vic’s help.

  There was an entrance at the side of the shop which, being blocked with tins of biscuits and other dry goods, she never used. To get to the flat above she used the stairs inside the shop, but now the flat was to be let she had to rearrange things. The unused stairs would have to be cleared and the second staircase bolted firmly and padlocked from the shop side. She looked around her, wondering where to find space for the stock from the stairs. She sighed. Space was a problem even with the shop extended. But there was no Harry to help her this time. If only Vic were single.

  He was not handsome, not like Harry, who had seemed to light up a room when he entered with his happy, glad-to-be-alive expression and the brightness of his blue eyes behind the rimless glasses he wore. Vic was pale by comparison, pale skin, pale faded blue eyes that were more grey than blue, she decided on reflection. His hair was already showing streaks of grey and was thin, too long and smelt of the cigarettes he continually smoked. She smiled to herself at the unkind description. He didn’t have much going for him, did he? And yet there was gentleness and kindness in the faded eyes, and perhaps the smoking was partly due to his unhappiness at home. Whatever it was, there was a spark between them – but a spark without a chance of burning into a flame, she told herself firmly.

  * * *

  It was hardly light when Nelly and the dogs set off for Amy’s house. She looked over at the flat before heading in the direction of the house to make sure Amy hadn’t overslept. She had looked very tired the previous day, and on Sundays she usually slept late. But the lights shone in the windows.

  The sun seemed unwilling to break through today and Nelly looked up uneasily at the low clouds, afraid the move would take place in heavy rain. ‘An’ a fat lot of good all my extra cleanin’ will ’ave bin then!’ she grumbled.

  She opened the house door with her key and made a half-hearted attempt to clean the dogs’ feet before letting them lie on the coconut matting near the sink.

  ‘Stay put until you’re dry or Amy’ll be mad with yer,’ she warned. She took off her old coat and set to lighting fires in the two downstairs rooms. The fireplace in the living room heated water and needed a bit of practice to get going, as the draught took the flame away from the coal and sticks if you didn’t watch it.

  The place was already spotless, and some second-hand carpets were down in two bedrooms and the living room. In the kitchen black and red tiles shone with Nelly’s recent efforts. It was in the living room that Margaret’s surprise stood waiting for her: a piano, its lid closed against the dust, the dark wood shining like new. On top of it was a new music case, an extra present from Freddy. Nelly smiled and, taking her duster, began to polish the piano again while she waited for Amy.

  Out of her coat pocket she brought an ancient alarm clock and propped it up on the draining board. The van was not expected to arrive before eleven, but she wanted to be waiting, not half way through a job. She went through to the empty front room and glanced out at the garden, noticing Freddy’s efforts and nodding approval, then back to the living room to polish the wooden surround to the square of carpet, humming happily to herself.

  The fire was burning brightly in both rooms and the smell of polish giving the place a lived-in feeling when Nelly saw someone walk past the window an
d looked at the clock.

  ‘Blimey, it must ’ave stopped!’ She opened the back door and put on the kettle, then frowned as she recognised Victor Honeyman.

  ‘What you doin’ ’ere then?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve borrowed a van and I’m giving Amy a hand. I’ve been told this is the most important.’ He handed her a small box which contained a bag of biscuits, cups, and tins of sandwiches and cakes, plus a large teapot. Nelly took out the china and the food and put it all near the cooker.

  ‘I’ve brought the fridge too. It’s only small so I thought we could put it in place before the rest.’

  He seemed to know where Amy wanted everything and busied himself fixing shelves on the wall behind the sink and bringing a cupboard from the garage to hold the fridge. Nelly watched. She did not approve of this sudden revival of his friendship with Amy and her face showed it, but Vic didn’t seem to notice her hostility and had her holding screws and passing the tools, helping him to straighten the shelves and, finally, making him a cup of tea.

  The cooker was an electric one and small like the fridge. He fitted it to its plug while Nelly made his tea, which she handed him with a frown.

  ‘What does your wife think of you comin’ to ’elp Amy like this?’

  ‘She’s glad to get me from under her feet. One of the kids is coming down later to see if there’s anything he can do. We’re like that, see, us Honeymans. It’s all right, Nelly Luke, it’s all above board,’ he teased.

  ‘I ’opes it is,’ she said, taking his cup before he had finished and putting it in the bowl for washing.

  Victor brought a second load including pot plants, a goldfish bowl and some precious ornaments, then at eleven o’clock the furniture van arrived. Amy’s flat had been small and she hadn’t been able to build up a home as she would have wished, so the van wasn’t too full.

  ‘Be better when the new stuff arrives,’ Amy said to Nelly as the two old fireside chairs were lifted off the lorry. They stood in the window of the front room while the boxes and oddments of furniture were unloaded and set in their places. It was not until most of the large items had been brought in that Nelly noticed the two women.