Ambitious Love

by Rosie Harris

  He took them a little further along the street to where a vendor had set up a stall and was serving cups of hot Bovril, cocoa or tea at a penny a cup.

  Fern and her mother decided to have cocoa but Glanmor had Bovril and he insisted on paying for all the drinks.

  ‘I’m a working man now,’ he said, grinning when they protested.

  ‘Are you enjoying your job?’ Fern asked. ‘Maria Roberts told me it was at the same place as where you’ve been working on Saturdays.’

  ‘That’s right, only now that I’m working there full-time it’s quite a bit different. Far more responsibility. Fortunately, I know a lot about the business and what is expected of me because I’ve watched how things are done ever since I started working there.’

  By the time they’d finished their cocoa the streets were so packed that they were being jostled on all sides. Glanmor insisted on walking between them so that they could each take his arm if they felt they needed to do.

  ‘Where’s your mam then, Glanmor, is she working tonight or doesn’t she like crowds like this?’ Wynne asked.

  ‘She’s working but she’ll be coming to the Pier Head so I’ll be looking out for her.’

  ‘You’ll never spot her in this crowd,’ Fern gasped.

  ‘I will, she knows exactly where I’ll be and I know precisely what time she’ll be turning up.’

  Skilfully he guided them through the throng, edging them ever closer to the railings at the Pier Head.

  ‘This is one of the best places to be tonight,’ he assured them, looking up at the Pier Head clock tower. ‘My mam will be here in five minutes.’

  ‘Well, thank you for bringing us here, Glanmor. We’ll be all right now if you want to go,’ Wynne told him.

  ‘Go?’ He looked at her questioningly. ‘Don’t you want to meet my mam, then?’

  ‘We’d love to, but I thought you mightn’t want that,’ Wynne said quickly. ‘We’re strangers, after all.’

  ‘I’ve told her so much about you that you won’t be like strangers,’ he assured them. ‘Probably more like old friends.’

  Alwyn Williams was a tall, well-built woman in her mid-thirties with fair hair and very clear blue eyes. She arrived at the Pier Head a few minutes before midnight and seemed to have no difficulty at all in finding Glanmor even though by now the crowd was quite dense.

  Although her clothes were shabby she walked proudly and the hard, direct stare she gave them both when Glanmor introduced them left Fern feeling uneasy.

  ‘It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Williams, Glanmor has been so kind to my daughter,’ Wynne told her.

  ‘It’s Miss Williams, but do call me Alwyn,’ Glanmor’s mother told her crisply.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Wynne said in confusion. ‘Very well, then, if I call you Alwyn, perhaps you’d better call me Wynne.’

  ‘Wynne. Wynne Jenkins, isn’t it? Will that be Mrs Wynne Jenkins?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  Alwyn laid such emphasis on the name Jenkins that Wynne felt bemused and wondered why. It was almost as if she hated the name.

  ‘We’ve only recently moved to Cardiff from Blaenafon,’ Wynne explained. ‘My husband Cradock was killed in a pit explosion and right away the pit owners turned us out of our home. We had nowhere to go so we decided to come to Cardiff and stay with my husband’s brother, Bryson Jenkins. He lives in Angelina Street. Perhaps you know him?’ she asked tentatively.

  ‘Oh yes, I know Bryson Jenkins. Indeed I do,’ Alwyn said curtly. ‘I never knew that he had a brother or a niece either, for that matter,’ she added, nodding in Fern’s direction.

  ‘I think they fell out or something. I hadn’t seen sight or sound of Bryson for years and then he turned up at Cradock’s funeral. Surprise, it was, I can tell you. In fact, when he offered to help, I sent him packing. In the end, though, I had to swallow my pride and ask him if I could move in with him. It’s only temporary, mind you. Fern will be leaving school soon and once she starts earning regular money, we hope to move into a place of our own. I like to be independent, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Oh, I know what you mean all right. I’m sorry to hear about your husband, cariad. Sad old world, isn’t it?’

  ‘I lost my son as well. Just a few months before the war ended. He wasn’t much older than your Glanmor.’

  ‘A pit explosion?’

  ‘No, he was in the army, killed in action over there in France. A sad day for us, I can tell you.’

  ‘So coming down here to Cardiff is a new start for the two of you,’ Alwyn said and her tone was far friendlier than it had been before.

  ‘Yes, that’s true and no mistake,’ Wynne agreed. ‘All these crowds and so much noise are all new to us,’ she went on. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many people gathered in one place before to celebrate the new year,’ she added with a nervous laugh.

  ‘Wait until midnight and then you’ll hear some real noise,’ Glanmor told them. ‘Come on; let’s make sure we are standing in a good spot while we can. There are only a few seconds to go now until midnight.’

  As Glanmor had warned, on the stroke of twelve the noise became absolutely deafening as the ships’ hooters and foghorns all sounded to mark the start of the new year.

  Fern found herself covering her ears with her hands, especially when the trams waiting at the pier head also clanged their bells and motor cars in the area sounded their horns.

  To add to the general cacophony the crowd began singing at the tops of their voices; some sang in Welsh and others in English and the outpourings clashed and blended on the night air like some gigantic choir.

  Strangers of all nationalities were shaking hands and uttering fervent wishes for a ‘Happy New Year’ while close friends and neighbours were kissing and slapping each other on the back.

  Although there were a number of men who were disabled by war injuries amongst the crowd, as well as many with sad memories, they all seemed to be optimistic about the future now that the war was finally over.

  Fern felt bewildered by it all and very thankful indeed that Glanmor was there with them. She knew it would be a night she would remember for ever and she wished her brother Barri could have been there at their side as well. He’d only been a few years older than Glanmor and it saddened her to think that she would never see him again.

  She saw her mother surreptitiously wipe away her tears and knew she was probably thinking the same thing. The events of 1918 had changed their lives so much, and not for the better; 1919 must surely mark an improvement, Fern thought hopefully.

  Suddenly the excitement was gone from the evening. She wanted to go home and curl up snug and warm in bed where she’d feel safe, and before she drifted off to sleep she would think about all the good things that she hoped the new year would bring.

  The new year did bring changes and also a great many surprises. Frequently, when Fern finished working for Maria on a Saturday, she found Glanmor was waiting to walk her home and usually he suggested that they should meet up somewhere and go for a walk the next day because although he was now working full-time he didn’t work on Sundays.

  Towards the end of January, because it was so cold and wet, he suggested that perhaps Fern would like to bring her mother round to their house for a cup of tea on Sunday afternoon.

  ‘Does your mam know you are going to ask us?’ Fern asked hesitantly.

  ‘Of course she does. It was her idea. If it’s a nice day, then we can go off on our own for a walk and leave them together; otherwise we can stay in and have tea with them.’

  The arrangement worked so well that it became a regular outing on Sundays and one they all looked forward to.

  Alwyn Williams admitted that she didn’t make friends easily and added, almost as a warning, that it was because she wasn’t prepared to talk about her private life.

  Glanmor had already told Fern that his mother enjoyed Wynne’s company because she didn’t try and pry into her background but accepted her for who she was.


  Nevertheless, sometimes when they were making their way home after visiting Glanmor and Alwyn, Wynne would wonder if Alwyn had ever been married.

  ‘She never mentions her husband and it’s so strange that she still uses her maiden name.’

  ‘She doesn’t wear a wedding ring either, so perhaps he’s dead,’ Fern said dismissively.

  ‘You may be right but I’m puzzled as to why Glanmor is called Williams which is her maiden name.’

  ‘Perhaps she has never been married,’ Fern pointed out. ‘That might be the reason she doesn’t want to talk about her past.’

  ‘You could be right,’ Wynne agreed. ‘Anyway, she’s a very nice woman and I enjoy her company. She certainly likes to keep herself to herself. She won’t even come round to our place for a cup of tea but insists that we go there.’

  ‘Does she know Uncle Bryson?’

  ‘Well, she appears to. Perhaps it is Bertha she doesn’t like, although she never mentions her name.’

  ‘I think it is probably better to say nothing but simply accept her hospitality,’ Fern said, squeezing her mother’s arm affectionately. ‘You enjoy going there and I certainly like the opportunity of seeing Glanmor every Sunday. I think he’s one of the nicest chaps I’ve ever met.’

  ‘Oh he’s that all right and he’s good-looking and well mannered. You couldn’t have made a better friend,’ her mother agreed.

  Chapter Nine

  Fern found that it was very difficult to settle to lessons during her last term at school. Learning pieces of poetry, writing essays and even doing sums seemed to be pointless when she was about to leave school and would have to start work.

  Sometimes it seemed to her that Easter would never arrive. Then, the next minute, she was worrying that it was only a few weeks away and that she had no idea about what she was going to do when she did leave.

  She would have to find a job and she knew that her mother didn’t want her to go into a factory. Although Wynne was still working at Curran’s, she didn’t like it there. The hours were long and she hated not only what she was doing but also the noise and the people she worked with.

  Fern was still helping Maria with selling flowers at the railway station but she didn’t think that there was enough trade to enable Maria to employ her full-time. Weekends were different; Maria was always quite busy on Friday nights because many of the men had just received their weekly pay packet and liked to take a bunch of flowers home to their wives. It was much the same on Saturday; young boyos going off to meet their girlfriends would buy a posy of violets or a bunch of flowers to give them.

  Finally, because she was so worried about her future, Fern mentioned the matter to Glanmor when they were out for a walk one Sunday afternoon.

  ‘Have you told Maria yet that you are leaving school at Easter?’ he probed.

  ‘I think I’ve mentioned it once or twice when we’ve been talking,’ Fern admitted.

  ‘So did you tell her that you’d like to work for her full-time?’

  Fern shook her head. ‘I didn’t see any point in doing that because she’s always saying that she doesn’t do all that much trade during the week.’

  ‘Not at the railway station pitch, perhaps, but she might have other ideas,’ he said laconically, kicking a discarded cigarette pack off the pavement into the gutter.

  Fern looked startled. ‘Do you know something that I don’t?’ she asked, looking at him sideways.

  ‘No, not really; just some gossip I overheard.’

  ‘Go on, then, tell me what it is.’

  Glanmor shrugged his shoulders dismissively. ‘I think you should mention to Maria that you’ll be finishing school in a couple of weeks and that you would like to work on a flower stall.’

  ‘I don’t like to do that,’ Fern said reluctantly.

  ‘Why ever not?’ Glanmor looked at her in astonishment.

  ‘I don’t know, really,’ Fern admitted. ‘She’s always so busy,’ she added lamely.

  ‘You should do; speak to her about it this weekend,’ Glanmor insisted firmly.

  When he came to meet her the following Saturday, the first thing he did was ask her if she’d told Maria that she would be leaving school in a couple of weeks’ time.

  ‘Yes,’ Fern told him, smiling broadly, ‘and guess what? She’s said I can work for her full-time. It won’t be outside the railway station but on a stall in the Hayes,’ she added excitedly.

  ‘There you are, then, think of all the worry you would have saved yourself if you’d asked her ages ago if there was any possibility of her employing you full-time.’

  ‘Maria said that she will still keep her pitch at the station so that means I will be on my own at the Hayes most of the time. She’ll come to the stall on and off during the day to make sure I am all right.’

  ‘That sounds like a first-class arrangement,’ Glanmor agreed.

  ‘Maria said that the stallholders there are all very friendly so if I do have any trouble with an awkward customer, I’ve only got to call one of them over and they’ll sort things out.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure they’ll watch out for you.’

  ‘It seems that she’s already made all the arrangements to open the stall on Easter Saturday. I hope I’m going to be able to do it and not let her down,’ she added anxiously.

  ‘You’ll be the perfect businesswoman,’ Glanmor said teasingly. He took her hand and squeezed it affectionately. ‘I’m proud of you. Maria must think you are capable of running it or she wouldn’t have planned it all.’

  ‘I can’t wait to get home and tell my mam,’ Fern exclaimed. ‘She’s going to be so pleased. I’ll be earning a proper wage so it means we can really start planning to move away from Angelina Street.’

  Wynne was highly delighted by the news when Fern told her. ‘Tell Maria that as soon as we move into a place of our own we’ll invite her round,’ she said, beaming.

  ‘Oh, I’m not too sure if I should do that,’ Fern said hesitantly. ‘She is my boss, you know. I’ll ask Glanmor what he thinks. Perhaps we could have a real celebration,’ she added quickly as she saw the look of disappointment on her mother’s face, ‘and invite him and his mother to come as well,’ she added optimistically.

  ‘I’m renting the stall in the Hayes from the Quarter Day,’ Maria told her, ‘so that means there will be less than a month to have it up and running if it is to be ready for trading on Easter Saturday.’

  Fern started working at the Hayes the same day as she left school. Maria introduced her to some of the other stallholders and told her which ones she could call on for help if she needed it.

  ‘They’ll also keep an eye on the stall for you if you need to leave it unattended for a few minutes,’ Maria told her.

  As well as selling cut flowers Maria wanted to extend the range to include ferns, aspidistras and flowering plants that were already growing in pots.

  ‘We won’t have too many to start off with until we see if there is any call for them,’ she told Fern. ‘You must remember to water them two or three times a week, the moment the soil starts to look dry, otherwise they will droop and no one will want to buy them.’

  Fern felt that her head was bursting with all the instructions Maria had given her but it was all so exciting that she was determined to remember everything.

  She felt very nervous when they opened on Easter Saturday and after making sure she knew what to do, Maria left her to get on with things on her own. Fern kept telling herself that it was really no different from selling outside the station, only this time, instead of a tray of posies, she had a whole stall full of plants and flowers.

  To her delight business was brisk. Because it was Easter a lot of people were buying flowers for their own homes, others wanted them to take to friends and several people wanted flowers to take to the cemetery to put on the graves of their departed loved ones.

  Since most of her regular customers were on holiday Maria spent much of the day with her and, to Fern’s relief, too
k charge of the money. When they finally closed, Maria was more than pleased with the way things had gone. Tired though she was Fern felt as though she was walking on air by the time Glanmor came to see how she’d got on and to walk her home.

  ‘Don’t expect to be as busy as that all the time,’ he warned. ‘It’s a special weekend for one thing, and for another, a flower stall at the Hayes is a bit of a novelty.’

  ‘I hope I won’t be,’ Fern sighed. ‘I’ve never felt so tired in my life as I do at this moment.’

  ‘Never mind, you’ve got all day tomorrow to rest and again on Monday because Maria won’t open the stall on a bank holiday. I was thinking that perhaps we go out somewhere special but of course if you’re too tired to do so I quite understand,’ he added.

  ‘I’ll probably feel as right as rain after a good night’s sleep,’ she told him with a smile.

  ‘I thought that if we arranged to meet at about half past ten, then we could go out somewhere on our own. Tell your mother to go round to my mam’s in the afternoon and then we’ll go back there for tea. How does that sound to you?’

  ‘Well,’ Fern said hesitantly. ‘I’m pretty sure that my mam was looking forward to us spending the day together, so what about if we all go out somewhere?’

  Glanmor gave a silent whistle. ‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’ He frowned.

  ‘Yes, I really do,’ Fern insisted. ‘I’m sure your mam would love it. All she ever does is work at the Seaman’s Mission and then come home and wait on you,’ she added giving him a cheeky glance.

  ‘If that’s what you want to do, then it’s fine by me. Perhaps we could take the train to Penarth or something. I’ll ask my mam to make up some sandwiches and we can sit by the seafront and eat them.’

  ‘Great; we’ll bring some cakes or something and we can all share them and have a lovely picnic,’ Fern enthused.

  ‘Yes, and then we can leave the two of them to sit and talk to each other while we go for a walk on our own.’

  ‘That sounds perfect.’