“What’s it to do with Weston’s?” Viv dared to ask.
“You work for us, you serve our valued customers. We have to decide whether we wish you to continue.”
Viv knew a speech was coming. Arfon stood, leaning back, fist on waist and addressing the furthest wall. He didn’t dare to interrupt or attempt to reply. He didn’t even look towards the somewhat ridiculously pompous faces lined up in front of him, but instead, studied the view from the window. Gardens and sheds, many with galvanised baths hanging ready for Friday night’s bath time. A cat lay contentedly on a roof enjoying the autumn sun. When Islwyn finally spoke to him, Viv moved his eyes slowly as if it was not really anything to do with him.
“We will overlook it this time,” Islwyn said, “but if there’s any more trouble of this sort and rumours continue we’re afraid you will be asked to leave.” Viv looked at Islwyn with a half smile on his face. Islwyn and Sian’s son Jack had been his friend since they were young, even when different schools had threatened to separate them. Funny to think that they had climbed trees and fought rival gangs together; now he had to sit in front of Jack’s father and pretend to be some inferior being. “How is Jack?” he asked.
“He is well. Now, do you understand what we’ve been saying?”
“So long as my dad behaves I’ve got a job, right?” Humour glowed in Viv’s eyes. The situation was no longer fearful. Their remarks were so nonsensical he had difficulty in holding back laughter.
* * *
Arfon Weston left the shop and drove home, where Gladys stood poised to send for coffee and biscuits, it being eleven o’clock and the correct time for it. She clapped her hands for Victoria, who came running and was told off for her haste.
When the tray had been brought and approved, and Victoria had returned to the kitchen, Gladys asked if he had sacked Viv Lewis.
“No I didn’t. I wanted to, but you persuaded me otherwise. But I think I might have been wrong to keep him on.”
“Nonsense, dear. He knows the business and it takes so long before a newcomer is of any use.”
“But there’s something impertinent about the boy. He seemed to find it amusing to be threatened with losing his position with one of the biggest businesses in the town. And as for grateful for being given a second chance, he seemed almost – well, instead of showing humility he positively smirked, Gladys.”
Gladys tutted. “Still, he is good at his job and it was his father’s behaviour, not his, after all.”
Arfon went on, “Perhaps the whole family is tainted? A father sets the standards, and Lewis Lewis allowing his wife to go out to work – now there’s no war to make it necessary, is a bad sign. Running an insurance round and taking the job from a man returned from fighting for his country, too. It isn’t right. He isn’t setting a good example for his children to follow.”
“No, dear.” Gladys hid a smile. You could tell Arfon was on the council by the way he spoke. Even a conversation with his wife sounded like a speech.
“If Dora had been home looking after him instead of allowing Rhiannon to run things it might have never happened,” Arfon went on.
“Forget it now, and listen to my idea.” Gladys smiled. “What about us taking the whole family on holiday?”
“All of us?”
“All of us. Our girls, their husbands and the grandchildren. We could rent a house for a couple of weeks and relax and enjoy some sun.”
“Sun? It’s the end of October!”
“I was thinking of France, dear. We could travel abroad and stay in France. After all, with their education, the grandchildren can speak the language and who knows, we might pick up a few phrases ourselves. That will impress people, won’t it?”
“Is that why you advised me not to sack young Viv Lewis? So he can run things while we’re away?”
“What a crafty little wife you’ve got, Arfon Weston,” she chuckled.
* * *
That evening, after totting up the takings and locking his desk securely at Weston’s Wallpaper and Paint, Viv Lewis went home to share his amusement with Rhiannon.
“What do they expect me to do with our Dad, keep him on a chain like a disobedient dog?” he laughed. “Nineteen I am and not so desperate that I need to hang on to their piddling little job for fear of never getting another. I’m tempted to leave anyway. I’m good at what I do and with five years’ experience I won’t have difficulty getting another job.”
“Have you seen Dad?” Rhiannon asked.
“Not yet. I thought I’d go and see him tonight. You coming?”
“I don’t know whether I should, Mam might be upset.”
“Tell her we’re going to the pictures then. He’s staying at The Firs boarding house isn’t he? It’s not far.”
“What if Nia Martin is with him?”
“She was serving in the shop when I passed. There’s a laugh, her calling her sweet shop ‘Temptations’, eh?”
“Viv!”
After the family had eaten, and Lewis-boy had escorted Eleri to work, Rhiannon announced that she and Viv were going to the pictures. Dora Lewis didn’t raise her head from the round-book she was filling in but said casually, “If you’re going to see your father you don’t have to lie about it.”
“Well we did think we might,” Rhiannon admitted. “Just to see if he’s all right.”
“That woman will probably be there, you know that, don’t you?”
“She won’t. Will she?”
“Why not? Got him all to herself now she has. I kicked him out, remember?”
“Well, perhaps we will go to the pictures then,” Viv said. “I wouldn’t know what to say if Nia Martin was there.”
“Yes, Mam. We’ll go to the pictures.”
“Best for you, too,” Dora replied dryly. “You don’t want to take sides in this.”
Brother and sister walked along the main road towards the cinema, passing the turning that led to The Firs boarding house with nothing more than a hesitant glance towards its tall facade.
“It sounds as if Mam’s expecting them to get back together anyway,” Rhiannon said, voicing the end of a silent consideration. “Telling us not to take sides suggests that, doesn’t it?”
“Or putting it another way, least said easiest mended. Yes, you could be right.”
“But I would like to see him,” Rhiannon said, slowing her steps.
“The main film doesn’t start for twenty minutes…” They turned and went back to the corner and in moments were at the front door of the shabby building with the grandiose name.
Lewis Lewis showed no remorse at the situation he was in. His smile was wide as he welcomed them. “Come in. What a lovely surprise. Off out somewhere are you? I’m going to the pictures later, why don’t you come with me?”
“We were intending—”
“Oh, forget the dreary plans you’ve made and come and have a laugh with your old dad, eh?”
Viv grinned at his sister as they agreed. “Fancy a cup of tea?” Lewis asked and on the nod, he called across the landing to another boarder, “Got any milk to spare, Miss, er, thing-o-me?”
A young woman came over with a glass of milk and Lewis thanked her with a blown kiss.
“Stop it! Behave, or you’ll get me the sack, our Dad,” Viv chuckled, then described the morning’s interview with the Weston family. “Don’t worry, son. Even if you went in drunk, Gladys Weston won’t let them sack you at present.”
“What d’you mean?”
“Well, their servant, Victoria, is related to Miss thing-o-me across the landing and her across the landing said Gladys Weston wants them to go to France for a holiday and you’re the only one who could take charge.”
“When did you hear this?” Viv asked.
“Not five minutes ago, when I went over to borrow some tea.”
“Don’t know why we bother with newspapers round here!” Rhiannon giggled.
* * *
When they came out of the cinema into heavy rain, they
began to run for a bus, but Lewis pulled his son and daughter into a shop doorway.
“D’you want your mam and me to get together again?” he asked.
“Of course we do,” Viv said solemnly.
“You will, won’t you, Dad?” Rhiannon asked.
“If you want to help, tell your mam I’m as miserable as hell and demented with remorse. If either of you tell her I saw a film and laughed all through it, I’m dead. Right?”
They rehearsed their story on the way home but had difficulty hiding their laughter as they told Dora how unhappy their father was living in a squalid bedsit without anywhere to store even a drop of milk. For effect, they added that he was constantly hungry, as the landlady had taken his ration book, which didn’t start until the following week.
That Dora believed, but the tale of her husband’s misery she very much doubted.
* * *
Lewis tried phoning, calling and writing to Dora and Nia in an attempt to extricate himself for the discomfort of The Firs, but both women were determined not to take pity on him. Dora, because she was dreadfully hurt and Nia, because she didn’t want to end up looking after a man whom she had only ever wanted for brief moments of passion.
* * *
During the weeks Lewis was absent from home, Barry Martin continued to serve at the sweet shop. Many refused to go into his mother’s shop, convinced that someone who ‘carried on’ was unclean. Others went in solely to let Barry know that they had heard the gossip, and yet others blatantly to ask questions.
Nia found the prospect of returning to the shop more and more difficult. One morning, when Barry was impatient and demanded to be freed to return to his own work, she said she would never go back but would sell the business.
“Mam, the worst is over. There’s limit to what people can think of to say and most of it’s been said. To me! Give it a few days and they’ll let it rest. Your regulars will soon be tired of walking all the way up to the main road. You’ve been through the worst. Stick it out for just one week and you’ll see an end to it. There’ll soon be something else to make their tongues clack.”
“I’m not opening this morning and I don’t know if I’ll ever open again.” Nia was adamant. “I’ll open today but I can’t take more than one more day off. You’ll have to face it or find someone to run it for you.”
“All right. You can get someone else to run the place. I can’t.”
Barry took a deep breath and said, “What about Rhiannon Lewis? If her mother agrees.”
“Rhiannon Lewis? Don’t be ridiculous!”
“She’s bright, and I think she’d be reliable and hardworking. Looking after her family like a staid aunt, it’s no life for a girl of eighteen. Why not ask her? She might be glad of the chance to work outside the home now. The rest of the Lewises are old enough not to need waiting on.”
“No, Barry. I don’t want any further connections to the Lewises.”
“What connections? You and Lewis Lewis used to see each other. That’s hardly a connection. It’s over now, isn’t it?”
“I don’t want Rhiannon or any of the Lewises working for me.”
It took all of Barry’s persuasive powers but eventually Nia agreed – mainly to shut him up – that he could ask Rhiannon. She had no doubt what the answer would be so why bother arguing with Barry when the result was a certain refusal?
It was on Saturday evening that Rhiannon opened the door to her father. He came in dragging his suitcase and his briefcase overflowing with advertisements and price lists of the frozen foods he sold, and carrying a battered ration book in his hand. Rhiannon looked at her mother, hoping for compassion and saw tight-lipped fury. Dora opened the front door, pushed his belongings out and heaved him after them, deaf to his protests.
There was another knock, almost immediately, and this time Dora stood watching as Rhiannon nervously approached it. “Your father won’t get past the step this time,” Dora muttered, her eyes glistening dangerously.
When Rhiannon opened it and saw Barry there, she panicked. Surely he wasn’t going to vent further icy fury?
“Don’t you dare say there’s more trouble between my father and your mother!” she shouted before Barry said a word. “He hasn’t been near your mother so don’t you dare say he has!”
“I came to ask if you’d consider running the shop for Mam,” Barry said, when the outburst finally ceased. “Mam isn’t well and I don’t want to close the shop.”
“But – I don’t know anything about running a sweet shop!” She still spoke as if she were telling him off. “And how can I with this lot going on?”
At that moment, Viv squeezed past her, muttering that he’d be back about ten, and would she save some supper. Viv was closely followed by Lewis-boy and Eleri, who had the evening off, and who were going to visit friends. Barry moved to one side to let them pass but didn’t give her the opportunity to close the door.
“Time you started to think about your own future, isn’t it? I just thought that you’d like a chance to learn a nice clean business and earn some money for yourself.”
She plumped herself up for a retort but before she could reply Dora called from the kitchen, “Rhiannon; I can’t face these dishes, I’m going out for a bike ride. Put a light under the soup about ten, will you?” She went out the back way; a draught threatened to slam the front door, held by Barry.
“Who do you think you are, Barry Martin, telling me what I should do?”
“Thinking about that spoilt lot in there it’s time someone did!”
“It is, is it? Well, all right then. I will!”
As she closed the door on a surprised Barry, she wondered how she would ever persuade Mam to allow her to work for her father’s fancy woman!
Chapter Three
Nia Martin didn’t want to enter Temptations sweet shop ever again. She was highly embarrassed by her affair with Lewis Lewis becoming general knowledge. It had been going on for years, far longer than Dora realised. They had been so successful at keeping their secret, and now, because Barry had decided to close the shop early, everyone knew. It was so unfair, she thought childishly. They had harmed no one and there hadn’t been anything but misery once Barry had spread news of it. Her other son, Joseph, seemed to find it all amusing, but he was a man who found humour in everything. He hadn’t been upset, just surprised that they had been able to keep the secret for as long as they had.
Joseph continued to go to work in the gentlemen’s outfitters as if nothing had happened, neatly fielding any attempt to prise information from him or criticism of his mother.
Only to Caroline Griffiths did he speak of it, when he called into the wool shop to replace a button. Caroline and he were friends and he knew she wouldn’t want the details for gossip’s sake but would understand and sympathise.
It was Barry who kept the sweet shop open, doing his own work in his photography studio in the evenings. After another week had passed, Barry talked again to his mother and made her see that she must at least deal with the shop until other arrangements could be made.
“We’ll have to wait and see if Rhiannon’s mother will let her come. If she doesn’t, then I’ll sell up. I won’t make plans until Rhiannon tells us what she’s decided.”
She knew that the chances of Dora allowing her daughter to work for her, the woman her husband had been having an affair with, were so slim they could almost be discounted. But Nia meant to appease Barry for a little while, get him used to the idea that Temptations would very likely pass out of the family. Then she would be able to contact an estate agent and set the sale of the business in motion. She wanted out. There wasn’t a foreseeable end to people’s memories where something as juicy as this was concerned. She knew that for months and even years hence, there would be the occasional remark to wound her.
When Barry came home one day and told her Dora was willing for Rhiannon to work at Temptations Nia could hardly believe it. “I won’t go there, mind. She’ll have to manage on her own, but
all right, she can run it until it can be sold,” she had said.
“You can’t let it go, Mam,” Barry pleaded.
“Think how you’ll regret it when this has all blown over in a few months time. You love the shop and you’re proud of it being a family business.”
“‘Katie’s Confections’ your grandmother called it when she began.”
“So proud she was when you took it over and changed the name to Temptations.”
“I know all that, Barry, love, but now is what matters and now I can’t face the smirks and false smiles.”
“Can’t you? Even for a few weeks? That’s all it’ll be. Once you’ve seen your customers a few times there’ll be nothing more to say and tongues will find another target.”
“You’ve asked Rhiannon to take over, I’ve agreed to that; so what are we having this conversation for?” Nia said irritably.
Barry knew that the best thing for his mother was for her to face the reality of her situation and stand up to the few spiteful people who would enjoy her humiliation, so he said, “Rhiannon’s mother is willing, and Rhiannon will be fine, but you can’t expect her to walk in there one Monday and run the place without some guidance. There’s the rationing for a start, ordering what you can sell and making sure you have sufficient coupons, it’s all very complicated, you must see that. Stay with her for a few weeks, then go on a holiday. Please, Mam, go in for a few days and take the first shower of bullets before she comes. It’s only fair. She’s only a kid.”
Nia considered this advice for a while as she thumbed idly through the phone book, putting a tick against the estate agents she intended to approach. It would be unfair to let Rhiannon face the embarrassment alone. Perhaps she would manage one day. One day of watching the furtive smiles of knowledge, waiting for the sarcasm and innuendo. Yes, she could face it for one day and that would be an end to it. It would be enough to please Barry. Then, she’d persuade him to run the place until she found a buyer.
Corner of a Small Town Page 4
