Corner of a Small Town

by Corner of a Small Town (retail) (epub)

  “All right, Barry. If that mother of hers will really let her, tell Rhiannon to come at two o’clock on Tuesday. I’ll open up on Monday and perhaps most of the snide remarks will have been made by Tuesday dinnertime. You’re right, we don’t want her upset by regurgitated gossip any more than can be helped. None of this is her fault.”

  “Great, Mam. Great.” Barry was pleased with his mother’s consideration for Rhiannon. “It demonstrates her basic goodness,” he said later to his elder brother Joseph. “I find it hard to understand how she could have been carrying on with Lewis Lewis all these years. In every other way she’s such an open and honest person,” he mused.

  “You think Mam loving someone is dishonest?” Joseph smiled.

  “If he’s someone else’s husband, yes, I do!”

  “God ‘elp, Barry, you sound as pompous as old man Weston.”

  “You think she was right or wrong to carry on with Lewis Lewis?”

  “Right or wrong? I don’t know about that. But I think she was unlucky that you found them and not me. Don’t you?”

  * * *

  Lewis Lewis was utterly miserable. So far, since the breakup with Dora, neither his wife nor Nia Martin had been to see him. He had tried repeatedly to talk to them both but Dora insisted she didn’t want to talk about what had happened for at least a month, and Nia had laughed at his oft-repeated plea to live with her, Barry and Joseph.

  Unaware that his daughter was about to start work in Temptations, he called at the shop early on the Monday morning, watching warily for a sign that someone was coming out of number seven Sophie Street, before pushing the door and darting inside.

  “Lewis! What are you doing here? Dora passes around this time!” Nia warned.

  “I bet she passes with her nose in the air, not looking in your direction,” he replied. Then, “Oh Nia, why won’t you talk to me? I’ve phoned, called at the house, I’ve written letters. How long are you going to keep this up, love? I miss you terribly. Why abandon me now, when I’m free?”

  “Lewis, you and I have been lovers for a long, long time, and we’ve been happy with the arrangement, haven’t we? I live my life the way I want to, free of commitment and with a wonderful, secret love life, and you have Dora and the family; We’ve never wanted more, now have we?”

  “But I’ve left her and I want to be with you,” he pleaded.

  Nia shook her head. “No you don’t. You want to go back to Dora and Lewis-boy and Rhiannon and Viv. But they won’t have you, will they?”

  They were standing in the shop, which was just open for business, and now Nia lifted the blind off its hook, holding it from rising, as a warning to Lewis that she was about to open the shop for customers. She was was nervous, wondering who would come to let it be known that they had heard the rumours. Gertie Thomas would be the first, she was sure of that, she could picture her sickly grin. Finding her talking to Lewis would start everything off again, full tilt.

  She fussed unnecessarily with a display of lollipops, avoiding looking at him, wishing he would go. There would be enough said without him blatantly standing there only three doors away from his wife. What if Dora changed her routine and walked past? The last thing she wanted was a shouting match in her shop. Her fragile confidence wouldn’t cope with that. If Dora walked in and saw Lewis there she’d run back home and hide away forever!

  “Shouldn’t you be working?” she hinted gently, her calm voice hiding the fact that she longed to push him out through the door.

  “Can’t you see, love? It’s all happened for a purpose. You and I can be together at last. After all the years we’ve loved each other and stayed apart because of our sense of duty, it’s going to work out. Dreamed about it often we have. And discussed it.”

  “Only in a fanciful way. We both knew it would never happen.”

  “You don’t love me enough?”

  “I love you, Lewis, of course I do. But, I love myself more. I have this shop, I have a house where I can be myself, enjoying the company of my sons”.

  “Ah, yes. Joseph.”

  “Joseph is a lovely boy. Working in a gentlemen’s outfitters wasn’t what I’d hoped for him, but he’s content.”

  “Is there anything I can do for him?”

  “There’s nothing you can do for any of us. I can cope. Barry’s right when he says it’ll be all fuss and feathers for a few days then it will settle.”

  She touched him then, affectionately, both hands on his chest, smoothing the lapels of his overcoat like a mother seeing a child off to school. “Go now, before we’re seen. We’ll talk later. Best you don’t come here again, your Rhiannon might be starting work here tomorrow.”

  “What? Dora would never allow it!”

  “Well, Barry asked her and she’s coming to see me tomorrow afternoon.”

  “What did Dora say?”

  “I didn’t ask!” She opened the door, a hint she really wanted him to go and added, “If she comes or if someone else takes it over, I think I’ll go away for a while. Abroad somewhere. Perhaps Italy or France.”

  “For how long?”

  Nia shrugged. “A couple of weeks? A month? It’s about time I began to explore the world a bit.”

  “You’d be content to leave Rhiannon in charge?”

  “If she decides to work for me, yes. She’s capable, and Barry would be on hand to help if necessary.”

  “That’s funny, did you know that our Viv is being asked to manage Weston’s while they go away. Odd isn’t it that two of them have been given similar responsibilities?”

  “Fortunate really. They won’t have too much time to dwell on what’s happened.” She let the blind roll up and pulled the door wide open. He stepped out after a wan smile.

  She watched as he walked away, his head bent dejectedly, and she smiled ruefully. His body would straighten and return to its upright, confident walk as soon as he was out of her sight. A bit of an actor, Lewis Lewis.

  The silence of the empty shop surrounded her and she felt dreadfully alone. Trepidation filled her each time footsteps approached the corner as she waited for the first of the verbal aggression she expected to bear, but, being Monday, there was little trade. Rationing meant that most sweets were sold towards the weekend, when the small allowance was bought to take to the pictures or given as a treat to a child or a loved one.

  Telling her mother that she wanted to work for Nia Martin had taken all of Rhiannon’s nerve and Dora’s response was far from what she expected. Silently she had rehearsed scenarios and practised arguments, but none of the imagined discussions had prepared for Dora’s simple response.

  “It’s up to you, Rhiannon. You can’t let your father’s treatment of me interfere with your life!” It had been Dora’s intention to continue by telling Rhiannon that if she did accept the job with Nia Martin, she could no longer consider the house her home.

  But Rhiannon didn’t allow her to say any more. She hugged her and thanked her, told her how marvellous she was, unaware of the stifled, unkind words her mother had been on the point of saying.

  Dora still intended to speak her mind but something stopped her. Wouldn’t it put her more firmly in the right if she could be tolerant and understanding? Thinking of yet another chance to make Lewis grovel cheered her, and she sat, while Rhiannon talked about the changes taking a job would entail, with a gentle smile suffusing her face. Eat dirt, Lewis Lewis and I hope it chokes you! Dora thought as she smilingly listened to her daughter’s plans.

  * * *

  Gladys and Arfon Weston spoilt their granddaughters. And Joan and Megan repaid them by behaving in a superior manner as young ladies should, and by letting everyone know how wonderful their grandparents were. With Jack, Sian and Islwyn’s son, it was different. Sally had added Weston to her daughters’ christian names and Jack had been persuaded to take the name Weston too, so that it didn’t die with Arfon.

  Apart from agreeing to accept the name, Jack refused to conform to the family’s demands. He had s
erved in the army during the war and after demobilisation had trained as a teacher, a profession that Gladys considered beneath him. He wouldn’t accept their gifts, laughed at what he called their pretentiousness – and he voted Labour. He told his grandfather to his face that he was a “charming old windbag”. Arfon loved him dearly.

  Gladys decided that Jack’s inability to conform could not be the fault of their daughter Sian; good manners were inbred. So it must be the influence of Islwyn. After all, Islwyn Heath had no background to speak of, his parents being of no real importance, and for Gladys, background meant everything. This family lunch to discuss the proposed holiday was a perfect example of Jack’s lack of loyalty.

  Gathering the family together had been Arfon’s idea.

  “Let’s invite them all here for Sunday lunch, dear,” Arfon had suggested, “and we’ll tell them our great surprise then.” But rationing meant that unless she fed them all on bread and salad, they would have to go out and eat.

  “Don’t worry,” Arfon said, when she voiced her dismay, “I’ll get us a salmon. There’s a man in Pembroke who owes me a favour.” He didn’t dare tell his wife the man was Basil, one of the despised Griffithses.

  So with salmon and salad and boiled potatoes on the menu and some illegal farm butter to add a touch of luxury to the potatoes, the party was definitely on.

  It was early and Victoria had just brought Gladys her morning tea. Best to telephone now, before her son-in-law set off for business. Gladys never referred to his occupation as work.

  Sally and Ryan accepted at once. They would, Sally said, be delighted to attend a family gathering, and their twins, Joan and Megan would also be there. Gladys settled herself more comfortably on her pillows, put aside her early morning tray and picked up the phone again. She held her breath as she dialled her other daughter.

  “Sian, dear, your father and I have something to discuss with you. Will you all come to lunch on Sunday? You, Islwyn and Jack? Your father has promised us a salmon,” she added as further incentive.

  “Any particular reason, Mummy?”

  “Ah, you’ll have to wait until Sunday to find out.”

  “How mysterious,” Sian laughed. “Of course Islwyn and I will come.”

  Gladys crossed her fingers as she asked, “And Jack?”

  “Mummy, you know what Jack is like. How can I answer for him? Grown man he is and probably has plans of his own. I’ll ask him mind, and you never know.”

  “It is important, dear. I don’t often insist,” Gladys admonished. “See that he comes, to please me and your father, will you?”

  “Mummy, I’ll do my best.”

  Gladys replaced the phone on the table and glared at it. Arfon should have invited Sian and Islwyn, he was more firm. Jack had to be there, he needed a reminder of who he was. What had been an amusing individuality when Jack was a child was now an embarrassment.

  He had been seen in the company of one of the Griffithses more than once and he would insist on hanging around with Viv Lewis, one of their employees. She gave an involuntary shudder: Playing darts! And with someone who worked for his father! With the best schooling and the best social connections, Jack seemed to choose the most unsavoury company and it really had to stop. This holiday was as much for his benefit as anyone and he had to be persuaded to come.

  She rang the small bell imperiously. “Victoria,” she said, when the girl appeared, flushed from running up three flights of stairs to the bedroom, “squeeze me an orange and I’ll have that last egg, lightly boiled.”

  The last egg and it’s mine by right, Victoria thought sadly as she hurried down to do her mistress’s bidding. It was seven weeks since she had tasted an egg.

  * * *

  The Weston’s luncheon party was not a success. Mainly because Gladys was angry. Jack didn’t turn up, even though his parents had promised he would. And, when she and Arfon announced their plans for a family holiday in France, there was a hushed, surprised, almost alarmed look on the faces staring up at them and not a single expression of delight.

  “France you say?” Islwyn muttered. “Isn’t it going to be difficult, the language and everything?”

  “With the education your girls have had I wouldn’t have thought a few words of French beyond them,” Arfon retorted. “And as for you, Islwyn, where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “We’d love to come,” Joan and Megan, the twenty-year-old twins chorused. “Thank you Grandmother and Grandfather.”

  Slightly mollified, Gladys and Arfon waited as voices murmured and faces relaxed as each couple discussed the idea. Acceptance came but so grudgingly that the whole idea was spoilt for Gladys, who had expected an outburst of delight at the exciting announcement. Only gradually did they all agree that, as it was only for a fortnight, they wouldn’t mind giving it a try.

  “How reckless and pioneering of you all!” Gladys said sarcastically.

  “Where’s Jack?” Arfon asked with a sigh.

  “He’d accept in a second.”

  “You might well ask,” snapped Gladys. “‘Where’s Jack’ seems to be an eternal question when we ask for the family to support us!”

  * * *

  Jack was with his friend, Viv Lewis. They had travelled on Jack’s motorbike to the river Teifi and were standing contentedly on the bank watching their lines being taken slowly down stream, then reeling in waiting for some unfortunate fish to be attracted to their bait. They had been there for three hours without a bite and as the evening chill began to rise through their feet and their legs Viv wound in the last of his line and removed the reel from the rod. “Come on Jack, I’ve had enough for today. Let’s go for a pint.”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  “Why for heaven’s sake?”

  “I’m frozen to the spot,” Jack laughed. Stiffly he packed away his tackle and threw the last of their bait into the river.

  “And to think you gave up the chance of a salmon lunch for this,” Viv chuckled.

  “A lunch with the family isn’t worth suffering, even with salmon and other illegal goodies. I wonder what they wanted this time?” he mused.

  “To give you a lecture about last Saturday?” Viv chuckled.

  “That’s what I suspected, that’s why I came fishing with you instead. All I did was go for a late night walk with a mate.”

  “One of the Griffithses!”

  “Basil’s all right. He taught me a lot!”

  “He’s a Griffiths!”

  “Yes, one of my grandmother’s favourite hates, the Griffithses.” He mimicked the voice of his grandmother and said, “That awful family who never do any work but are never short of money.”

  “Perhaps it isn’t anything to do with them. Aren’t you curious?”

  They had reached the bike and as they were packing their boxes and rods Jack frowned. “I am rather. Grandmother did seem a bit excited, as if the reason for the get-together wasn’t a telling off – for once – but something I might actually like.”

  “We’ll go straight back if you like, not stop anywhere for food. They might all still be there and there could be some salmon left.”

  “Okay, but you’re coming in with me. Right?”

  They rode back in the cold November dark. Although there hadn’t been any rain, the day had been overcast and evening had closed in early. Lights at the front of the Weston’s impressive house suggested the family was still there and Jack hesitated, then parked his muddy bike near the front steps – something his grandmother disapproved of.

  Victoria answered his knock and as he walked past her, followed rather hesitantly by Viv, he slipped an arm around her waist, gave her a squeeze and a peck on the cheek.

  “Stop it!” Victoria whispered harshly.

  “Go on with you, you love it. A bit of fun with the handsome grandson of the house, isn’t that the reason why you girls become maids?” he teased. It had become a joke between them.

  But then, as Victoria darted towards the drawing room door, V
iv leaned behind Jack and pinched her bottom and pointed at Jack. She turned and slapped Jack hard across the cheek.

  With a red face, Jack, followed by Viv, entered the dining room to face the staring eyes of his family.

  “I won’t put up with that, Mrs Weston,” Victoria said shrilly.

  Viv was about to own up but Jack stopped him with a gesture.

  “Sorry, Grandmother.” Jack rubbed his cheek and under cover of his hand, winked at his grandfather, who looked away, hiding a smile.

  “Go into the kitchen, Victoria and I’ll come and talk to you presently.” Gladys glared at her grandson when the door had closed. “Really Jack. When will you learn to behave?”

  “Sorry Grandmother,” Jack repeated. Then, “Am I too late for some salmon? And Viv here is starving and could eat a plateful.” The table had been cleared, only the demi-tasse coffee cups remained, and Jack sighed his disappointment. “I’ll go and ask Victoria to set a couple of trays.”

  “You will stay right here!” Gladys snapped. “I will go and talk to Victoria. You will come to the kitchen in five minutes and apologise.” She pointed at the marquetry wall clock with a quivering finger and left the room.

  Viv and Jack sat in the chairs ranged along the wall and waited for the food to arrive.

  “What’s the reason for this shindig then?” Jack asked. “Am I here for a telling off again? Or is it someone else’s turn?”

  “I think we’ll wait for your grandmother to return, Jack,” Arfon said. “She has a surprise for you.”

  When Gladys made her announcement, Jack smiled with delight and immediately asked, “Can I bring a friend?”

  “Er, which friend?” Gladys asked suspiciously, thinking of the dreaded Basil Griffiths, or worse. Jack certainly had a nerve to ask this of her. “We thought of being just the family, didn’t we Arfon, dear?”

  “Viv here. I’d have a far better time if Viv came with us. Outnumbered by women we are in this family, aren’t we Grandfather? Viv would even it up a bit.”