“Miserable old fool! Silly old sod! You could have killed me!” the boy shouted.
“Wandering about on the road, you ought to know better. I’ll tell your mother when I see her. I know who you are, Gwyn Bevan! Wandering on the road then swearing at me. Disgraceful!”
“Tell her what you like!” the boy shrieked. “I’ll get our Dad on to you!”
“When he gets out of prison, boy. He’s a crook and you’re crackers!” Immediately ashamed of the words, Lewis took out a coin and flipped it at the boy, but Glyn watched it roll into the gutter and walked away.
* * *
Rhiannon put a breakfast of tomatoes on toast in front of her father and he ate while still wondering how he could talk to Nia. If only he could meet her somewhere outside the house, a place where she couldn’t shut the door on him. He had once met her out shopping but she had simply walked into a hairdressing salon and behind the steamed windows settled down for a long session.
“I saw Joseph Martin today, Dad,” Rhiannon said, and at once she had her father’s full attention.
“Oh? How is he then?”
“He’s fine. He said they have a pre-Christmas sale on and there are lots of bargains in summer weight suits and sports jackets.”
“Perhaps I’ll pop in. I could do with a new jacket. The sleeves of mine are getting frayed.”
Filled with optimism Lewis stopped off later that day at the gentlemen’s outfitters and looked along the racks of reduced price clothes. Surely luck was leaning his way at last. He’d talk to Joseph and find out what Nia did each day. Working as a rep made it easy to be any place he wanted to be. He would soon catch up with his sales target. In fact he would work better once he and Nia had repaired this stupid rift.
He realised that extra staff had been employed for the week of the sale, as unknown faces came smilingly forward asking if they could assist. He was vague about his requirements, waiting for Joseph to appear. After a few minutes and a few suspicious glances from the manager, he asked if Joseph Martin was working that day.
“Mr Joseph has gone to the warehouse,” he was told. “He won’t be back until after lunch.” Dispirited, convinced that the world was against him, he walked out.
If he had glanced in as he passed the wool shop, he would have seen Joseph leaning on the counter talking to Caroline Griffiths. Using the excuse of buying a few extra buttons for the woman who did alterations and repairs in the basement of the shop, he had called in and offered to buy her lunch. Joseph returned to the shop as Lewis was stepping back into his car.
* * *
It was Rhiannon who finally guided him to the right place at the right time. That evening she chattered away about the day at Temptations and Lewis was only half listening.
“I offered to help Barry clean up his new studio now the plastering and carpentry is finished,” she said. “Barry thanked me but said there was no need as his mam had promised to help on Sunday afternoon. He won’t be there, he has a booking to take photographs at a family party where five generations will be celebrating a Christening. But she’s happy to get on with it, so he should have the place in use in a fortnight’s time. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Wonderful,” he said, and to her surprise, he kissed her.
The possibility of seeing Nia alone filled him with excitement. When it cooled, his thoughts jumped to the problem of getting away from Dora on a Sunday afternoon without rousing her suspicions. Ever since she had allowed him back into number seven Sophie Street she had watched him so closely he felt like a mesmerised rabbit. Sunday afternoon, with all the family floating about, was not going to be easy.
He ate the Sunday lunch. A small slice of lamb and a pile of roast potatoes cooked in very little fat. Vegetables piled up on each plate, which swam in Bisto gravy, filled them all satisfactorily and he felt happier than he had for weeks as he prepared to go out and find Nia. But he did have qualms of conscience as he heard Dora singing along to the radio as she and Rhiannon washed the dishes. As well as feeling a bit of a swine, eating the food and planning to deceive her yet again, there was a churning fear in the pit of his stomach. The meals the landlady had supplied at The Firs were pretty terrible and he didn’t want to risk going back there. It was such a miserable place. His choice of such sad surroundings had worked, though. Once Dora had seen him there she had rescued him straight away, as he had known she would.
“I think I’ll go out and get some cigarettes,” he said, when Dora was sitting down looking through the News Of The World.
“On a Sunday afternoon? Where d’you think you’ll get cigarettes at a time like this?”
“I’ll try the back door of The Railwayman’s. Or Wilf Brickley might have some. He’ll be down the allotment.”
Dora stared at him, her bright blue eyes piercing. This was it. Now or never. If she offered to come with him he was sunk. He took a deep breath, crossed his fingers and asked casually, “Come down for a walk, it isn’t a bad afternoon.” He tweaked the curtain and looked out on a dreary day, with low clouds dark with the threat of rain.
“No thanks. But I don’t want you to go. I don’t think for one minute you’re so desperate for a cigarette you’d walk through the mud of the allotments in smart shoes to borrow one off Wilf Brickley! What are you really planning, Lewis? Meeting her again, are you?”
“Dora, love. If you’re going to watch me every moment of the day we’re going to end up screaming at each other. Think straight, love. I’m out of your sight for eight hours a day all the week, so why should I choose a Sunday afternoon to go off the rails, eh? Does it make sense, love? If I wanted to make you suspicious I’d choose a Sunday afternoon! I’ve got all the week when you can’t be watching me, so why start getting upset when all I want is a bit of a chat with Wilf Brickley?”
He stood up and pulled her up into his arms. Looking down into her eyes he watched the sharpness leave her face. Her gaze softened and her mouth lost its tightness. “Dora, why don’t you come with me? We used to go for long Sunday walks once upon a time, remember?”
“You’re right, I’m being silly. I can’t watch you while we’re both at work so why should I worry about an hour or so on a Sunday? It’s just that—”
“I know. I treated you badly and I’m so ashamed. Look, I’ll just go and spend an hour with Wilf and try the back door of the pub for some cigs, then I’ll be back.” He lowered his head and allowed his lips to brush hers. “Come with me and we can dally around the hedgerows like we used to, taking the long way home.”
“Oh, go on,” she said, trying to push him away, but she was pleased and Lewis knew he would soon be relieved from sleeping on that torturous damned couch. Her usual strident tone was softened as she said, “Don’t buy any Turkish cigarettes mind. I won’t let you smoke them in here.”
“What about in the bedroom?” he said, sliding his hands over her shoulders and down her back, feeling her body soften against his own. “You can inhale the intoxicating scent and perform the dance of the seven veils.”
She was still smiling as he ran to the car and headed with speed towards the old garage Barry had bought to begin his photography business.
The garage already looked different. The exterior had been given a fresh rendering of cement and was painted white with a pattern of ribboned scrolls around the entrance. Inside all was quiet. New wooden floors threatened to announce his arrival and he wanted Nia to be surprised into listening to his prepared speech. Slipping off his shoes he crept on stockinged feet to what he presumed would be the studio, and opened the door.
Nia was on her knees washing the paintwork free of sawdust. As his shadow fell across her she turned her head and smiled. “Oh, it’s you. I thought you’d come.”
“Nia? How could you have known?”
“Barry told Rhiannon I’d be here alone.”
“You wanted me to come then?”
“No. I almost cancelled my plans once I guessed you knew I’d be here. But then I thought it was just as w
ell. I have to talk to you, Lewis. I have to tell you goodbye.”
He took out a handkerchief and began to dry her hands. Then pulling her up he held her and kissed her.
“Not goodbye, Nia, my darling girl. I couldn’t bear it. Anything but that. Please.”
“It’s over. We can’t risk—” but the rest of her protest was lost, forgotten like the coldness of winter when the sun returns.
* * *
Joseph Martin was walking down to the Westonses’ to find Jack. He was looking forward to hearing Jack’s version of the family holiday in France and was smiling in expectation of a lively account. Jack had a quick wit that was often cruel. If he will talk about his stuffy father and mother and his spoilt twin cousins there won’t be any complaints from me, Joseph grinned.
Jack’s house was deserted. To his disappointment, Gladys and Arfon Weston’s large house was also empty. Not even a servant to open the door. Kicking a stone along the gutter he wondered whether to head back home or go and find Mam. Barry had told him she might need a hand moving things so she could give the floor a final wash. The garage – which they must all now call The Studio – was not far. Still kicking the inoffensive stone, Joseph went to see if his mother was there.
The door opened at a touch and as he was wearing daps, the local name for plimsoles, his footfall was silent as he walked toward the studio. He felt the hair on his scalp tighten as he heard voices. Slowly opening the door, a fist ready to attack any intruder, he choked on a cry as the sight of his mother and Lewis came shockingly into view.
His brain reeled with distress; among his first thoughts was the reminder of how he had criticized Barry for his reaction in telling the Lewis family. He now suddenly understood the revulsion Barry had felt. Having witnessed the scene, he too wanted to hit out, shout his anguish to the world and he certainly had no fine thoughts about sparing the feelings of others.
He backed away and as he was leaving the building, he saw Barry’s van approaching. He flagged him down, jumped in and told him to drive away. When Joseph was able to talk about what he had seen, Barry stopped the van and said, “What do we do now? Personally, I want to hit him.”
“I think we should say nothing. For Rhiannon’s sake as much as ours.”
“Let’s tell Mam we know and see if that brings her to her senses.”
“All right. But say nothing to Lewis’s family. It didn’t do much good before, did it? Just caused them a lot of grief.”
“I wouldn’t like Rhiannon to leave the shop and if she found out they were back together again, I think she would.”
“Let’s be extra nice to her, so she won’t feel on her own if it all comes to light,” Joseph said. “She seems a nice kid and if we’re to keep the shop running and keep an income for Mam, we need her.”
Neither Barry nor Joseph mentioned the incident to Nia. They waited for the appropriate moment, which never came, and each silently felt relief at not having to discuss the embarrassing affair with their mother.
* * *
Viv returned to his usual position in the hierarchy of Weston’s Wallpaper and Paint. The two sons-in-law of Arfon Weston said little besides sarcastically asking him to decipher a few of his entries in the ledgers. Nothing was mentioned about the ancient tins of paint that were collected and disposed of, and when he asked for a replacement for the ruined overall and damaged shoes they discussed it in front of him and told him the fault was his for being so careless. On the Friday afternoon, Viv handed in his notice.
On Friday evening, there was a knock at the door as Viv and Lewis-boy were dressing to go to The Railwayman’s before meeting Eleri from work. Rhiannon opened the door and looked startled when she recognised Joan and Megan.
“We want a word with Viv, please,” Joan’s high-pitched, haughty voice demanded.
“Oh, yes, well, I’ll just see if he’s—” But the Weston girls weren’t used to standing on ceremony and they pushed past Rhiannon.
Joan demanded of Viv, “What’s this nonsense about you leaving Weston’s?”
“No nonsense. I’m leaving next Friday and thankful I’ll be to be out of there.”
“I’ve spoken to Daddy and he will buy you a new pair of shoes and replace your overall with two new ones. Will that be sufficient? Or are you looking for more?”
“The overall and the ruined shoes were only part of it. Your father and his brother-in law treated me like someone found guilty of some terrible crime. I did a good job while you were away and they haven’t even thanked me.”
“Tut tut, aren’t we the touchy one,” the quieter Megan said, her eyes crinkling with amusement.
“All they have done is search frantically for something to complain about. Picking to find some little thing I did or didn’t do.”
“Did they find anything?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s that then. What d’you want, a concert in celebration of your saintly perfection?” Joan asked.
Megan chuckled and her amused expression was infectious. Viv grinned wryly and said rather sheepishly, “Well, I did expect a little word of thanks.”
“You’ll get one,” Megan said.
“You’ll have one. Monday morning first thing,” Joan added. “Now, can we tell Grandfather you’ve changed your mind about leaving?”
“Had it changed for me more like,” he said ruefully.
“Good. Now, as we’ve let the taxi go, you can walk us back to the house.”
“I – er – I’ll just get my gloves.” A bemused Viv ushered them out and, after vaguely arranging to meet his brother later, walked beside Megan to the Westonses’ home.
“I need to keep you sweet, you see,” Joan explained briskly, as they approached the main road.
“We need a favour,” her sister explained.
“You only had to ask, you didn’t have to act out all this charade,” Viv said.
“We need a few parcels collected from an address in Cardiff, probably next week. Will you do that?”
“As long as you assure me it isn’t illegal or immoral I don’t see a problem. But why? There’s an excellent postal service and if the parcel’s too large the railways will do it, for a fee.”
He was gradually regaining his wits and now felt more than a little angry at the way they had invaded his home to persuade him to back down on his decision.
“It’s from France.”
“Oh, and that’s supposed to explain it is it?”
“Mummy and Daddy don’t know we’ve got it.”
“What is it for heaven’s sake?”
“Only clothes.” Joan said. “But what clothes! The shorts are tighter and shorter than you can imagine, and the colour combinations on the dresses, well, this town will be weak with envy when I wear them.”
“I don’t understand,” Viv frowned.
“Grandmother took us shopping you see,” Megan told him. “The clothes were rather daring and Grandfather and the parents wouldn’t have approved.”
“Just clothes? You’ve gone to all this trouble for some clothes? You can buy those in the town, no fuss.”
“French clothes, silly boy. Not the same thing at all.”
“Quite startling really,” Megan whispered, briefly touching his hand.
Chapter Six
Nia Martin had to know whether Rhiannon had learned that she and Lewis were back together. Not being sure was making her nervous. Afraid that her inner happiness showed clearly on her face, she tried to frown as she walked into Temptations one Monday morning as Rhiannon was starting to put a display into the freshly-cleaned window.
“Nia. How nice, want a cup of tea?” Rhiannon smiled as she jumped down from the window. A customer came in just then and Nia mimed that she would go up and make the tea.
When the shop was quiet, Nia asked, “What are you putting in the window, too early for Christmas stuff, isn’t it?”
“Well, I didn’t think so,” Rhiannon said hesitantly. “I thought, as it’s the third of Decembe
r we might decorate up a bit. It’ll be a glum old Christmas with food still rationed.”
“Good idea.” Nia smiled and Rhiannon sighed with relief. She was afraid that Nia had come to interfere.
Nia watched as Rhiannon’s nimble fingers rolled and shaped crepe paper and frilled the edges of the window with a colourful twist of red, green and cream paper. She wanted to ask how Lewis was, whether there had been any revelations about where he was spending his Sunday afternoons. But it wasn’t something she could ask. She had to wait for a chance to bring the conversation around to the Lewis family. She surreptitiously crossed her fingers and hoped that all was well. There had certainly been no sign of distress on Rhiannon’s face and she was honest enough to let it be known if something was upsetting her.
“Barry been in lately?” Nia asked. “He or Joseph would come and help you if you need it.”
Nia watched a blush of embarrassment suffuse Rhiannon’ s pretty face as she replied, “Dad came and shifted the empty boxes for me when the stock arrived late on Friday,” and a great surge of sympathy welled up in her for the predicament of the young girl who was obviously torn by her loyalties.
“Sorry, love. This is unpleasant for you, isn’t it? I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave. But, I hope you won’t!” she added quickly as a look of surprise widened Rhiannon’s eyes. “I only meant that, with the embarrassment of me and your father—”
“It’s all right. After all, it’s in the past now, isn’t it?”
“In the past,” Nia echoed. At least she knew Rhiannon was still unaware of the true situation.
Later, when the window was finished and the shop once again quiet, Nia said, “I knew your father long before he met your mother, you know. It was serious, then. He asked me to marry him and I almost said yes. Then I turned him down, partly because I thought that being older it wouldn’t last and there was a professional soldier on the scene who attracted me.” She laughed. “I think it was being married to a soldier that appealed to me more than the man! Poor Carl. I knew that being a service wife would mean weeks without him and that was a bonus, not a problem.”
Corner of a Small Town Page 9
