Barry, Rhiannon and Viv arrived and the explanations were repeated. They were still there when Mr and Mrs Fowler, the Weston girls’ parents, walked past them with a cursory nod. Soon afterwards the couple returned with their daughters, Megan bandaged and both sobbing. Neither party spoke to the other.
Although they knew their son was dead, both Dora and Lewis were reluctant to leave the hospital. Dora was shaking as if with a fever and Lewis stood watching Nia, longing to comfort her and knowing it wasn’t possible.
The doctor appeared followed by a nurse and at once Nia ran to hear the news. Lewis followed and put a comforting arm around Nia’s shoulders. Dora, seeing this slumped miserably in a seat between Eleri and Rhiannon. “He couldn’t pretend not to love her, even at a time like this,” she sobbed.
The doctor sat Nia down, and ignoring the presence of Dora, Lewis held her hands and watched the doctor’s face, seeing in it clearly, before the words confirmed it that Joseph was dead.
“Our son, Lewis,” Nia said in a guttural moan, “our beautiful son.” She clung to Lewis, and Dora, who was dull with grief stared for a moment before the words penetrated her mind.
“Your son,” she called out in correction. “Yours and Carl’s.”
“No, Dora, mine and Lewis’s. Joseph was ours. Tonight Lewis has lost two sons, not one.”
Chapter Eight
Through the days and nights that followed, Dora and Lewis wandered around like sleepwalkers. Rhiannon doubted if her mother ever went to bed. What ever time of the night she woke, she would hear the sound of crying, or the rattle of teacups. Her father disappeared to The Firs very late each evening and returned long before first light. The saddest thing was they grieved separately, never exchanging a word.
Everyone was edgy, waiting for the funeral to be over and life begin to settle, and wondering if it ever would.
Eleri was subdued and went about the few necessary tasks in the house with hardly a word. She was unable to grieve, her emotions still locked in the double shock of Lewis-boy’s death and the circumstances in which he died. He had been having a lark with two girls, and the Weston girls at that. How could she grieve properly for a man who had treated her with such contempt?
She had ignored all the stories, about Lewis-boy taking girls out for tea, flirting with customers, the rumours about him and Molly Bondo. Now, it all flooded over her, her imagination filling in what she didn’t know. What a fool she had been to trust him. Telling herself it was only his innocent vanity had just been an excuse to avoid facing up to things.
Although both were stunned with the grief of losing a brother and a friend, it had been Viv and Barry who went to tell Caroline Griffiths that Joseph was dead. They went very early on the morning following the accident to be sure that the whole family were there. Caroline and Joseph had only recently announced their wedding plans and Caroline would need all the support she could get.
They made the announcement quickly, baldly stating the facts. There didn’t seem any point in gibbering and giving her time to work out what they were about to say. She stared at them, her dark eyes widened, as if expecting them to correct the statement and explain it away as some joke of Joseph’s, but this was no joke, there was nothing more to add.
They gave her as many details as they could and left her sitting beside her mother still wide-eyed and numb.
“I wonder if she’ll ever get over the shock,” Viv said.
“I doubt it,” Barry sighed. “We’ve both lost a brother, but she’s lost her future. To have found the man she loved at thirty, only to lose him again in a stupid accident, it’s tragic beyond.”
Barry paused to look back at the Griffithses’ shabby home and prayed silently that Caroline would be given the strength to leave it. If she didn’t he could see her settling into middle age and drifting through the rest of her years in a shadowy half-life.
Barry offered to drive Viv home but Viv told him he preferred to walk.
Viv didn’t intend to go to work that day. He didn’t bother to let them know either. If they complained he’d chuck the job in. He felt like doing that anyway. The death of his brother was a reminder to Viv that life ended in death and no one knew when the end would come. Dwelling on these sombre thoughts he walked back towards a house the atmosphere of which was more sombre still.
He passed the corner shop and saw Rhiannon adjusting colourful ribbons to her window display and anger swelled in him. To worry about such things with her brother dead! It was obscene. He pushed open the door and only then did he see she was crying.
“It’s Christmas. You can’t expect others to share our pain,” she explained.
Barry came out of the back room and said, “Rhiannon’s right. I have three parties booked. I’m expected to photograph people having a merry time and didn’t feel that I could, or should. I was about to cancel, but I didn’t. Rhiannon reminded me that I’m a professional and shouldn’t allow my grief to spoil other people’s fun.”
Viv nodded, hugged his sister and admitted they were right.
“But come home now, Rhiannon,” Viv advised. “You shouldn’t be forcing yourself to do this and, with Mam and Dad separated even after all this, we need you there.”
“When I’ve finished here,” she said softly. “I’m going to stack the new stock then I’ll put a notice in the window to tell people why we’ll be closed today.”
After Viv had left the shop, Barry took both Rhiannon’s hands in his and pulled her towards him. Enfolding her in his arms he held her until her crying ceased.
“It’ll be all right, the world goes on,” he whispered against her hair. “I’ll never forget Joseph and you’ll never forget Lewis-boy. They’ll live in our hearts and never grow old.”
She looked up at him, seeing the sadness in his eyes and almost without realising it was happening, they kissed. When he released her both were shaken.
“I’m sorry,” Barry muttered. “I didn’t mean – you can go home if you like, I’ll close the shop.”
He stepped back, turned away from her in a gesture she took as cruel rejection. Grabbing her coat, she ran. At her doorway he caught up with her and holding her hand as it reached for the latch he said, “No, I’m not sorry. I’ve wanted to do that for a long, long time.” Hesitantly, trying to gauge her emotions, he kissed her again and asked, “Will you come back to the shop? We need to talk.”
“Tomorrow. I have to go now,” she said.
“It’s wrong at this time, Barry. Wrong.” She was trembling and afterwards wondered how her legs managed to support her long enough to reach her room. Was it the shock and grief he was suffering, or did he really care, she wondered, and hated herself for thinking of such things so soon after losing Lewis-boy.
Barry didn’t appear the following day and she was relieved and disappointed in equal measures.
* * *
On the day of the funeral, two weeks from Christmas Day, Caroline Griffiths stood in her small bedroom and looked around her with a critical eye. She was thirty and her only chance of marrying had gone. This was going to be home for the rest of her life. Joseph was dead so she wouldn’t have the fun of building a home with him. She picked at the faded wallpaper. Perhaps she’d change it and make herself a more comfortable place. She certainly had to make more room. The table could go, she decided, and the wardrobe was too big. Basil would find her something smaller as well as the other things she’d need.
Her mother came in, wearing a black coat that was too tight even for her skinny frame and a borrowed hat that was so large it all but hid her face.
“Ready, love?”
“I was thinking, Mam, I’ll make a few changes here. D’you think Basil could find me a smaller wardrobe, it’s a bit cramped, isn’t it?”
“Not a bad room, mind, if we get rid of this heavy old furniture. I brought it from the farm when Mam and Dad died. Don’t know why we’ve kept it, do you? Best we get rid of it. Make room for other things, eh?”
Caroline tu
rned and stared at her mother, seeing only the lips smiling beneath the stupid black hat. “You know, don’t you?”
“I guessed, love. I’ve seen the signs. You’ve got a baby on the way. When is he due?”
“You aren’t horrified?”
“After all the things your brothers get up to? No, love, I can’t think of a baby as a crime. Welcome he’ll be. There’s always room for one more.”
“What will I do?”
“I have a feeling that you’ll get some help from Joseph’s mother. And if you don’t, we’ll manage.”
She hugged her daughter, throwing the hat even further out of position. “I know it isn’t the right thing for a mother to say, but I’m pleased really. I’d hate to think of you growing up and getting old without experiencing a man’s love and the joy of bearing a child. Loving someone outside of marriage isn’t a criminal offence, now is it? If it is, half the town would be in prison!” She was rewarded with a wan smile. She pushed her hat back into place and guided her daughter out of the house.
“You’d better tell Joseph’s mother. Just a whisper. It might help her through the day. No one else need know for a while. One thing at a time, eh, love?”
* * *
Viv took Eleri’s arm as they walked into the church. But he left her momentarily to greet Caroline when she arrived, walking slowly between her parents. Torn between supporting her and standing with his family, he was relieved to see that all the Lewises and the Griffiths were gathering together. Basil, Frank and Ernie were grieving for their two friends.
Basil went first to whisper condolences to Eleri, who sat pale and calm throughout the ordeal. She was unable to clear her mind of the knowledge that Lewis-boy had died while out on a spree with the two Weston girls. The humiliation prevented her grieving.
Viv watched as Nia came into the dark porch, her hand on Barry’s arm. A murmur rose as people shared rumours about her and he felt the woman’s isolation. A combined funeral was not a wise choice but it was what Nia and Lewis had wanted. Dora had retreated into a twilight existence, vague and confused, and willing to leave the arrangements to others.
Viv left his seat again and guided Nia and Barry to sit near his father. Dora sat between Eleri and Rhiannon and if she noticed Nia beside her husband she chose not to react.
Viv heard the whisper between Janet Griffiths and Nia Martin and felt a lurch of sadness at learning about the baby who would never know its father. He told Rhiannon and before the congregation left the church, the Lewis family all knew. Barry was too locked in his own grieving to hear.
Nia spoke to no one apart from the whispered words with Caroline and her mother. She was the first to leave after the service and she almost ran through the churchyard to where a taxi was waiting for her. She drove off without an explanation to anyone.
“Mam’s going away,” Barry told them all. “I don’t know when she’ll be back.”
When the mourners returned to number seven Sophie street, Barry attended to Rhiannon. It was he who found her a chair when she had a momentary rest from serving the others, and he who brought her a cup of tea. She was aware of him watching, smiling reassuringly when she felt tears welling up.
“Like a replacement older brother you are,” she told him.
He looked at her enigmatically and said softly, “Not a brother, Rhiannon. My feelings for you are not those of a big brother.”
Hope lightened the dark corners of her mind and helped her through the difficult hours.
The Griffiths were there, and Basil was asking people if they wanted to buy a chest of drawers.
“Sold it to Eleri I did but she doesn’t want it now she isn’t having the flat behind Cut Price Ken’s. Bought it off of old Daniel Sharp I did. I said I’d try to sell it on for her,” he explained, when Viv threatened to throttle him.
“Stop talking about the damned flat, will you? Can’t you see Eleri’s got enough to be upset about?”
“I’ll give her the money back and sell it later, shall I?” Basil said, guiltily.
“Do what the hell you like with it, just don’t worry her now.”
Eleri had had to abandon the flat in which she and Lewis-boy had planned to live. The accommodation went with the job and a new applicant would soon be taking possession. She explained this to Dora and Lewis, having heard some of Viv’s complaint.
“Basil’s only trying to help. I can’t think straight, or decide what to do.”
“Stay here with us, love,” Lewis said, and he looked at Dora for agreement.
“I wish you would, Eleri. At least for a while. There’s plenty of room and I would be glad of your company. If you go I’ll be losing three people instead of two.”
“What d’you mean, Mam, three people?”
“Lewis-boy gone, and his father won’t be staying. Please, love, don’t make it three.”
“I thought – since the accident – Dad’s been here most of the time and I thought—”
“Now the funeral’s over and finished, that’s finished too.” She turned to where Lewis was idly looking at some Christmas cards. “There’s some post for you over by there.” She told him pointing at the corner of the table.
Lewis picked up the few envelopes, sifting through, guessing what they contained. Christmas cards from customers mostly. When he came to the last one he frowned and opened it. It was papers from a solicitor stating that Dora was filing for divorce.
* * *
Viv was simmering with anger. He couldn’t accept the death of his brother without blaming someone. The Weston girls were an easy choice. From the moment he’d heard of Lewis-boy dying in that van while going on that stupid errand, an errand he had refused to consider, he had felt a ball of fury deep inside him. When none of the Weston family appeared at the funeral he felt it explode.
It was Tuesday, just two weeks from Christmas Day. The day was cold and dark with the threat of rain. Leaving the family still attending to the needs of the stragglers who had come back to the house after the service, he went to the Fowler’s home. There was no one in and he felt his anger mounted. They’re avoiding me, was his illogical thought.
He went to Arfon and Gladys Weston’s imposing home and knocked loudly on the front door. It was opened by the timid-faced Victoria, hastily tying her ‘answering-the-front door’ apron.
“Viv! Why are you knocking the front?”
“Because I want to see Joan and Megan. They’re here aren’t they?”
“Trying on them clothes they bought in France they are, up in Mrs Weston’s bedroom. The police returned them yesterday. Giggling like idiots the lot of them,” she added in a disapproving whisper.
“Who is it, Victoria?” a voice called and Arfon came out of his study.
“It’s – er, Mr Viv Lewis,” she stuttered.
“Come in, boy, don’t let all the heat out. Now, if you’ve come to apologise for not coming into work this week then there’s no need. But I hope you’ll be back before the weekend, mind. No point in dragging things on. Life must go on and all that.”
“I came to ask why you didn’t show the respect of coming to my brother’s funeral.”
“What?”
“On an errand he was. Persuaded by those spoilt granddaughters of yours. My brother and my best friend are dead. And all because of your granddaughters and their stupid frocks.”
“Now, just a minute.”
“No, I won’t wait a minute. I want to tell Joan and Megan what I think of their behaviour.”
“If it’s any consolation, I’ve already done that.”
“Oh, so that’s why they’re laughing and giggling as they try those clothes on, is it? Laughing and giggling while Lewis-boy and Joseph were being buried. You should be ashamed, Mr Weston.”
“I am.” He glanced towards the stairs, hoping the girls wouldn’t appear. “I have written to your parents and to Mrs Martin. I’m sorry Viv, but it’s too late to change my mind about the funeral. I was persuaded that it would be kinder to th
e girls not to dwell on it, you see, and my girls are more important to me than your brother, sad as I am. You understand?”
“No I don’t!”
“They were hurt too. Megan has a cut on her face that might leave a scar. You can imagine how that must feel to someone like her.”
“Someone like her? You think they feel things differently because they’re the precious Weston girls?”
“Of course they’re different. A working girl wouldn’t see it as such a disaster. You must surely see that? We’ve been doing everything we can to jolly them out of their depression.”
“Jolly them out of it?” Viv muttered in disbelief.
“My granddaughters can’t cope with some thing like this as easily as those without a social status to uphold could. They have a special position in the town, involved as they are with the better families. You must see that?”
Viv wanted to hit him, so he turned to leave. He went out past a scared-looking Victoria and stood in the garden. He didn’t understand. His brother and Joseph were dead and old man Weston thought those selfish girls needed ‘jollying’ out of the worry of a mark on their face! It was unbelievable. He’d wait here until Joan and Megan appeared. He’d make them see what they’d done.
When the girls came out, wrapped in coats against the heavy rain of which Viv was hardly aware, a snatch of conversation came across to him and he changed his mind about confronting them.
“But I must go down, Joan,” Megan was saying. “I have to let Viv know how sorry we are. It wasn’t our fault that Joseph was driving, that was Lewis-boy’s idea, but we were the reason they were there. I have to go and see him.”
“Grandfather should have gone to the funeral, then we wouldn’t have to do this.”
“I’d have wanted to go anyway,” Megan said.
Corner of a Small Town Page 13
