They were in a long corridor, the ceiling plastered, arched and moulded after the Norman style. The walls were tiled, but with tiles that would have done justice to an Oriental mosque, brilliantly patterned and coloured in a multitude of blending and contrasting styles. The narrow tile borders were moulded, thrown into sharp relief above and below the bands of squares that bore designs in every conceivable colour and flow of lines.
She walked slowly, running her fingers along the walls, allowing the textures and colours to assail her senses. The corridor finally ended in a sharp left turn and she looked back to see Andrew smiling.
‘Watching your reaction is as good as seeing it again for the first time.’
‘What is this place?’ she asked.
‘Public library.’
‘I wish I’d joined when I was in the Royal Infirmary.’
A pointed rather forced coughing echoed towards them.
‘Reading room around the corner,’ he whispered. ‘If we creep along quietly, we can take a look at it on the way out.’
Embarrassed; she hung back, but Andrew forged ahead oblivious to her discomfort.
She followed shyly and found herself in a large pillared and niched room, as beautifully decorated as the corridor but far lighter and altogether airier.
‘It takes very little to imagine a stunning harem girl sitting at one of those windows,’ he whispered in her ear as they left.
‘Is that why you like it?’
He laughed out loud, throwing his head back as he opened his umbrella.
‘No. I’ll like it even when I’m too old to appreciate beautiful girls.’ A sudden violent downpour drowned out his words. Taking her arm he quickened his pace, steering her into a Lyon’s tea shop. He helped her off with her coat, and they sat at a table resplendent with white linen tablecloth and napkins.
An impeccably turned out waitress came to take their order, and without consulting Bethan, Andrew ordered a plate of mixed cakes and a pot of tea for two.
‘I think we’ve exhausted the arcades and we can’t really walk around the streets in this.’
‘No, we can’t,’ she smiled, beginning to relax. The unease she’d felt when she’d been alone in the car with him had vanished during their walk around the city. She glanced at the occupants of the other tables then looked back at him, managing to sustain eye contact even when he winked at her.
‘We have an hour to kill before the film. We may as well wait here in comfort.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed.
‘I thought we’d go to the Pavilion in St Mary Street. It has talkies.’
‘All singing, all dancing, all talking …’ she began in the manner of the promotional trailers in the cinema. Suddenly she felt happy. Very happy indeed.
‘I don’t know about all singing or all dancing. There’s a court room drama showing this week. With Pauline Frederick and Bert Lybell.’
‘I love Pauline Frederick.’
‘Who doesn’t?’ he asked drily, leaning to one side so the waitress could set the cakes and teapot on the table. The girl dropped a curtsy, straightened her cap and with a backward glance at Andrew left.
Bethan poured out the tea, feeling very grand and privileged. It felt good to know that other women in the room were admiring Andrew and probably envying her.
‘Tomorrow?’ he asked. ‘Would you like to do anything special?’
‘You’re off duty tomorrow as well?’
‘I told you. I read rosters.’
‘I don’t know. I really should work.’
‘Nonsense, you must be way ahead with your studies,’ He helped himself to a large cream bun, dividing it into two with his fork. ‘Pity it’s not high summer. I could think of lots of things to do in fine weather.’
‘Such as?’
‘Motor to the coast.’
‘I love the sea.’
‘Really? Most girls don’t like the beach because the wind and the sand mess up their hair.’
‘I’m not most girls.’
‘I noticed that the first time I met you, which is why you’re sitting where you are.’ He put three lumps of sugar into his tea, hesitated and added a fourth. ‘The beach in winter is very impressive, and if the weather is like this I know a very good tea shop in Porthcawl.’
‘No picnic?’
‘You’d like another picnic?’
‘Yes, please.’ She lifted a chocolate éclair on to her plate.
He stared at her for a moment. ‘Then a picnic it is,’ he mumbled through a mouthful of cream and choux pastry.
‘I wish you’d let me drive up your street.’
‘So you can bring all the neighbours out on their doorsteps, no fear,’ she said firmly.
‘You had a good day?’
‘A very good day. Thank you.’
‘You enjoyed the film?’
‘Very much.’
‘And you’ll still come out with me tomorrow? Even after this?’ He leaned towards her and brushed his lips over hers.
‘Even after that,’ she whispered. Her lips tingled, tantalised by the light touch of his. For the first time in her life she felt as though she actually wanted a man to kiss her, and kiss her hard.
‘I parked outside the vicarage so you could call for help if I became too ardent,’ he joked, seeking her hands with his.
She looked up at him, glad of the darkness that concealed the colour flooding into her cheeks, embarrassed by his veiled reference to her earlier behaviour. Shyly, tentatively she lifted her face to his.
He needed no other invitation. His lips bore down on hers. She raised her arms, and running her fingers through his thick curly hair she pressed her head against his. Weak, breathless, she was conscious only of the crushing of the heavy layers of woollen cloth that separated their bodies – his breath, warm, moist as it mingled with hers – the smell of his cologne as it filled her nostrils – the sensation of slow-burning, heavily restrained passion.
‘I’d better walk you up the Avenue before you’re the talk of the neighbourhood,’ he said huskily as a light flicked on in one of the cottages opposite the car.
They walked in silence. When they reached her house he whispered, ‘Ten o’clock tomorrow.’
‘Station car park?’
He nodded and walked away quickly. Taking a deep breath she climbed the steps and opened the front door. The kitchen clock was chiming the hour. Eleven. Heart pounding she switched on the light and walked down the passage, bracing herself for another ordeal with her mother.
The room was in darkness, but not deserted.
‘Hello, love.’ Her father’s voice floated from his chair. ‘I’ve been enjoying a quiet time, want to sit with me a while? There’s a fresh pot of tea on the range.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’ She unbuttoned her coat; and asked the question uppermost in her mind. ‘Where’s everyone?’
‘Your mother’s gone to bed with a headache. Eddie’s walked down the hill to meet Haydn, and Alun’s out. Want to tell me what you’ve been up to?’
‘I’ve been picnicking.’ She kicked off her shoes and sat in the chair opposite his, waiting for her eyes to become accustomed to the gloom.
‘In this weather?’
‘In this weather,’ she laughed. ‘And then I window shopped in Cardiff. Had tea in Lyon’s cafe. Saw a talkie, a really good one, and ate fish and chips on the way home.’
‘This boy of yours, is he a good one, Beth?’ he asked gravely.
‘I think so, Dad.’ She leaned forward and hugged her knees. ‘I think so,’ she repeated slowly.
‘That’s all right then.’ He reached for the cups and put them on the table. ‘We all want to see you enjoy yourself, love, but none of us wants to see you get hurt.’
‘Don’t worry, Dad.’ She picked up the teapot and began to pour. ‘I won’t.’
Bethan’s relationship with Andrew and Laura’s with Trevor soon became the worst-kept secrets in the Graig Hospital. And within a very short time Bethan discov
ered that despite the embargo she no longer cared what anyone, even Squeers and
Matron, thought about her or her liaison with Andrew.
Some of Andrew’s self-confident, happy go lucky attitude, rubbed off on her. Haydn no longer complained that she rarely smiled. Now she not only smiled but frequently laughed, even in her mother’s presence.
She only had to catch a glimpse of Andrew across one of the yards in the Central Homes or in the corridor of the hospital to get a surge of happiness that would lighten her step and last her the whole day.
Eligible, charming and incredibly handsome – and out of all the girls he could have chosen, he’d chosen her. Everything he said to her, every place he took her to, every moment they spent together, became precious memories to be mulled over, and dwelt upon.
Hidden beneath her underclothes in her drawer lay the chocolate box Andrew had bought at the circus. She’d distributed the last of the chocolates to Maud and her brothers, and as winter faded she filled it with mementoes of her outings with Andrew.
There was the streamer that she had found caught in the neckline of her dress after the hospital ball. One of the programmes he’d bought at the circus, a sugar cube from the Lyon’s café and the ticket stubs from the film he’d taken her to in Cardiff (stubs she’d retrieved from under his seat when he thought she was picking up her handbag).
A perfect round pebble she’d pulled out of a rock pool at Rest Bay, Porthcawl. More cinema ticket stubs, from Pontypridd this time. A programme from a variety show they’d seen in the New Theatre, another from the Town Hall, a wrapper from a bar of chocolate they’d shared – every day off brought a new addition.
Two or three nights a week, Andrew and Trevor would sit in his car around the corner from the hospital in Courthouse Street and wait for her and Laura to finish their shifts. Then he’d drive up the Graig hill and drop them off at Leyshon Street, where they changed clothes in Megan’s bedroom. With their uniforms folded into bags, they’d spend what remained of the evening in one of the villages on the outskirts of Pontypridd. They visited cinemas in Aberdare, Abercynon, Llantrisant and the Rhondda, and afterwards they ate fish and chips out of paper bags and newspaper in Andrew’s car. And, when Trevor finally saw Laura to her house in Danycoedcae Road, Andrew walked Bethan the long way home, over the Graig mountain.
When she was with Andrew, Bethan was happy – happier than she’d ever been before. When she was alone particularly in the early hours of the morning, she fell prey to ugly fears and insecurities.
What she feared most was that he’d desert her for a prettier girl from his own class. But even that fear receded as days of unbroken courtship turned into weeks. Then one day as she and Laura walked through the female exercise yard on their way to the maternity unit they saw the green spikes of daffodil shoots pushing their way up in the narrow strip of soil beneath A and B ward windows, and she realised that her relationship with Andrew had survived a whole half season.
‘The first signs of spring,’ Bethan observed triumphantly.
‘You know what that means,’ Laura commented significantly.
‘Warm weather, light clothes, outings to the park and the seaside. Trips into the country, lots of fresh air and, if Andrew’s right, the disappearance of Maud’s cough.’
‘Lazy afternoons spent lying next to Trevor on the beach. Warm evening walks up the mountain …’
‘Have you mentioned these thoughts to Ronnie? Bethan teased.
‘Don’t have to, his mind runs like a sewer.’
‘If he suspects that you’re still going out with Trevor he won’t let you out without a chaperon.’
‘Ah – but he thinks I finished with Trevor weeks ago. And he can’t say anything to wholesome outings with my girlfriends, now can he?’ Laura leaned back against the wall of the main dining room and breathed in deeply but all she could smell was the overpowering odour of cabbage water wafting out of the kitchens. Bethan stood next to her, still smiling at the thought of all she had to look forward to.
The Easter Rattle Fair would be held soon, closing the streets of the town to traffic and opening them to stalls and crowds.
Andrew had promised to teach her tennis on the courts in Pontypridd Park and put her up for membership of the tennis club. He’d offered to take her to the beaches at Barry Island and Porthcawl, and even mentioned Swansea. And there was always the hope that things would improve at home. Haydn’s job had worked out well; perhaps it was Eddie’s turn next. There had been a lot of talk about changes coming to the Maritime. The pit might open five days a week and revert to full time working, in which case Maud could stay in school …
The hysterical screams of a woman shattered the peace in the yard and with it went all the castles that Bethan had built in the air.
‘If that’s someone in labour, tough,’ Laura said emphatically. ‘Iʼve got another ten minutes of this tea break to go.’
Glan and Jimmy appeared in the doorway of K ward dragging a girl between them. She was shouting obscenities at the top of her voice, kicking, spitting and scratching at everyone unfortunate enough to be within her reach.
‘Isn’t that Maisie Crockett?’ Laura asked.
Bethan ran across the yard.
‘Stay clear, Nurse Powell,’ Sister Thomas, the nurse in charge of K ward ordered loudly. ‘You could get hurt.’
‘Went berserk when they took her baby from her,’ Glan explained as he struggled to pin Maisie’s arms behind her back. ‘Come on, girl,’ he addressed Maisie irritably, ‘you’re on to a loser. You can’t fight me and win.’
‘Maisie, listen to me. Rules are rules.’ The sister stood in front of Maisie, trying to force the girl to look at her. ‘You’ve done nothing but sit around and look after your baby for six weeks. You can’t expect that to go on. You have to work to support you both. And if you work hard, you’ll see her for an hour on Sunday. It’s not as if they’ve taken her to the ends of the earth,’ she explained gently. ‘J ward’s behind the maternity unit, not in Africa. Now come along, be a good girl, say you’re sorry and we’ll forget about this outburst.’
‘I want my baby,’ Maisie hissed, spitting like a cornered cat.
‘You’re not doing your baby or yourself any good with all this nonsense,’ the sister said in a firmer tone.
‘Bastards!’ Maisie screamed venomously, going wild. ‘Bastards, you’ve no right to take my baby. She’s mine!’ She pulled away and kicked Glan in the shin. He relaxed his hold for an instant and she lashed out at Jimmy, broke free and ran back towards J ward, where the babies and toddies under three were kept.
‘Sister Thomas, what’s the meaning of this?’
‘Oh Christ, the Master, that’s all we need.’ Glan stopped rubbing his leg and grabbed Jimmy’s arm. Together they ran past the dispensary after Maisie. Sister Thomas was in the middle of her explanations to the Master when Glan and Jimmy returned, frogmarching the still defiant Maisie between them.
‘I’ve heard enough, Sister Thomas.’ The Master glared at Maisie. ‘There’s only one way to deal with recalcitrant paupers, my girl, and you’re going to find out what that is.’ He turned to Glan and Jimmy. ‘C ward,’ he commanded.
‘The men’s ward?’ Glan countered in amazement.
‘Padded cell, and don’t release your hold on her until she’s safely inside. Sister Thomas, don’t expect her back, I’m telephoning the police. Maisie’ll be spending the night in the cells down the station. Where she goes after that will be up to the magistrate.’
Bethan went to Sister Thomas and picked up her hand, which was bleeding badly.
‘Maisie bit it,’ the sister explained.
ʻIʼll clean it up if you like,’ Bethan offered.
‘That would be good of you.’
Maisie screamed just one more time before Glan and Jimmy, with the assistance of the Master, heaved her round the corner out of sight.
Feeling faint, the sister sank down on the steps of K ward. Bethan rubbed her temples.<
br />
‘Sometimes,’ Sister Thomas said weakly, ‘just sometimes I hate this job.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Laura said feelingly. ‘I’d better be getting back. Don’t worry, Bethan, I’ll tell Squeers where you are.’
‘Thanks.’
Bethan sat alongside Sister Thomas and looked up at the square of clear blue sky framed by the rooftops of the workhouse buildings.
It seemed paler, more washed out than it had earlier. The air held an uncomfortable damp chill. She glanced down the yard towards the daffodil shoots. They were very small, no more than buds. Spring was far away as ever. She’d been a fool to think otherwise.
Chapter Eight
On Easter Sunday the sun beamed down on Graig Avenue, softening the harsh grey outlines of the buildings and the drab brown and black tones of the pressed dirt streets. It directed brilliant spotlights on to the few daffodil buds brave enough to poke their heads out of the dry, barren mountain soil that filled the handkerchief-sized gardens, and it shone warmly on Bethan as she stepped out on to her well-scrubbed doorstep.
‘You going to chapel, Bethan or high church now you’re keeping company with a doctor,’ Glan enquired snidely.
She looked over the low wall that separated the front of her house from next door, and saw Glan togged out in his best navy blue rayon suit, sitting cap in hand in front of the bay window closest to her.
‘None of your damned business where I go, Glan Richards,’ she replied briskly, pulling on the white gloves she’d taken out of mothballs to wear with the long sleeved blue and mauve floral cotton frock she’d bought from Megan the day before.
‘Swearing and on Easter day too. Well I’m a forgiving sort of a chap, and seeing as how we’re both dolled-up in our Sunday best, how about some company to walk down the hill with?’ He took a comb out of the top pocket of his jacket and ran it through his heavily creamed hair.
‘I have enough company,’ Bethan answered sharply.
‘I wish you didn’t,’ Eddie observed glumly as he, Maud and Haydn came out of the house.
‘Didn’t the Easter bunny bring you any chocolate eggs to sweeten your temper?’ Glan jumped down his steps and followed them on to the avenue.
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