‘I think there’s a crowd of women in there. I’ll go by myself and ask her.’
‘So Laura hates me too?’
‘Afraid so,’ Trevor concurred.
‘Well that’s understandable. I don’t like myself very much at the moment either,’ Andrew said philosophically, unable to keep a trace of self-pity from his voice.
Trevor closed the car door, walked up the steps to Laura’s house, turned the key and stepped inside the front door.
‘Mamma mia!’ Laura’s mother, bulk quivering, came down the passage to greet him blocking his path with her ample figure. ‘Don’t you know it’s unlucky for the groom to see the bride the day before the wedding?’
‘That’s the morning of the wedding, not the day before.’ Laura walked out of the back kitchen. She looked quizzically at Trevor. ‘Hello, sweetheart, you haven’t come to tell me that you’ve changed your mind have you?’
‘Nothing like that,’ Trevor smiled, kissing the top of her head and wanting to kiss a whole lot more. ‘Is there anywhere we can talk?’
‘In this house?’ She stared at him in astonishment. ‘There’s the ty bach.’ Grinning at his uncomfortable look, she relented. ‘I was joking.’ She stuck her head round the door of the front parlour. ‘Gina, Tina, out for five minutes,’ she barked.
‘What’s the matter, Laura? Can’t wait until you’re alone with him tomorrow night?’ Gina giggled at the blush that was spreading over Trevor’s cheeks.
‘Less of your cheek, madam.’ She pushed them out of the room and pulled Trevor in. ‘Can’t close the door I’m afraid,’ she apologised. ‘Not even with the wedding tomorrow, Mama and Papa wouldn’t stand for it.’
‘I’ve Andrew outside in the car,’ he blurted out.
‘You’ve got what?’
‘Ssh, not so loud. He’s just been to the police station to drop charges against Eddie.’
‘Least he could do,’ Laura said unforgivingly.
‘He wants to see Bethan.’
‘What for? So he can insult her and leave her all over again?’
‘Laura, he says he didn’t know about the baby, and I believe him.’
‘Yes, well, that’s the difference between us, Trevor. You’re gullible, I’m not.’
‘And if he’s telling the truth?’
‘Even if he is, which I don’t believe for a minute, Bethan’s got her head screwed on the right way. She knows when she’s well-off. She won’t want to see him again. Take my word for it.’
‘Can’t you persuade her?’
‘Why should I try?’ she demanded indignantly.
‘She loved him once. He wants to marry her.’
Laura snorted sceptically.
‘Couldn’t you at least go and see her?’ Trevor coaxed.
‘There’s no point. When I left her half an hour ago she was going to bed. And
Haydn and her mother are standing guard. They’ll never let me wake her.’
‘Laura, it’s his baby.’
‘He should have thought of that when he left her.’
‘I think he’s really sorry.’
‘I’ll believe that when I see it.’
‘Then you will see him?’
Caught in a snare of her own making she went to the window and looked out. ‘Where is he?’
‘In the car.’
‘Oh no he isn’t.’
Trevor joined her and looked through the bay. ‘Damn him,’ he muttered. ‘He wouldn’t bloody well wait.’
Chapter Twenty-five
Andrew pulled the collar of his coat up until it met the brim of his hat and knocked on the Powell’s front door. He had to knock three times before he heard the sound of footsteps echoing over the flagstones in the passage.
‘The key’s in the door,’ a voice shouted in exasperation. When he didn’t turn it the door was wrenched open. Haydn stared at him in total disbelief. ‘You’ve got a bloody nerve coming here!’ he exclaimed when he recovered from the shock.
‘I would like to talk to Bethan,’ Andrew ventured, summoning up all his courage.
‘Well, she doesn’t want to talk to you,’ Haydn retorted belligerently.
‘Then your father. It’s really important.’
‘Who is it, Haydn?’ Elizabeth called out from the kitchen.
‘Nobody.’
‘It’s Andrew John, Mrs Powell. May I see you for a moment?’ The silence that greeted his request closed around him and Haydn immuring them in a world of red shadows and threatening imminent violence.
‘Now, can you see that you’re not wanted here? And if you try setting foot on this doorstep again I’ll finish what my brother began last night.’ Not trusting himself to remain within striking distance of Andrew a moment longer, Haydn slammed the door in Andrew’s face. He leaned back against it, breathing heavily.
‘Haydn?’ Bethan stood at the top of the stairs, her long nightgown flowing round her ankles, her hair ruffled from the pillows, her eyes puffy from crying. ‘Was that who I think it was?’
‘Go back to bed, Bethan.’ Haydn went to the foot of the stairs.
‘Was it?’ she repeated.
‘Yes, and he’s got a bloody cheek coming round here. But don’t worry, sis, I sent him packing. He won’t be round again.’
Bethan returned to her bedroom, but she didn’t climb back into bed. Instead she pulled the curtains aside and looked down at the street.
Andrew was standing in the middle of the unmade road in front of the house. She withdrew quickly, a host of conflicting emotions surging within her. She’d seen enough to know that Eddie’d done some damage. She’d noticed the bandage on Andrew’s hand and beneath his hat, his pale face and bloodless lips. But she consoled herself with the thought that he must be all right to be walking around – better than Eddie who was still in gaol.
Why did he want to see her? Why? After what he’d said to her the last time they’d spoken she had nothing to say to him. Nothing at all.
Andrew saw the curtains in the bedroom twitch and guessed that it had been Bethan who had moved them. He lowered his head and looked up and down the street uncertain what to do next.
As he was deliberating, the door in the garden wall opposite opened and Evan Powell emerged on to the street.
‘Mr Powell,’ he said eagerly.
Evan stared at him blankly for a moment. Then anger dawned as he recognised Andrew. ‘You’re the last person I expected to see standing outside my house,’ he said heatedly.
Refusing to be intimidated or put off, Andrew pressed his unexpected advantage. ‘I’d like to talk to you for a few moments if I may, Mr Powell.’
‘Why?’
‘Please, I know what you must think of me but it’s important. Not to me, to Bethan.’ He waited patiently for Evan’s reply.
‘All right, boy, I’ll talk to you,’ Evan relented gruffly. ‘But not here. In the Graig Hotel around the corner. I’ll be down in five minutes. The back bar.’
‘Thank you, sir. I’m very grateful.’
Despite his thumping headache Andrew almost ran down the street. He entered the hotel through the double doors at the front and looked down the central passageway that divided the building into two. Bars opened out either side of him, typical valley pub bars that gleamed with polished mahogany, shining brass work and highly coloured, leaded light windows.
He glanced into both. One was a men’s bar, the other a lounge. He knew there was a jug and bottle that opened from a side entrance. But he could see no sign of a back room.
‘Can I help you, sir?’ the landlord asked through a serving hatch cut into the passage way.
‘I’ve arranged to meet someone in the back bar, but I can’t seem to find it.’
‘Through there.’ The landlord pointed past the stairs.
‘Thank you.’ Andrew had been wondering if Evan had deliberately led him astray. ‘Could I have two pints of beer please?’
‘If you pay now, I’ll bring them through.’
&nb
sp; Andrew counted out the correct money from the loose change in his pocket, and walked on.
The room was empty as Evan knew it would be. Dark and gloomy, it was lit by one small high window that was overshadowed by the garden wall of Danygraig House. The dark brown paintwork and wallpaper of pinkish chintz were overlaid with thick nicotine-stained patina from the smokers who congregated in the room most nights. Andrew sat on an uncomfortable, overstuffed horsehair chair, pulling it close to an iron-legged marble-topped table.
It was ten minutes, not five, before Evan arrived and he came carrying his own pint.
‘I bought you one, sir,’ Andrew said, rising as Evan walked into the room.
‘I’d rather drink my own,’ Evan said bluntly. ‘Well, say what you want to, and quickly. This place will be closing for the afternoon in a quarter of an hour.’
‘I’ve dropped all the charges against Eddie. He should be home soon.’
‘Do you expect me to be grateful to you for that?’
‘No. Not at all,’ Andrew stammered, realising what he must have sounded like. ‘I just thought you’d like to know. You must be worried about him.’
When Evan didn’t say anything, he stumbled on, tripping over his words, wishing he could think clearly, that his head didn’t hurt quite so much.
‘I know I treated Bethan badly …’
‘You don’t have to state the obvious,’ Evan said briefly.
‘I was sorry as soon as I left. I wrote to her three times. When she didn’t answer any of my letters I didn’t know what to think. I came home yesterday hoping to see her before Laura and Trevor’s wedding. I intended to ask her to marry me …’
‘Bit bloody late.’
‘Mr Powell, I take full responsibility for what I did to Bethan, but I swear to you I would never have left her if I’d known about the baby. I didn’t find out until this afternoon when Trevor told me. Please, Mr Powell, all I want is to see her. Explain why I left if I can – and try and straighten all this out between us.’
‘You’re not short of guts, Andrew John. I’ll give you that,’ Evan said grudgingly before he drained his pint.
‘Please, Mr Powell, I know I’m not welcome in your house. But I’ll be in the New Inn tonight between six o’clock and eight. I’ll wait for any message she might want to send me. Would you please just tell her that?’
‘Aye, I will.’
‘There’s just one more thing,’ he said wretchedly. ‘Tell her … tell her that I love her,’ he said simply. ‘That I never stopped loving her. Not for one minute.’
‘He said he wrote to me?’ Bethan looked at her father through dark-rimmed eyes.
‘Three letters.’ Evan pushed his feet out on to the hearthrug, accidentally kicking Haydn and Eddie.
‘I never got any letters.’ She looked at Elizabeth, who was stirring a pot on the range. ‘Mam, did any letters come for me?’ she asked. ‘Mam?’ she asked again when Elizabeth failed to answer.
‘Yes. But they came too late,’ Elizabeth replied without turning around. ‘You’d already married Alun.’
‘You could have given them to me afterwards, when I came home,’ Bethan reproached.
‘I could have, if I’d remembered them.’
‘Can I have them now?’
Elizabeth went to the dresser drawer. Pushing aside a neat pile of clean, ironed and darned tea towels she extracted three envelopes and handed them to Bethan. Bethan stared at them for a moment, turning them over in her hand, reading the address on the other side. Then she looked at the postmarks. The first had come two weeks before she’d married Alun. The second a week later, the third had been posted the day before her wedding.
‘I kept them from you because I believed it was for the best, Bethan,’ Elizabeth said coolly. ‘I thought you had a respectable married life ahead of you with Alun. This one’s crache. And they don’t marry girls like you.’
‘He’s offering, Elizabeth,’ Evan contradicted angrily.
‘Mam’s right for once,’ Eddie said unexpectedly. ‘He’s a smarmy sod.’
‘Language,’ Evan reprimanded strongly. ‘And after the scrape you’ve just got out of, you’d better keep your mouth closed and your fists for the ring.’
‘Yes, Dad,’ Eddie said meekly, elated because it was the first time that his father had recognised boxing as an essential part of his life.
‘You don’t intend to take up with him again do you, Beth?’ Haydn demanded warily.
‘No.’ she said shortly, rising from her chair. She went to her mother and kissed her withered cheek. ‘I know you did what you thought best, Mam, and I’m grateful for it,’ she said kindly. ‘I understand. I really do. I might even have done the same thing myself if I’d had a chance to.’
She left the room, carried the letters upstairs, lay on her bed and opened the first one.
Dear Bethan,
I’m sorry. Those two pathetic words are totally inadequate. They don’t express a millionth part of the remorse I’m feeling right this minute. I love you, I miss you, and I want you here in this cold miserable room of mine right now. Then I could tell you to your face that I didn’t mean any of those things I said in the hospital that last night. Please, Bethan, can you forgive me?
If you came here, to London, we could rent rooms around the corner from the hospital. You’d like London. There’s so many things to do and see, parks to walk in, fine buildings to look at, so much I could show you, museums, art galleries … we’d have to visit those because they’re free and we wouldn’t have much money. It will take me a few years to get my career to a stage where we’d be comfortable, but I could put up with a little discomfort as long as it was with you. I know now that the only thing that matters to me is you, Bethan. If you want to just sneak away from Pontypridd, just write to me and I’ll send you a train ticket. Just say the word …
The letters danced before her on the page, especially the final line –
Bethan, I love you.
I love you – The words seared into her mind as she opened the other two letters. They were in the same vein, except for questions as to why she’d ignored the first one. She could see Andrew’s hand penning them, read the selfishness behind the sentiments.
Selfishness that she’d refused to recognise when they’d been together. He would have liked nothing better than for her to sneak away unnoticed from Pontypridd, and join him in London. And if he was talking marriage now, it was only since he’d found out about the baby. There was mention of rooms that they could share in the letter, but no marriage. She left the papers on the bed and went to the window, half expecting to see him still standing in the street. But it was empty, the thickly gathering twilight casting shadows on to the stone strewn roadway.
Weak, selfish, pampered, spoiled, sensual, kind – loving … all those adjectives and more could be applied to him. She felt she knew him better than he knew himself. And, for all his arrogance, all his faults, she knew now that she loved him. Would always love him.
She closed the curtains, switched on the light, opened her dressing table drawer and took out the chocolate box. Lifting the lid she resisted the temptation to explore the treasures it contained. She laid the letters on top. After she closed it, she pulled down an old ribbon of Maud’s that was hanging over the mirror and tied it round the box. Taking her time, she fashioned the ends into a neat bow before stowing it away again. Memories and a memory box. She felt as though she were physically consigning Andrew John to her past.
‘Bethan,’ her father knocked on the bedroom door.
‘Come in,’ she called out as she closed the drawer.
Evan didn’t enter the room. He opened the door and remained on the landing. ‘I forgot to tell you. He told me to say that he’d be in the New Inn tonight between six and eight if you wanted to send a message.’
‘Thank you, Dad.’
‘You’ve no intention of seeing him?’
‘No.’
‘You know your own mind best.’
>
‘He left me.’ she said bitterly. ‘Not the other way round.’ She tensed herself, forcing back the tears back that hovered behind her eyes. ‘He hurt me. He hurt me …’
‘And now you’re afraid to see him in case he does it again. Is that it?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Bethan, love.’ He went up to her and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘I told you the night you married Alun that you only have one life. The best advice I can give to you is live it. Do whatever you want to do without being afraid of anything or anybody. Even failure.’
‘You think I should see him, don’t you?’
‘I think you have to make your own mind up about that.’
‘You must have an opinion,’ she pressed.
‘He’s one unhappy young man who was brave enough to face me, Eddie and Haydn today in an attempt to get a message through to you. His last words to me in the pub were “Tell Bethan that I love her. That I never stopped loving her”.’
‘Then I’ll go.’
‘Not for me, love. You don’t get out of it that way. Your own decisions and your own mistakes, remember. Besides I’ve only met him twice. I don’t know him well enough to tell when he’s lying. If you go and see him, end up marrying him and make a pig’s ear out of your life you could come back to me and say “I took your advice, Dad, and look at the mess I’m in.” I’m not taking responsibility for a decision like that.’
‘Oh Dad,’ she laughed as she buried her head in his shoulder. ‘What would I do without you?’
‘I hope you won’t have to, girl. Look, Bethan, we all love you, and we’ll take care of you, never fear. Only you can know if you want this chap or not. It appears he’s there for the taking, but so is what you’ve got here. Suit yourself, girl, and make at least one person happy. Yourself.’
He looked over her head to the lights that burned behind Rhiannon Pugh’s wall. He knew then that he’d never take his own advice. Caught between two women he’d live out his life as they dictated and as he lived it now. Facing Elizabeth’s daily disappointments and bitterness, and handing out crumbs of comfort to Phyllis because that was all she was prepared to accept from him. Any more would upset the safe little world she had cocooned herself and Rhiannon in.
Pontypridd 01 - Hearts of Gold Page 47
