‘I didn’t. He left me,’ Lucy said honestly.
‘More fool him. Lucy, please believe I didn’t cheat on you and Meriel. It’s important that you believe me.’
Without another word Meriel took out the page which had been marked in several places with a cross. ‘Can you tell us what these crosses mean? Are they points of interest to pass on to your father?’
From his inside pocket he took out a sheet of paper which he handed to her. She read it quickly, it was a brief letter asking the editor of their local newspaper to read and consider the enclosed article. She shook the solitary page and, still in silence, quirked an enquiring eyebrow as she passed it to Lucy.
‘I’ve been preparing a piece about you two. Young women who had started a business usually run by men, and making a success of it. I’m not completely satisfied with it yet, and the crosses on that report were marking the words in hundreds to give me an idea of the length I needed. Nothing more sinister, I promise. I didn’t intend sending it until you two approved,’ he added.
‘Sorry,’ Lucy said. ‘It was instinctive to blame you for your father’s behaviour. I was wrong.’ Her apology was echoed by Meriel and he was invited to stay.
‘Anyone home?’ a voice called and Walter and Lynne came around the corner of the house.
‘Perhaps I’d better go,’ Teifion said.
‘If you’re afraid of more questions, then yes, you should hurry away before they start!’ Lucy said, as Meriel went across to meet her parents. Teifion glared at her with some defiance, and sat down.
When explanations were over and Walter told them how he had heard George’s latest move from a friend, Lucy said, ‘Teifion has been working with us but insists he knew nothing about this.’
‘He’s probably right. George has been telling people that the business is insolvent and about to collapse and he’s buying it as a surprise for his son.’
They decided on an increase in their advertising and Walter applauded Teifion’s idea of writing an article about the enterprising friends and their new and thriving business. ‘A successful business run by two beautiful young women is news and worthy of a mention. He took Lynne’s hand and added, ‘We’re so very proud of you, love.’
An unbidden thought entered Meriel’s mind and she wondered whether her real mother would be proud of her too. Although she had told her parents she had abandoned hope of finding her mother, the need to know and her curiosity wouldn’t go away.
Walter and Lynne left about nine o’clock, leaving three more relaxed people still sitting in the garden. Teifion left soon after and when Meriel and Lucy finally went to bed the shock had eased from them, the house made its small comforting sounds as night settled around them, and they slept.
*
Leo still clung to the curiosity about Meriel’s family too although he tried to keep his thoughts about them to himself. He walked past a book shop specializing in religious literature one morning and saw William Roberts-Price inside, serving a young woman. He went in and began to say hello but the man looked up and at once shuffled back out of sight.
When another assistant appeared Leo asked, ‘Was that Mr Roberts-Price? I’d like a word, please.’
‘I’m sorry, he has had to go out on an errand. Can you try later?’
Leo tried twice more but each time he was told that the man was unavailable. He drove to the cottage near the church where the family lived and knocked the door, unsure what he was going to say, but hoping to have an explanation of the man’s reluctance to speak to him. The door was opened by a stranger who told him the family had moved away and he didn’t have a forwarding address.
Later that week he called into a café for a cup of tea and saw the young woman from the book shop. He involved her in conversation and once the introductory politenesses were over he asked about her boss. ‘I don’t think he likes me,’ Leo said conspiratorially. ‘I must represent something he doesn’t approve of.’
‘I have to admit he doesn’t approve of very much at all,’ she confided, adding, ‘it wouldn’t have been personal, he keeps very much to himself. You could try talking to his daughter, she’s more chatty, not that that’s very difficult,’ she added with a laugh. ‘She works in Woolworth’s on the record counter. She loves serving young people and enjoys modern music and the latest comedy records but she isn’t allowed to buy any. Her father won’t allow them to have a wireless let alone a gramophone! Can you believe that? He doesn’t approve of her working there either, but at least she shows some spirit and defies him.’
‘Good on her,’ he said. He stood to leave and thanked the girl for trying to help. When he tried the record counter Miss Price – without the Roberts – was at lunch.
Putting aside any worries about the time he was wasting, he went back later on but the girl wasn’t there. A few days later, when he was calling in the area he again asked for Miss Price but this time he was told she had left and the family had moved away.
As he walked away, Leo wondered if the family were still in the area. The daughter had left her job on the record counter and the family no longer lived in Church Cottage. Everything seemed to suggest that William Roberts-Price insisted on complete obedience. He felt a brief sympathy for the daughter who had tried to make up her own mind. He wondered where she was and what she was doing. Perhaps the girl from the book shop could once again help?
*
Teifion was worried about what his father might do to harm the business of Meriel and Lucy. He didn’t go to see him, having decided that any contact might be misconstrued and he was afraid Lucy would think the worst. When he saw his father and Frieda coming into the bar the following evening he walked to the far end, hoping Betty would serve them, but he couldn’t escape.
‘A pint of your best, please, Teifion, and a sherry for Frieda.’
Teifion served the order without a word and avoided looking into his father’s eyes. He took the money he offered, put the change in front of him and moved to serve someone else. George smiled and pushed the change towards him. ‘Keep the change, barman, I expect you can do with it.’
Teifion pushed it back to his father so fiercely it fell to the floor. Neither made any attempt to collect it.
‘You’d better come and pack up the rest of your clothes and things,’ Frieda said. ‘We’re having some rooms decorated and we need to clear as much as we can.’ She touched his hand lightly and added, ‘Tomorrow afternoon when you close after the lunch session. All right?’
‘All right,’ he said, glancing at his father, who was smiling at some unspoken joke. He knew it wasn’t humour to be shared, he was the butt of his father’s cynical amusement. His face reddened as he felt the embarrassment he’d so often caused him in the past.
*
When they closed the pub at two o’clock the next day, he went to the office and told Lucy where he was going and why.
‘I quite understand.’
‘Does that mean you believe me?’
‘I don’t think your father needs your help to harm us. He can manage well enough on his own.’
‘I’ll come back as soon as I’ve finished,’ he promised.
He walked past his father’s office and tried to see whether his father was there but the July sun was bright and the reflection restricted his view. He hoped George would not be at home.
There were only two hours before he needed to be back at the Ship but he dawdled as he went to the house he still called home, stopping to look over a farm gate, to count trees and lamp posts and chimney pots. Anything to delay the visit in which he might have to face his father.
Frieda saw him coming and opened the door. She led him straight into the living room where piles of clothes covered the chairs and a couple of boxes were open revealing many of his possessions, some forgotten since childhood.
‘Frieda! What am I supposed to do with all this? I’ve only a small room at the Ship.’
She shrugged. ‘Your father asked me to collect it all up and a
sk you to get rid of it. We’re refurbishing two of the rooms and what was once your bedroom is one of them.’
‘Put it all in the shed. I can’t sort it out now. I’ll need to have a few hours to go through it all and decide where I can dispose of it. I have to be back in an hour.’
‘Then you should have come earlier, shouldn’t you?’ George said from the doorway.
‘Oh, throw it all away!’ Teifion said, startled by George’s sudden appearance. ‘I don’t want anything from you, not even my clothes. I’ll manage on what I took with me.’
‘Cellarman, barman, you won’t need much in the way of smart clothes.’
‘That’s right. What does it matter what I wear? Who looks at a cellarman?’
‘Come on, boy, don’t you think you’ve sulked long enough? We want you to come home.’
‘I’m happier where I am.’ He looked properly at his father for the first time and he felt a shock of alarm. The unusual pallor around the eyes made them look deepset and large. The high spots of colour on the cheeks and the way the skin on his face had become loose and lined had aged him. Was he ill? Was that the reason for asking him to come back? Did he have a real need for him? George’s words seemed to confirm his concerned thoughts.
‘Are you all right, Dad?’
‘Are you pretending to care?’
‘I just thought that if you aren’t well – it might be why you want me back.’
‘The truth is, son, I’m thinking about retiring. Frieda and I want to move down to Bournemouth, somewhere pleasant and warm. The business was always intended to be yours. Come home and take over. I’ll persuade Meriel Evans to sell her paltry attempt to ruin it and you can have Lucy working for you. Wouldn’t that make you happy?’
For a moment his heart leapt with excitement, but he showed no joy. He calmly repeated his last words. ‘I’m happier where I am.’
‘Evans and Calloway are losing their reputation, you know. Quick to rise and quicker to fall, that’s the fate of amateurs.’
‘If that is true then it’s your doing. And how can you call Meriel an amateur?’
‘What else can we call Lucy?’
‘She’s keen and a fast learner.’
‘Then ask her to come and work here, for you.’
‘You’re really going to leave?’
‘I said so, didn’t I?’
‘When?’
‘Soon, probably in the spring.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
George walked across to the table and picked up a leaflet. ‘We’re acting for that Roberts-Price family, you know the ones who sold their house through Evans and Calloway? Odd that they aren’t going through them to buy, isn’t it? Could it mean they aren’t as good as they suppose?’
‘I wouldn’t read anything into what that man does.’
‘Know them well, do you?’
‘Not really, I thought for a while they were—’
George tilted his head curiously and waited. Teifion saw no reason to prevaricate. After all, the story had been disproved. ‘For a time I thought they might be Meriel’s real parents. Since you told everyone she was adopted and ruined her peace of mind, I tried to find her real mother but I failed.
‘I approached the family but they are nothing to do with Meriel, thank goodness. She thought it might make it easier to bear once she knew where she came from, why her mother didn’t keep her. You really shouldn’t have done that, Dad. It was cruel.’
‘What made you think it was the Roberts-Price couple? From what I know of them they’re hardly the type to abandon a child.’
‘I was wrong and before you ask, I haven’t been able to discover anything about her adoption. If I had, you’d be the last one I’d tell. You almost destroyed her telling everyone the truth.’
George shook his head and tutted slowly. Then he smiled and patted his son’s shoulder as though amused at the rantings of a child. ‘Oh, how I’ve missed you. Come home. Please, Teifion. Come back and make us laugh again. The place isn’t the same without you, is it, Frieda?’
The words seemed condescending to Teifion, as though he were stupid, good for a laugh, and unworldly and incapable of surviving outside his father’s care. He stood up and kicked at the boxes holding his childhood memories and went out. ‘If you don’t want the business sell it, and leave Meriel and Lucy alone!’ he shouted back.
George didn’t call after him. He looked at Frieda thoughtfully. ‘Now I wonder whether it would be worth visiting the Roberts-Price family? Letting them presume I know more than I actually do is a ploy that often works.’
‘This is all very boring, George. I agreed to stay with you but on certain conditions, remember, and one of them is forgetting this need for revenge against Meriel and Lucy.’
‘Come on, Frieda, I’ve agreed to our moving, haven’t I? Can’t I have a little fun before we do?’
‘Why d’you hate her so much? It’s a side of you I don’t like at all.’
‘I don’t hate Meriel, it’s her father who always gets in my way.’
*
Teifion was filled with doubts. Mistrusting his father was a habit, but perhaps this time he really did need help. He certainly looked unwell but he doubted his promise that retirement was imminent. George Dexter, Estate Agent and Auctioneer, would always be his life and if he took over, his father would never be able to stay away. He’d be unable to refrain from interfering and telling him how hopeless he was, criticizing him, humiliating him until the day he died.
There was no one to talk to. He could hardly discuss taking on a rival business with Lucy, and Betty would probably remind him that his loyalty lay with his father. Perhaps Leo might offer a solution? He was far enough away from the situation to give an honest opinion.
Back at the Ship and Compass after he dealt with the routine tasks and they had eaten, a few minutes before the doors opened for the evening, he wrote a short note to Leo, marking it private and addressing it care of Walter’s office.
*
Gerald was unhappy. He looked at his grease-stained hands, at the blackness under his fingernails, and pulled a face. The oilcan on the bench seemed like a symbol of his misery, he picked it up and threw it against the wall where it clanged and clattered before landing in the corner on a pile of spare parts.
Life was definitely passing him by. It seemed to have happened in a matter of weeks. There he was, playing with the idea of marrying Lucy, giving up on the distasteful occupation his father had planned for him and dreaming of a life married to a wealthy woman.
He now knew he’d been misinformed about Lucy leaving. He didn’t understand why she’d lied and presumed it was one of her jokes. Everyone knew the business was growing and that Lucy’s future was secure. But if they were married, he would be able to look after her, support her and offer help when she needed it. She wouldn’t be alone when problems threatened. She was so remarkable, walking away from all she knew, taking on a new challenge and making a success of it. A feeling of pride swelled in his chest.
He sighed contentedly as he thought about Lucy, not as a way out of a future he couldn’t face, but as a woman he desired. He recognized with some surprise his need to protect her and care for her. Could it be love? he mused with growing excitement. He certainly anticipated meeting her with more delight than before. And he wanted to do things for her, take her presents. The perfume was still in his drawer at home and he began to imagine a scene in which she fell into his arms with delight at his generosity. He was smiling when he bumped into his father as he went through the garage door into the workshop. His father was not.
‘Have you finished the service on the B.S.A.?’
Gerald looked up in surprise hearing the anger in his father’s voice. ‘Well no, actually. I’ve been thinking about how we can expand. I was about to go through the order book to see how many cars are on order.’
‘I can tell you that,’ his father snapped. ‘Exactly none. I don’t want the business of new cars, I repai
r and service motorbikes. That is what we do here.’
‘But I arranged to supply a new Morris to Mr Gorman.’
‘I unarranged it! I passed the order on to the place in Cardiff where they’re better suited to deal with such things.’ As Gerald took a deep breath to complain, he went on, ‘And before you say anything more, let me tell you something. I am tired of carrying you. I’ve paid your wages all these years and you’ve given nothing back. You don’t even pretend to be interested. Well, it’s over. I don’t intend to carry you any longer. Get stuck in and help with the work that’s waiting, or get out. Right out. Understand? I’ve had enough.’ Gerald’s mouth opened and closed like a stranded fish. ‘And, before you say anything, your mother agrees with me. Right?’
Throwing down a rag with which he had been about to clean the work bench, he hurried out, his face like thunder. Gerald turned on his heel to follow his progress but in contrast to his father, he was smiling. So he was sacked. What a good opportunity for a fresh start. He reached for the tin of cleaning jelly, washed his hands meticulously, symbolically removing the remnants of the work from his skin, then went to change out of the hated overalls and heavy boots.
The showrooms opening up in every town, selling both second-hand cars and new models, offered him hope. After all, he had the perfect credentials. Whether he liked it or not, he was a trained mechanic, and he had the tall, broad-shouldered figure that appealed to the ladies and the easy conversation and upper-class accent, perfected over the years, that men found reassuring. Confidence and good looks, that’s what a salesman needed and – as long as he was well away from his father’s disapproval – he had plenty of both.
While his father and mother were discussing what had been said, he made a phone call. He spoke well and his comments about his abilities and enthusiasm impressed. An interview was arranged for later that day. Dressed in his newest suit, highly-polished shoes and an immaculate shirt and tie, he went into the yard.
The Heart of the Home Page 22
