‘Thank you,’ she said tearfully.
When they reached Badgers Brook, Meriel was listening to a Glenn Miller recording on the wireless, there was a freshly baked loaf on the table and a pot of rabbit stew simmering on the hob. Frieda felt the weight of misery lifted from her as she sat near the fire while Meriel set extra places at the table.
They talked about many things but not at all about George. Frieda told them stories about her time in the dance hall and they discussed their favourite music, then Frieda’s eyes became heavy and when Teifion had gone to make his apologies to Betty Connors, Meriel and Lucy made up a bed. Frieda fell asleep as soon as she closed her eyes.
The following morning, after hearing about the illness of his old adversary, Walter drove to the hospital to see him. George kept him waiting for twenty minutes then told him he could only spare five minutes as he had his solicitor coming to discuss something important.
‘Cutting your wife and son out of your will, are you? Leaving your money to a cat’s home?’
‘What I do with my money isn’t your business, Walter Evans! You need to take care of your own affairs. No,’ he said, his dark eyes glinting with what could have been pleasure but Walter thought more likely to be malice. ‘I’ve written a letter and I want to make sure it goes to the right person if I should die before I can deliver it myself. It’s time the truth came out.’
Without another word, Walter turned on his heels, threw the fruit he had brought towards the sick man and stormed towards the door. ‘Do what you wish, George, but nothing will help. You ruined your life. Not me. No one else can be blamed however hard you try. Your mess and misery is all down to you! How can you even think of creating more?’
A nurse stood up from the desk and hurried towards Walter. ‘Please, this is a hospital, I have to ask you to leave.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m going. This man is poisoning the air, as he’s tried to poison everything else.’ The agitated nurse followed him to the exit and closed the doors after him. George Dexter clearly wasn’t a man blessed with many friends, she thought with some surprise. Such a charming man, and handsome too.
*
Frieda woke completely refreshed, and hungry. There were eggs from the farm, illegal of course, but better tasting for that. Boiled eggs followed by rounds of toast and jam was the best meal she’d had in ages, she told them, as she poured herself a second cup of tea.
‘You go off to your office and if I may, I’ll stay here today and relax. There’s something very calming about this house, isn’t there?’ Putting her cup and saucer on a small table she sat on the couch and slid down among the cushions and was asleep again before Meriel and Lucy left the house. Rascal hopped up beside her and resting his chin on her feet, slept too.
At the office, Meriel opened the post and read out a letter asking them to organize another auction. The letter was from the man they had worked for a few weeks previously, Mr Lewen.
‘Yippee,’ Meriel said inelegantly, dancing around the room.
‘Well done you,’ Lucy said, taking her hands and dancing with her.
‘Well done us,’ Meriel said as the door opened and they tried to behave more soberly.
‘Is this a party? Can I come?’ her father asked with a huge smile. ‘Good news?’
‘Dadda, it’s another large auction, the same people as before. Farm and contents. It seems farmers are being offered high prices for building land and the government needs more houses, so approval is readily given.’
‘Many farmers are selling because their sons are refusing to follow them,’ Lucy remarked. ‘Some blame the war years followed by two years’ National Service which has apparently unsettled them, shown them a wider world and offered greater choices.’
‘Still, it means business for us,’ Meriel said, ‘and I can’t pretend to be sorry.’
‘Well done you two. Wait till I tell your mother! We’re so proud of you both. Would you like to borrow Leo?’
‘Yes please,’ Meriel said at once. ‘I mean, only if you can spare him.’
Walter chuckled. ‘From what he’s been telling me, he won’t need much persuading.’
*
Martha had become a regular visitor to Badgers Brook and she came on the day Frieda was staying. Meriel and Lucy were starting to prepare a meal for a still-sleepy Frieda when there was a rather timid knock at the door. ‘Martha,’ Meriel whispered and went to invite her in. She had brought a bag of rather squashed cakes and, as she hoped, was invited to stay.
It was Lucy she usually spent most time with, talking about hairdressing and fashion, but when she learned that Frieda had been a singer with a dance band she transferred her attention to her. Her blue eyes were round with wonder as she coaxed Frieda to tell her about life behind the scenes, laughing in disbelief when she was told that it was quite hard work.
‘What a fabulous way to spend your life, being an entertainer,’ she uttered admiringly. ‘I wish I had a talent.’
‘Everyone has a talent, even if it isn’t one of the most talked about,’ Frieda told her, amused by the girl’s intensity. ‘What’s wrong with being a successful shop assistant, knowing your stock thoroughly and being able to help and advise your customers? I wouldn’t have the patience you need for work like that.’
‘Selling is only a job.’
‘So is singing when you’ve done it for a long time. Everything becomes routine after a while.’ She was lying, it had been a wonderful experience and if her voice hadn’t failed she might still be up there on stage and loving it.
‘I suppose selling records was a sort of talent,’ Martha said thoughtfully. ‘I was quite good at it, getting to know the bands and singers and latest recordings, being able to find customers what they want. Sometimes they’d hum a few bars of music and ask me to identify it and usually, I could.’
‘There you are, a talent without doubt,’ Frieda agreed.
Aware of how she was trying to help the girl who was her sister, Meriel smiled and mouthed her silent thanks.
‘It was hard though,’ Martha went on, ‘father not allowing us to have a wireless and forbidding me to play my records.’
‘You mean you didn’t hear all the latest tunes at home, yet managed to keep up with the latest? That’s impressive.’
When the girl had gone, Frieda asked why a wireless had been forbidden. ‘The man who is my father,’ Meriel said, her usual way of referring to William Roberts-Price, ‘is rather strict. Afraid of anything that might lead his daughter into trouble. Dancing would never be allowed.’
‘Can’t we do anything?’
Meriel looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I suppose we could try.’
They went together to the rooms behind the bakery and at once asked Mr and Mrs Roberts-Price if they would have any objection to them renting a wireless for their daughter. ‘She’s extremely knowledgeable about music, both popular and classical,’ Meriel told them as they gazed at her in shock. ‘And a great asset when she worked on the record counter.’
‘She should be encouraged,’ Frieda added. ‘Did you know she tried to get her job back? The vacancy you made her create has unfortunately been filled. Such a waste of your daughter’s talent, her replacement is nowhere near as clever. There are other shops though and I think I might persuade one of them to give her a trial.’ She smiled and added, ‘I was in the music business myself, you see, and I still have friends in high places.’
The man had been struggling to speak but each time, either Meriel or Frieda stopped him. Finally he raised a protesting hand and said, ‘We do not wish our daughter to be involved in anything like this. She is settled in the shoe shop and the manager reports that her behaviour is excellent.’
‘Good behaviour is what you hope for from criminals,’ Frieda said sadly, ‘not young girls who’ve done nothing wrong.’
The man stood up and walked towards the door. ‘Thank you for calling. I’ll bear in mind what you say.’
‘We’ve been dismissed lik
e naughty children outside the headmaster’s study,’ Frieda whispered, choking with laughter.
*
‘I think it’s time I went home,‘ Frieda said a few days later. ‘I’m in control and thoroughly rested thanks to a few days with you two, but I have to try and pick up the threads of my life sometime and the longer I stay here the harder it will be to leave.’
‘Where will you go?’ Meriel asked. ‘I mean, where’s home?’
Sadly Frieda shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. Not with George – not at the moment anyway, not till we’ve talked and I’ve made a few promises, he’s made that clear. I don’t want to go back to my sister, Brighton is too far away. So it’s the awful house where you and I first met,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘I don’t know where Kit has gone. I’ve tried all the usual places but no one has heard from him. I’m worried that he’s got himself into trouble once more. After several prison sentences it’s very hard to start again.’
‘You can come back when you’ve sorted things out,’ Lucy told her. ‘Badgers Brook is a wonderful place to sit and think and it seems you need to do a lot of that.’
‘I have to find Kit. He’s disappeared from all the usual places. George promised him some money to get him started, you see. Enough for a few weeks’ rent on a room, some clothes, an opportunity to get himself a job so he won’t be tempted to do anything illegal. If he stays away from the area where he’s known, where his so-called friends tempt him with offers of “just-one-more-job”, he stands a good chance of staying out of trouble.’
‘Then that explains it, he’s getting a new life and as soon as he’s settled he’ll contact you.’
‘Maybe.’ She sounded doubtful. ‘I have to find him, make sure George did what he promised. Then, once George is out of hospital I’ll do what I agreed and go back home and this time, play the part of the dutiful wife.’
‘He’s expecting you to go back then?’ Lucy said. ‘He implied to Teifion that you and he are separated.’
‘He blusters, but he wouldn’t be able to face the failure of us separating. So many people would love to see our marriage fail. Considering he’s a man who enjoys spreading unpleasant gossip he has a morbid dread of being at the receiving end!’
Meriel had a word with Lucy then offered to go with her to see Kit. Frieda drove and when they pulled up outside the rundown building Meriel wondered what they would find inside. The place had an eerie feel as they opened the ill-fitting front door and stepped inside.
The stairs were uncarpeted but had been scrubbed clean, the air was sweeter than expected and she saw, as they passed, that several doors had been recently painted and bore name plates. The tenants were more particular than the landlord, she guessed.
They went through a door bearing the name Martin, and Meriel was even more surprised when she entered a comfortable, albeit a sparsely furnished, room. There was a fire laid ready to light in the polished grate and two armchairs stood facing it. A wind-up gramophone stood in a corner with a sliding pile of records beside it. There were two gas lights sprouting from the walls but each had a broken mantle. A glass lay smashed in a corner lying in a puddle of its contents.
Evidence of a struggle immediately became apparent, A kicked-in door led to a bedroom and when they went inside they saw the bed tipped up and its cover ripped, a wardrobe door hanging on its hinges, a table on its side in a corner with drawers emptied onto the floor.
‘What’s happened?’ Meriel gasped. A small kitchen led out from the living room and with bated breath they pushed open the door and peered in, but it was empty, the solitary cupboard was apparently untouched, its neatly stacked contents visible through the open door.
Frieda sank into a chair and said, ‘He’s had a visit – from the police probably. Either George didn’t do what he promised me, or Kit couldn’t wait and went off to do that “one more job” convinced it would give him what he needed.’
‘Come on,’ Meriel said peremptorily, ‘We have to go to the police station and find out what happened.’ Slowly Frieda did what she was bidden. It was with relief that Meriel left the building that seemed, despite the efforts of its tenants, to be bereft of all hope. To their surprise they saw a policeman walking towards the house but he was unable to help, even though Frieda gave the man’s real name. The officer stood at the corner as they drove away.
‘Is there anywhere else you can try?’ Meriel asked.
‘Only his wife and children and I refuse to cause them more distress by going to see them. I’ve hurt them enough. Can I come back with you to Badgers Brook?’
‘Of course.’
‘Tomorrow I’ll insist on talking to George. As usual, whatever trouble I find, he’s at the centre of it.’
*
George was feeling more able to sort out his life and the promise of a return home had him making demands in his usual manner. He sent for Teifion and sat tapping his fingers irritably while he waited for him when visiting time came round.
‘Where have you been?’ he demanded, even though his son was among the first few to walk into the ward. ‘I need to get a few things organized for when I get home.’
‘Hello, Dad, how are you feeling?’ Teifion asked sarcastically.
‘I haven’t got time for all that. Listen to me, you’ll have to go in and run the office. The boy who I employed to learn the business isn’t any use and I need you to oversee all that’s going on and report back to me. Right?’
‘No it isn’t,’ Teifion replied quietly. ‘I work for Betty Connors and I’ve no intention of letting her down. You’ll have to learn to trust the people who are employed by you. I no longer am.’
George began a long string of invective, telling Teifion how useless and stupid he was and what a failure for a son he’d had to put up with all these years. Teifion saw the nurse running towards them and he left the ward without another word. He was shaking and sat on a bench near the doors to the ward, from where he heard his father shouting and the nurses trying to calm him down.
As he stood to leave, one of the nurses came out. ‘If you’ll wait a few more minutes you can go back in. I think he wants to talk to you.’
As she went back through the swing doors she turned to see Teifion striding away down the corridor. When she told George that his son had gone, he demanded that they telephoned Leo Hopkins. It was against the rules but he was in such a state they did as he requested.
*
Teifion went to see Lucy and told her about the distressing visit and what his father had demanded.
‘He never asks. He shouts and his commands are interspersed with reminders of my stupidity and uselessness. Why should I help him?’
‘What will you do?’ Lucy felt this was a test, both of his loyalty to his father and to herself, aware that he had information about their business that George would benefit from knowing. ‘However he treats you, he is your father and the business will be yours one day, won’t it? Shouldn’t you look after it for those reasons?’
‘I’m staying at the Ship and Compass with Betty, and in between, if you still want me and trust me, I’ll come and help you and Meriel in any way I can.’
‘At least ring the hospital and ask how he is.’
He rang and the nurse came to the phone and asked him to return to the hospital as his father wished to see him. ‘Tell him I’m very sorry but I’m needed by my employer,’ he replied.
*
During a cold wet Sunday afternoon, allowing for the times the Roberts-Prices would be attending church, Meriel and Lucy went to the flat alongside the bakery in Bridgend and knocked on the door. There was no reply and they decided to wait.
‘They must be home soon, there’s nowhere to go on a Sunday, especially in weather like this,’ Meriel said. There were no cafes open so they stood in a doorway opposite and waited, with mackintoshes draped around them, cold, wet shoes chilling them, stockings clinging to their legs, wondering how long they could stand the discomfort.
They saw Martha’s
parents coming and stepped out. Martha wasn’t with them. Before her husband could speak, her mother said, ‘Oh, just look at the state of you both! Come in and let us dry you off.’
‘Where’s Martha?’ Meriel asked.
‘Not very well, she has a nasty cold, as you will too if you don’t get yourself warmed.’
‘We seem to be suffering with the same thing,’ Mr Roberts-Price added as he searched for his key. ‘We had to leave the meeting we were attending much earlier than planned.’
‘Come in quietly if you will,’ his wife whispered. ‘If she’s sleeping I’d rather not wake her.’
To their surprise the sounds of a popular cowboy song greeted them as the door softly opened. Immediately Mr Roberts-Price began to run up the stairs but Meriel held him with a hand on his arm. He looked outraged but his wife pleaded with him to stay. Their daughter was singing along to a record, her thin, reedy voice attempting an American accent making Meriel and Lucy grin.
‘I’m an old cow-hand, from the Rio Grande—’
Slowly they went up the stairs and peered through the door. They listened as the record ended and heard Martha’s now unaccompanied voice singing ‘Yippy I oke I aye – yip yip yip – yippy I oke I aye.’ Pushing the door slightly they could see her dancing around, wearing an ancient hat and drumming an imaginary guitar. Meriel glanced at the couple who were her parents and slowly, oh so slowly they began to smile.
They crept back down the stairs, breath held as though to prevent the wood creaking, and noisily opened and closed the front door.
‘We’re back, Martha, we seem to have a cold too so we came back a little early. Meriel and Lucy are here.’
Meriel and Lucy called up the stairs and took a long time removing their sodden coats and shoes while above, a scuffle suggested that Martha was putting her records out of sight.
The Heart of the Home Page 27
