by Rosie Harris
There was so much to learn, so much studying to be done in her own time, that Sarah found she barely noticed the fact that she saw little or nothing of Rita.
‘I see you are starting to put your back into things,’ her father commented one Sunday when, instead of going to call for Rita and going for a walk as she usually did in the afternoon, she spread out her books on the dining table and sat there busily writing and checking things in her text books.
‘She’s working far too hard, if you want my opinion.’ Lorna sighed as she handed him a cup of tea. ‘Every evening and every weekend she’s poring over those books. You’re only young once and she should be out enjoying herself.’
‘There will be plenty of time for her to be doing that sort of thing when she’s finished her studies,’ Lloyd stated firmly as he took the cup from her and put it down on the little table she’d placed alongside his chair. ‘This is a wonderful opportunity for her; a chance to make something of herself.’
‘Even so, all work and no play . . .’ Lorna interceded, then stopped and sighed and said no more.
Sarah knew that in many ways her mother was right. She really was studying far too much; she had no time to try and make any friends. It was almost Christmas and all sorts of extracurricular activities were coming up at the university and, even though she knew her father wouldn’t approve, she fully intended to join in some of them if she was invited to do so.
Most of the other students had far more freedom than she did because very few of them actually lived in Cardiff and so they were either living in one of the halls of residence attached to the university campus or else they were in private lodgings. There were times when she envied them their independence and wished she had been able to choose a university in some other place, perhaps at Lampeter or even further afield.
When she had suggested this to her father he had been adamant that it must be Cardiff University or nothing and that he wanted her to study law.
‘The only way we can afford for you to go to university is if you are living at home,’ he’d pointed out. ‘Remember, very few girls have such a tremendous opportunity in the first place and most girls of your age have been out to work for a year or more, and are not still being kept by their family.’
He’d been most affronted when she’d told him, ‘I know that, Dad, and I’m grateful, but if you are worried about what it is going to cost then I will happily forget all about it and find a job.’
‘There’s nonsense you talk, girl,’ he’d said quickly. ‘This is what I’ve struggled to achieve; what I’ve scrimped and saved for since the day you were born.’
Knowing how much store he set by her achievements sometimes made her feel rebellious. Was she doing this for herself or simply to please him? Was she the only one there who was trying to fulfil their parents’ ambition?
Her friendship with Gwyn had remained fleeting until one afternoon when they both had no lectures; instead of settling down and studying she’d accepted his invitation to go for a coffee at one of the nearby milk bars.
She felt rather nervous about doing so and wished she was dressed in something smarter than the plain grey skirt and white blouse she was wearing that day.
Once away from the confines of the university she felt a wonderful sense of liberation and in no time they were chatting away like old friends. Out of curiosity she even plucked up the courage to ask him if he was there studying because it was what his parents wanted him to do.
‘I wouldn’t be slogging away like I am just to please them,’ he laughed. ‘No, I’m doing this for myself. I want to work in journalism and the better my degree, the more opportunity I’ll have to get a worthwhile job. What about you?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Sarah shrugged. ‘I sometimes ask myself that question. My dad is very keen for me to do well, to get a good degree in law; one that will enable me to get a top job. I’m finding, though, that there’s so much studying involved that sometimes it seems as if my life is slipping by and by the time I’ve qualified I’ll be too old to have fun.’
‘You could be right,’ he told her in a serious voice. ‘The trouble with you is that you are working far too hard. You are only in your first year and most of us only play at learning for the first year, we don’t study all the hours there are like you do. I’ve seen you heading for home at night weighed down like a packhorse with all the text books you are taking home with you.’
‘I know, but I feel it’s the only possible way I can manage to keep up. There’s so much I don’t know and unless I study hard all the time I never will.’
‘Utter rubbish! Take it more slowly. You’ll find that the lectures will sink in much better if you’ve a space in your head for them. Cram your brain too full and all the new facts will fall out again because there isn’t room for them.’ He grinned.
Sarah wasn’t sure whether Gwyn was teasing her or not but she thought that perhaps there was something in what he was telling her. She decided that in the New Year she would try taking his advice and start taking things a little bit more slowly and see what happened. If she found she was getting behind then she could always start pushing herself again.
In the last few days before they closed for the Christmas holiday she spent more and more time with Gwyn as they took advantage of the many social activities that were being organised. For the first time since starting university she found herself actually enjoying herself and getting to know some of the other girls.
Christmas at home seemed to be a very subdued affair because she only saw Rita twice and the gulf between them seemed to be greater than ever, but she had plenty of happy memories to dwell on. Even though her books were spread out in front of her more often than not her thoughts were miles away as she looked forward to the new term and to seeing Gwyn Roberts again.
Chapter Three
Sarah had a feeling of panic by the end of the first day of the new term because she couldn’t find Gwyn anywhere. She’d been dreaming about their next meeting all through the Christmas vacation and now she was worried. Had she fantasised about him having special feelings for her, she wondered, or had something happened to him?
He might have decided to give up university and start as a junior reporter somewhere and to learn his craft that way and then she might never see him again. Much more likely was that he was ill; he might even have had an accident and be unable to return.
When her classes ended she hung around the campus hoping to catch a glimpse of him but in the end she knew she had better head for home or her own parents would be worrying about her.
By the time she fell asleep that night she’d explored so many scenarios about what might have happened and what she would do if he didn’t return that she woke up the next morning feeling so depressed that her father commented on it while they were having breakfast.
‘I hope you’re not coming down with a cold or the flu just as the new term has started,’ he said worriedly. ‘You can’t afford to take time off and get behind with your studies. Make sure you put a scarf on because it will be bitterly cold outside judging by the frost on the windows.’
It was cold; there was a biting January wind with sleet blowing inland from the Irish Sea. Sarah kept her head down as she made her way up Museum Street and wished she’d said that she was starting a cold and that perhaps a day in bed might nip it in the bud, but it was too late to do that now.
As she joined the throng of other students going into the university she heard someone call her name and to her joy found that Gwyn was pushing his way through the crowd towards her.
‘Where were you yesterday?’ she gasped in surprise.
‘I missed my train back to Cardiff so I thought I’d spend another day at home. Never very much happening on the first day back so I knew I wouldn’t be missing very much . . . except seeing you, of course!’
Sarah not only felt her cheeks going red but she also felt quite tongue tied. In her fantasies she had returned his quips with equally smart repartee but now that they were face
to face her mind went blank and she felt horrified to discover that she could only blush like a silly schoolgirl.
‘I . . . I thought that perhaps you weren’t coming back,’ Sarah murmured breathlessly, hoping that he wouldn’t hear the concern in her voice.
Gwyn frowned and looked puzzled. ‘Whatever made you think that?’
Sarah felt so embarrassed that she quickly changed the subject. ‘I thought you lived in Cardiff,’ she said lamely.
‘Heavens no. My family are all miners – we live miles away from Cardiff, at Aberdare up in the Valleys. Have you ever been there?’
‘No,’ Sarah shook her head, ‘I’ve never been out of Cardiff except to Penarth and Barry Island and those were only day trips.’
‘Duw anwyl! You’ve not lived, cariad, if you haven’t been to Aberdare,’ Gwyn teased.
Sarah bit her lip, she knew he was laughing at her but she wanted him to take her seriously, to treat her as an equal. She wanted him to talk to her about himself, his background and his home. She wanted him to confide in her and share things with her but she didn’t know how to let him know this. Because her father had never allowed her to go out in the evenings with Rita and her crowd she had no idea how to talk to boys. She knew they weren’t interested in the same sort of things that girls were and she assumed it was the same when they were older; her dad certainly wasn’t interested in many of the things her mother was interested in.
‘Did you have a nice Christmas?’ she asked, her voice shaking. It sounded so crass.
Surely talking about what he did over Christmas and about his family would be a safe subject, though, and far more interesting than their studies, she thought hopefully.
‘Look,’ Gwyn told her, ‘I’ve got to attend a tutorial in ten minutes and I must sort myself out first. Meet me in the canteen at lunchtime and we’ll talk then. Right?’
Sarah nodded. ‘Twelve o’clock?’
‘Make it half past,’ he called over his shoulder as he hurried off.
The rest of the morning flew by and she was late reaching the canteen. Gwyn was already there sitting at a table in the corner in deep conversation with a red-headed girl she’d never seen before. Sarah noticed that there were two cups of tea on the table and a plate of sandwiches and her heart sank. The cosy session she’d been looking forward to so much wasn’t going to happen after all.
She was mentally debating whether to try and slip away without Gwyn seeing her, or to brave it out and order a drink and something to eat and carry them over to an adjacent table, when Gwyn looked up and spotted her hovering in the doorway.
To her great surprise he raised his hand and called out her name and waved her over. Her feet feeling like lead she made her way towards his table. Before she reached it the red-headed girl had stood up and moved away and her confusion increased when she realised that Gwyn had ordered the drink and food on the table to share with her.
She wasn’t sure what was in the sandwiches, but the novelty of the situation was so overwhelming that she busily concentrated on eating and drinking and left the talking to him. It was a pleasant shock to find he had remembered her earlier question and was telling her about what he did over Christmas and about his family. It made her feel that perhaps he had been thinking about her after all.
‘Mam always makes a tremendous fuss about Christmas,’ he told her. ‘All the trimmings, a full-scale Christmas dinner and then presents from under the tree afterwards. We all go along with it, mind, because we all know how much it means to her. Family tradition, see! It’s been the same every year for as long as I can remember.’
His voice seemed to grow softer and there was a faraway look in his eyes as he went on talking about his family. Sarah listened entranced as he explained that he had two older brothers as well as a sister. Both his brothers had followed in their father’s footsteps and had gone to work down the pit as soon as they were old enough to do so. He was the youngest and when he’d held out about doing the same they’d eventually given in. Even though his dad had declared that it went against the grain, even he could see sense in Gwyn finding a job in newspapers.
‘That way, you can tell the world about the struggles and hardships we have to endure. They might listen to your voice, boyo, if you wear a collar and tie and have some learning, whereas they won’t listen to a damn word the miners have to say about the terrible conditions they not only work in but also often have to live in as well.’
‘And is that what you intend to do, become a voice for the miners and help them right their wrongs?’ Sarah breathed, staring at him admiringly, her eyes shining enthusiastically as she hung on to every word he said.
Gwyn shrugged his broad shoulders non-committaly. ‘I’ll have to wait and see. They may have managed to solve all their problems by the time I’m qualified and have my own column in one of the top-rated newspapers.’
‘I doubt it; there always seems to have been a lot of trouble in the valleys; my dad says they’re a discontented lot.’
Even as the words came out, Sarah knew that she had said the wrong thing and that it sounded as though she was being critical. Gwyn’s family were all miners so of course he would want to champion their cause.
‘I . . . I think you’d do a good job, mind,’ she said hastily. ‘With your background and so on . . .’
‘Will it bring me the sort of notice and fame I’ll need to become a real achiever, though?’ he questioned, looking at her thoughtfully. ‘Or will it bring me the wrong sort of notoriety? I can’t afford to jeopardise my prospects, now can I?’ he added with a grin that made her heart beat faster.
Sarah bit her lip, afraid to voice an opinion in case she landed herself in difficulties again.
‘Of course,’ Gwyn teased, ‘if I knew a famous lawyer who’d be willing to take up my case should I land myself in hot water, then I’d have no worries, now would I?’
Sarah felt bemused. She took her studies and the career she was aiming for very seriously but there were times when Gwyn seemed to be so flippant and light-hearted about the future that she wondered if he really cared. Yet at other times he was so enthusiastic about what he wanted to do that she’d thought he was as dedicated as she was.
Seeing the look of bewilderment on her face he laughed. ‘You take life far too seriously, you know,’ he told her. ‘You don’t have to be quite so committed as you are. Remember what I told you before Christmas about studying too hard. You need to relax, do other things, go out and about and enjoy yourself occasionally. It won’t stop you working; in fact, you will find that a complete break from studying will actually enable you to learn better than ever.’
‘I know that’s what you told me before and I really am going to try and put it into practice,’ Sarah told him seriously.
‘Good, well, let’s put it to the test right away. What about going to the pictures with me tonight?’
‘I can’t possibly do that!’ Sarah gulped. ‘My dad wouldn’t allow it, not after all the time we’ve had off recently.’
‘Do you have to tell him?’
‘I’d have to explain why I was going out again as soon as I got home instead of settling down to do some work.’
‘That’s one of the problems of living at home,’ Gwyn sighed. ‘You could simply say that you are going back to university for an evening session; he’s not to know what that involves.’
Sarah shook her head. She felt devastated about having to refuse the invitation because she really did want to go out with Gwyn but she knew the repercussions she’d have to face at home if she told them what she was doing.
‘Look, if you feel I’ve sprung this on you without giving you a chance to prepare some excuse or other for your dad, then let’s make it tomorrow night.’
Sarah nodded as if in agreement but her mind was in turmoil. She wanted to go out with him tonight, even though she realised that his suggestion was the most sensible thing to do.
‘Simply tell him you are staying late and won’t be in for your e
vening meal. I’ll take you for a bite in the canteen or to a milk bar and then we’ll go to the pictures. Is there anything special on that you want to see?’
‘I don’t even know what’s on,’ Sarah murmured. Her head was spinning at the ideas Gwyn was putting forward. She desperately wanted to fall in with his arrangement but at the same time she didn’t want to appear too eager, nor so indifferent that he felt she didn’t want to go out with him.
The thought of spending the entire evening in his company was like one of the many fantasies she’d indulged in during the holidays actually coming true.
It also presented numerous other problems, though, because everything was so new to her and so far she hadn’t made any other friends she could ask. For one thing, she’d never been out on her own with a boy before and she didn’t really know what was expected of her or, for that matter, how to behave.
Although he was inviting her out and she knew that on a date it was usual for the chap to pay she wasn’t sure whether he considered it a proper date or not. She wondered whether because they were both students, she was expected to pay for herself. He’d paid for the coffee and sandwiches they were having now but he couldn’t be expected to meet the cost for everything if they went to the pictures since, like her, he wasn’t earning any money.
‘Right, we’ll make it tomorrow night, then. I’ll be waiting in the main hall at half past five. Don’t be late!’
Before she could answer or protest he’d pushed back his chair, picked up his case full of books, and was walking away, whistling cheerfully as he went out into the corridor.
Sarah stayed at the table for a while longer, going over everything they’d said and debating in her own mind whether or not she was being underhand if she said nothing to her parents about her plans for the following evening.
Throughout the rest of the day thoughts about her forthcoming date kept coming into her mind, making it difficult to concentrate on her lectures. Instead of listening to the lecturer or seeing the printed words on the page in front of her it was Gwyn’s deep dark eyes, his thick hair and his strong features that she found herself contemplating.
