The Quality of Love

by Rosie Harris

  Sarah breathed a long, happy sigh. It was so wonderful to have someone who understood you so well; someone you could share your thoughts with. She felt convinced that there was the same sort of mutual understanding between herself and Gwyn as there was between her own parents.

  To the outside world, and even to her, she knew her father sometimes seemed to be rather strict. Yet with her mother, his every look and touch was full of warmth and understanding. She’d noticed that even the timbre of his voice seemed to change when he spoke to her mother; it became as gentle as a caress.

  ‘Come on, stop day-dreaming,’ Gwyn told her. He kissed her so passionately that her cloche hat was pushed so far back on her forehead that it fell off.

  ‘Now look what you’ve done, and that’s my new hat,’ she scolded lightly as he bent and picked it up and held it out to her.

  ‘Very pretty it is too.’ He smiled as he perched it on top of her head, kissing her again before leaving her to pull it down into place.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said, and picked up their cases. As they left Pyle Station he said, ‘I’ve booked a room for us at a boarding house not very far from the sea. It’s a fair walk from here – can you manage that, or should we try and find a taxicab?’

  ‘We’ll walk,’ she said, but once again his thoughtfulness and desire to please her and make things easy for her filled her with warm delight.

  ‘It’s quite near the Esplanade. I thought you’d like it there because you might even be able to see the sea from our window.’

  Sarah hadn’t given any thought to where they would stay and now she felt another surge of appreciation that Gwyn had done all this on his own without a word to her.

  As they walked along the busy streets, she felt proud to be with him and wished their time together could last for ever and not merely three days. Still, that was better than nothing, she told herself and it was going to be a wonderful opportunity for them to really get to know each other.

  Being so far away from home meant that they were both more relaxed because there was no fear of bumping into anyone they knew either from the university or, in her case, neighbours from around Cyfartha Street.

  She’d never been to Porthcawl before so for her it was a great adventure and she was curious to know how Gwyn knew so much about the place; he knew not only where to go but also where to book a room for them.

  ‘Have you been here before?’ she asked.

  ‘Once, a long time ago. I came here on a day trip during my last year at school in Aberdare. It was our reward for working hard all year. The headmaster hired a charabanc to bring our class and we were the envy of the whole school.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Everything we could. We walked along the promenade, explored all the beaches, the sandy ones and the pebbly. We scrambled over rocks and some of us went into the sea. We’d brought our own food so we found a lovely spot at a place called Sandy Bay for a picnic and then to finish off the day we went to Coney Beach. It had only just been turned into a funfair centre and there weren’t all that many rides or stalls there but I’ve heard that it is now quite famous. They named it after Coney Island in New York,’ he added knowledgeably, ‘so I’ll take you there.’

  ‘Where did you say we were staying? Is it very far now? I think I have the wrong shoes on for walking.’

  ‘Oh dear!’ He put down the cases and put his arm around her. ‘I should have called a taxicab after all,’ he said, his voice full of concern. ‘Mind, it’s not all that far now, only another couple of streets. Do you think you can manage that?’

  ‘I’m sure I can, but you must be feeling worn out carrying both the cases.’

  ‘They do seem to have got heavier, especially yours,’ he said grinning.

  Sarah felt as if she couldn’t walk another step and she was sure she had a blister on her heel when they came to a stop outside a three-storey terraced house in a street where every house was painted white but all the doors and windows of each house were in different colours.

  ‘Here we are!’ Gwyn went ahead up the wide stone steps and pulled on the bell. As she joined him and stood by his side waiting for the door to open he said quickly, ‘We’re booked in as Mr and Mrs Roberts.’

  Before Sarah could answer, the door swung open and a buxom woman in her late fifties, with wavy grey hair and wearing a lace-trimmed apron over a dark pink cotton dress, stood looking at them enquiringly.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Williams, I’m Gwyn Roberts and I wrote to you last week and booked a room here for myself and my wife for three nights,’ Gwyn announced.

  ‘You’d better come along in, then, hadn’t you,’ the woman said and turned and walked down the hallway leaving them to follow.

  Inside the hall was a long, narrow, polished wooden table with a hand bell on it and beside it was an open book that looked like a register. On the wall above the table was a rack holding six large keys, each with a number on it.

  ‘You’re in number five,’ Mrs Williams told him, taking a key from the rack. ‘Sign the book first, will you,’ she said picking up a pen, dipping it in the inkwell, and then holding it out to him.

  Sarah was conscious that Mrs Williams was studying her very keenly as Gwyn bent over the table and she wondered what she was thinking. She felt her colour rising as she wondered if Mrs Williams had noticed she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and knew they weren’t married.

  ‘Right.’ Mrs Williams scrutinised his signature and then handed him the key. ‘Top floor, the door on the right; it has five written on it. Breakfast is between eight and nine o’clock, evening meal at seven, and the front door is locked at eleven o’clock. Until then it is always on the latch. There are clean towels in your bedroom and the bathroom is on the floor below you. Is there anything else you need to know?’

  ‘I don’t think so, thank you.’ Gwyn smiled as he took the key from her.

  ‘Well, if there is then come down and ring the hand bell. I can hear it and will come out to see what it is you want. Is all that clear?’

  ‘That all sounds fine, thank you,’ Gwyn told her in a confident voice. He handed the key to Sarah. ‘You take care of that, my dear, and I’ll carry the cases.’

  Mrs Williams watched them as they made their way up the stairs. As they reached the first landing they heard her walk away and Gwyn turned and raised his eyebrows at Sarah in such a comical way that she found it hard not to laugh out loud.

  ‘Open the door, then,’ he puffed when they reached the top floor and located number five.

  Sarah slid the key into the lock, opened the white-painted door and preceded him into the room. The first thing that met her eyes was the big double bed and the enormity of what she was doing came home to her. She was a long way from home, in a strange house, and this was where she would be sleeping that night; not on her own but with Gwyn.

  Chapter Eight

  Sarah was in such a hurry to get out of the bedroom and away from the sight of the double bed that seemed to dominate the room that the moment Gwyn had put their suitcases down on the floor she asked if they could go out.

  ‘Can we find somewhere to eat? I’m starving hungry,’ she said with a shaky smile.

  Immediately Gwyn was full of concern. ‘You should have said so earlier then we could have had a snack at the railway station. No wonder you felt so tired while we were walking here. Didn’t you have any breakfast before you came out?’

  ‘No, I didn’t. I was so nervous in case anything went wrong that I couldn’t eat anything,’ she admitted.

  ‘Cariad!’ He put an arm around her shoulder and propelled her towards the bedroom door. ‘Come on, the very first thing we’ll do now is go and look for a café. Do you want to change into more comfortable shoes first?’

  ‘No, these will be all right now that I’ve had a short rest,’ she told him quickly.

  ‘Well, if you’re sure. You can always take them off when we reach the beach if you want to.’ He smiled.

  As they made their w
ay towards the sea-front they found the streets were thronged with holidaymakers all taking advantage of the glorious August sunshine.

  Once again Sarah found her new shoes were pinching and rubbing her heel. She tried not to limp in case Gwyn suggested going back to the boarding house so that she could change them and the implication of the double bed still made her feel uncomfortable.

  ‘I like the look of this one,’ Gwyn pronounced as he stopped outside a smart little café near the Esplanade. It had a bright-striped awning and little round tables outside, as well as larger ones inside. ‘Shall we sit here or would you rather go inside?’

  ‘Inside, please.’ The sun was burning down and her feet ached and she longed to be somewhere cool where she could discreetly slip off her shoes and relax.

  ‘Good. We can have an early lunch and then we should be all right until our evening meal at the boarding house,’ he suggested as they found a table and he picked up the menu and studied it.

  The food was exceptionally good and by the time she’d finished eating Sarah felt much more her old self. The hard knot of unease inside her chest had begun to dissolve.

  ‘You will be having some ice-cream now, yes?’ The waiter smiled as he came to clear away their dishes.

  ‘Would you like some?’ Gwyn looked enquiringly at Sarah with raised eyebrows.

  She already felt quite full but the temptation was great. ‘Well, we are on holiday, so it would be nice.’

  ‘That is good; you make a fine choice.’ The waiter beamed. ‘My family, the Fulgoni’s, we all come from Bardi in the North of Italy and so we are famous for our ice-cream because it is made from a traditional recipe that has been handed down for generations.’

  ‘Shall we start exploring Porthcawl now?’ Gwyn suggested after she’d spooned up the last morsel and declared she’d never tasted anything quite so delicious in her life.

  They found Porthcawl a pretty and intriguing place. Although Gwyn had been there once before he hadn’t realised that as well as the Esplanade and Sandy Bay there was also the Eastern Promenade that extended right the way to Coney Beach.

  They decided that for their first day they’d be content to explore the town centre and the streets surrounding the Esplanade. There was certainly plenty to see: the handsome Grand Pavilion, several interesting churches and all the attractive shops in John Street, the main shopping area.

  When they finally reached the Esplanade, the splendid promenade with its lovely view of the sea, and which had been built to commemorate Queen Victoria’s Jubilee, Sarah’s feet were hurting again. She suggested that she’d be happy to sit there, watching the throngs of holiday makers and enjoying the sparkling view of the sea, if Gwyn wanted to take a brisk walk on his own.

  He agreed he’d like to do that but not until she’d taken a short walk with him on the shore itself. As she experienced the strange, squelchy feeling as her feet sank into the soft sand, she grabbed hold of his arm and gave a tiny scream. Laughingly he steadied her and persuaded her to remove her stockings so she could feel how pleasant it was to walk barefoot.

  When he led her right down to the water’s edge and the incoming tide lapped at her feet, she jumped back in shock which again made him laugh. Together they paddled for about twenty minutes and then he found her a deckchair and settled her in it while he went off to try more adventurous walking and scrambling amongst the rocks.

  She lay back and closed her eyes against the brilliant light reflected from the sea, wiggling her bare toes and enjoying the feeling of warmth from the hot sunshine.

  Wonderful though it all was, the image of the double bed and what it entailed kept coming back into her mind. She felt excited at the thought of what lay ahead of her that night, but also extremely nervous. It would have been different if they were married or even if Gwyn had made it crystal clear what his intentions were for their future, she thought.

  She was positive that he loved her but still she wasn’t completely convinced that she was as important to him as her mother seemed to be to her father and she didn’t want to settle for anything less.

  Ever since she’d been old enough to notice such things she’d always been aware that her father couldn’t do enough for her mother. She always seemed to come first in his thoughts and there had been many times, Sarah reflected, when she’d felt jealous of this fact. It was why she was always striving to please him in the hope that one day he would show her as much love and attention as he did her mother. So far she’d never managed to achieve it. There was always a critical gleam in his eyes when he looked at her that made her feel inadequate, or else there was a querulous timbre to his voice when he spoke to her as if somehow he was disappointed because she hadn’t quite managed to attain the standard he expected.

  This was one of the reasons why she adored Gwyn so much; he didn’t criticise her and seemed to consider her the most important aspect of his life and she was sure that meant he was truly in love with her.

  Even so, Sarah still felt nervous about being completely alone with him because of what lay ahead. She was not sure what his demands would be and she was worried in case she might disappoint him.

  She made sure they were so late returning to their boarding house that there was no time to go up to their bedroom to get changed before going into the dining room for their meal.

  The food was mediocre and because every table was occupied the service was slow, but she didn’t mind because it meant they spent as long as possible in the dining room.

  When it was finally no longer feasible to postpone things any longer she reluctantly preceded Gwyn up the stairs to their room. As he unlocked the door and stood aside to let her pass into the room the first thing that met her eyes was the bed and it seemed to be larger than ever.

  She sat down on the side of it wondering what on earth she was going to do. Their suitcases were still where he’d left them in the middle of the room. When he picked up hers and put it on the stand at the bottom of the bed she busied herself opening it and concentrating on what was inside. She felt awkward and uncomfortable about unpacking her toiletries and underwear in front of him.

  ‘The bathroom is on the floor below if you’d prefer to use it,’ he said quietly, breaking the ominous silence.

  She looked at the washbasin with its bright pink and white flowers and big matching jug of cold water that was standing on the washstand then picked up the bag containing her flannel and soap and made for the door, preferring to go down there rather than to have a wash in front of him.

  ‘Wait, you’ll probably need one of these,’ he called after her, handing her one of the pink-and-white striped towels the landlady had left ready for them to use.

  The door of the bathroom was locked when she got there so she hung around waiting for whoever was inside to come out. When they did, she rushed in and locked the door behind her then stood with her back against it trying to slow down her rapid breathing.

  The room had a bath, a washbasin and a lavatory. As she peeled off her dress she wondered if she dare risk taking a bath. Before she could make up her mind someone rattled the door and a voice called out asking her to hurry up. Hastily she ran some water into the washbasin and had a quick wash. She wished she’d brought a dressing gown; she couldn’t run back to their room in her underclothes since there were other people about and so she had to put her dress back on.

  ‘I was coming to look for you, I thought you’d got lost,’ Gwyn said worriedly when she returned.

  ‘The bathroom was occupied and I had to wait,’ she explained.

  ‘Well, I hope it’s free now.’ He grinned as he picked up the other towel and headed for the door.

  Sarah took advantage of being in the room on her own to undress and put on her new pale blue silk nightgown which was trimmed with ecru lace around the neckline, and which her mother had bought specially for her to bring away with her. The minute she had it on she slipped under the bedcovers, pulling them right up to her chin.

  She felt too nervo
us to lie down and was sitting there, ramrod straight, when Gwyn returned. He’d removed his shirt to have a wash and was carrying it in his hand. Tossing it on to a chair he quickly unbuttoned his trousers, let them fall in a heap at his feet, and was in bed beside her before she had chance to draw a breath.

  As his arms went round her, the contact with his bare chest sent a shiver of anticipation through her, then she tensed, not sure what was expected of her.

  Very gently he pushed her back against the pillows, his lips nuzzling her neck, then moving slowly down towards her breasts, pushing aside the silky material that was covering them.

  With a small murmur of surrender she relaxed and felt a flicker of desire spread through her as they clung to each other. His hands started exploring her body tenderly; it was so different to the furtive fumbles she’d experienced before when they’d said goodnight on the corner of Cyfartha Street.

  After that, time had no meaning and the only sound in the room were his whispered words of endearment followed by her small cries of astonishment as he made known what he wanted of her. Once she overcame her shyness she found herself responding to his quick-breathing eagerness as their love-making became ever more passionate and his ardour astounded her.

  Finally, completely exhausted, they slept tangled contentedly in each other’s arms until she was wakened by the early morning sun and the scream of seagulls.

  For a moment Sarah thought it had all been a dream and she wasn’t even sure where she was. Then the heaviness of Gwyn’s body against her back brought everything rushing into focus.

  Her movement wakened him and he pulled her into his arms, kissing her ardently, rekindling her own desire and passion as once again they made love.

  They were almost too late for breakfast and Mrs Williams sniffed in annoyance when they took their place in the dining room.

  ‘There’s no porridge left,’ she stated, her voice edged with irritation as she brought them a pot of tea. ‘So what is it to be?’

  ‘We’re sorry about being so late,’ Gwyn told her with a slightly apologetic smile. ‘Any chance of bacon and eggs and toast and marmalade?’ he asked hopefully.