by Rosie Harris
‘Stefan has invited several of his friends to stay over at his flat to welcome in the new year, so he has asked me to do the same because it will mean breaking up the party if he has to bring me home,’ she explained.
‘Very thoughtful of him; a very sensible arrangement as long as you are not staying there on your own,’ her father agreed. ‘The streets will be full of crazy revellers for a couple of hours around midnight.’
It was the beginning of a new order; from then on her parents accepted that along with other friends she would be staying over at Stefan’s on a Saturday night.
Her mother kept telling her that she was burning the candle at both ends. She knew this and was aware that she couldn’t go on for ever living the high life, drinking to excess and indulging in wild parties like Stefan did, but she’d become addicted to his lifestyle. She revelled in it all and was shocked to the core when she discovered she was pregnant.
Stefan was equally upset and tried to persuade her to have the pregnancy terminated.
‘If you do that then no one needs to know. Tell your family that you are taking a week’s holiday, arrange to have the time off and say nothing to anyone. I’ll make all the arrangements; go to some place in Newport or Bristol perhaps, or even go down to London.’
At first she was in complete agreement with him, and then memories of Cladylliss began to surface and the longing to hold a baby in her arms again proved to be far too great for her to go through with his suggestion.
‘I want this baby,’ she told Stefan. ‘I want us to get married so that we can be a proper family.’
They argued for weeks. He said he didn’t want to settle down or have the responsibility of a family. He said they couldn’t tell anyone at work because it might jeopardise his job when they found out that he was marrying someone who worked there.
‘Surely’, he argued, ‘the fact that we love each other and want to be together is commitment enough and that’s all that matters.’
When he took her in his arms and made love to her she was persuaded that he was right and that it would be so much more romantic if they were married in a register office and no one at all except her parents knew anything about it. The way Stefan explained it all seemed so grown-up and exciting that Sarah was won over.
It was the modern way of doing things, she told herself; the only other person he’d said they’d tell was his long-standing friend and landlord, Ifan Hughes, who could be relied on to guard their secret.
Her only concern was that her parents would be disappointed. She was sure her mother had dreams of a white wedding and thought that perhaps even her father was looking forward to walking her down the aisle on his arm.
When she finally plucked up the courage to tell them that she and Stefan were getting married she emphasised that they intended it to be a very quiet wedding because then she wouldn’t run the risk of losing her job.
‘Very sensible. I take it that was Stefan’s idea,’ her father pronounced. ‘He’s quite right: the City Fathers are against married women working. I agree the woman’s place is in the home but if they have the brains and the qualifications I see no reason why they shouldn’t continue with their careers until they have a family. It’s something you should fight for, Sarah. You women have the vote now so it’s up to you to make sure it is put to good use.’
Their civil wedding was exceptionally quiet; only her parents and Ifan Hughes, who was there as a witness, attended. Occasionally in the days that followed Sarah wondered if it had actually happened and if she really was Mrs Stefan Vaughan.
She’d thought that since Stefan loved partying, and even though he had insisted on a quiet wedding ceremony, he would have wanted a big party afterwards. As it was, the meal at the Brecknock Hotel for the five of them seemed to be purely perfunctory. The moment they’d finished eating they went their own separate ways.
When before the wedding she’d said they must look for somewhere to live he’d looked astonished and said he had no intention of moving from Tydfil Place. The first-floor flat in a Victorian house close to Roath Park was quite spacious and he could see no reason at all for moving from such a desirable residence. Not only was the owner of the house a long-standing friend but also a great many of his friends lived nearby and he enjoyed all the parties that went on. If they moved, a new landlord mightn’t like the idea of crowds of people, loud jazz music and dancing until late at night, whereas Ifan was always happy to join in.
When Sarah mentioned to her parents that they were staying on at Tydfil Place her father thought it was very prudent; but then, much to her surprise, he’d not objected to their quiet wedding.
‘No sense in squandering money on non-essentials. Stefan is a very sensible man to be so thrifty,’ he’d pointed out. She suspected that there was a sense of relief behind his remark and he was pleased he’d not been asked to foot a large bill that a full-scale white wedding would have entailed.
Once again Sarah found that her new life was different in every way from what she’d known in Cyfartha Street. Everything was to Stefan’s taste, even the furnishings in the flat, and now that she was making her home there a great many of them seemed to be almost alien because they were so starkly different from what she’d been used to.
When she’d been merely a visitor she’d admired the fact that Stefan liked the bare minimum. Now she considered his black leather chairs and sofa far too masculine. He abhorred cushions, antimacassars, and all the other feminine trimmings that her mother had loved, and which had adorned her own home.
There were no photographs anywhere, only pieces of modern art which, like the furniture, were stark in outline. His kitchen had only the very minimal of utensils because Stefan didn’t waste his time cooking; he preferred to eat out.
The only thing on which he did seem to lavish both time and money were his clothes. Finding room for her own things caused several arguments until in the end he compromised and bought a second wardrobe. It was a handsome affair in white which was fully fitted and had drawers underneath so that she no longer had any excuse for encroaching on his space.
Adjusting to living with each other caused a degree of friction. Stefan was so used to his own space that he resented having to take second place over anything. The few meals they did eat at home had to be when he wanted them.
He was never happier than when he was entertaining friends; with a house full of people, drinks flowing and jazz blaring, he was a completely different person: affable, caring and entertaining.
When they were at home on their own he often became moody and sullen. It wasn’t the sort of companionship that Sarah had envisaged. Remembering the warmth between her own parents she felt uneasy; cheated almost. Sitting cosily in front of the fire enjoying each other’s company on a wet evening, or as the days grew longer, had been something she’d been looking forward to once she and Stefan were married.
She would have been willing to cook for him every night but it wasn’t what he wanted. He needed people around him who would make witty conversation and stimulate him; when that happened he was happy; the life and soul of the party.
Because of this he was considered to be good company. The invitations came thick and fast and he rarely turned any of them down. He’d told no one that they were married but one or two assumed that since Sarah was always there she’d moved in with him. They grinned knowingly and secretly admired his audacity.
Stefan never asked her to pay anything towards the running of the flat or towards the rent so she began to spend more and more on clothes and make-up. He liked to see her looking good, she told herself; she wanted him to feel proud of her when they went out together.
When he encouraged her to drink cocktails, to smoke and to continue taking drugs, she did just that even though she suspected that now she was pregnant she should be more circumspect. After all, she told herself, she wanted to have a good time, so why not join in and enjoy herself for as long as she could?
Soon she was throwing caution to the wind and matchin
g him drink for drink and if she felt hung-over the next morning then she took a drink at breakfast time and that set her up for the day.
Even though she was now almost four months pregnant she’d not put on any weight. She put that down to all the mad dancing especially when it was Jazz, and Stefan was such a splendid dancer that they rarely sat down for a minute.
By the end of the evening she was usually so exhausted that she was asleep almost the moment her head touched the pillow.
Her own work began to suffer, but he seemed to be able to maintain the pace and when he dressed for the office each morning he looked a sombre, efficient businessman and no one would ever believe that he had danced half the night away.
Gradually, though, her body took over. She’d not suffered from morning sickness in the early part of her pregnancy but now she felt ill and uncomfortable most of the time. Within the next few weeks she seemed to balloon; so much so that she could no longer disguise the fact that she was pregnant and was forced to explain the situation to the head of her department and ask for extended leave. Stefan warned her that on no account was she to say that he was her husband in case it jeopardised his career when it was discovered he’d kept the matter secret.
‘You really should have notified us that you were intending to get married,’ her boss fumed. ‘It is quite pointless taking leave because the rules are such that you won’t be able to work here now that you are married,’ she was told dismissively.
In some ways Sarah was relieved because these days she constantly felt tired. Stefan was always understanding when she said she didn’t want to go out and said that she would prefer a quiet night at home. He never tried to persuade her to change her mind; he merely shrugged his expressive shoulders and went on his own.
At first she felt hurt and despondent; he was socialising so much and, although he constantly said how much her loved her, they had very little time together. When she realised he had no intention of changing, she began to spend more and more time with her mother. Together they shopped for baby clothes and either knitted or sewed items for the baby.
Sarah was alone in the flat in Tydfil Place when her labour started. Stefan had gone to a party but fortunately Ifan was still in the house. In desperation Sarah called out to him to help her.
When she told him that the baby was coming and she needed help he gaped at her in horror.
‘Do you know where Stefan has gone? If you do, then I’ll go and let him know and ask him to come back,’ he offered.
‘I’ve no idea; a party somewhere,’ Sarah gasped as she began to writhe in pain. ‘Can you go along to Cyfartha Road, then, Ifan and fetch my mother?’
‘Surely it would be much better if I got an ambulance,’ he protested, retreating hastily towards the door when she groaned again.
He refused to go in the ambulance with her but he did promise to let her mother know that she’d gone into the Royal Infirmary in Newport Road.
By the time her mother reached the infirmary the baby had already been born and she was both shocked and heartbroken to learn that it had been stillborn.
In the weeks that followed Sarah was consumed by guilt and bitterly regretted that she’d continued to live such a wild life while she’d been expecting. She was quite sure that the many excesses she’d indulged in were to blame for what had happened.
She was also aware of the obvious relief that Stefan felt because there was no baby and he’d been saved from the responsibility of having to bring up a child.
When Stefan found that she no longer had any interest in parties or even in their lovemaking, he began to spend more and more time going off out on his own, ignoring how lonely and depressed she was feeling. She tried to reason with him but to no avail.
One evening, determined to pull herself together after he’d gone off to a party on his own, Sarah forced herself to try and overcome her lethargy. She styled her hair with curling tongs, applied make-up to conceal her pallor, and put on one of her prettiest dresses. She’d expected Stefan to be overjoyed to find she had made so much effort but to her dismay, she found he was furious because she’d followed him to the party.
Even before she could explain that she’d done it to please him she found his attention being claimed by a petite blonde in a revealingly short dress. She took hold of Stefan’s arm possessively, smiling up into his face as she dragged him on to the dance floor.
‘Make a good pair, old Stefan and Florrie, don’t they?’ a man standing close by remarked. ‘That’s his latest floozy and they’re crazy about each other.’
Blinded by tears Sarah stumbled off, the words ‘his latest floozy’ repeating themselves over and over in her head. Once again her life had fallen apart. How could she have been so blind, so besotted by the glamour of Stefan’s lifestyle, that she’d been unable to realise what he was really like?
She felt heart-broken and ashamed that she’d been so gullible; what would her parents say? Looking back she suspected that since she’d returned home her mother had persuaded her father to be supportive and not to interfere; perhaps it would have been better if he had interfered, she thought dolefully.
Chapter Twenty
Sarah felt desolate and humiliated. She had lost not only her job, but also the baby she’d been looking forward to so much was dead and now, or so it seemed, her marriage was on the rocks.
She should have realised from the way Stefan conducted his life that he was a flirt. He’d convinced her that he was very much in love with her and to find him cavorting with a brassy blonde while she’d been confined was more than she could bear.
From the possessive way the woman had taken his arm and his compliance when she’d requested him to dance with her it had been obvious that they knew each other extremely well. That was bad enough but the fact that he had done so and left her standing there without a word of explanation had been humiliating.
Whether it was to prove that he still regarded himself as free as the wind, or because he didn’t want to face her, he hadn’t come home after the party. Sarah assumed that he was spending it with his new-found lover and with every passing minute her anger increased. She felt mortified as she realised she was no judge of character when it came to men. Stefan had turned out to be every bit as fickle as Gwyn.
When her mother called to see her early in the afternoon the next day she was appalled when, in a flood of tears, Sarah related what had happened the night before.
‘The man’s a monster,’ Lorna stated furiously, ‘but there’s no point in upsetting yourself because you’re not to blame. I was charmed by him and even your father was taken in by him and thought he was a gentleman because he was so knowledgeable and well mannered. The best thing you can do is to come home with me right now,’ she advised as she held Sarah in her arms, trying to comfort her.
‘I’ll come later. Before I leave here for the last time I intend to tell Stefan exactly what I think about his behaviour and to inform him that I intend to divorce him.’
By the time Stefan arrived home after work that evening she had rehearsed what she was going to say to him a dozen or more times. The enormous bouquet of red roses that he brought for her did nothing to mollify her.
When she told him how repugnant she found his behaviour and how hurt she felt he tried to bluster and reassure her that things would be different in the future.
‘I’ve suffered as well, you know,’ he told her. ‘I was worried out of my mind while you were having the baby and you’d been so cold and distant. I needed to take my mind off things. Perhaps I went too far, but blame the drink for that. Come on, Sarah, let me take you out for a quiet meal at your favourite restaurant and try and make it up to you.’
‘It’s too late for any reconciliation, I’ll never be able to trust you again,’ she told him. ‘I intend to put things in the hands of a solicitor and to ask him to arrange for a divorce.’
Stefan looked very uncomfortable. ‘There’s no need to do that,’ he protested.
‘Oh ye
s there is. When I leave here I don’t want anything more to do with you,’ she told him sharply.
‘If that’s the way you want it then go ahead and pack your things. There’s no need to go to the trouble of divorcing me because it’s not necessary; you see, we were never properly married.’
She stared at him in disbelief. ‘What do you mean by that? Of course we’re married! Surely you remember our wedding ceremony . . .’
‘Of course I do, but it meant nothing at all,’ he told her in a mocking voice. ‘It was a farce; something I arranged to keep you happy. You see, I already have a wife.’
Sarah looked at him in dismay, the colour draining from her face. ‘You . . . you’re saying that you’re a bigamist?’ she gasped.
He shrugged disparagingly and gave a sardonic smile.
‘Call it that if you like, but it’s not strictly true because the chap who married us wasn’t a real registrar.’
Sarah was mesmerised. ‘Are you saying that it was all an act?’ she asked in a shocked voice. ‘Why?’
‘You kept making such a fuss about being married when you discovered that you were pregnant that I arranged the whole thing in order to keep you happy.’
‘So our marriage certificate is as worthless as you are,’ Sarah retorted bitterly.
‘Well, it’s certainly not worth the paper it’s written on.’
‘That means that if our baby had lived the poor little thing would have been a bastard.’
He shrugged again. ‘Not something we have to worry about, is it?’ he said callously.
Sarah took a deep breath as she tried to control her shaking. ‘You are an utter swine and I loathe you,’ she told him, her voice harsh with contempt.
‘Then you won’t want to come for a meal with me,’ he said with a deprecating laugh.
‘I never want to see you again or even breathe the same air as you. Go for your meal on your own or take the brassy hussy you were with last night. By the time you come back I will have packed up and left.’
Although she was reeling with shock at what Stefan had told her Sarah went round the flat collecting up every item of her possessions and ramming them haphazardly into her suitcase. She was determined not to spend another night at Tydfil Place or leave a single trace of herself behind.
