Frank was still happy. His observations told him Carl no longer visited Mair. Hope was such a powerful tranquilliser that he did the chores requested by Hywel without argument and even dug a patch of ground ready for planting out lettuce without being asked. Mair would soon forget Carl. She’d soon realise what a waster he really was. He went several times to the sports shop hoping to see her but Edward would explain that she was out, or busy, or in the stock room. It took a long time for him to realise she was avoiding him. She made it clear when they did eventually meet. Hanging around in the lane waiting for her to get home from work, he stepped out and offered to carry her shopping bag.
“Mair, it’s smashing to see you.”
“Is it?”
“Yeh.”
Reaching the gate she went through and closed it after her leaving him firmly on the outside.
“Nice meeting your dad the other night. He and I could be friends now I’ve given up poaching and all that, couldn’t we?”
She looked at him with utter disbelief.
“Mair, I was wondering—”
“Get lost!”
“All right.” He sighed. Hands in pockets, long legs bending and straightening like an automatic doll, he headed for home, accepting the inevitable disappointment like a small boy.
Mair almost called him back. She was going to be alone that evening. Her father had some meeting to attend, then he would be working through the night. She wasn’t in the mood for a solitary meal, the wireless and bed. She didn’t think she’d eat and she was doubtful of sleeping. She had a lot to think about and none of it was pleasant.
Chapter Six
Ryan Fowler walked to Glebe Lane and stood watching the house he had once called home. He hadn’t stayed. To have had a job, a home and a family – including the fussy Gladys as a mother-in-law, then almost overnight to lose it all, had been a distressing experience, but now he didn’t think he wanted any of it back. He wasn’t lonely. He hardly missed them. Contented that would describe his present existence. Living in a flat, being paid moderately well for doing a non-stressful job that he could forget the moment the clock reached five p.m. each day, and pleasing himself how he spent his spare time, it was no hardship.
He stood for a long time looking over the back gate, half hidden by the overgrown lonicera. Cutting that straggling mess, a most tedious job, was no longer his responsibility, he thought with a smile. He watched as Sally went in and out of the kitchen serving her paying guests with their evening meal. It was only the thought of Sally finding comfort in the arms of someone else that occasionally kept him awake at night. He didn’t want to go back to her, but he admitted to a little jealousy when he thought of someone else sharing her bed and being fussed over by her in a way he could no longer tolerate.
He walked back to the basement flat. Gradually his mood of relaxed acceptance changed, he wanted everything to go back to how it had been a couple of years ago: Sally as a loving wife; himself as master in his home; It had been strange, even frightening, to look in at the house where he had lived for almost thirty years, seeing it carrying on with its life without him. It was as though he were dead; a restless spirit come back to haunt the place where he had been happy. He wanted to go back, walk in and make himself a cup of tea, read a newspaper in his favourite chair. But he couldn’t. To do that too soon could delay the moment for months. His shoulders drooped as he accepted the reality that to go back was his dream.
Anger swelled. For a while he allowed it to grow, enjoying it, feeling ill treated and sour. He turned on the television and stared with half his mind involved and the other half seething at the unfairness of life. He blamed his parents-in-law, Gladys and Arfon, and his daughters and his wife. They were all to blame. Unable to cope with his turbulent thoughts, he went out again into the dark night.
His feet took him once again towards Glebe Lane. He was still apportioning blame on everyone around him. His daughter Joan had married Viv Lewis, who had pushed him out of a well-paid job. Megan had shamed him by becoming a mother before she was a wife. Then there was his wife. Sally had embarrassed him, robbed him of his authority by turning their house into a guesthouse. She had made it blatantly clear to the whole town that he was incapable of being boss in his own home. Hardly surprising that he’d lost his temper.
Looking into the kitchen, he saw that Sally was washing dishes and being assisted, not by Megan but by a stranger. One of her guests probably, he decided. As he watched, the man touched her shoulder and Sally moved away. Ryan smiled. It wouldn’t be long before she was fussing over someone new. Then he’d really have a reason to be angry.
He roamed the streets through the early hours and could hardly remember where he had walked. In a back lane behind Hartley Street one or two dustbins had been placed outside the gates ready for collection later in the week. One had been tipped on its side and the contents spread across the ground. Stale food was exposed and a pair of boots lay abandoned, decorated with potato peelings and stalks of cabbage. Distastefully, he picked one up and walking briskly, purposefully, went back to Glebe Lane and threw it through Sally’s window.
He felt exultant, a conquering hero, as he hurried home, as though he had won a great victory. But as soon as he reached the back lane behind the High Street and went into his flat, he began to sob.
* * *
Mair walked home from the shop slowly, her feet dragging. She was in no hurry to shut herself inside the lonely house. Her father would be out again and apart from preparing a meal there was nothing urgent to do to fill the long lonely hours. She was tempted to call on the Griffithses. Frank would probably be there, working in the garden or talking to the goats, she thought disparagingly. But even Frank was better than no one today.
There was a knock at the door and as her thoughts had been on Frank it was he whom she expected to see. It was Carl. Relief spread across her face and she stood back for him to step inside.
He looked around as though the trees were hiding spies. “It’s all right, Carl. No one can see you!” she snapped.
“I’m sorry, Mair. It’s difficult.”
“So I gather. Your mother, is it? Not wanting to lose her darling son?”
“It is partly my mother, but you’ll have to trust me on this. If we’re careful, make sure no one sees us, we can go on meeting.”
“You haven’t told her about us, have you,” she stated.
“She’s afraid I’ll marry and leave her. You know what mothers are like.”
“No, I don’t. My own mother died years ago. I do know that my father wouldn’t try to spoil my chance of happiness and a life of my own.”
“Sorry, I’d forgotten.” He put an arm around her and kissed her forehead gently. “It must have been hard for you without her.”
“Can’t you imagine how worthless and foolish you make me feel, pretending you don’t know me? Why can’t you show everyone that we’re friends? More than friends – lovers. Are you ashamed of me? Is that it?”
He held her tightly against him, cheek to cheek, feeling the hot tears that ran down her face on to his lips. “I’m sorry, my darling girl. But I have something to sort out, something that stops me from telling the world how I feel about you. I can’t tell you, but if you could be patient for a little while, then one day it will be different. I promise you.” He let his lips caress her cheek, her neck. “Please Mair, let me stay.”
She looked up at him, his eyes so pleading and his lips so tempting, but she turned away, opened the door and waited in silence as he stepped out. She locked the door and waited, leaning against it, a barrier of just a few inches. She expected him to knock, to plead for her to open it again, but all she heard were his footsteps as he walked away.
An hour after Carl had gone, there was another knock and with her heart filled with hope, Mair ran to answer it to see Frank standing there.
“Don’t say ‘get lost,’” he pleaded, as she began to close the door. “Our Mam’s invited a few friends round and I thou
ght you might like to come. Rhiannon and Charlie will be there and our Basil, Eleri and their boys. There’s Jack and Victoria and our Ernie and Helen and—”
“Yes, I’ll come. Thanks.”
“Oh, you will? Good. Smashing!” He had been taken by surprise by her acceptance and he grinned widely and said hopefully, “Call for you shall I?”
“About eight?”
“Smashing!”
“The grin’s back,” Hywel whispered to his wife as they watched their lanky son dash in and drag the bath out of the shed. “Mair!” they said in unison.
“You invited that policeman’s daughter then, our Frank?” Hywel teased as Frank began filling the boiler to heat water for his bath. “Dangerous that is, mind, remembering where most of the meat for tonight’s food came from. Pheasant, partridge and rabbit pie made by your mam, and eggs from Booker’s hens. Mad you are, boy, encouraging PC Gregory’s daughter.”
“I like her,” Frank replied. He went to talk to the goats. He didn’t mind a bit of teasing, but Mair wasn’t a subject for jokes. When he went back to check on the boiler, Hywel was still in the same mood.
“All the girls in Pendragon Island and you have to go and choose that one.” Hywel sighed dramatically. Frank pushed him out of the kitchen and locked the door to have his bath in peace.
By half-past eight the small cottage was crammed full and still more people came. Janet made sure there was a comfortable seat for Rhiannon, who had made her announcement about the baby she carried, and one for her daughter-in-law, Helen who was eight months gone.
“Make sure you stay in one piece, mind,” Hywel whispered to Helen as she sat awkwardly on Janet’s wooden rocking chair. “I’m no good with people, only goats.”
“Don’t worry, there’s a month to go yet.” Helen laughed. But as she spoke she felt a sharp twinge and grasped Ernie’s hand for comfort.
“Hell’s bells, Helen, I’m not ready for this yet,” Ernie spluttered as he saw her face tighten with the discomfort.
Frank was looking less than cheerful. Mair had been ready when he called for her but since arriving at the cottage, she had ignored him. She was sitting beside Rhiannon and whenever he got close enough to listen, they were talking about babies. He went out and leant over the goats’ pen. A bachelor, that’s what he’d be, for the rest of his life. Minding Mam and Dad when they were past minding themselves; a boring old uncle, and growing old himself, all alone in this place.
He was whispering to the goats, telling them his tale of woe, when Mair came to find him.
“Sorry I’ve been talking to Rhiannon for so long,” she said, and at once his spirits lifted. “It’s about babies, see. She likes to talk babies now she’s going to have one.”
“Her and our Helen. Nothing but baby talk,” he said. “We’re better off out here talking to the goats.”
When they went back inside she stayed with him for the rest of the evening, looking at him to share a joke and singing along when the regular choruses ended the evening.
Frank saw quite a lot of Mair over the following days. Edward and Megan took the baby out and about as the days lengthened and the sun became warmer, and Mair was left in charge of the sports shop. Willie Jones who used to own the premises, which he had run as a draper’s shop, called several times a day, and would sometimes stay to allow Mair to dash to the cake shop to buy something for her lunch. Frank made the excuse of sizing up a few jobs still needing to be done, and assured Mair that he was there if she needed any help.
Mair didn’t admit it but she was often glad he was there, especially when she had to walk to the bank to put the bag in the overnight safe. After that unprovoked and unexplained attack on her, she had become less confident. He would walk beside her jauntily, as though riding shotgun on some stagecoach of old, Mair thought with a smile, as he glanced around him, both looking out for trouble and in the hope that some of his friends would see them together.
There had been no sign of Carl for several days and one evening, when the bag had been safely posted through to the night safe, he felt emboldened to ask, “D’you fancy going out later? Pictures? A walk?”
“All right. But I’ll have to get our Dad’s tea first. He’s on nights again this week.”
“On nights a lot isn’t he, your old man?”
“I think he changes with one or two of the others. He doesn’t mind it.”
After walking her home they arranged to meet at seven and Frank strolled back to the cottage, whistling cheerfully. It seemed that the gossips had been right, and Mair and Carl Rees no longer met. This evening, with her father on nightshift, there might be a chance for them to talk, really talk, and perhaps put their meetings on a regular footing.
They came out of the cinema at ten thirty and almost immediately bumped into Carl. Leaving Frank with a few hurried words, Mair ran after him and began talking to him with some urgency. Frank stood in a shop doorway wondering what to do. It was clear from the way Carl had responded that he didn’t want to talk to Mair. As she clutched his arm, he edged away, trying to pull free. She held her ground and he stopped, but his reluctance was plain from the stance of his body. He wanted to get away.
Frank decided to wait. She might not want him to see her if she were upset, but there was no way he was going to let her walk home alone and Carl couldn’t be relied on to care for her properly. Leaning his long frame against the door of the shop, he settled in his patient way to watch and wait.
“Carl, I have to talk to you,” Mair said, as Carl insisted he was in a hurry. “I have something to tell you.”
“Sorry, Mair, but I don’t think it can be any concern of mine. It’s over. I’m sorry, but you were right it has to end. There are things I have to be free of before I can get involved with anyone.”
“But—”
She tried to interrupt but he hushed her, talking patiently to her as though to a child. “I can’t discuss it, but one day you’ll understand. I have responsibilities. Not a wife, I swear to you that I’m not married—”
“Good,” she said. “Glad of that I am, you not having a wife. Because I think we’re going to have a baby!”
Frank was watching and although he couldn’t hear what was said, he knew it was something serious. Carl looked as though someone had shot him. He held both hands to his chest and stared down at Mair.
“Rubbish,” he said, finally. “Don’t think you can trap me with that old trick. If you’re expecting, it isn’t mine!”
Mair stepped back and Frank guessed that this time she was the one receiving the shock. His heart was racing, he wanted to go and thump Carl, whatever was happening. His muscles were aching, longing for the sensation of landing his fist on Carl’s chin. Then he saw Carl swivel on his heels and hurry off.
He waited a moment or two, until he saw Mair start to walk in the direction of her lane. He followed but didn’t try to catch her up. Best let her recover from whatever argument they’d had. She passed the phone box and hesitated and he thought she might be thinking of ringing her father to ask him to leave work and see her home, afraid of facing the dark lane. He stepped forward and said, “I’ll see you safe home, Mair.”
He walked silently beside her until she went through her door. She seemed hardly aware of him. He stood for a long time in the darkness beneath the trees, waiting, hoping to see Carl, longing for an opportunity to pick a fight with him. He didn’t need a reason; he badly needed a fight. At two a.m. he went home disappointed.
* * *
Victoria and Jack walked home from the pictures that evening and they were silent too.
“Don’t be unhappy, love,” Jack said comfortingly when they got back to their little house in Philips Street. “Having a baby is such a wonderful thing, it’s well worth waiting a few more months for.”
“Rhiannon is expecting. Helen Griffiths has a baby due any day. I’m so disappointed, Jack.”
Jack held her and whispered, “Another month longer to have you all to myself.”
He knew that relaxing while they made love was almost impossible for Victoria, brought up in a house with a drunken father and a mother who spent most of her married life either feeding a child or preparing for another. The sounds of lovemaking had been frightening to her as a child and the memories were slow to leave. Decorating the bedroom in cheerful, light colours had been his idea. Making it as different as possible from the rooms she had known as a child. It seemed to have made a difference at first, but soon her beautiful, gentle face had slipped into the same expression of dread as soon as they walked into the room and approached the big, comfortable bed. He didn’t know what to do.
Victoria changed the subject. She was aware of a big difference in her mother. “It’s since she’s been working for Martha Adams and Sam Lilly, isn’t it?” she said to Jack. “D’you think there can be a romance developing?”
“It would be wonderful if there were. Your mother is still young. She’s kind and loving and gentle – just like you, my darling girl – and quite a catch for someone. Even with six children to care for,” he added with a smile.
“Sam Lilly seems very fond of her. He helps her when she works for his sister, makes sure Mam doesn’t have any heavy lifting. And now he’s invited her to take two of the children to Tenby for the day.”
“And he planned that surprise garden for her. That’s the act of a besotted man if anything is.”
Two of Victoria’s brothers were working. They had both found jobs in a store selling animal feed and some of the other needs of farmers and small holders. One of Victoria’s sisters delivered morning papers and, with the few piano lessons her mother gave and the money she earned from cleaning, the family managed quite comfortably. Jack and Victoria helped a little, buying clothes as birthday presents to eke out the family finances. Even Gladys Weston offered cast-off clothes on occasions, although her choice of garments, beside being too large for the dainty Mrs Collins, were hardly suitable. Mrs Collins was a skilled needlewoman, however, and she used the material to make smaller garments, some times to sell.
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