Sophie Street

by Grace Thompson

  “Poor Mam. She’s so busy, she never has an idle moment. That’s why I was pleased by Sam Lilly’s invitation.”

  “They’re going for the whole day?” Jack asked.

  “Mam and the two youngest. I said we’d look after the others, get them their meals. Is that all right?” she asked. “You needn’t come if you don’t want to. I’m sure Viv would be interested in a fishing trip if not.”

  “Now that is a good idea.” Jack smiled.

  * * *

  Mair and Rhiannon had not been close friends, but gradually, over the past weeks they had begun to see more of each other. Leaving a few minutes early for her lunch break one day, Mair ran down to Temptations hoping to catch Rhiannon before she closed. Rhiannon was just locking the shop door but she hesitated when she saw Mair coming down Brown Street.

  “It’s all right, I’ll open up for you,” she said, as Mair puffed and panted towards her. “Sweets, is it? Or a birthday card you’ve just remembered?”

  “I wanted a chat if you’ve got time. I’ve brought a couple of pasties and some cakes. If you’ll provide the tea we can eat and talk.”

  Delighted with the unexpected visitor, Rhiannon led the way across the road to her house.

  “Right opposite your Mam and Dad, lucky thing,” Mair commented, glancing across the road. “All right for a babysitter, eh?”

  “I’m not thinking that far ahead,” Rhiannon said, and Mair saw from her friend’s face that she was a little troubled.

  “Didn’t you want a baby?” she asked, as Rhiannon set out cups and saucers and filled the kettle.

  “Of course I want the baby. But I’m afraid to bank on everything being all right, after last time,” she added.

  “Oh, Rhiannon, how thoughtless of me. You lost a baby last year, didn’t you.”

  “Mam said women often do lose the first. I don’t know if that’s the truth, mind. Trying to comfort me she was.”

  “I wish it was true,” Mair said, eyeing Rhiannon to see her reaction.

  Rhiannon looked at her, a quizzical frown on her face. “You don’t mean – Never!”

  “I haven’t been to the doctor yet. But yes, I think I’m going to have a baby, sometime in December according to my reckoning. What can I do?”

  ”See a doctor. That’s the first thing. I’ll come with you, if you want me to.”

  “Thanks.”

  “The father, he does know?” Rhiannon asked, hesitantly. “Don’t say if you’d rather not, but you have to decide whether or not you want to marry him, or go it alone, like Megan Weston did. Brave that is, mind.”

  “He knows, but he won’t marry me. He’s going to deny ever seeing me except on a bus or in the pictures.”

  “Carl Rees!”

  “His real name is Dreese, and his mother works for Gladys Weston. Would you believe that? He doesn’t use his father’s name and won’t say why. A great one for secrets, is Carl Rees. I wonder what else he hasn’t told me.”

  “Something shameful his father did, perhaps?”

  Mair only shrugged.

  The kettle was boiling, the kitchen was filling with steam, but neither girl seemed aware of it. Mair was silently wondering if she would be lucky and lose this poor unwanted baby as Rhiannon had done and have the problem solved for her.

  “Do you know who attacked you that night?” Rhiannon asked as she turned away at last to deal with the kettle. “Was it Carl?”

  “No, and that’s for definite! It was a woman.”

  “You’re not covering up for him?”

  “No! I wondered if it might have been his wife although he swears he isn’t married. A wife or perhaps a jealous girlfriend?”

  “I’ll ask Jennie Francis when she comes into the shop. She might know something about him.” Rhiannon changed the subject slightly then, to talk about the preparations for her anticipated new arrival. She was positive about the situation and tried to present images of them both walking their babies in summer sunshine, and growing up and becoming friends as they headed for school.

  “I’m afraid of the pain as well as the gossip,” Mair admitted. “Do you feel any different yet?”

  “I feel really well. Although, I do have a bit of backache. I daren’t mention it though, or Charlie will ask me to give up work. Which reminds me,” she added, looking at the mantlepiece clock, “I’d better get back to Temptations or the job will leave me!”

  “You should tell Charlie,” Mair said. “How can he look after you if you don’t tell him everything?”

  Thinking about her friend’s words later, Rhiannon told Charlie after they had eaten, that she was a bit uncomfortable and, at once, he took her over the road to number seven.

  “Mam?” he said as Dora opened the door to them. “Rhiannon is having a bit of backache and we’ve come for reassurance, right?” He knew how afraid Rhiannon was that her second pregnancy would end the same way as the first, and he tried to take away any slight alarm as soon as possible.

  * * *

  “Are you sure you’re all right to drive that far, Sam?” Martha asked her brother when he told her of his plans to take Mrs Collins and the children to Tenby. “You know you need your glasses changing and the sun can be very harsh this early in the year.”

  Sam didn’t tell her that his sight had deteriorated and he was avoiding having a test, in case he was warned of the possibility of giving up driving altogether. Just one summer, then he would face the unpalatable fact. Just one summer to give Mrs Collins and her children a few treats.

  He called for the three Collinses at ten o’clock and they set off with the car packed with blankets, hampers and flasks, intent on finding a place to have a picnic lunch. He had also brought a beachball, plus a few buckets and spades in case the children wanted to build sandcastles. “I hope they aren’t too sophisticated,” he confided in their mother, “I’m rather looking forward to castle-building myself.”

  “Winston will build them but I’m afraid Montgomery will prefer to jump on them.” Mrs Collins laughed.

  They were leaving Tenby after a few pleasant hours and were on the way home when Sam stopped the car to allow the children one last run around on an area of open grassland. He sat beside Mrs Collins and said, “Friends are we?”

  “Of course we are. You’re a wonderful friend to us all, Sam.” She used his first name deliberately, knowing what he was about to ask her. “And,” she went on, “if you promise never to tell anyone –” she waited for his nod then went on – “then my names, my stupid names, are Gloriana Fleur. Now can you understand why I never admit to them?”

  “Glory. I will call you Glory,” he said softly.

  The mood had changed when they set off again. Their friendship had broken through a barrier leaving them more relaxed, less formal, their affection for each other easily seen. Sam kept glancing at her as if to reassure himself she was comfortable and happy. He was smiling and Mrs Glory Collins thought he was the kindest man she had ever met, that the day the most perfect she had known, and that she was the most fortunate of women. The euphoria lasted about ten minutes, until Montgomery began to feel sick, his wail of misery and disbelief bringing them down to earth with a bump.

  Sam slowed down, looking for a convenient and safe place to park where he could allow Montgomery to get out and breathe some fresh air. Approaching a left-hand bend, he glanced back to see if the boy was able to wait a while longer, and he drifted out too wide. The car was hit by a car of equal size coming the other way.

  Neither car had been travelling fast but the bump, plus the drivers’ reaction, turned both vehicles and Sam’s car ended up facing a hedge, while the other careered across the road, the driver pulling frantically at the wheel and over-compensating madly. After circling around, his eyes wide with panic, he finally stopped his car immediately behind Sam’s.

  The shock of the sudden collision, plus the terrifying sound of scraping metal, had frightened the children and they were screaming. It was minutes before Glory and Sam w
ere satisfied they weren’t hurt. The drivers got out and each admitted to a lapse of concentration. The other car had two dogs in the back and these, the man explained, had begun to fight.

  “One of my passengers was feeling sick,” Sam said, and Glory added that the sudden bump hadn’t avoided that problem!

  Mopping up and making sure neither car had suffered serious damage took some time, but within half an hour they both drove off having exchanged names and addresses, but each certain they they would do nothing further. Both drivers were convinced that the fault lay with him.

  When Sam told his sister what had happened, she at first only wanted to reassure herself that no one had been harmed. It was later that she began to wonder whether Sam’s invitation to Mrs Collins was simply altruistic or whether he was about to break his promise and find a woman to share his life, leaving her alone.

  Martha was a war widow and Sam an apparently confirmed bachelor, so they had pooled their money and bought the house on Chestnut Road from Barry Martin. If Sam broke his word and left her, she wouldn’t have the money from the half share of the house to buy anything to compare. She also wondered if Sam had told Mrs Collins about his failing eyesight and whether she would be willing to look after him if he became blind. That had been her promise to her brother, that she would stay with him and care for him.

  * * *

  Several people had been to look at Jennie and Peter’s house. Jennie met them and showed them around the home she and Peter had once built up with such pride, now nothing more than a property someone would take off her hands. Everything in it had been purchased to make it more their own, a place with a character they had helped form, a unique atmosphere they had fashioned for themselves and which was like no other. Now it was something to destroy, break up and disperse like a stage set when the run had ended.

  At the end of April they had received an offer for the full amount and Jennie went to see Peter, to arrange a time to go to the estate agents together and set the sale in motion. He refused.

  “But Peter, we agreed!” She was exasperated. “This is what we decided. You and I no longer live as a married couple, so we cut everything we have built in half, and go our separate ways. It’s what happens when two people no longer love each other.”

  “I think we should give it a bit longer, give ourselves a chance to work things out.”

  “Why? We might wait months for another chance to sell. I want to start living my life again, not spend week after week sitting here waiting for you and your precious mother to make up your mind!”

  She argued with him for almost two hours, while he sat in a chair in what had been their living room, straight-backed, feet neatly together and remained obdurate.

  The following day she went to talk to his mother.

  “The value of the property will go down, not up, with the paint work already showing the effects of several winters. There are rooms that need decorating and the place will soon have that abandoned atmosphere that puts prospective buyers off quicker than noisy neighbours,” she explained calmly.

  Later that evening, Peter put a note through the door telling her he would be at the estate agents the following lunchtime. Instead of being pleased, Jennie was sad. Sad to be reminded once again that it was his mother he listened to, and that a discussion with her, his wife, had made no difference at all.

  Peter was aching with misery. He wanted to go back to his marriage, but how could he? If he made all the promises Jennie wanted him to make and even if they moved away from his parents, as she also wanted, nothing would really change. She would still be overbearingly stubborn and insist on having a say in everything they did. She accused him of being weak where his mother was concerned but couldn’t see that she was any different.

  After meeting her at the estate agent and dealing with the initial steps towards selling their house, he didn’t go back to the office. He couldn’t face the routine as though nothing had happened. Not caring where he went, he wandered through the town, and out towards the lake. A café tempted him to rest and he went inside where, the first person he saw was Viv Lewis, the manager of Westons, the man who had bought the stock from his wife when she closed down her business. He recognised Viv although they hadn’t met. For no particular reason he went over and introduced himself.

  “Peter Francis?” Viv frowned. “Oh, are you related to Jennie Francis?”

  “She’s my wife.”

  “How is she? Has she decided on a new venture?”

  “We’re separated, that’s how she is,” Peter’s voice was bitter.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. But it can’t have been because of the business failure surely? She’ll try again and I’m sure that next time, with a better position or a different stock, she’ll be successful.”

  “Why does she want to run a business, be independent? I can afford to keep her and she could be a proper wife. Oh no, that isn’t for Jennie. She has to show everyone how clever she is.”

  Seeing that the man was distressed, Viv motioned to his mother and Dora came over with a pot of tea and some cakes, left them, and quietly walked away. Viv poured the man a cup of tea and pushed it towards him.

  “My wife loves being in business. We work alongside each other without a moment’s disagreement. That’s my mother who served the tea. She and my father are both happy working and enjoying their spare time together.” He crossed his fingers superstitiously when he said that. “We’re all different and we have to do what’s best for us. Your Jennie will run a successful business one day. You ought to be proud of her.”

  “She makes me feel less of a man. Emasculated, that’s what I am, not having any say in the way we live. She refuses to accept the traditional role of caring wife and mother, and without it, everything falls apart. My mother has never worked. She spends all her time looking after my father and me. Cared for us wonderfully she has. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing, for your mother. But that wouldn’t be enough for my Joan or my mam. I suspect that Jennie is more like Joan than like your mother.”

  “We’re selling the house.”

  “Divorcing?” Viv asked.

  “No!” Peter looked shocked. “No talk of divorce.”

  “Sorry, I thought…”

  “We’re living apart for a while, that’s all.”

  “Where are you living?”

  “Back with Mam.”

  “Big mistake that is, man. Going back to Mam? Never should have done that.”

  “She looks after me well.”

  “Then you should move out straight away and show that wife of yours you can look after yourself!”

  “What would you do if Joan left you?”

  “Anything necessary to get her back. Anything. I’m so proud of her, she makes me feel twice my size every time I look at her and realised she’s chosen me. Less of a man? What a lot of ol’ rubbish.”

  Peter was very thoughtful when he left Rose Tree Café and walked home.

  * * *

  In the Griffithses cottage, Caroline was dealing with her week’s washing and great clouds of steam were issuing from the boiler. The back kitchen floor was covered with bowls filled either with newly washed garments or piles of soiled linen waiting their turn. A huge galvanised bath was resting on a wooden stool and, beside it, Caroline was rubbing a pair of Joseph-Hywel’s trousers up and down on the rubbing board. Putting the soap in its rest at the top of the board she paused a moment and leant across the side of the bath. Perspiration seeped in bubbles from her skin and her face was red with the energy she was expending on the tiring task.

  It was Wednesday afternoon and she knew that Barry would be waiting for her in his flat above Temptations. They had been meeting there regularly for some time: a pretence that their farce of a marriage still had a core of life worth reviving. Today she had decided not to go ever again. It was over and she knew she would be happy to live the rest of her life without him. She and her son were content here in her parents’ home, with h
er brothers and their wives always calling in. She had missed the noise and laughter of the place when she had gone to live with Barry. The long hours spent alone while he was out working had been too much for her to bear.

  Her mother said nothing as the time passed, two o’clock, three o’clock, until she knew her daughter would not be going to meet Barry. Now, at four o’clock, Caroline was unnecessarily washing clothes that Janet and she would normally deal with at the weekend.

  The dog barked and she looked out of the window to see Ernie walking towards the door. What was he doing here when he should be at work?

  “Ernie love, is everything all right?” she asked as her son fought his way through the kitchen, coughing exaggeratedly in the steamy air. “The baby isn’t on the way is he?”

  “Helen is fine apart from the occasional twinge. And I’m all right, I suppose, Mam,” he said as he flopped into a chair. “I didn’t feel like another couple of hours at work so I said I was feeling sick and they sent me home.”

  “But you aren’t sick?” Janet questioned. “Sick of work, sick of everything.”

  “Oh no. Not another Griffiths failing to settle down. Why can’t you be like our Basil? Took to married life like a duck to water he did. What terrible thing is your Helen supposed to have done?”

  “Helen isn’t the problem. Happy we are, looking forward to the baby coming. No, everything’s fine between Helen and me. But living with her mother is driving us spare.”

  Janet sighed with relief. This was something soon sorted. “Get yourself a place of your own, even if it’s only a couple of rooms, Ernie. Every married couple needs space. Ask around and see if you can’t find something not too expensive and near enough for your mother-in-law to be able to call. Near us too if you can. We want to enjoy this new baby when he comes.”