“So, you have accommodation and a job. Good. That’s what you wanted isn’t it? To be independent and needing no one? Well I hope you’ll be happy!” Peter snapped when she told him her news.
“It wasn’t what I meant by independence, and you know it!”
“You certainly didn’t need me.”
“When I needed you you were never there!”
“That’s rubbish! Mam said—”
“Don’t tell me what your mam says, I don’t want to know. You’re still a child, Peter Francis, needing your mother to wipe your nose for you!”
“What does she want?” a voice called.
“Nothing you’ve got,” Jennie muttered. Aloud, she said to Peter, “I just wanted to tell you I’m settled, that’s all, and to ask if you want any more of the china before I dispose of it.”
“No, there’s nothing I want,” Peter said. Then his mother’s voice called, “I’ll have that cottage teapot, Peter.”
“It’s broken!” Jennie lied, determined to smash it the moment she got home.
When Jennie had left without another word, Peter was aware of life running away with him. Decisions were being made without proper thought and they were being made by Jennie and his mother. No one was asking his opinion. He didn’t know whether he was pleased or not, but knew he was far from happy with the way his life was moving. Had he allowed himself to be dictated to by Mam? He’d always maintained that was nonsense, but now he began to wonder. Mam was very strong minded and looking back, she had never approved of any girl he had brought home. Jennie had been the only one who had stood up to her, and that had been flattering. But now she was gone too.
* * *
Mrs Glory Collins passed her driving test first time, and when she and Sam went out in his car, he would often stop and change places with her so she could get some practice. They explored the charming villages of the Vale and sometimes took a picnic and sat beside the river, or on a quiet beach or an isolated headland, to enjoy the tranquility of the countryside near the sea.
Sam had bought several books for the children and he helped them to identify the many varieties of wild flowers that grew in such abundance all round them. It added greatly to their outings and the children began to be quite expert at recognising the rarer species. Glory, which Sam insisted on calling her, had never imagined such happiness.
The problem with Sam’s sight had not developed beyond his needing thick lenses and he had been assured by both doctor and optician that driving was not something he need give up. He knew that one day things would change but he wanted Glory to continue to enjoy their trips with her children when he could no longer drive them.
It was on a Sunday that they saw Jack and Victoria. They had locked their car and were walking towards a public house called the Sandpiper, where lunches were being served. It was not difficult for Jack and Victoria to persuade them to have lunch with them.
“We can share your picnic later, for tea,” Jack said, leading Margaret, Elisabeth and Winston and carrying Montgomery towards the dining room.
It was after three o’clock when they left the Sandpiper and shared themselves between the two cars to find a place to sit and enjoy the dubious sunshine of the rather chilly afternoon. They found a bay where the children amused themselves searching in the rock pools for small fish and crabs and shrimps, stranded by the tide.
“No sign of a baby yet?” Victoria’s mother asked her, when the men had gone to help the children in their search for winkles to take home for tomorrow’s tea.
“No, not yet.”
“And you haven’t seen a doctor?”
Victoria turned away from her mother’s scrutiny. “You know I can’t ask a doctor about such things, Mam. I’d be so embarrassed.”
“I’ll come with you. It isn’t embarrassing. It’s the most natural thing in the world to want a child by the man you love. If you won’t do it for yourself then do it for Jack,” Glory pleaded.
Victoria shook her head. “We’ll wait a while longer, Mam. There’s plenty of time and we’re very happy as we are.”
She knew that wasn’t true. She and Jack desperately wanted a baby but she was always so tense when they made love that she wondered if they ever would. Jack was so patient, but something about the darkened room, the almost secret way they declared their love for each other made her feel guilty, ashamed of showing her love for this man she adored. It was such nonsense, a contradiction whenever she tried to analyse it and tell Jack how she felt. She had tried to explain it to him quite recently, and he had been very understanding.
“Give it time,” he had told her. “Give it time and we’ll sort it out together. It’s our problem and we’ll find a solution. In the meantime, don’t worry. Remember I love you and nothing will ever change that. Nothing at all.” Yet she knew that unless she found a way of relaxing and being less guilty about the whole thing, they would never know the joy of seeing their own child.
When Sam decided it was time to leave, Jack told him that he and Victoria would stay a while longer. Victoria looked at her husband in surprise. “Where are we going, Jack?”
“Wait and see.” He smiled and he put an arm around her shoulder as they waved the others off, Glory driving, showing off to her daughter and son-in-law as she manoeuvred Sam’s car out of its parking place and turned it neatly into the road.
Kissing her hair, her cheeks, her neck, her lips and, holding her tight, Jack led Victoria back to the dunes. Distant sounds were muted to a soothing hum. There was only the soft murmur of the receding tide, the soft breezes touching the marram grass and the occasional call of a bird.
Hidden from sight they began to make love.
* * *
Frank was feeding the goats when he heard the gate open and close. He hid when he saw Mair. She was coming to tell him she had changed her mind, for sure. Sidling around the corner of the goat shed he watched as she knocked on the kitchen door. Janet opened it and they exchanged a few unheard comments before Janet came down the path, calling for him.
“Frank, Mair is here and she wants a word.”
“Tell her to go away, I’m out,” he whispered.
Janet ignored his words and called back to Mair, “Here he is, feeding the goats and telling them how beautiful they are. Never known a man so besotted with animals as our Frank.” She was smiling in a satisfied way as he revealed himself from the side of the shed. “Stay in the garden and I’ll fetch some tea,” she said as she disappeared into the house.
“If asking me to marry you was an impulse, later regretted, don’t worry, Frank, I won’t hold you to it,” Mair said quietly. “We can still be friends though, can’t we?”
“I hoped we’d be more than that, Mair, with you having my baby an’ all,” he said, stooping and hiding his face in embarrassment.
“I wanted that too. So, what went wrong?”
“It’s that Carl Rees you really want, isn’t it?”
“Carl and I finished a long time ago, I wouldn’t two-time you with him, or anyone else,” she said. “That’s something I can promise you, Frank.”
He waited, wanting her to explain the late-night visit to Carl’s rooms. When she didn’t, he took a deep breath and said, “You visited him though, in his house. I saw you when I was – er—”
His wit gave out then and he couldn’t think of an excuse for his presence in that part of town. “When I was wandering, like,” he finished weakly.
“All right, I did go and see him. He gave me up, I didn’t finish it. I wanted to tell him that you and I loved each other and were going to get married, that’s all.”
“Do we? Love each other?”
“I love you, Frank. I’d hoped it was the same for you.”
Frank didn’t believe her explanation, it didn’t go with the tears she had shed; but better to pretend, or he’d lose her. “Can we tell Mam?” he asked, hugging her awkwardly and kissing the eyebrow that got in the way when he aimed at her lips.
“Frank, you
’ll never regret marrying me,” she whispered. “We’re going to be real happy. Living with our Dad won’t be easy for you, him being a policeman and you being too fond of a bit of poaching, but he’ll soon accept you’re the man I love and want to spend the rest of my life with.”
“Can we tell our Mam now?” Frank’s eyes were glowing.
“Mrs Griffiths, we have something to tell you,” Mair said shyly, when Janet came out with a tray of tea.
“An’ will you an’ our Dad come with us when we tell her father,” Frank said, only half joking.
Chapter Ten
Jennie was surprised when she opened the door one evening, to see Peter standing there. Since he had left the house they had shared she saw him rarely. It was strange to see him politely waiting to be invited inside.
“Peter, what a surprise! Have you come to say your goodbyes to the house we bought and furnished together?” She didn’t try to be polite, didn’t attempt to hide her distress at the sudden and finality of their parting. The following day, the sixth of July, was the date on which they were to vacate the property. Most of the furniture had gone, either sold or put into store. She pointed to a packing case and he sat gingerly on the edge of it.
“I wondered whether you wanted me to be here, help see the last of the furniture out and, you know, lock up and everything.”
“You think it might be painful for me?”
“Yes.”
“It will be painful. To see something die unnecessarily is always sad. But your mother has you back, so it isn’t all bad!”
“Mam’s sorry too.”
“I’m sure.”
“She isn’t well.”
“When is she ever?”
“Dad’s having to do practically everything.”
“Perhaps if he didn’t, your mother would make a dramatic recovery.” She couldn’t be sympathetic. Her mother-in-law had always leant heavily on her husband and spoilt her son. This was just one of the effects of her actions. She knew she was better out of it, but it was still distressing to be abandoned because of a selfish old woman.
“Well?” Peter asked, and she was aware that she had said nothing for several minutes, had just sat there on the edge of another tea chest and wallowed in her misery. She was also aware that Peter had ignored her last retort.
“There’s no need for you to come. I’ve taken the day off work and I’ll see the rest of the furniture out. You’ll receive your half of the money from the solicitor very soon.”
“Thank you.” He fidgeted a bit in a way she knew well. He was about to say something that was difficult. “What will you do? With your share of the money I mean?’’
“I don’t know and anyway, with the divorce under way, it’s none of your business.”
“Will you start another business?”
“Not for a while. I need to make sure it’s a viable one and I need to save a little. The money from the house won’t be much, after I’ve paid your mother back and settled the last remaining debts.”
“Where will you live?”
“What does it matter to you?” she demanded.
“You’ll want somewhere cheap if you’re hoping to save,” he said.
Something in his voice alerted her. He had something in mind and she wasn’t going to like it!
“I might be offered the flat above the shop where I’ll be working from next week. Very cheap and very convenient,” she told him.
“What shop?”
“Peter, shut up!”
“You can come and stay with us if you like. Mam won’t be difficult, in fact she suggested it, just while you save for your business, that’s all.”
“Your mother wants me to stay with you? Share the house? Why?”
“She’s trying to be helpful, that’s all. You are still her daughter-in-law.”
“And she’ll let me stay there while I save to start another business? Out of kindness?”
“Yes,” he replied, but his eyes slid away from hers.
She smiled, an ironic smile and said, “And do a little housework and perhaps some cooking? And if I could manage the laundry too? No thanks, I don’t want anything more to do with you or your family!”
“You wouldn’t have to work if you didn’t want to.”
“Stay at home all day with your Mam.” She didn’t try to hide the cynical expression.
“Why not?”
“Afraid you’ll end up like your father, are you? Dealing with everything? Doing woman’s work?” She saw at once that she had hit a tender spot. He had always complained that she wasn’t behaving as a housewife should. For a while it had been a joke, but the laughter had faded, the joke had turned sour. He had never accepted her need to run a business, be something more than a submissive partner. For many women, it was enough, and they made house management into a skill, an art, but it wasn’t for her. “Now,” she said calmly, “if you’d please leave. I have things I must do. This chapter of my life is closed.”
“If you change your mind…”
When she had closed the door behind him, she didn’t lean against it like some weak heroine in a romantic film, she kicked it viciously.
* * *
Dora’s house was busy the following weekend. They were making preparations for Rhiannon, Charlie and Gwyn to move in. A wardrobe was emptied and a chest of drawers brought from the house across the road to provide storage for their clothes. Their dog, Polly, had a bed in the corner of the kitchen and on that first day, they all fell over it at least once. Instead of being irritated, Dora laughed and said it was fun, wasn’t it? Lewis and Rhiannon exchanged knowing looks, convinced that before the end of the first week, she’d be shouting like a cross between fishwife and newspaper vendor.
Gwyn was to sleep in the box room. Already small, it was filled with so much clutter he had barely enough room to walk to and from the window. Watching Lewis and Dora working together, he smiled contentedly. It was wonderful to have a mam and a dad, and a gran and a grandad. He remembered old Great-grandmother Maggie Wilpin who had looked after him when his father was in prison, with affection – affection and with a stab of guilt at the way he had sometimes caused her worry.
At five o’clock on Sunday, they all flopped into chairs and demanded tea. It was Gwyn who weakened first and went to make it. He carried the tray out into the garden. Polly jumped round him, not knowing what was happening but convinced it was going to be fun.
“What’s that box of old newspapers doing in the kitchen cupboard, Gran?” Gwyn asked when they were sitting, enjoying a rest in the last of the day’s sunshine. “Load of old rubbish it looks to me, mind.”
“Oh, it’s something I found in the loft. I saw that the papers had been specially saved, each one folded to show the latest developments in some court case or other. I thought it might be interesting. Ever so old they are. So flimsy you’d never believe.”
“Shall we have a look then?”
Dora shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve got the energy. Let’s leave it for now.”
“Tomorrow evening?” Gwyn coaxed.
“All right. Tomorrow we’ll unearth the secrets of the loft of seven Sophie Street, and disturb the ghosts!” she promised.
* * *
When she came home from the café the following evening she had forgotten her promise, but Gwyn had not. They ate their meal, the five of them filling the table with chatter and laughter in a way that warmed Dora’s heart. Lewis watched her as she waited on them all, her face glowing with the atmosphere of a busy house, which she had missed so much when the children left home. He wondered how she would cope when they went back to their own house and left the two of them alone again. Dora was one of those women for whom the family filled her life. Even working as she did, she needed people to look after. Dora was not a modern woman, and all the talk of equality simply made her laugh. “Men and women are different beings and always will be,” she would remark when the subject was raised.
While Dora and Rhiannon atte
nded to the dishes, Gwyn put a cloth over the table and carefully removed the newspapers from their box. He spread them out in chronological order and waited until the others joined him. There were a few pages of letters tucked among the papers written in scrawling handwriting that was difficult to read, and even a faded photograph or two. Gwyn glanced at them and put them aside.
At first it seemed to be the record of arrests and court appearances of a young woman called Molly Bondo, who would now be in her middle forties.
“She’s quite well known,” Lewis said, hesitating as Gwyn was rather young to understand such things.
“Went with American soldiers, did she?” Gwyn asked casually.
“Why blame the Americans?” Dora said. “The only reason people talk about them is that they paid better!”
“Dora!” Lewis gasped. “Be’ave yourself!”
They were putting the newspapers back in their box, Gwyn having lost interest, when Dora noticed that one of them was folded to show, not court reports, but births and deaths. Curious, she picked it up and read that Molly Bondo had given birth to a child.
“That’s odd, I don’t remember hearing about her having a child.” Lewis frowned.
“Knew her well, did you? This tart?” Dora asked, suspicion deepening her voice.
“Everyone followed the story of Molly, love. The latest episode was read with enthusiasm in the Railwayman’s, with additions from those who pretended to know from personal experience. She was mentioned practically every week at one time. Either soliciting or drunk and disorderly.”
“I wonder what happened to the child? Adopted I suppose.” She put the papers aside, intending to study them in greater detail later. Somewhere there was a child who might not know his true background. The thought saddened her. She put the box back in the cupboard and re-entered the room.
She looked around her, at Lewis and Charlie arguing about the assets and disadvantages of the latest cars, at Rhiannon and Gwyn laughing at something on the radio, at the fire burning low with a kettle simmering ready for their bedtime drinks. She was so lucky. And her temper and her stubbornness could have lost it for her for ever.
Sophie Street Page 21
