Sophie Street

by Grace Thompson

  * * *

  Barry sat looking out of the door of his flat, disconsolately wondering how to spend the rest of the day. He was lonely, and thought longingly of the Griffithses’ house where there was always someone to talk to, always something going on. He watched a cat sneak over the wall in that wonderfully supple way cats have, pouring itself over the top and sliding down effortlessly onto the fence, where it sat stretching contentedly in the sun. Another cat appeared and the two of them hissed softly, each issuing a warning that the area was private property. With nothing better to do, Barry watched as they sized each other up. Without thinking, he reached for his camera and went outside, his movements were slow, his interest quickening.

  The newcomer leapt at the one on the fence and knocked him off. The air was suddenly filled with growling and snarling and hissing as the cats fought for supremacy. Barry’s camera clicked and the two furious animals were unaware as he sank to the ground and crawled closer. So intense was their entanglement, he had taken several shots before they became aware of his presence and ran off.

  Taking his camera he went out to the van and drove to a friend’s house where he had the use of a darkroom. The photographs weren’t brilliant, but sufficiently interesting for him to decide to take more back-garden shots.

  Making a bird table wasn’t difficult as he was a talented carpenter. Buying an extra long cable and setting up a shutter release wasn’t difficult either. He filled the bird table with food and spent several hours each day watching for an interesting study, prepared to click the camera when the bird table attracted the usual garden birds, but hoping for a more exciting visitor. He had been unaware of how beautiful the common species of birds were. He read books on their habits, and even a walk to the Griffithses had an added enjoyment. He made a second bird table and gave it to Joseph-Hywel together with a simple book on bird recognition, which delighted the boy.

  “We’ll set it up where you can see it from your bedroom,” Barry told him. “That way you can see the shy ones without their being frightened.”

  “Binoculars for his birthday.” Hywel and Janet promised, intrigued with the gift.

  * * *

  That evening, in the Griffiths’s cottage, the fire was burning low. Janet tried to reach the grate to add fuel but Frank was stretched out, half asleep in an armchair, opposite his similarly disposed father, their legs sprawled across the hearth, jockeying for position between the cats and the dog. Janet saw that the kettle was simmering close to boiling and waited until Caroline came down, having settled Joseph-Hywel to sleep. Then tilting the heavy kettle, she made a pot of tea.

  Janet was watching her daughter with concern. Caroline was frowning slightly, her round, usually happy face lost in thought. Thoughts that were not pleasant, Janet surmised, and therefore, to do with Barry Martin. She handed round the cups of tea and a cwlff – the thick slice of bread her men usually enjoyed at this time, hoping that Frank and his father would go out for a drink to the Railwayman’s and allow her and Caroline to talk.

  At nine, she suggested it and Frank unfolded himself and reached for his jacket.

  “Come on, our Dad, I think they want to talk women’s talk and we aren’t allowed to listen.”

  “Barry and I have been talking, Mam,” Caroline began, when her father and brother had gone.

  Janet took a deep breath. This was what she had been expecting and dreading. She had to speak her mind, be hard on the girl and it was not going to be easy.

  “Now listen to me, Caroline. You and Barry have tried being married, got fed up, and you’ve come back home. Then it was on again and then it was off. It can’t continue, love. It’s more like a yo-yo match than a love match. If you go off and try again to live with Barry, then me and your father won’t have you back. You have to make a go of it this time and not think we’re waiting here to cushion you the moment it gets difficult. Go now and face the fact that you’re on your own.”

  She told Hywel later that it was the hardest thing she had ever done and she was sure it came out wrong. “Instead of telling Caroline that she had to forget she had the family to support her, so she’d go to Barry with a real determination to succeed, and not think of the comfort in failure, I made out we didn’t want her.”

  “What did she have to say?” Hywel asked.

  “Nothing,” Janet said sadly. “I didn’t give her a chance. Perhaps she wasn’t even going to tell me she and Barry were going to try again. Perhaps she was only going to talk about a birthday present or something. What a cruel mother I must seem. But all I want is for her to be happy, and I think she would be happier with Barry than without him, if he’d only be a little bit more considerate.”

  “We’ll wait and see what she says when she comes home from work tomorrow. She won’t think you’re cruel, how could she ever think that? Let her think about what you said and see how she feels then.” He stirred cocoa and sugar and milk in a cup and added hot water. “Here, love, drink this and come to bed.”

  * * *

  In the Railwayman’s, Viv told Jack, Basil and Frank about the papers found in his parents’ attic.

  “They all had reports on Molly Bondo’s appearances in court,” he whispered, aware that as they were sitting behind the partition and couldn’t see the door, Molly might enter without them knowing.

  They joked about the woman’s career and her regular court attendances, then Viv told them the interesting news. “Seems she had a baby,” he told his audience. “Mam found a newspaper item stating that Molly Bondo had given birth to a child. Never heard nothing about a child, did you?”

  They all shook their heads, then Basil said, “Why would it have been in the paper if she didn’t keep it? You’d have thought she’d have avoided publicity, wouldn’t you?”

  “Perhaps some well-meaning friend put it in.”

  “Enemy more like,” Frank said.

  Still in subdued tones they discussed this for a while, with Basil peering around the partition occasionally to make sure Molly and her friends weren’t in their usual seats in the corner. They were still talking about what they knew of Molly and the oldest profession, men of the world living vicariously through the antics of others, when Frank left. Mair had invited him for supper but he had made vague excuses. Tonight he intended to follow her father again.

  He walked through the fields, instinctively listening for a sound to reveal the presence of another human being, skirting Farmer Booker’s farmhouse so as not to disturb the dogs. He was not intending to steal any of the farmer’s rabbits but he moved as silently as possible from long practice.

  Mair’s father came out of the cottage pushing his bike, and closed the gate behind him. Frank followed the man to Bella Vista and watched as he entered number four through the french window of the house where both Carl and his mother had rooms. The heavy curtains opened and closed again, hiding whatever went on. Silent as a shadow, Frank moved to the window and listened. Voices, one feminine and the other the gruff tones of PC Gregory. He went around to the front door and knocked.

  When Carl recognised his visitor he darted back and tried to close the door.

  “It’s all right, I’m not going to thump you again,” Frank said as he put his size tens in the door. “I just want to know what Constable Gregory’s doing visiting your mother at nights.”

  “What are you talking about? Mam’s in bed, she always goes to bed early!” an outraged Carl hissed back. “Hush now or you’ll wake her.”

  “In bed she may be but I doubt she’s asleep, boy. Not with PC Bernard Gregory to keep her awake.”

  Carl made as though to strike Frank who lazily moved out of the way of the flying fist. “Take that back!”

  “Knock on her door if you don’t believe me,” Frank challenged.

  “No need. You’re talking rot.”

  With a strength that surprised Carl, Frank pushed him out of the way and stepped into the hall. Guessing which door lead to Mrs Dreese’s rooms he banged on it. There was a moment�
��s silence as Frank glared at Carl, who looked alarmed. Then a small voice called, “Who is it? Is that you, Carl? I begged you not to wake me, I need my rest.”

  “Mam, this is important. Can I come in?”

  “Open this door,” Frank said in a loud authoritative voice. As the lock was eased back and the knob began to turn, he left the house and ran around to the back, just in time to catch Gregory coming out.

  “Evenin’ Constable Gregory.”

  “What are you doing here?’’

  “Seein’ what you’re up to for starters.”

  Carl came to join them, stepping out through the velvet curtains with Mrs Dreese wrapped in a dressing gown. Carl had an arm protectively around her shoulders.

  “I had a report of a prowler,” Gregory snapped. “I came to see what was up. I might have known it was one of the Griffithses!”

  “You’d better go,” Carl said threateningly.

  “That one won’t work. Can’t you come up with a better excuse than that after all this time?’’ Frank said, ignoring Carl’s words. “I followed you from the cottage, again,” he said pointedly. “Suspicious I was, of all the nightshirts, see. Watched you go in and then I ran round to make sure Carl saw you as well. Besides,” he added, “her son lives in the same house, for heaven’s sake! She’d have knocked on his door, not gone out at this time of night to the phone box!”

  “It’s no use, Bernard,” Carl’s mother said. “I think we have to tell them.”

  “Tell me what?” Carl demanded. “What’s going on?”

  “Carrying on, more like. Him and your Mam.”

  “We haven’t told anyone because – well, it’s no one else’s business.” The words changed from reasonable to angry in the single sentence.

  “Not even Mair’s?” Frank asked.

  “Or mine?” Carl said, and the two young men moved closer together, allies against the deceptiveness of parents.

  Carl’s mother led them into the room she occupied and, as always in a crisis, made tea.

  “How long has this been going on?” Carl asked her as she gave them the steaming cups.

  “Oh, quite a long time, but not before your father died, mind,” she emphasized. “Soon after though.”

  “Why keep it a secret?” Frank wanted to know. “You’re both free and you can hardly be worried about Mair and Carl? They aren’t babies.”

  “I didn’t want Mair worried. She might not like the idea of sharing a house with a stepmother.”

  “So it’s gone that far, has it?”

  “It’s got to the stage where we’re discussing marriage, yes.” PC Gregory looked at Carl’s mother with such affection, that Frank felt giggles rising uncontrollably and he went to the teapot and poured himself another cup. Quite why it was funny, he didn’t know, but the thought of the pompous policeman, who rode his sit-up-and-beg bicycle through the lanes, and arrested him on a regular basis quoting the charges off by heart, didn’t seem to be the type to be affectionate with a woman.

  “I’ll leave you three to talk about this,” he said, painfully holding on to his overflowing laughter. Imagine old Gregory whispering endearments and kissing her and… He got through the curtains just in time and his laughter came out like a snort from a horse, as he ran through the streets and headed for the woods.

  Tonight would be a good night to go poaching, he thought as he walked towards Mair’s cottage. He stepped out onto the lane opposite her gate, still enjoying episodic laughter. To his sur­prise, he saw that there was a light on in her room. Throwing some grit up against the pane, he called, “Mair? Mair, come down, I’ve got something to tell you,” then he collapsed into laughter again.

  Mair opened the door, to his surprise she was still fully dressed. His laughter faded. “What’s the matter? Are you ill?”

  “No, just unhappy.”

  “Don’t be. I’ve got something to tell you that will make you laugh!” She stood to let him go past her and he saw that her eyes were red with crying, her round face swollen and flushed. The story of PC Gregory forgotten, he asked, “What’s the matter? What’s making you unhappy?”

  “Because of us, you and me,” she said. “You’ve changed your mind about marrying me, haven’t you?”

  “Of course I haven’t. There’s something I had to sort out, a mystery and now it’s sorted.” He put his arms around her and held her close. “Marry me soon, Mair, we’ll still give the gossips something to talk about but we won’t let that worry us, will we?”

  “Register office it’ll have to be, a quiet affair.”

  “A quiet affair? With our Mam involved? What a hope.” He laughed again, but this time with happiness.

  It wasn’t until he reached home, as dawn was creating a rich artist’s palette in the eastern sky, that he realised he hadn’t told Mair about her father’s secret affair with Mrs Dreese. He wondered whether PC Gregory would say anything, or just hope she wouldn’t find out. He would go out with his ferret and nets later, a few rabbits always sold well and he doubted whether he’d be charged if the constable saw him. He might even give him one, just to let him know they were friends.

  It gradually dawned on Frank that with Constable Gregory taking a wife he and Mair would not have a place to live when they married.

  “What will I do, Mam?” he asked Janet when she was cooking breakfast. “Mair and I want to marry very soon, because of – you know.” He gave an embarrassed shrug. “Now we mightn’t have a place to live.”

  They discussed the possibilities of finding rooms for a while then Frank went out to catch a few rabbits.

  Frank had just left when Basil arrived, on his way to the factory.

  “Worried I am,” he began. “With the rent going up like that, Eleri has to work just to pay it, and she’s out every evening, going off as soon as I get in from work. It’s awful, Mam. She has a busy day with the boys and she should be resting, not going off to work.”

  “Something will turn up, you won’t find yourselves out on the street.”

  When he had gone on his way, his ears filled with Janet’s assurances, she went to find her husband. “We have to do something, Hywel,” she said. “Basil, and now our Frank, and our Ernie isn’t happy either, living with Gloria Gunner with her rules and rantings.”

  “There’s that money your brother left you,” Hywel said gruffly. “I don’t want to tell you how to spend it, but getting the boys settled in a place of their own wouldn’t be a bad idea, would it?”

  “Hywel, you’re wonderful,” Janet said, hugging him.

  “What, because I’m spending your money for you?”

  “Because you knew what I was thinking.”

  “If we suggest they use the money as a deposit on a small place, we can probably help them all. Except Caroline, but she will be all right financially, with Barry to look after her.”

  “Money isn’t the problem there. You’re right, it’s the boys who need our help, love.”

  “I don’t know about Helen, mind, she might want something more than we could afford, but Eleri and Basil, and Frank and Mair wouldn’t mind a small place.”

  “Don’t let’s tell them yet. Nice surprise it’ll be. When Frank and Mair name the day will be the time to tell them all.”

  Frank came in whistling cheerfully, having delivered the gift of one of Farmer Booker’s rabbits to the policeman. He hadn’t left it on the doorstep but had knocked at the door. He was still laughing at the memory of how he had handed the constable a bag containing a rabbit and watched the man’s face distorting with confusion about what he should say and do.

  “There’s nothing like a bit of guilt to confuse the righteous,” he said to a puzzled Janet and Hywel.

  “You don’t think he’s got religion, do you, Janet?” Hywel frowned.

  * * *

  Carl was not as cheerful as Frank as the night opened out into day. He knew his mother had been keeping her secret for a very good reason. Ever since his father had died, Carl and his mother had b
een putting money aside to clear the debts he had left behind. His mother had insisted that he was morally, if not legally, bound to pay off his creditors. He had been forced to leave college, and all hope of a career in furniture design had been left behind with his studies. Since then he had worked at odd jobs, giving a large portion of everything he earned to his mother to put aside for the wonderful day when they could announce to the world that the debts had been cleared.

  He didn’t quarrel with his mother over her deceit, he just quietly asked for the return of the money he had been saving. If she expected him to live a life of poverty and emptiness while she enjoyed the comfort of Constable Gregory, she was mistaken, he told her. Once he had the money in his bank account, he began working out a few changes in his plans for the future. After several phone calls, he decided his next move would be to see Frank.

  * * *

  Jennie called to see Barry a couple of times and, after discussing wages and hours, she agreed to take the job managing Temptations, starting a week before Rhiannon left. When she asked about the flat, Barry was evasive.

  “I’m not quite sure what’s happening here yet,” he said. “Perhaps you’d be better to find somewhere temporarily, then we can make a decision about it later.”

  To hide her disappointment she remarked on the camera equipment spread on the table. He showed her the view of the garden and explained his new interest.

  “Wildlife photography, eh? This week sparrows, next week condors and heaven knows what else.”

  “I don’t think I’ll find condors on my bird table.”

  “Nothing stopping you travelling, is there?” she asked.

  * * *

  “I’m disappointed about the flat,” Jennie told Rhiannon one morning when she called in on her way to work. “I haven’t looked for anything permanent. At present I’m in a rather shabby place called the Firs that looks about ready to fall down. There’s still the room at Sally Fowler-Westons, but it’s rather expensive.”