Then came the second surprise.
“Barry and I have decided to divorce,” Caroline said quietly. “Don’t start an argument, Mam. My mind is made up. We’ll never be happy, I should have accepted that a long time ago instead of hanging on, hoping for some magic to transform a failure into a wonderful success. It isn’t going to happen, We both know it.”
“Is that why you’re so quiet? So sad, love?”
“No, I’m not sad. I’ve been so worried about telling you and Dad. I’m happy now I’ve told you.” She looked at her mother, her round face rosy and happy, and to Janet’s eyes so gentle and so lovely. “You aren’t upset, are you, Mam, having a divorce in the family?”
“Caroline, love, I’m so relieved I can’t tell you! Come and let me give you a hug then we’ll go and tell your dad.”
The final surprise came when Lewis and Dora arrived and offered Basil, Eleri and their small boys a share of their home.
“You mean it, Mam and Dad? We can move in with you?” Eleri hugged Dora and then Lewis. “After all that’s happened, you’ll let me come back?”
“Losing our Lewis-boy was tragedy we’ll never recover from, love,” Lewis said, “but sharing you with Janet and Hywel, you still calling us Mam and Dad, like you did when you and Lewis-boy were married well, it makes our loss just a little bit easier to bear.”
“Come and welcome.” Dora smiled.
“And, apparently,” Lewis said in mock dismay, “we’ve volunteered to baby-sit for you if you want to work, as well as suffering the noise of your wild boys. Kind of me, eh?” he teased, glancing at his wife affectionately.
* * *
Looking at the photographs borrowed from Rhiannon, Jennie decided to telephone Peter’s office. Predictably he sounded agitated. “Is something wrong? It isn’t Mam, is it?”
“Hello, Jennie, and how are you?” she said sarcastically. “Peter, why should there be something wrong?”
“Well, you wouldn’t ring unless it was important.”
“I want to talk to you. Is that so unimportant? Can we meet?”
“You rang to ask me that?”
Holding her irritation in check she replied, “I rang to ask you that.”
“Tonight?”
“Will you come to my room at the Firs?”
“No, better not. Can you come to the house? Mam and Dad will be there of course, but we can go in the kitchen if we need to talk privately.”
They arranged to meet at seven and Jennie took the envelope of photographs with her. Perhaps, if she was in a good mood, Peter’s mother might help explain them.
Very formally, her mother-in-law offered her a cup of tea. She didn’t get up to make it, but nudged her husband to deal with it, Jennie noticed.
“Mother-in-law,” Jennie began, “what was your maiden name?”
The woman stared at her before asking, “What’s that to do with you?”
“It was Bondo,” Peter contributed.
“The Lewises found some old papers in their loft, following the court cases of someone called Molly Bondo. There were photographs, too, and they might be something to do with you.” Jennie pulled the photographs out, showed them to Mrs Francis, who promptly fainted.
Chapter Twelve
When his mother collapsed on seeing the photographs, Peter didn’t know what to do. It was Jennie who bent her head forward and eventually got her up the stairs and into bed.
“Shall I call the doctor?” Peter asked anxiously.
“No,” Mrs Francis said, “I don’t want a doctor, I just want this woman out of my house.”
“But Mam—”
“Best that you go, Jennie love,” Peter’s father whispered. “She’s that upset.”
“Go now, this minute, and never come back.” Recovering quickly, Mrs Francis went on, “Raking up muck about us, causing trouble and getting pleasure from it. Taking revenge were you? For my son coming to his senses and leaving you? No wonder he doesn’t want anything more to do with you. Spiteful revenge, that’s what this is and you can’t deny it! Wicked you are. Wicked.”
“But I don’t understand.” Jennie stood in front of the woman who was glaring at her with such hatred that it was frightening. “Peter?” she pleaded. “Tell me what I’ve done.”
“What is it, Mam?”
“Get her away from me! Coming here, determined to cause trouble. I warned you she was trouble. Didn’t I warn you? Get her out of my sight!”
Seeing a distressed Jennie to the door she had entered so recently, Peter said, “Sorry about this. I’ll come and explain as soon as I can.”
As the door closed behind her, hardly giving her time to remove herself from the step, Jennie burst into tears. What had she done to make Peter’s mother hate her so? And what harm could there be in bringing a couple of old photographs for her to see? Most people would be pleased, interested at the memories evoked by some unexpected news of the past.
She couldn’t face going home. She walked the streets aimlessly for more than an hour, breaking out into sobs at intervals and stiffening her resolve to forget Peter and his unpleasant mother at others. She became aware that besides being upset, she was hungry. She bought fish and chips and tore open the package and ate them walking along the road.
When she eventually reached the Firs she suddenly made up her mind to go back and demand an explanation. How dare Mrs Francis treat her so badly and call her a spiteful avenging daughter-in-law? How dare she talk to her in such a way? And why, above all, why didn’t she even have the decency to explain what she had done?
Her knock on the door was loud and insistent and it was Peter’s father who answered.
“I’m coming in and I’m not leaving until I have an apology and an explanation,” she said loudly, as she pushed past him and walking into the living room. “Where is she? Still being pathetic in bed? I want her down here, now, this minute or I’ll go up and fetch her down.”
“Jennie, what’s got into you?” Peter said, as he ran down the stairs.
“A bit of your mother’s awkwardness, that’s what! Tell her to get herself down here or I’ll make so much noise the neighbours will hear me.”
Mrs Francis appeared at the top of the stairs and at once, both Peter and his father ran to help her down. Jennie felt sick. Why has Peter never been so attentive to me, she wondered, as he talked soothingly to his mother and held her arm as she came down, step by slow step. Then a voice in her own head answered her, because you’re too independent, Jennie Francis. A man like Peter needs to think he’s the strong one, that you depend on him.
She shrugged the thought aside. This was not a moment to suggest weakness. She stood in front of her mother-in-law and asked, firmly, “Who is Molly Bondo?” There was no response. She looked at Peter for support but he shook his head. “All right, I can easily find out. By tomorrow I’ll know why you won’t talk about it. Who I tell, is up to you.” The implied threat succeeded.
“Tell them, my dear,” Peter’s father said.
“I can’t. Not after all this time.” Mrs Francis’s face was stricken.
For the first time, Jennie felt sympathy for the woman who had ruined her marriage, and probably spoilt any chance of her son being secure in a relationship, by insisting on being his priority. The moment of compassion passed as swiftly as it was recognised. “They’ll hear me in the next street, mind,” Jenny warned. This had to be settled now, or it might never be sorted.
“Best that we do,” Peter’s father insisted gently. “Whether you like it or not, Jennie is family and she has a right to know. It will help Peter if she’s here.”
“Peter doesn’t need someone like her!” For a moment the dislike returned, then Mrs Francis held out a hand to her son. “Peter, have you had a good life so far? Have we treated you well?”
“You’ve been wonderful parents,” Peter was frowning, exchanging glances with his father and with Jennie. He looked almost as pale as his mother. Was she going to tell them she was dying? “M
am, you aren’t ill are you? Please don’t tell me that.” Getting up from her chair, Mrs Francis opened a cupboard and took out some birth and marriage certificates. “You’d better look at these,” she said. Peter took them and went to sit beside Jennie while they examined them.
“But, Mam, what does all this mean?” He turned to his father.
“Dad? Will you explain?”
“I think it means you were adopted, Peter. Molly Bondo is your mother’s sister and she is also your real mother,” Jennie said softly. He reached out for her hand and they sat waiting for further explanations.
“She was always no good, our Molly. Expecting when she was no more than sixteen. That one died and we all thought she’d be chastened by the experience, but she was still only eighteen when you were born, Peter. Your father and I were married, so we gave you a home with us.”
“Thank you,” he said foolishly.
“Your mother was afraid for us to have any children of our own,” Peter’s father said. “I’d have loved a daughter, but it was a daughter she dreaded.”
“There’s always been a bad one in the Bondo family. All through the generations there was one girl who went, you know, wrong. Sometimes more than one. I couldn’t face it. We had you, Peter, so we were happy.”
Jennie suddenly realised the wider implications of this sad story. “That’s why you were so against Peter marrying, wasn’t it?” she said. “You were afraid that we’d have a wayward daughter?”
‘“You’re very strong willed and that’s what my mother used to say about our poor Molly. Strong willed and determined to go her own way.”
Jennie stood up and picked up the photographs that had been left on the table. “I’ll return these to the Lewises and tell them you don’t recognise anyone. I think we can tear up the photograph with you and Father-in-law on it, don’t you, Peter?”
“Thank you,” Peter said again.
He was in shock and Jennie wondered whether he would remember clearly what had been said, or whether he was simply unable to think further than the knowledge that he’d been adopted, and had a prostitute for a mother. Those two pieces of information were more than enough to cope with. Jennie wondered with a burst of optimism, whether he would come to her to talk it out and make sense of it all. Seeing him sitting there, pale and bewildered, she hoped he would.
“I don’t understand why we didn’t learn of all this when we were married,” she said into the silence.
“I dealt with the paperwork, remember? I presented them for you and the adoption papers never left my hands,” Peter’s mother said softly. “It was touch and go there, but I managed to keep our dreadful secret.” She glared at Jennie, such hatred in her eyes that she frightened the girl. “Everything was all right, until you came along. Peter wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t persuaded him to get married and spoil it all!”
“I didn’t take much persuading, Mam,” Peter said, reaching out and taking Jennie’s hand. “It was I who did the persuading.”
Jennie smiled at him. For the first time she felt a glimmer of hope.
* * *
It was a time for revelations. Mair sought Frank out and suggested a walk. As they wandered through the wood on that late July evening, the air was warm but a slight drizzle was falling. They were more or less sheltered by the thick leaves of the trees but occasionally, the water would come pouring off the leaves like tiny rivers when it became too much for them to hold.
“Frank, I have to tell you something.”
“You’re calling off the wedding. I knew it was too good to be true.” He tried to keep his face straight but the solemn expression showed her a sadness that would not be hidden. He would be so hurt by what she was about to say that for a moment she relented and thought she would say nothing. But she knew Megan was right. If their marriage was to stand any chance, she had to begin it without secrets.
“I want to marry you, Frank. Please believe that. I – I love you, but I didn’t realise it until lately. You make me feel safe but it’s more than that. I have a great longing deep inside me to make you happy, I want your love and I want us to be together for always. I want to make you a good and honest wife. But there’s something you have to know, and after I’ve told you, I won’t hold you to your promise. D’you understand me?”
“Of course I understand, Mair. I’m not as thick as all that.”
He tried to smile but his face was stiff, his mouth wouldn’t do what he wanted it to do. He knew what was coming and wished he could help her.
“This baby, it isn’t yours. I’m sorry. Tried to cheat, I did. Tried to make out it was yours. But it isn’t. I was seeing Carl Rees and the baby is his.” She waited for him to speak, imagining him trying to work out how to be kind, as he told her he couldn’t marry her.
“I know,” he said finally, and she gasped.
“You knew?”
“I keep telling people – but they don’t believe me – that I’m not such an idiot as I make out. Of course I knew. But, if you still want to marry me, and you can promise that you and Carl are finished, then I still want to marry you, Mair. Oh, by the way, Mam and Dad have guessed, too, so I suppose a few others will as well. Are you all right about that?”
“Oh Frank. I don’t deserve you.”
“I bet a few will agree with that, too.” He laughed. “Marrying a Griffiths is what most fathers dread for their daughters!”
* * *
Frank was offered another night’s work by Carl and although he was uneasy, knowing he was marrying the mother of Carl’s child, he agreed. The extra money would be welcome now he was going to have a wife to keep. He insisted on having the money first though, just in case Carl felt any animosity towards him.
“I want you to do some fly-posting, for me,” Carl told him.
“That’s illegal! I’ll want an extra couple of bob for that!”
“A few hours work, that’s all. A hundred posters spread around the town and, on another night – if you fancy it – you can help me cover the outlying villages.”
Frank didn’t ask what they notices were about, he just took them from Carl and mixed up a couple of large pots of paste and went off, slapping the notices on every convenient wall or shop window. He worked fast and hoped Carl wouldn’t come and check his work. He had done exactly what he’d been asked, but didn’t think Carl would be pleased with the result. He got back to the cottage about four a.m. and, as the night was warm, he slept in the porch, where Janet found him when she went to open up the goats and chickens in the early morning. She wondered why he was smiling.
* * *
Jennie arrived in Sophie Street early that morning and, as it was not time to open Temptations, she walked back to look again at her shop, curious to know what it would sell when it reopened. She didn’t look very hard at the posters that had sprouted overnight, simply noting that they were red in colour and impossible to read. She saw the shop window as she reached the corner and as she drew closer she gasped in dismay. It was a gift shop, just like she had imagined opening! Her first thought was disappointment, closely followed by the second, which was anger that Peter and his family had ruined her hopes of owning such a shop, pushing her into a paint and paper store. Even that had been taken from her by Peter’s mother’s demand for her loan to be repaid.
She went to the shop door and peered in and saw Carl inside.
“Carl? Are you fixing shelves for the new owner?” she shouted. “Who is it? Someone I know?”
Unlocking the door, Carl smiled hesitantly. “You know him all right. It’s me.”
She stared in disbelief at the shelves packed with glass and china ornaments of every size. There were wooden items too, made, she guessed as revelation dawned, by Carl. She saw toys and ornaments hand crafted and beautiful. The shelves had been painted in patterns of flowers and fruits, the walls and ceilings used for ornamentation and displays. The whole effect was so magical, so attractive that she felt disappointment swelling inside her: a balloon o
f misery. “But you stole my idea! You should have at least told me!”
“What would be the point? You weren’t going to do it, so I did.”
Forgetting Temptations, she ran to Peter’s office. He stood up in surprise and asked at once what was wrong.
“It isn’t your mother so don’t worry!” she snapped.
“Which mother would that be?” he asked with a shrug. Her expression softened and she touched his arm in silent sympathy.
She told him that Carl had stolen her idea and had opened a gift shop. “I gave him addresses of stockists that offered the best variety and best prices. Everything he needed to start him off. He’s added some of his own work: wooden toys, ornaments, small kitchen items. It will be a success, Peter, and it should have been mine. Whatever problems your mother had, she didn’t have to ruin my efforts.” She was close to tears.
Peter wanted to help and he sensed that this was a rare time when she wouldn’t brush his concern aside. Arranging for the day off, he walked home with her and they sat side by side on the worn couch, in the dark living-room of his mother’s house.
“We won’t be disturbed,” he said soothingly. “You can shout, scream, cry, hit me, anything. Mam and Dad are out shopping and won’t be back for at least an hour.”
“I don’t want to do any of those things. I just want to sit and let everything simmer down. Then I’ll make my apologies to Barry for being late, and go to work.”
Peter put a cushion under her head and coaxed her to lie back. “This brings back memories,” he said. “We did a lot of our courting here.”
“Yes, with your mother listening from the landing!” she said, then the anger faded and they smiled.
Sophie Street Page 25
