The war raged on, the bombing killing hundreds and making thousands homeless, far from the boundaries of St David’s Well, but touching them all the same.
One lady, whom they had seen passing on several occasions, a fair-haired woman of about twenty, surprised them one day by bringing them a cup of tea each from the café at the entrance where she worked.
‘There’s cold you look,’ she said handing them the cups and saucers over the piled-up vegetables. ‘Have these on me and if you want the same tomorrow I’ll bring them over and you can pay at the end of the week. Eleven a.m. and three in the afternoon all right, is it?’
Olive and Ronnie thanked her and the cups of tea and a brief chat were a welcome break in their morning and afternoon. The woman, who was unmarried, was called Janet Copp, and she managed the small market café. She told them some of her story over the first few days.
‘I haven’t got no family. But,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘I suppose I might have cousins somewhere. Mam never said much about them, mind. They moved away years ago. But neighbours hinted at some dark secret. Perhaps Mam did something shameful and was cut off from the rest of the family. Exciting, eh? Just think, they might be rich enough to save me from the boring ol’ café. There’s lovely that would be.’
Olive and Ronnie told her about Lilly expecting a child without naming the father, who was married to someone else.
‘Mam and Dad wouldn’t dream of refusing help, or cutting her off from the family like that,’ Ronnie said. ‘Our Lilly’s a part of the family and nothing would be allowed to separate us.’
‘Ronnie’s mother is so kind, even to strangers. She even took in a couple of children who were living rough. They hadn’t been abandoned, though. Their parents are dead and they had run away from a children’s orphange,’ Olive explained.
‘Thank goodness I was too old to go through that. I’d have hated being cared for with dozens of others in a place like that.’ She grinned at Ronnie as she collected their empty cups. ‘Their name isn’t Copp, is it?’
‘Sorry, but life isn’t that tidy I’m afraid,’ Ronnie smiled. ‘Carpenter they are and, like you, they’d love to find their family. Not much hope though. They do talk about a sister-in-law and a brother, but we’ve never been able to find them.’
‘Pity,’ Janet sniffed. ‘I’d like a couple of sisters.’
* * *
Bleddyn’s daughter-in-law, Evelyn, didn’t call on him very often. With the work she did involving odd hours, and Bleddyn’s house a long way off her regular route, she rarely found herself in that part of town. In his letters, Taff often asked whether she had seen his father but she evaded replying.
Like many others, she was beginning to find the restrictions of wartime life tedious. With Taff away she wouldn’t go dancing like many of her friends did; she didn’t want even a whisper of trouble to reach him. So there was only the pictures where she went sometimes with Maude and Myrtle and on rare occasions with Audrey and Wilf too. The girls with whom she worked came in most mornings full of the fun they’d had the night before and, although not envious, she felt dull being unable to join in. Listening to the wireless, doing the week’s ironing, racing home to catch the shop, it was hardly riveting. There were the letters from Taff of course, but unlike some of the others she didn’t want to read out his words to have them mulled over and laughed at.
When one of the girls was celebrating her birthday and asked her to join them, she agreed, and wondered afterwards where her common sense had been at the time. Before the planned night out, she went on one of her rare visits to Bleddyn and found Hannah and her two girls there. Shame, jealousy and embarrassment made her abrupt with her greeting and Hannah stood at once to leave.
‘Well, Mr Castle, I’ll leave you to talk to Evelyn, shall I? We’ll all be down to see you on Sunday, unless you’d like to have tea with us?’
Evelyn stood with a look of impatience on her face as Hannah dressed the children against the cold, discussed final arrangements for Sunday and left.
‘Why did you do that? Is there anything wrong?’ Bleddyn asked when they were alone.
‘Do what?’
‘Rush Hannah away like that. What is it you have to tell me that she can’t hear?’ His voice was slow and soft, but Evelyn sensed the anger.
‘Sorry, Dad, but I was disappointed to find her here. She works a few hours in the mornings and evenings, she has plenty of time to visit you. I have to come when I can and I hoped you’d be alone.’
‘She’s very kind and calls often, sometimes bringing me a letter she’s had from Johnny.’
‘Dad, I’m going out tomorrow night, with the girls from the factory. One of them is eighteen and she’s going to join up, so it’s a celebration and a farewell.’
‘Good, you shouldn’t be stuck in night after night. Taff wouldn’t want that.’
‘It’s only a drink. I wanted to tell you, so you know it’s nothing more.’
‘I hope you enjoy yourself,’ Bleddyn assured her, forcing a smile. When she left, the smile changed to a frown as he stared at the closing door. He hoped this was not the beginning of trouble. Women who went out without a man, especially in a group, might be tempted to stray out of boredom. Perhaps he ought to visit her more often, make sure everything was still all right.
* * *
Maude and Myrtle were intrigued by the story of Janet Copp who, like themselves, had no family. They made Olive and Ronnie repeat it several times, like the children they still were. Although the story had nothing in it to offer them hope, it cheered them to know there were others in a similar state to themselves.
Coming out of the pictures a few days later, standing still to accustom their eyes to the darkness, they heard a voice call, ‘Hey, Mrs Carpenter, over here!’
The two girls reacted as though in shock. They stared, trying to pierce the darkness and by force of will trying to see the woman who was referred to by their name. Gripping each other’s gloved hands, they pushed through the crowd to where they had heard the voice. Fortunately the woman called again, ‘Mrs Carpenter, yoo hoo!’ The two women were all but concealed in the blackness, but they made out the figure of a young woman pushing herself through the closely gathered bodies, making for the person who had called and who was now waving her hands in encouragement.
‘She might be our sister-in-law,’ Myrtle breathed.
Maude dragged Myrtle behind her and followed as the two women set off along the street.
The two women, one of whom was wearing a fur coat, went through the doorway of a public house, the sounds from within bursting forth as people chattered, shouted and laughed. Tinny notes from a piano were heard, and a few were singing a sad song tunelessly. The girls grinned. The discordant, harsh sounds swelled up then stopped abruptly as the doors swung behind them.
The black-out arrangement involved two doors positioned at either end of an angled, covered passageway. Still holding hands, the sisters crept in through the first door and pushed the second open to look into the bar room. They looked around and eventually recognised the two women they had followed. They were at the bar trying to get served by a barman who was determined to serve all the men first. He didn’t approve of unaccompanied women in his pub.
‘Shall we wait?’ Maude suggested, and in the darkness she felt her sister nod her head.
Still looking through the slit, Myrtle gasped and told Maude to look in the corner close to the fire. Around a table about eight women and two soldiers were sitting, and one of the women was Evelyn.
The group were giggling and rosy faced and they saw that one of the soldiers had his arm around Evelyn’s shoulder. They couldn’t hear what was being said as she tried to move away, but guessed that the others were encouraging Evelyn to have some fun.
The two girls stepped backwards and out into the dark night. They didn’t want to see any more, but eventually couldn’t resist one more peep. Evelyn was now looking angry and they saw her take a glass of beer belonging to o
ne of the soldiers and pour it over the head of the one who was annoying her. Helpless with laughter, the girls ran out once more into the night.
It was tempting to run home and tell Auntie Audrey what they had seen, but the need to talk to someone bearing their name was too strong. Hiding in the shadows, stifling giggles, they didn’t have to wait long. The two women, easily recognised by their voices and the fur coat, came out and they followed.
Having to keep back and occasionally hide, they lost their quarry after a few short cuts through lanes, but found them again waiting at a bus stop. It was almost half-past ten by now and they both knew they should really be going home.
‘If we can find out where she lives, we can go back another day,’ Maude said when Myrtle became worried. ‘We won’t talk to her tonight.’
At home Audrey was knitting, stopping every few rows to stand on the front doorstep and listen for sounds of them coming. They had never been this late before. She wished her mother was there. She wouldn’t dither, she’d do something. She gave herself another fifieen minutes before going to tell Marged and Huw that they hadn’t returned.
* * *
The girls followed the two women on to the bus and asked for the terminus. When the women alighted near a row of small terraced houses outside the town, still apparently oblivious of the girls trotting along behind them, they followed.
The inadequately lit bus lumbered off and before Maude could reach for her sister’s hand, they were grabbed roughly. Amid their screams of flight, the women demanded, ‘What are you doing following us? If my husband has asked you to see what I’m up to, you can tell him—’
Swearing their innocence, the girls cried and promised that they hadn’t been sent by anyone.
‘We’re looking for our brother, and we heard someone call you Mrs Carpenter and we thought—’ Maude’s voice faded as the woman began to laugh.
‘Carpenter? My name isn’t Carpenter, it’s Callender.’
The girls waited for a long time but no bus appeared to take them home, so with only a vague idea of where they were, they set off to walk home. Myrtle was dragging her feet and complaining and Maude tried to carry her so that both girls were exhausted when they eventually turned into Sidney Street.
Something was wrong. There were voices shouting, asking questions, making suggestions, someone was crying and, most remarkable of all, lights were escaping from doorways and streaking across the street. Slowing to a hesitant crawl, they soon realised that every house was open, the neighbours were out in force, some in groups talking, others with torches stabbing the ground in front of them. Everywhere men and women were hurrying around. In a doorway they saw two wardens, who seemed oblivious of the black-out regulation being flouted. Cups of tea were being handed out and men with torches were approaching from a different direction from those setting off.
‘God ’elp, Myrtle, they’re all looking for us. Auntie Audrey’ll kill us!’
It was one a.m. before their story was told and everyone was settled, and Audrey had relieved her fears by telling them off. The last thing they heard before going to sleep was the warden shouting for someone to ‘put that light out’, adding, ‘You needn’t think you can make an ’abit of this, mind!‘
* * *
Peter continued to write regularly to Beth, but it was two weeks before Beth heard from Freddy. Then it was a picture postcard and the frank told her it was posted in Blackpool. She wondered what he was doing there. It was a long way from his barracks. The note was the usual scrawl, casual, friendly, with no mention of missing her or with any reference to their brief time together. He didn’t refer to his imminent departure either and she began to wonder whether his words were prevarications when he wrote later, this time from his usual address, and told her that another leave might be possible very soon.
Was it loyalty that kept her pretending he was the man she loved? Or was the war a pause in in her life, a time that was not real, a time to hold back and not think too deeply about what was happening to closeness, love and trust? When the world returned to normal, she would remember how much she loved Freddy, wouldn’t she? She wouldn’t think about Peter every moment. Everything would be fine.
Once the soldiers began training for their posting overseas, they weren’t allowed out of camp: she had learned that much by talking to friends. There was the danger of spies learning of their possible movements and passing on information to the enemy. She thought of asking Peter if he knew what might be happening but decided not. Talking about Freddy would be an intrusion, an unwanted, jarring note in their happy hours together.
She and Peter never did anything that Freddy would consider very exciting when Peter managed a few days’ leave. When he was free on one of Beth’s days off, they walked in the gradually fading colours of autumn, talking, stopping sometimes for refreshment at an inn or café, or taking a picnic and finding a sheltered corner of a local beach. Between times they wrote long, chatty letters, broadening their knowledge of each other, growing closer, but without the complications of love. They kissed on meeting and when they parted, but rarely did more than hold hands otherwise. Beth knew it was because of the engagement ring she wore and foolishly began to feel irritation with Freddy: resentment, too, for being there, clearly visible on her finger, while he was unlabelled and free to do what he wanted.
She remembered with surprisingly little pain the kiss he had given the WAAF girl on the train, and the way he had leapt to the defence of Shirley’s mother, Mrs Downs. He was not being faithful, something deep inside her told her that.
She talked to Lilly about her doubts and Lilly advised her to tell him goodbye.
‘I can’t, Lilly. Not when he’s on the point of going overseas. I’d feel so guilty, him not having anyone to write him. They all need someone at home who cares for them. It gives them hope, being able to plan for when the war’s over.’
‘And you’ve just told me you suspect there’s someone else he’s seeing!’ Lilly said in exasperation. ‘Why pretend you’re the only one who’ll write to him? Are you the only one to help him spend his leave? I doubt it, and so do you if you’re honest. Why don’t you face facts, Beth? Freddy’s seeking pastures new in more ways than one and only bothering to write when he wants money. Peter is here, asking nothing of you, writing to you, and spending every moment he can with you. How much more do you need before you stop kidding yourself that Freddy loves you?’
Using her pregnancy as an excuse, Lilly rarely worked. She appeared to be busy helping Marged in the house, but in fact did very little. Every afternoon she insisted she needed a rest, and most evenings she either went to the pictures or visited friends. One of her friends was Hannah, for a while at least.
Hannah worked longer hours now Josie was back at school and Marie was at nursery school, but she welcomed Lilly whenever she called, even though she was usually very busy. At first they talked happily about the birth of Lilly’s baby and discussed ideas for making and knitting the little garments she would need, but Hannah began to lose patience when she realised that although they talked, nothing was ever achieved by Lilly, only by others doing things for her. Time, she thought, for some serious discussion.
‘When are you going to stop feeling sorry for yourself and get organised?’ Hannah asked when Lilly had sat in her room all afternoon drinking tea and talking about the unfairness of life, that she had chosen to fall in love with a married man.
‘I’m not sorry for myself, I don’t go screaming to his wife do I? I’m sorting myself out without causing trouble like some would in my situation,’ Lilly protested.
‘Sorting yourself out does not mean leaning heavily on your mother. Sorting yourself out is getting up and doing what you can to prepare for this baby! How are you going to support it? Have you thought of a job? You should be using these months to train or at least decide what you’ll do.’
‘I can work on the beach in the summer like always,’ Lilly defended.
‘That isn’t a job. You ta
ke the wage, but from what I understand, you don’t do much to earn it.’
‘Why are you being so unkind? I thought you were my friend,’ Lilly said tearfully.
‘I am, and I hope you value my friendship enough to listen to what I’m saying. I do like you, I would like you to be my friend, my real friend, but you aren’t even a friend to yourself, living like you do.’
‘I dream of having a decent job sometimes,’ Lilly said. ‘But working on the beach year after year with Mam and Dad has made me think of work as boredom. How would you like it, doing the same thing day after day?’
‘I clean up after other people, the same old chores, day after day after day,’ Hannah said softly. ‘Boredom? You don’t know what boredom is until you’ve cleaned floors and walls and lavatories, with the only variety being the different sorts of litter or the colour of the soap.’
‘Lavatories? Ugh! How can you do it, Hannah?’
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