Holidays at Home Omnibus

by Wait Till Summer; Swingboats On the Sand; Waiting for Yesterday; Day Trippers; Unwise Promises; Street Parties (retail) (epub)

  Men were a way of amusing oneself, she thought cynically. After the way her father had treated her mam, how could she think otherwise? Right now, all she wanted was a man to partner her at the local dances, but with so many young men called into the forces, it was proving rather difficult.

  She was certain that Freddy would not remain faithful; she had no illusions about that, so when a man working in a reserved occupation invited her to the Saturday dance, she accepted with delight. Having suffered an injury during his years on his father’s farm, Silwyn Davies’s left arm was weak but he could still dance.

  He took her to several dances but she became bored with his conversation and frustrated at the monotony of his dancing as well as his juvenile attempts at kissing her after walking her home. She needed a challenge. She wanted a dance partner whose skills matched – or preferably bettered – her own.

  Until she had met Freddy Clements and encouraged him to leave his fiancée Bethan Castle, she hadn’t realised what fun dancing could be. She had fooled around in the living room to tunes played on the wireless and had even sung along with them, but going to a dance hall and seeing everyone enjoying themselves, something woke in her; something that had been lying dormant all her life.

  When Freddy had joined the army and disappeared from her life apart from irregular weekends at home, she thought her evenings spent dancing were over. Then she talked to Joseph Beynon, a regular customer in the shop where she worked, and persuaded him to take her. When she realised he was nowhere near good enough for her, she dropped him and braved walking into the dance hall on her own to search for someone who was.

  Joseph Beynon was hurt by being dropped by Shirley and his resentment grew, but he was still attracted to the vivacious, dark-haired girl who was so good on the dance floor, and who felt so good in his arms.

  She easily found partners, the few men present quickly recognising her talent. Some were good and others better than good, but they were unsatisfactory, only half their mind on the dance, the other half aware of their girlfriend or wife watching them, pouting, in a corner. If only she could find someone to dance with regularly. With the war taking its toll of the local boys she thought it was a hopeless search.

  * * *

  Max Moon was an entertainer. He and his friend, Ken Ward, had both been turned down for the armed forces when war began and now, in the spring of 1941, they were occupied travelling around the country giving performances for the forces, and in hospitals and factories. When he was on a visit to St David’s Well, he called in to the newsagent and tobacconist, where Shirley Downs worked, to buy a newspaper. Recognising him from a concert he and Ken Ward had given for the children in 1939 when the evacuees first came to St David’s Well, she engaged him in conversation. The result was an invitation to go with him to the Saturday night dance.

  ‘It’s in aid of comforts for the soldiers,’ he began to explain. ‘I’m doing a song and dance spot with Ken as part of the cabaret and we’re giving a record as one of the prizes.’

  ‘Which one?’ she asked, and when told it was the Glen Miller version of ‘In The Mood’, she gasped. ‘I want to win that. I’ve got the Edgar Hayes recording but the Glen Miller is the one. It makes my feet start tapping just to think about it.’

  ‘Why don’t you come with us?’ he invited.

  ‘Won’t you be too busy to bother with me?’ she asked, but her eyes were shining at the prospect of the dance with a partner of her own.

  ‘Ken and I won’t be occupied for more than fifteen minutes, for each of our two spots. The rest of the evening is mine.’

  Pity he wasn’t more conventionally handsome, she thought with mild disappointment. Max was abysmally skinny and towered almost twelve inches above her for a start. Guilty at her criticism when he had been kind enough to invite her, she smiled her special smile. ‘Thanks, I’d love to come.’ Excited at the prospect of walking into the dance hall with Max Moon for a partner, it was as much as she could do to accept with reasonable decorum. She wanted to shout and scream, do a can-can on the counter. Having walked in to the dance on her own several times, it would be luxury to have her own partner, and to be there with one of the entertainers would make it more exciting still. All the same, it was a pity he was so tall and skinny, and with spiky red hair that looked as though it had been cut with a knife and fork!

  The dance band musicians of 1939 had all gone. The young men who played had been conscripted and their replacements were men with grey hair and in some instances, less than nimble fingers. What did it matter. If Max Moon was an entertainer he must be able to dance, she thought happily.

  She was abrupt with the last few customers, specially those choosing birthday cards and unable to make up their mind. She was impatient to start getting ready for her night out, her mind racing ahead, planning what she would wear, what make-up to use.

  * * *

  The cloakroom, where a spotty mirror was all that was on offer for the girls to touch up their make-up and comb their hair, was very crowded. She squeezed herself against the wall and edged around until she was near the mirror. Her hair needed a bit of adjustment. She usually wore it in a roll around her head, wrapped over a thin scarf and with a few ends pulled provocatively free around her face. Tonight, she wanted to wear it loose.

  During the afternoon in the newsagent where she worked, she had covered her head with a bright scarf under which she had her hair tightly fastened in dinkie curlers. She had taken them out but not combed the shiny sausage shapes and separated them into small curls. Now she wished she had. There was hardly room to raise her arms to get a comb in her hair.

  There were several people she knew but she avoided starting a conversation. She didn’t want to keep Max standing while she gossiped. She was surprised to see Bethan Castle, Freddy Clement’s ex-fiancée, who had never enjoyed dancing. She couldn’t resist making a comment on that!

  ‘Fancy seeing you here. You wouldn’t come when your Freddy asked. Who’s managed to persuade you?’

  ‘I’m here to help with the refreshments,’ Beth explained coldly. ‘We all have to help with the war effort, don’t we?’

  ‘The Castle family making money out of the evening by doing the catering then, are they?’

  ‘My mother and father are giving most of the food.’

  ‘Good on them.’ Shirley sniffed. ‘Stuck-up lot the Castles,’ she confided to a girl beside her. ‘Work on the beach they do, selling buckets and spades and ice cream, and run a common little beach café, no better than peddlers they are and think they own the whole of St David’s Well!’

  ‘Terrible snobs some people,’ the girl agreed, knowing nothing about the subject and concentrating on a smooth lip line.

  After struggling for an age, in a forest of arms and an armoury of combs and brushes, Shirley went into one of the lavatory cubicles and using her small handbag mirror finished styling her long brown hair. She came out with heavier make-up than usual, and with her hair long and sleek over her head before falling in small curls around her shoulders. She left the cloakroom feeling as though she had fought a battle but when she saw Max’s surprised and flattering expression she was well rewarded.

  ‘Shirley Downs, you look a picture,’ he said admiringly.

  At first they danced in a rather subdued manner, Max still looking at her as though he hadn’t seen her before.

  ‘What’s the matter, Max? Is there something wrong with my face?’ she asked pertly.

  ‘Wrong? No, there’s nothing wrong with your face. In fact, I can hardly believe my luck having a lovely girl like you for a partner.’

  ‘Come on, then, let’s get dancing. I won’t break in half, you know,’ she said, coaxing him to move more vigorously as a quickstep began its rhythm. Soon they were moving as one, their steps becoming faster and more intricate as inhibitions fell from them. At one point, the floor cleared as more and more people stopped to watch them. For Shirley, it was like the first day of her life. Having these people standing admi
ring her skill opened something inside her and she smiled up at the red, perspiring face of Max Moon with his intense blue eyes and the tuft of unmanageable red hair and thought he was gorgeous. She laughed in pure excitement and happiness. The admiration of an audience, even as small as at this Saturday dance, was a hunger gloriously appeased.

  Watching from the people crowding the edges of the hall, people who had stopped dancing to admire the skill of Shirley and Max, Joseph Beynon was full of resentment. He had partnered Shirley several times and although he knew he was not good enough for her, he had begun to think that their partnership was more or less permanent. Then she had discarded him. Now she was here with Max Moon. What would happen when Max left St David’s Well? Would she ask him again? His thin lips tightened and a frown creased his forehead. He was determined not to be used when Shirley needed a partner and then discarded when someone better turned up. Yet he knew that his resolution would falter as soon as she asked him to take her dancing. There was something very special about Shirley Downs.

  Beth Castle watched with the rest as Shirley and Max showed off their skill. Max was too tall for Shirley but his natural ability and her instinctive understanding of what he needed made them glide through the numbers as though they had practised together for years. If she felt a tinge of jealousy towards the girl who had stolen her fiancée and was now taking one of her friends, Beth forced herself to ignore it. Losing Freddy Clements to Shirley Downs had not been a tragedy. In fact by flirting with him and causing their engagement to end, Shirley had given Beth back her freedom and enabled her to find a far happier future with Peter Gregory. But she couldn’t feel grateful. Taking Freddy from her had been deliberate and unkind. Shirley had started an affair with her fiancé Freddy Clements, when she knew his marriage to her was only weeks away. She clapped their performance with the rest and managed a smile. Dancing was something she had never enjoyed, but she recognised the talent of Shirley and appreciated the competence of her partnership with Max Moon. Freddy had loved dancing and his second love had been the pictures, both of which she found boring. By refusing to go with him, she had enabled Shirley Downs to coax him away from her. Shirley had filled his need to enjoy those things and she had been left behind.

  Beth Castle was one of the well-known local family who ran stalls and cafés during the summer on the popular holiday beach of St David’s Well Bay. Today, the Castles’ catering skills were being used to provide a buffet supper for the dancers. Leaving the dancers to enjoy the final melody before the interval, she slipped through the crowd and joined her mother and her Auntie Audrey in the kitchen.

  Max poked his head around the door a few moments later. ‘Sorry I haven’t said hello, Beth. I’m afraid I became too involved with the music. Shirley Downs is an amazing dancer, isn’t she?’

  ‘Very talented,’ Beth agreed. ‘Are you looking for an early helping of supper? There are some sandwiches on the table if you can get past the waitresses.’

  ‘I won’t say no,’ he said, giving his cheeky grin. She handed him two plates and promised to come and find him later when she wasn’t so busy. She watched him go, much taller than most, his sparse red hair sticking up untidily on his head. What was it that makes a man attractive, she wondered. Max Moon made friends wherever he went, and yet not even a doting mother could describe him as handsome. Somehow his kindness and honesty shone through. Again a small stab of envy, explained not by any attraction Max held for her, but by the fact that she considered Shirley Downs undeserving of him.

  It was no surprise when Max and Shirley were declared the winners of the dance competition and Shirley’s face glowed as the result was announced. The smile faded quickly when Max refused to accept the prize on behalf of himself and Shirley.

  ‘I am delighted to be chosen,’ he said, an arm around Shirley. ‘We can’t accept of course. I’m a professional besides being one of the organisers. Perhaps you could use the prize in a spot dance?’

  As the other dancers clapped his decision, Shirley felt an aching anger around her heart. She wanted that record. And being a winner in a dance competition was something she dreamed about, and Max Moon had ruined it. ‘How stupid can you get,’ she muttered as he led her on to the floor for the spot dance.

  ‘Sorry, Shirley, I didn’t think you’d mind too much. It’s only a local affair.’

  ‘It might not have been important to you, but it was to me! I’d have been able to say I’d won a dance competition, wouldn’t I? The very first time. Can’t you see how disappointed I am?’

  The dance with its roving light was a waltz and as they demonstrated their skill she deliberately tripped him up and they had to sit out the rest of the piece.

  ‘What did you do that for?’ Max demanded.

  ‘Couldn’t have us winning the spot prize as well, could I!’ she snapped.

  * * *

  In London, an ex-citizen of St David’s Well stood in Coventry Street and looked at the huge crater where the Rialto cinema had once stood. Eirlys Price, another victim of a broken engagement, had left home to work in London after her engagement to Beth’s cousin, Johnny Castle, had ended. She was staying with the family of Ken Ward, Max Moon’s partner in the double act they performed around the country. While Max was visiting St David’s Well, she and Ken were spending the weekend together exploring London. Horrified by the damage, they were staring at the ruin, in the basement of which the Café de Paris had been situated, previously advertised as the safest night-spot in London. The bomb that hit the building the previous month had killed many members of the orchestra, including its leader, Ken ‘Snakehips’ Johnson. It seemed impossible that the area could ever be restored to its previous state.

  After discussing the loss of several of the country’s talented and popular musicians, he told her, ‘I want to make entertainment my career once the war is over. Max and I accept any invitation to perform, and we get plenty of bookings but if were to be professionals after the war, we’ll need a slick new act. We both sing, tell the odd joke and play instruments, which is fine for the present, but after the war I don’t think sing-songs and old jokes will be enough.’

  ‘There will always be need for laughter,’ Eirlys said. ‘A comedy act will bring you plenty of bookings, now and after the war.’

  ‘A comedy act, ending with a song. Yes, I think there will always be a place for that, but many will have the same idea. I have to think of something different, unique, something that’s strictly Max Moon and Ken Ward, which no one else can do.’

  ‘What about the female impersonation Max does? It’s funny because there’s no doubt he’s a man,’ Eirlys suggested. ‘Clever of you to realise there are two types, the “beautiful woman” act to deceive, and the Old Mother Riley style of Arthur Lucan, with Kitty McShane as his or her daughter who doesn’t set out to fool anyone.’

  ‘I had a letter from Johnny and Hannah last week and Johnny told me that the entertainment the army offered usually consisted of all men. Female impersonators are a necessity and some are very convincing.’

  Ken smiled at her and pulled her arm through his. ‘So Johnny Castle still writes to you, Eirlys?’

  ‘He and Hannah are my friends.’

  ‘And you can cope with that, after you and Johnny almost made it to the altar?’

  ‘No regrets, Ken. I don’t think I’d have made Johnny as happy as Hannah does. And somehow, I wasn’t as devastated as I should have been. I think it was best for both of us. Probably because I’m an only child without cousins, I was in love with the idea of belonging to the large Castle family. To belong, and to work on the beach watching families come and enjoy themselves, it seemed so wonderful. Long summers filled with perfect days spread out before me. But as I said, it was just a dream.’

  They walked back along the streets with the shells of buildings looming threateningly above them, the smell of damp brick and stale air creating that inexplicable smell of old, abandoned and ruined properties filling their nostrils, and caught the under
ground train back home.

  Eirlys Price was aware of Ken’s growing affection for her but she was not certain how she felt about him. Being so close to marrying Johnny Castle, becoming a member of that large family, then ending it when he admitted his love for Hannah, had left her wary of love and afraid to trust. Love needed time to grow, and although it was a year ago, it was still far too early for her to think of someone taking Johnny’s place.

  ‘Will you write back?’ Ken asked, breaking into her thoughts.

  ‘I might, but only a brief note to them both, to tell them how happy I am here, with you and your family.’ she said, smiling. Ken nodded; to know she was happy was enough for now. He could wait for the rest.

  It had been Eirlys’s ambition to open a shop and sell rugs and other handmade items. Leaving St David’s Well so suddenly had put a stop to that although, in Johnny and Hannah’s letter, they had assured her that her store of wool and other materials, left behind after her hasty departure, was still there if she needed it. She lived in a room in the Wards’ busy household and worked in an office dealing with the distribution of foodstuffs. Occasional deliveries of rarer items such as oranges arrived and had to be allocated via ration books, distribution worked out on the various priorities. The under-fives and expectant mothers with green ration books were usually the recipients of such items which, although rare enough, were unlikely to appear for much longer.

  Fruit was limited to that grown locally and once the season ended it was less and less likely the public would receive more. Eirlys was at the receiving end of many irate phone calls during which she reminded the caller that seamen had to risk torpedoes and bombs besides the usual dangers of the sea to bring them luxuries like fruit. Sometimes she was shaking when she put down the phone. Didn’t they realise how much was being risked to bring food across the sea?