Holidays at Home Omnibus

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

  ‘Janet? Huh! Janet’s let me down,’ Shirley said. ‘I’m having to perform on my own and I don’t think I’m up to it. In fact I think I might as well go home.’

  ‘Of course you are, love,’ Hetty said.

  ‘Don’t do that, treat it as a challenge,’ Bleddyn said.

  ‘You think I should try?’

  As though persuaded by them, she went to where the master of ceremonies was organising his acts in order of appearance and pleaded to be near the end. As the final act, her voice would stay in the minds of the audience for longer.

  ‘My mam has turned up,’ she confided. ‘Embarrassed I’d be and if l’m last she’ll be gone home.’

  She was given the final spot.

  As usual the acts were varied: many were singers, most were dancers, others tried their hand at a comedy act. Shirley chose not to dance, using the excuse that her partner had let her down. She stood in the wings going through the song she had chosen in her mind. It was the song Max Moon had written, ‘Waiting for Yesterday’. She would amaze them with her voice, she would move them and she would make them cry.

  When she was called to the stage she walked on having given the band leader her music and stood quietly waiting as the introduction was played.

  ‘On life’s stage, yesterday is waiting in the wings, come, bring him back to me…’ She sang powerfully and with much emotion, a sob in her voice as she pleaded with the fates to listen to her plea. As the song came to an end she stood with arms out, palms up. ‘To my happiness you hold the key. Yesterday, please, bring him back to me.’ The last note was strong and she held it, swelling and filling the hall with its wonderful sound, then allowed it to fade to a whisper before she bent forward as though grief-stricken.

  Everyone in the audience felt the emotion of the words. There were very few who didn’t want to relive their yesterdays, the days before their loved ones had been taken from them. The applause was deafening and, as Shirley had hoped, there were tears in the eyes of many.

  She cried a little too, whether from the emotion of her successful performance or the feelings she had felt through Max’s words and music. Her mother and Bleddyn took her home while the murmur of admiration continued around them.

  Near the doorway, Joseph stood and watched as she left. His feelings were mixed. He guessed she had dumped Janet once again, but with the voice she possessed, could he blame her? Janet had been a stepping-stone the same as he had been, and Freddy Clements, and the farmer who had taken her when she needed an escort.

  As he walked home he thought of the quiet voice and the hesitant actions when she had first sung, accompanied by Janet. They’d had a simple routine and had kept to it, stiff, predictable and unsure. Their voices had been pure but weak and somewhat tremulous. Shirley had been a fledgling and now she had learnt to fly.

  He went into the shop the following day to congratulate her and asked why Janet had not been there. She stared at him for a moment, then, as though making up her mind, said, ‘I wanted to sing that song on my own. I know I was selfish, but as a duet it didn’t really work and I knew that I could put it over in a way that would touch people. There, so I admit it, I’m selfish and unkind. But I want to dance and sing, I want a career as a performer and whatever you think of me, I won’t give up on that.’

  ‘Have you told Janet about your success?’

  She looked away. ‘No, I haven’t decided what to say. However I put it she’ll think badly of me and, surprising as it might seem, I don’t want that. I still want to sing and dance with her, we get on well and as a duet we’re fine. It isn’t enough though. I want a solo career.’

  ‘You want everything, Shirley.’ He spoke without anger. ‘You treat people badly and want them to remain your friends, you want to hang on to Janet in case your solo career fails, and what about me? I’m useful as an escort to get you home safely at night – except when you meet someone more interesting.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Joseph. But I can’t offer you anything more. You’re right, I do need you. But as you say, only as a support, not as the love of my life.’

  ‘Have I asked for more than friendship?’ he demanded and she was surprised at the harshness of his voice. ‘Have I ever given any indication of wanting more?’

  ‘Well no, but—’

  ‘Don’t flatter yourself ! I am concerned about you travelling home alone at night, that’s all. Right?’

  ‘Joseph, I’m glad of your friendship and I value it. I’ll never treat you so rudely again. I don’t want anything more, there isn’t room in my life for love affairs. I want a career more than I want anything else. Love is for later. You can understand that, can’t you?’

  ‘Just don’t step on too many people or travel alone for too long, or you’ll find one day that it’s too late to find love. Success can offer years of fame and glory followed by years of loneliness.’

  Suddenly angry at his preaching disapproval, she said. ‘I’ll take that chance! I could have years of success followed by more years of success, have you thought of that?’

  ‘Hold on to some friends, Shirley, just in case.’ he said quietly as he left.

  She felt a bit tearful after he had gone, his words a reminder of the need to go and explain to Janet, but what could she say?

  A letter came on Monday asking her to attend a meeting during which the programme for the concert would be arranged. Taking it with her, she went to see Janet on Sunday morning. On the way she went through a series of inventions and unconvincing stories in her head, and in the end told her friend the truth.

  At first Janet looked hurt but then she relaxed her shoulders and said, ‘I don’t really blame you. I know I’m not in your league.’

  ‘Janet, don’t be so nice about it! I treated you badly and I’m ashamed.’

  ‘I am hurt by what you did. I just wish you’d told me how you felt. I’d have come to support you, I’ll be proud of the small part I played if you are a success. I don’t have your ambition; for me it was a bit of fun.’

  ‘Will you come to the meeting? I put our names down as a song and dance duo.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Please. We can do our usual dance routine, know it backwards we do.’

  ‘We didn’t take part in the audition so how can we be included?’

  ‘I put our names down. I told them it was a condition of my taking part.’ She was lying but what did that matter if it was a comfort to Janet? ‘And another thing, I think I should change my name to something more snappy. What about Jane? Jane and Janet, The Two Jays, what d’you think?’

  They went on the following evening and once again, it was Joseph who went with them as it was likely to finish late. Hetty was there and again Bleddyn accompanied her.

  As uninvolved onlookers, Bleddyn and Hetty thought the whole thing was chaotic. There were people pushing their way through the crowd of anxious would-be performers first one way then another, hands filled with sheaves of papers, calling for various people to identify themselves. A pianist strummed a few bars of a tune then someone would ask for something different and he would shuffle his papers while answering shouted instructions from one or another of the organisers. In a corner, Shirley and Janet practised their steps, bumping into others doing the same. Although it was a confusion without any semblance of order, there was something very exciting about it and for Hetty, knowing her daughter was an important part of it, the mood was intoxicating.

  No one sang or performed their complete act. A few sang a couple of bars just to get the correct key. Shirley and Janet did a brief introduction to their act as it hadn’t been seen by the compere, and gradually the list was made up in order of performance. They were all asked to attend more rehearsals over the following few days to ensure that the standard was high enough.

  ‘I hope Mam can cover for me in the shop.’ Shirley whispered. ‘How will you manage at the café?’

  ‘I’ll manage – somehow,’ Janet said, pulling a face as she thought of th
e useless Lilly and wondered if Mrs Denver might oblige.

  As Shirley and Janet were leaving, Max walked in having been invited by Eirlys to hear some of the acts.

  ‘I hear you sang my song for the audition and you were marvellous,’ he said, kissing Shirley on the cheek.

  ‘Wonderful song,’ she said with a smile.

  They all walked home together and Joseph. Bleddyn and Max were invited into the flat for a hot drink and to discuss the situation. Joseph seemed ill at ease and stood in a corner as though anxious to be gone. He didn’t stay long and after promising to be the girls’ escort if needed, waved at them all and left.

  Max promised to be there for Shirley’s rehearsal and she determined to do her best, just as though she were singing to an audience. His song deserved the best she could give.

  She was so excited she knew she wouldn’t sleep. Even the thought of her early start dealing with the newspapers wouldn’t work tonight. She curled up in bed and wrote to Freddy. She had to tell someone, boast about her success, or she would burst.

  * * *

  Teresa Love was angry. When Morgan had come home from work so late on the day he had visited his daughter, he had been subdued. He had said very little but she knew Eirlys had made him think about Teresa’s presence there and maybe advised him that she should leave. He didn’t speak except to complain, and made it clear that their food was not what he’d been used to when Annie was alive. He criticised the untidiness in the house and said he couldn’t go to work again with a shirt that was unironed apart from the bit that showed underneath his jacket. She had been as nice to him as she could, making him a sandwich which he didn’t eat and leading him up to their bedroom with promises that normally delighted him. He wanted nothing to do with any of it, turning on his side away from her and pretending to sleep.

  In the days that followed things hadn’t improved. Now she was facing the fact that her time here might be over. She wasn’t going to beg him to let her stay. It was time she moved on anyway; it was never a good idea to stop in one place too long. A year was beginning to seem like a lifetime. Better to get out before the roof falls in, was one of her expressions. This time ‘the roof’ was the mountain of debts she had built up that would soon crash down on her.

  After sending the boys off to school, she took money from Stanley’s money box and went into Cardiff. Instinct told her where to go and within four hours she had earned enough to put Stanley’s cash back and buy herself a good meal in a smart restaurant, where she picked up another client with whom to spend the night. Let Morgan worry, it might make him appreciate her a bit more. If Eirlys thought the worst of her, well, what did it matter if she proved her right? Superior little bitch, she wasn’t important and, if he kept up this miserable mood, neither was Morgan!

  She stayed out all the following day and narrowly avoided an arrest when talking to the driver of a car, lifting her skirt to entice him. Weary and ready for a row, she walked into the house to find Eirlys there with roasted potatoes being lifted out of the oven and some sausages sizzling on a serving dish, with vegetables being drained by Morgan. The three boys sat at the table, scrubbed and ready to eat.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Morgan demanded.

  ‘Having some fun!’ she retorted.

  ‘Mum loves a bit of fun, don’t you, Mum?’ Percival said in his solemn manner.

  ‘Shut up and get on with yer dinner!’ she snapped. ‘I don’t want none of that muck. I’m going out for a decent meal.’ She went upstairs, threw off her clothes, redressed and went out.

  The meal was eaten in silence broken only by Percival’s half-muttered complaint about the hard edges of the potatoes boverin’ him, but he was hushed by Stanley and, head down in misery, he ate them, a protest in every movement of his little jaw. Eirlys said nothing. She didn’t want to be there and certainly didn’t want to have to explain to Teresa that her eldest son had come to her flat begging her to help when his mum had disappeared.

  * * *

  Joseph went home one day and was surprised when his mother was waiting for him at the door. She was tearful as she told him that Dolly had become much worse. The doctor had been and warned her that Dolly might not survive more than a week, two weeks at the most. In a state of shock, Joseph stared at his mother. Knowing Dolly was terminally ill hadn’t really prepared him for her death. It wasn’t something that could be rehearsed. When it happened it would be a shock, just as the warning that her days were numbered was a shock. Warnings like this were not in any way a rehearsal; there was always the thought that a miracle might happen and she might recover. No one could rehearse grief, he thought sadly.

  ‘I should have been here,’ he groaned, hurrying through to the front bedroom where she lay. Mrs Beynon stood back while Joseph knelt at the bedside of his wife, stroking her white hand and murmuring apologies for his absence.

  Dolly was asleep and Joseph watched her for a while. He felt calm as he went to where his mother stood folding things that didn’t need folding and smoothing things that were already smooth.

  ‘Well, Mam,’ he whispered. ‘We’re going to have to face it. I’m going to miss her more than people would imagine.’ He held her tightly and said sadly. ‘After all the hours I’ve spent with her, reading, talking, or just watching her sleeping, it will be empty here without her.’

  ‘Don’t talk as though she’s already gone,’ his mother whispered back as they left the room. ‘The doctors don’t know everything. Miracles do happen.’

  ‘Not this time they don’t. We have to stop pretending, Mam.’

  As he lay in bed that night, he thought about the freedom that would be his when Dolly had gone. He didn’t feel free; he felt bereft.

  Unable to sleep he got up, dressed and went for a walk. He didn’t have any destination in mind, but found himself outside the newsagent, looking up at the windows of the flat above, where Shirley lived with her mother. He turned away and wandered through the town and out to the popular beach where the humped shapes of the canvas-covered rides were barely visible in the uncertain light of the morning.

  There was no one about and he sat for a while on the sea wall, staring unseeing towards the sea. Below him the rides were locked up and silent. One or two of the stalls had toppled slightly in the soft sand; somewhere there was the tinkling sound of a toy windmill blown along the promenade by the slight breeze.

  The smell of the wet sand brought to his mind childhood memories of summers when the pinnacle of achievement was a well-built castle with a moat. He smiled as he remembered the endless and futile trips to and from the edge of the tide, with buckets of water to fill the unfillable channels.

  He went slowly back home, passing the newsagent where he guessed Shirley would be sorting out the morning deliveries. He was tempted to go in and talk to her but decided against it. He wasn’t ready to talk about Dolly, not yet. Besides, he was needed at home where Dolly would probably be waking. He began to hurry. He wanted to be there when she opened her eyes. Her eyes glowed when she woke and saw him beside her.

  * * *

  Eirlys was kept busy with the routine of the office and the added burden of plans for the summer of entertainments. She passed responsibility for some of the smaller events to others so she could concentrate on the larger, more important occasions, like the grand open-air concert. There were the school choirs’ concerts, pet shows, baby competitions and the fun day in the park with many sporting events booked: a women’s football match with the players wearing long skirts, a Donkey Derby courtesy of Bernard Gregory with Ronnie Castle giving the commentary, plus dozens of other plans in which streets arranged their own fun.

  Already the atmosphere in the town had been lifted, although the telegrams continued to arrive telling of death, injury and imprisonment of loved ones. At least the activities helped to take people’s minds from the dread of further bad news. The Union flag and the Welsh Dragon were displayed and many shopkeepers filled their windows with what goods they had to sell, inte
rspersing them with photographs of local heroes and the most encouraging items of news cut from newspapers and magazines like Picture Post and Illustrated and John Bull.

  When Eirlys wrote to Ken, she told him of these things and he wrote back and told her that although he missed her dreadfully, she had been right to return. She was helping the people of her town. The war was not only fought on the battlefields, he told her, repeating the words of others.

  Using the excuse of long hours spent at work, Eirlys didn’t see much of her father, although from her occasional meeting with the three boys, she knew that things were not going well.

  ‘Can you come and cook us some roast ’taters again?’ Harold asked one day when she saw them on their way home from school.

  ‘Better than that, ask your mother if you can come to see me on Saturday and we can have a meal, then go and see what’s happening over on the beach.’

  This was arranged and she called for the boys without actually going inside the house that had once been her home. She was upset at the untidy appearance of the boys. Their clothes had been carelessly washed and showed little evidence of ever having seen a iron. Percival’s shirt lacked two buttons and she wondered if the limited contents of her sewing box would include replacements. In case it didn’t, she stopped at the draper and bought buttons and thread and a few other items she thought she might need.

  Back at the flat, where a tempting aroma of rabbit stew filled the air, she persuaded the boys to allow her to iron their shirts while they waited for the food to cook. To her surprise they ate everything she placed before them, even Percival.

  ‘We ain’t ‘ad no breakfast,’ Harold informed her. ‘Mam says we’d waste your food if we didn’t come real hungry.’

  With lips tight with disapproval, Eirlys refilled their plates.

  They went to the beach and Eirlys gave them money for several rides before Bleddyn spotted them and allowed them several more without charge. Tired, sticky and contented, they caught the bus back into town, then walked the rest of the way home.