Holidays at Home Omnibus

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

  ‘I’ll help you,’ she said at once.

  ‘Not this time.’ How could he allow her to see the marks of the brutality he had suffered, or smell the filth that seemed to ooze from his skin?

  Easing himself out of the chair and away from the fireplace, he moved towards the stairs. ‘Please, darling, I need to sleep alone until I feel more human. Please don’t think I don’t want to be with you, I do, desperately, but not for a while.’

  ‘Let me help you upstairs, at least let me help that much,’ she begged. Together they climbed the stairs and into the bedroom where he collapsed, still dressed, on to the bed. He fell deeply asleep at once and she pulled off his clothes and covered his dirt-stained body and left him, trying to hide her tears from his father.

  When he woke the afternoon of the following day, Beth was sitting beside the bed, having refused to leave him for a moment. She called down to Bernard who came up the stairs with a bowl of soup and some freshly baked bread.

  They helped Peter to sit up and eat a little, before allowing him to go back to sleep. On the following day he was able to sit up and although he protested, Beth and his father insisted on washing him. When he turned over and they saw his back it was almost impossible for them not to cry out in horror, but keeping her voice calm, Beth washed him and soothed the dreadful injuries with ointment and begged him to let her send for a doctor.

  ‘No doctor,’ he said. ‘No one must know what I do or where I go. It’s imperative that my work is secret.’

  Two days later he rose at dawn and dressed and stood in the garden looking out at the slowly wakening day. Beth found him there and slipped an arm into his.

  ‘I have some bad news,’ he said, putting an arm around her and drawing her close. ‘If I tell you, you mustn’t repeat it.’

  She waited in silent dread for him to tell her.

  ‘It’s your cousin, Taff Castle. He was in the same escape party as me. We escaped as we were being taken from one prison camp to another. I got away but, sorry, my darling. Taff was shot. There was nothing I could do. If I’d stayed to see what had happened, I’d have been caught again too.’

  ‘He was wounded?’ she asked, even though the look on his tired face told her different.

  ‘I – I’m sure he was killed. I expect Evelyn will have the dreaded telegram soon, but I can’t prepare her or his father, warn them, although I wish I could. I mustn’t let anyone know what I do, or many more good and brave men and women could die.’

  Later the following day he felt strong enough to go out and although the season was over, he walked with the troop of his father’s donkeys to the beach, strolling at their haphazard pace, wearing clothes that hung on him, a battered old panama hat of his father’s on his head.

  The beach was empty, summer long gone, but he walked the length of the bay across the sands as though dreaming of better days to come when laughter would be the strongest emotion and fear only experienced by children on the rides.

  Beth watched him surreptitiously, and thought he looked older than his father. What had happened to him she would never know, but she shuddered as her imagination ran riot. Two weeks later, as October brought cold winds that knocked the leaves from the trees in a glory of autumn colours, Peter went back. Beth returned to help in the shop and grieved.

  Nine

  The Castle family were devastated by the news of Taff’s death. Bleddyn heard from a distraught Evelyn when she ran to Brook Lane with the telegram held in her trembling hands.

  ‘Read it. Tell me it isn’t true, that there’s a chance they’re mistaken,’ she sobbed. Bleddyn felt a cold chill run through his body but knew that at that moment, his task, his final duty as Taff’s father, was to comfort Evelyn. His crying, hidden inside, would erupt later.

  Sitting her down, making the inevitable tea, he called a neighbour to sit with her while he went to find Beth. After walking Evelyn back home and making sure Beth could stay a while, he went back and threw himself on the bed and cried, asking why Taff had to die fighting in some foreign land when all the boy ever wanted was to work on the sands and enjoy watching others having fun. Innocent and carefree and now gone for ever.

  Within hours the rest of the family were told. Bleddyn’s brother Huw came and stayed with him, Marged made food and wished there were a magical wand to take away the pain. Taff and Johnny, cousins to her own four, Lilly, Ronnie, Beth and Eynon, had grown up together. Bleddyn’s loss was no less hers and Huw’s.

  For a while friends and family were afraid to enjoy themselves. The mourning was a balance between life going on and grief for the young life lost. Having no formal funeral to end the first stage of grieving made it worse. Like thousands of others, they were in limbo, waiting for some finale to Taff’s short life which didn’t come.

  Lilly was crying when she met Sam Edwards in the park and he walked her home to Sidney Street. When she stepped inside Marged saw the young man and asked Lilly who he was. As Sam was leaving, Marged called him back and invited him inside.

  There were introductions and the usual politenesses as Marged and Huw offered him tea to thank him for looking after their distressed daughter.

  When he had gone, the questions began. ‘Who is he?’ ‘Where did you meet him?’ and ‘Is he married?’ being among the first. Enjoying the attention, Lilly told her about Sam and his injuries and his interest in her and Phyllis. Every detail she had gleaned was trotted out and embellished and before the day was out, several members of her family had the impression that there was a strong romance in the making, an impression Lilly did not deny.

  Having no one to love her was sad. Wherever she looked there seemed to be couples, and men in uniform with girls on their arms made her solitary state very obvious. Having a pleasant young man, and a wounded hero at that, to call her boyfriend was better, even if it was little more than pretence.

  She met him the following day and invited him home for tea. Then he told her he was recovered from his injuries and was going back to his unit. She cried after he had left and at once her mother offered sympathy.

  ‘Just when I thought I’d found happiness, he’s leaving me,’ Lilly wailed.

  ‘You can write. Sam seemed very fond of you and he’d love to have someone to write to,’ Marged said. ‘And he’ll have leave. Just think how exciting it will be, looking forward to letters and his visits. It’s very romantic having a boyfriend in the forces.’

  ‘Oh yeh? Think what happened to our Taff.’ She felt ashamed when she saw her mother’s face crumple with distress and added softly, ‘You know how upset we all are, Taff was like a brother. I wouldn’t want to get fond of someone and lose them like we lost our Taff, Mam.’ She thought too of Philip, the father of her child and whom she had believed she might have one day married.

  For a while she tried to avoid Sam, determined not to become what her mother called a grass widow, having to be loyal to someone she rarely saw and who could disappear overseas any day. Then, one rainy day, she went out, pushing Phyllis in her pram, and headed for the park. She didn’t think Sam would be there, but sitting on ‘their’ bench under a large umbrella was a man in a dark raincoat and trilby. She thought it was Sam and went across. She had missed him and was sorry she had avoided meeting him over the past three days.

  ‘Sam,’ she said, but when she drew close she saw it was Sam’s father.

  She shared his umbrella and he told her that at his son’s request, he had sat on the bench every afternoon for three days, hoping she would come.

  ‘Sam was called back with only hours’ notice. There wasn’t time to tell you he was leaving and I didn’t like to call on you at home in case you thought it impertinent,’ he explained. ‘I wasn’t sure how friendly you two were.’

  ‘I’d like to write to him,’ Lilly found herself saying, regretting the words almost as soon as they were uttered. Now she would have to write and she was Sam’s girl and would have to wait for him. It was definitely romantic but also a restriction on her hope of fin
ding someone who wasn’t going away, who would accept Phyllis, and marry her.

  Sam Senior was telling her how pleased his son would be and when he offered to give her his address, she smiled and said that would be lovely.

  ‘If you walk home with me now, I’ll write it out. I can’t remember it,’ the man said ruefully. ‘All those initials and numbers get me confused.’

  Lilly went in and stood while Sam Senior searched for pen and paper, her coat and Phyllis’s pram dripping on the hall carpet. She looked around her at what seemed to be a very comfortable home. Sam’s attractions were increasing minute by minute.

  She knew that Sam’s mother was dead, and wondered who did the housework. She suspiciously wondered whether Sam might propose just so they had a housekeeper. That thought did not appeal, but perhaps they were wealthy and employed servants. It all smelled nicely of lavender polish.

  As she walked home, indifferent to the continuing rain, Lilly began to dream.

  * * *

  Shirley and Janet attended further rehearsals and were given their parts. Shirley’s a surprisingly important role, which included a solo. Janet was contented to be told she would appear in the chorus.

  ‘All those pretty dresses!’ she said delightedly.

  ‘Janet, I don’t know whether I can face it!’ Shirley said, her hands covering her cheeks, her eyes wide with alarm. ‘Me up there all alone on a stage in a huge theatre filled with mothers and kids, and singing with a proper orchestra. I’m terrified! I’ll have to write and tell them it was a mistake and I can’t do it.’

  ‘Of course you’ll do it and enjoy every moment.’

  ‘What if Beth can’t mind the café?’

  ‘We’ll get someone else.’

  ‘What if I forget the words?’

  ‘Then hum!’ Janet laughed. ‘Come on. Shirley, it isn’t like you to suffer nerves.’

  ‘I know, but this is IT. I could be heading for great things and if I mess it up—’

  ‘I’ll give you a job washing up in the market café. There, that threat should make you do your best!’

  Joseph called that evening and as she was excited about the part she had been given and felt the need to boast. Shirley invited him in. Her mother was out with Bleddyn, comforting him and trying to persuade him that life was continuing for the rest of the town’s widows and bereaved fathers and it had to for him too.

  ‘I’ve come to say I’m sorry,’ Joseph said, offering her some Dairy Box chocolates, ‘and to wish you luck with the pantomime and anything else you’re offered.’

  ‘Thank you, but why the change of attitude?’ she asked with a suspicious frown.

  ‘I realised a few nights ago that my attitude was down to jealousy.’

  ‘Rubbish! You don’t want to sing or dance, so how could you be jealous of my success?’

  She hadn’t invited him to sit and he stood in the doorway undecided whether or not to walk into the room. ‘I’ve worked in the same job for years with no prospect of promotion. I’ve never been further than Cardiff. London might as well be a foreign country. I think I was jealous of your determination to do something most would think impossible.’

  She gestured towards a chair and went forward to poke some life into the fire.

  ‘Let me do that,’ he said, taking the poker from her hand, grasping hers for longer than was necessary. He piled more coal on to the freshened fire and stood beside her as the flames slowly began to lick around the new fuel.

  ‘Will you forgive me, Shirley? Can we start again?’

  ‘I won’t have time to see you once the panto starts so what’s the point?’

  ‘You’ll need someone to escort you if you’re going to live at home and work evenings in Cardiff. I’ll be there every night, I promise. I love you, Shirley, and I truly want to look after you.’

  She turned towards him and she slid her arms around his waist, lowering her head on to his chest where she could hear the beating of his heart, more because she wanted him to see her and Janet safely home than because she needed the comfort. He’d played enough games with her – why shouldn’t she do the same? An illusion of love wasn’t a bad thing either. Better than loneliness, and she had missed the fun she’d had with Freddy.

  A few days after their reunion. Shirley received a letter from the entertainment committee asking her and Janet to sing and dance in a concert the following weekend. The organisers had been let down by two acts and The Two Jays had been recommended to take their place.

  ‘I don’t know that I like us being substitutes for other acts,’ Shirley said when she and Janet discussed it later that day.

  ‘If it was for anything else other than for the Red Cross I wouldn’t do it.’ Janet agreed. ‘Damned cheek! But it is a good cause, parcels for prisoners. Max would have done it without hesitation. I say we should. Agreed?’

  ‘Agreed.’

  Joseph called into the shop and was told about the Saturday evening concert.

  ‘I’ll be in the audience,’ he promised Shirley, ‘and I’ll be there to walk you and Janet home.’

  Janet was not as confident as Shirley. As she lay in bed the night before the concert she wondered if she could survive it. Before going on stage she always had to prepare herself, talk herself into the excited mood that the audience saw and loved. To sing and dance without nerves, without inhibitions, took a few minutes of confidence building that no one apart from Shirley would ever know, except Max, and perhaps Ken, who understood her so well.

  Since Max had gone, this building-up was more difficult and knowing that tomorrow she was going to sing one of Max’s songs would be hard for her. She told herself she was singing for him, singing his songs to keep his memory alive, but she would never again sing ‘Waiting For Yesterday’. Her yesterday was no longer there for her, however long she waited.

  The report of Taff’s death, and seeing Ronnie and the rest of his family with their faces distorted by grief, had brought memories of Max’s death flooding back for her. Yesterday had been filled with promise but it was gone for ever. She thought for a moment about Ken. Perhaps if he hadn’t married Eirlys they might have become more than friends. They had so much in common that a partnership would have been exciting and— She stopped there. Thinking about Ken Ward was stupid and could lead to nothing but trouble. Although it was painful, she forced herself to think again of Max.

  She longed to be able to go back to yesterday, to see him pushing his way through the crowd, towering above the rest, his eyes, filled with desire, locked on to hers as he hurried, arms widening, to hold her close. Tears fell and sleep was a long time coming.

  * * *

  When Shirley and Janet discussed their clothes for the concert, they were influenced by having seen some of the pretty costume designs for the pantomime. This made them more daring and they wore shorter skirts and more skimpy tops than they previously would, in a cheerful red.

  They painted their legs with fake tan, brushing it on in brisk strokes with a piece of sponge. Then they each carefully painted on the seams for the other. Having seen and been involved in more professional dance routines, they had changed their act a little too. Bending forward to offer glimpses of cleavage, kicking their shapely legs that little bit higher. After no more than the early rehearsals for the pantomime, they were already considering themselves professionals and a class apart from the other performers.

  From the wings, they watched as an elderly couple of ballad singers went on, and a juggling act and Sammy Richards the carpenter, appearing tonight as a Tyrolean accordion player, and they knew that when they ran on to the stage as they usually did, their entrance would make everyone take notice.

  Their act came just before the interval and they performed a song and dance act they had rehearsed thoroughly. They had an encore and the applause lasted for a long time as the enthusiastic audience begged for more.

  ‘I don’t know which I like best, dancing or singing.’ Shirley said as they ran, breathless with excitement, a
nd headed for the changing room.

  Joseph was so furious he couldn’t think straight. How dare Shirley embarrass him so? She and Janet had flirted with the audience and made themselves look like cheap tarts. He overheard some young soldiers remarking on their beautiful legs. Legs were for private moments, not for exposing for anyone to see. How could she do it to him? Still fuming, he made his way to the entrance and waited, with anger bubbling inside, bitter and destructive.

  They didn’t come out, and he heard the band start the introduction to the second half. Surely they weren’t waiting till the end? The Two Jays indeed. Her name was Shirley Downs and if she behaved herself she would one day be Shirley Beynon, but not if she continued to behave in such a disgusting manner.

  Nerves jumped at the thought of not making her his wife. He deserved her and wanted her to be a normal wife, running his home and caring for him. After putting up with Dolly all those years, he was entitled to have a wife who was fit, strong and, he added grimly, one who would behave herself.

  Slipping back inside he heard the master of ceremonies announce that The Two Jays. Jane and Janet, who were rehearsing for the Cardiff pantomime, had generously agreed to sing another number just before the final act.

  Joseph went to the nearest pub and drank until the time the concert was due to end. Repeatedly he glanced at his watch as his fury increased. She was making a fool of him and it had to stop. But how? He had discouraged her and told lies about the agent and that hadn’t stopped her, so what would? He didn’t care how she was stopped but she had to give up on this sordid prancing about half naked in front of men.

  Inside the theatre the girls were given a great send-off and their eyes were sparkling with the success of the evening as they ran for the second time to the dressing room.

  ‘Any doubts have gone after that,’ Shirley said, her face glowing with happiness. ‘London, here we come, eh?’

  ‘Good luck. Shirley. You’ve got a fantastic voice and you’ll go far. I’ll follow as I can but it’s you with the talent.’ Janet hugged her friend. ‘I wish you every success, I really do.’