Holidays at Home Omnibus

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

  ‘We’ll see.’ Without another word she left and for a moment disappointment shadowed Hannah’s face, then she remembered. When she was young, as with many other families, ‘we’ll see’, usually meant yes.

  * * *

  Eirlys was a little worried. Peter hadn’t been home for several weeks and she had received no letters from him. She had the feeling that, in spite of his reassurances, he had been called to return to France and work in occupied territory. His knowledge, built up since 1938, as well as his ability to speak French and German, meant his skills were of great value.

  Hiding her fear from his father, she wrote to Peter regularly and made a joke of his failure to get in touch.

  ‘He’s so engrossed with his latest group of trainees he’s forgotten us,’ she said to Bernard one morning as they watched the postman once more passing by without stopping.

  ‘Do you suppose they’re young women this time and that’s why he can’t tear himself away?’

  ‘Highly likely.’ Bernard said. ‘Another week and he’ll have forgotten us completely.’ He smiled then, knowing that the mild banter was an attempt to hide their worries and was failing to do so. ‘Try not to be alarmed at the absence of a letter.’ he said. ‘This is one time when no news is good news. Bad news travels fastest.’

  ‘We haven’t heard anything more about Eynon.’ she told him.

  ‘Same rule. You’d hear if anything bad had happened.’

  ‘I keep dreaming that Peter has gone over there to rescue him and they’ll both walk in together, laughing at our fears. You don’t think he really is in France, do you? Looking for Eynon?’

  ‘From what I understand, your young brother can take care of himself.’

  * * *

  In a partially burned barn, twelve miles from the northern French coast, Eynon was trying to do just that.

  Fifteen miles north-east of him, Peter was walking along a country lane, a farm labourer by his side, both singing bawdy songs and obviously very drunk.

  A German sentry stopped them, and warned them to be quiet or they would be arrested as it was almost time for curfew. Thanking him, laughing like only the inebriated can, they climbed a fence and crossed a field towards some woods. As soon as they were out of sight, their ‘drunkenness’ left them.

  * * *

  Janet finally read Ken’s letter and wept for the loss of her baby and for the loss of Ken. Now it was impossible to ask him to leave Eirlys. Too much pain had been caused by their love for it ever to work out happily. She had written telling him what she had done and she wrote again, this time giving her decision that their love was well and truly buried in the past. It had been a foolish mistake, an indulgence, something that should never have happened. When the letter was posted, she felt marginally better but wondered if she would be as strong if they ever met again.

  Ken struggled to cope with the news of the abortion when Janet’s final letter reached him. Janet’s words hurt him but in a way were also a relief. He couldn’t sleep, and surreptitiously reread the letter while Eirlys slept beside him. Janet was right about the pain their love had caused. Prolonging it by making it known to everyone, would have added to that pain. Watching Eirlys sleeping contentedly beside him, he knew that she didn’t deserve the treatment he had been planning to hand out.

  It was two am, and sleep was far from his mind. Sliding out of the bed, he went downstairs and began to write letters to the artistes whom he wanted to appear in the grand concert to raise funds for Red Cross parcels to prisoners of war. He wondered whether Shirley would be well enough to take part. If she had recovered her strength and her voice, he would give her top billing to end the evening for him, but he doubted whether it were possible. The accident had mined her confidence and without that she was unable to let her powerful voice ring out.

  It was going to be the largest entertainment he had organised and, as usual, he wished Max had been there to help him. His invariable good humour and patience had made everything easier, and more fun. Thinking of Max brought his mind back to Janet and he stared at the paper for a long time without writing a word.

  Eirlys went with him to look at the stage of the theatre he had booked. It was daunting, seeing all those seats and knowing he had to fill them. With the assistance of the manager they worked out the finances and went away sobered by the task he had given himself.

  ‘So many tickets to sell. You don’t realise how large these places are until you see them empty,’ Ken said.

  ‘Come and buy me a cup of tea and we’ll make lists of what we have to do,’ Eirlys said, pleased to be involved with his work. Usually his concerts took place miles away. This one was on home ground and organising large-scale entertainment was something she had experience of. Ken gratefully accepted her help; his concerts were usually arranged by several people and played to readily available audiences. This large-scale public offering was dauntingly different and his alone.

  Taking a notebook from her bag. Eirlys began to list their various tasks. ‘It comes under the heading of Holidays at Home, so I can use some of the facilities at the council offices,’ she said.

  ‘Does it?’

  ‘It does now!’

  They worked out the various ways of advertising the event and the cost of the tickets and where the tickets would be sold, and decided that was enough for one day. It was when they were coming out of the café that they bumped into Janet.

  ‘Janet! What a lovely surprise,’ Eirlys said, hugging her. ‘What are you doing home?’

  ‘I came to see Shirley and give her a pep talk. It seems she’s allowed that Joseph Beynon to make her feel useless and I’m here to talk sense into her.’

  Janet seemed uneasy, talking to her but with her eyes looking ahead of her as though anxious to be off.

  ‘We’ve been planning the Grand Concert for the eleventh of April. D’you think Shirley will be ready to sing?’ Eirlys asked. Then she looked at Ken, about to ask him to explain more fully. But when she looked at his face, then back at Janet, she had a chilling feeling. The way they were looking at each other, eyes filled with longing. It wasn’t friendship; there was something else.

  ‘I – I’ll leave you to explain to Janet. I’ll go and see Hannah.’ she said. She had to get away. She couldn’t face what their eyes were telling her.

  She didn’t go to the shop but instead went home. Locking herself in her room, she began to think about the times Ken and Janet had worked together. Was she imagining it, or were they in love?

  She heard Ken come in only moments after her and as he climbed the stairs so her heartrate increased. He was going to tell her goodbye. She would be alone with a baby. She’d be looking after her father and the three boys, but she would be alone.

  ‘You’ve guessed.’ Ken said as he came and stood beside er

  ‘I’ve guessed.’

  ‘You’ve only guessed a part of it. Janet and I did have a brief affair but it’s over. Believe me, Eirlys, it’s over. It probably happened because we were together so much, working together, mourning the death of Max. It happened and we both regret it, but it’s over and it won’t happen again.’

  ‘How can I believe that? I saw the way you looked at each other.’

  ‘The look we shared was guilt for deceiving you when we both love you.’ He took a deep breath and said with as much meaning as he was capable, ‘Eirlys, I love you, deeply and for ever.’

  She didn’t believe him but knew that somehow she had to face this, accept it as another casualty of war, and eventually put it behind her. The alternative, if he was speaking the truth, was misery for them all.

  * * *

  Ken went to see Shirley and together they went to a hall Ken had been given as a rehearsal room and she sang for him. She had Freddy Clements’ latest letter in her pocket and she held it tightly, like a talisman, as she went through three numbers with Ken playing accompaniment. By the third she was singing with all her power, the room echoing with the final note making the hair creep
on Ken’s neck. She hadn’t lost her talent.

  ‘Will you take top billing and end the concert for me?’ he asked, grinning widely. ‘Vera Lynn and Anne Shelton are busy and there’s no one else.’

  Clutching Freddy’s letter tightly she nodded. ‘Yes, I’m ready now.’

  Ken wanted to phone for a taxi to take her home but using a stick she determinedly walked to the bus stop and allowed him to help her on to the platform. People kindly made room for her and she sat, smiling, knowing that her life was back on course.

  When she alighted not far from Brook Lane Ken walked with her as far as her gate. The sound of voices singing reached their ears and they stopped and waited as a small group turned the corner. Morgan was striding along with Stanley singing enthusiastically, ‘Run, Rabbit Run’, with the low voice of Harold accompanying them. Singing a few words now and then was the solemn Percival, making no attempt to keep in tune, just about managing the rhythm but all on the same note.

  Forgetting his dismay at the thought of the noisy trio sharing the house, Ken laughed as he turned to follow them. ‘What a comedy act those three would make, eh?’

  * * *

  The day of the concert was overshadowed by the continued absence of Peter and the lack of further news about Eynon. A young airman knocked on Bernard’s door one evening and gave them a message purporting to come from Peter. ‘Buy two extra tickets for the concert on the eleventh of April,’ was all he said. Doubtfully, but with a hope so strong it became a physical ache, Bernard agreed. Eirlys block-booked twenty-six tickets.

  All the Castles would be there including Lilly and her new husband. Mrs Denver had willingly offered to look after baby Phyllis and Olive and Ronnie’s Rhiannon; she would put them to sleep in her home, using drawers in the absence of cots.

  Alice was there and Maude and Myrtle with Auntie Audrey and Wilf. Eirlys’s father arrived early and waited outside proudly accompanying the Three Musketeers. Beth and Bernard got ready, choosing to go on their bicycles. Others used the bus or walked, to wait outside until the doors opened.

  Joseph sat in a back seat and waited for Shirley to appear. From the conversations going on around him, he knew that, for most, Shirley Downs was the draw. He was ashamed to realise that he was hoping for her to fail, so she would come to him, need him, admit that her happiness lay in the role of wife and not performer. How could someone with no background expect to reach such heights? Poor, foolish girl. She was bound to fail and she had to know he was there for her when she did.

  * * *

  Ken stood giving final instructions to the orchestra and performers, wanting to make sure that the timing was precise so there was no break between the acts.

  Mainly due to the efforts of Eirlys and her friends and the Castle family, particularly Bleddyn, the concert was sold out. If Ken was nervous it didn’t show, except perhaps in the way he shouted more loudly than usual, and the way he clenched his jaw. This was what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. The agony was excruciating, the excitement unbeatable. As the audience began to troop in, many uniforms present among the suits and dresses, with children’s voices piping above the rest as they found their seats and searched pockets for sweets, he could think of no greater happiness. He blew a kiss at Eirlys as she walked along the aisle and slid between the rows with her father and the boys. Together they’d be a perfect team. He was certain of that now.

  Eirlys saw him as he slipped behind the curtain, nervous but fulfilled. She mused on the many hasty marriages the war had encouraged. Marriages wouldn’t fail for lack of love but perhaps because there was no time to strengthen that love with anticipation and long-term plans, and by setting down memories. Living for the moment had its drawbacks. With no yesterdays, the tomorrows lacked a certain joy.

  Bleddyn looked along the row of faces: all his family plus those he cared for were there. Hetty anxiously watching the curtain, knowing her daughter was backstage, hoping she would cope. Hannah and her girls, taking in the atmosphere ready to write and tell his son Johnny about it. His brother Huw with Marged, trying to forget their fears for their son. Eynon. Their daughter Beth, afraid for her husband Peter and being brave for his father’s sake.

  He hugged Hetty and said softly, ‘What a fortunate man I am, Hetty. Thank you so much for the happiness you’ve brought me.’

  ‘Shirely and I have never been more content, my darling. Never.’

  Beth sat with an empty seat either side of her. She knew there wasn’t a chance of Peter timing his arrival so precisely that he could appear in time for the concert, but she had to keep faith with him. A seat apart from her, Bernard understood.

  The acts were well received. Everyone there had come with the intention of enjoying themselves. The comedians had never had such encouragement and the dancers and singers and acrobats and conjurers never more appreciated.

  Only Beth was distracted. She glanced towards the aisle time and again, foolishly hoping for a miracle, when for a miracle to happen was a chance in millions.

  The last act was announced and enthusiasm grew. When the curtains opened to an empty stage, with only a piano to be seen, the crowd fell silent. This was their girl, their local lass. The one they had been waiting for.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our very own star, Jane Downs!’

  As Shirley stepped out, using just one stick, and walked to the piano, the audience welcomed her to their hearts.

  As she sang the first few words, something in Joseph died. She was wonderful and he must have been stupid not to realise it. He looked around him at the faces rapt in admiration. She was world class, not a silly amateur as he had tried so hard to pretend. She was touching hearts with her voice. What a fool he’d been to imagine she could love someone like him. Trembling, ashamed, he sat there wanting to run away. He had to leave St David’s Well, he couldn’t face her now he had come to his senses. As the first song ended to tumultuous applause, he pushed his way out of the theatre and ran home.

  * * *

  It was as she prepared to sing her third song that curtains swished and the doors at the side opened and two men walked in. At once Beth recognised Peter, then she realised that the second man was her brother Eynon. She had been right, Peter had gone to bring him home.

  Shirley recognised them immediately as they moved along the front row, even though the stage light distorted her vision, and she began to clap. Then the whole family stood up and began to shout and cheer. The rest of the audience didn’t know what was going on, but if there was a celebration they were determined to be a part of it and they stood and cheered too, as Peter and Eynon moved along the row, kissing the family and shaking hands until they were sitting, one each side of a joyful Beth.

  When the tumult had settled down, Shirley began to sing again.

  She sang two more numbers, and when the clapping showed no sign of diminishing, she announced an encore. Clutching Freddy’s latest letter in her hand, she no longer wished for the return of yesterday as in Max’s beautiful song. She sang instead, ‘It’s a Lovely Day Tomorrow, Tomorrow is a Lovely Day’.

  For her and for many others who were beginning to join in, it would be true.

  Day Trippers

  One

  The small railway station was full of people waiting for the eleven o’clock train. Shoppers going into town to hunt for extra food to fill their sparsely stocked pantries in this third year of the war. In South Wales as in other places in the spring of 1942, shortages meant a constant search for extras. Besides the hopeful shoppers there were soldiers, sailors and airmen returning from leave, surrounded by their families, all self-consciously watching for the train, dreading saying goodbye. The uniforms were patches of dullness amid the light coats and dresses worn in defiance of the cold breeze by the many civilians. There were workers making their way to shops and offices, thankful it was a Saturday, a half-day for office girls, and even for the shop assistants there was the relief of knowing tomorrow was free.

  Three gir
ls were going on a day trip to St David’s Well, a seaside town where only limited restrictions on the beach meant it was still a place to have fun. Most beaches were barred to people, and many were mined against possible invasion, even though the imminent threat of Germans landing had eased, due to the remarkable efforts of the Royal Air Force.

  As Delyth Owen and Madge Howells worked in a shop, this Saturday off was a treat, a reward from their boss for the long hours they worked now that two male assistants had been called up. Madge was a widow. At eighteen her young husband had been killed in a convoy — only four months after their wedding — and since then Delyth spent a lot of time with Madge, trying to encourage her to look forward and not give in to unrelenting grief.

  Delyth was dark, with neatly styled short hair. She liked make-up and sometimes queued when special items arrived in one of the local shops. Madge rarely bothered, in spite of Delyth’s entreaties for her to make the best of herself. Since she had lost her husband, and with him the dreams of a home and children, Madge seemed to go through each day in a hazy indifference.

  Another girl waiting for the train that Saturday morning stood apart from the others, as though trying to hide herself and avoid being noticed. Vera Matthews was running away. For the day, at least. She had been meeting a married man and the previous evening his wife had found them, kissing, whispering foolish plans they had no intention of carrying out, and had hit her. That wasn’t the worst. She had also threatened to tell Vera’s parents, and Vera knew that meant a good walloping from her father, whose hands were the size of ping-pong bats to match his size twelve feet. Dad was a firm believer in punishment, although he was usually loving and kind — except when he felt one of his girls was in danger of going ‘off the rails’. Then, he came down on them hard. Getting themselves talked about or developing a reputation for being less than perfect in their behaviour with boys made him over-anxious, and then Vera and her four sisters would feel the power of his anger and distress.