Bernard provided chickens and most of the vegetables. The wedding cake was a three-tier sham made from cardboard, decorated with paint and topped with a bride-and-groom relic from someone’s attic. A late rose from Marged and Huw’s garden was laid across it and the result was pleasing, if not edible.
Alice looked lovely in borrowed finery, a white dress altered by Hannah to fit her slim figure and a veil already used by several neighbours.
The wedding was at two, and the plan was for the couple to leave for two days’ honeymoon at a small hotel further down the coast, and for family and friends to gather again in the evening to continue the celebrations without them.
Ken asked Hannah and Beth where Janet had gone. ‘I need her to take part in a concert and I’ve lost her address,’ he told them, taking out a small notebook.
They shook their heads in unison. Beth stared at him with a strange expression on her face, and alarm bells rang. She knew! She knew about Janet and himself being in love. He glanced around. How many other people knew? He thanked the girls and moved away. He tried to analyse how he felt about Eirlys finding out. Would it be a relief, a chance to be able to leave her and find Janet? Something tarnished the vision. Something he couldn’t define. He was fond of Eirlys and with the baby coming he had a responsibility, but was that all? Was that enough?
He longed to see Janet, to be reassured they were both still dreaming of being together for always. She had sometimes phoned him at a phone box at a certain time on a certain day, but no arrangement had been made and he had no way of getting in touch. He had written to the place where she had last worked. Perhaps someone would forward it to her, but he didn’t feel hopeful. Things were very confused, with secrecy at Army and Air Force camps more important than a letter to a Naafi girl.
* * *
Delyth had ignored Maldwyn’s plea for her to stay away from St David’s Well, and with Madge had been among the congregation at the church. Marged saw them and invited them to join the party later. Delyth took a few photographs and smiled as the beach photographer fussily told them to move away from his groupings and generally ordered everyone about. ‘Prima donna,’ she heard Bleddyn whisper to Huw.
While the guests were enjoying the wedding breakfast, to which they hadn’t been invited, Delyth and Madge sat on the beach below the café, from where they could hear the occasional burst of laughter as speeches were made and toasts proposed and drunk.
The day was warm, the breeze scented with past summers and echoing that special buzz of families crowding amiably together, enjoying the traditional pleasures. Fewer people colonised the sand and the atmosphere was calmer as the visitors had changed and consisted mainly of older people without the ties of children.
Maldwyn saw them as he went to join the wedding party after closing the flower shop. ‘I thought you were staying away,’ he said with a frown.
‘I couldn’t miss seeing the Castle wedding, could I?’
‘And I couldn’t come alone,’ Madge added. ‘We’ve been invited to the party later. Are you going?’
‘Yes. I haven’t been to a wedding before.’ He patted his pocket. ‘I bought them a little gift. A picture frame for one of their wedding photographs.’ He didn’t suggest going to the party together. He wasn’t happy about being close to Delyth, in case whoever was causing trouble was near. It gave him a sensation of unease to imagine someone watching him, and he was glad when the girls told him they were off to find something to eat before going to the evening celebration.
Delyth hid her disappointment. He was probably meeting Vera, she thought sadly.
Wedding guests were spilling out of the café both on to the cliff path and clambering down the metal steps on to the sand, with much laughter, evidence of the wine they had consumed. Delyth picked up her camera. ‘I didn’t bring my sketchbook.’ she explained. ‘I’m beginning to feel a bit conspicuous using it. So I brought a camera instead. It belongs to “Uncle” Trev.’ She emphasised the epithet as usual, to indicate her disapproval. ‘I took a few photographs at the church and as they went into the reception. There are a few shots left so I think I’ll finish them as this lot make their way down the steps, that should be a laugh. I’ll give them to Marged and Huw when they’re printed — if they’re good enough.’ Then she frowned as she examined the camera. ‘That’s funny, there’s only two left. I thought there were more.’ She shrugged, and hurried to where a stream of guests were still making their way down the steps, the women exaggerating the difficulties in their finery, which included high heels and tight skirts, and enjoying the ensuing laughter.
It was one of those days when it seems summer will never end. People strolled along, in no hurry to be home, stopping to lean on the strong sea wall and look back at the emptying sands, at the stalls now disappearing into their winter stores. A man was gathering litter, another collecting the deck-chairs and putting them into a lorry to be taken away until the spring. Two men were sweeping the promenade, whistling cheerfully as they worked, and as always there were groups of children with their arms filled with empty bottles and other finds: handkerchiefs, sunhats, coins, forgotten toys, buckets and spades and the flags with which children and adults decorated their ephemeral buildings. There was a forlorn look about the abandoned castles and channels as the tide crept up to wipe them smoothly away, cleaning the sand ready for another day.
Before leaving for their brief honeymoon, Alice and Eynon went to see her father. He sat with several others on a row of chairs against a wall in the day room. The room was sparsely furnished, just chairs, a couple of tables and a wireless playing softly in the background. The walls were pale cream, the woodwork a sombre dark green, and heavy curtains kept out much of the day’s sunshine. The smell was a cocktail of disinfectant and boiling cabbage, and as always Alice was upset from the moment she entered.
Colin Potter was leaning to one side and they could see that attempts had been made to prop him more comfortably with pillows. He saw them coming, his sharp eyes brightening, but he didn’t speak. They sat one each side of him and offered him a piece of sponge cake as a substitute for the wedding cake they hadn’t had. Quietly they told him about the celebration.
As always, he looked at his daughter and said, ‘No men in the house, mind.’
Alice looked at Eynon tearfully and he held her comfortingly in his arms. ‘Perhaps that’s the only way he can tell you he recognises you. He’s doing all he can to show you he knows you’re there and that he loves you.’
The thought cheered her. It meant a great deal to her to think she might be recognised by this shell of a man who had once been a strong, loving father.
They stayed awhile until, running out of subjects for their one-sided conversations, Alice kissed him and they left.
Arms around each other, they went to pick up their cases and walked to the train to start their journey to Tenby and a few days of rare and wonderful privacy. Then they would have just two nights in the home Alice had made, in two rooms of a house in Holby Street, before saying goodbye.
* * *
Maldwyn went back to Mrs Denver’s after the reception, and soon afterwards Vera arrived to change out of her waitress uniform, specially worn for the wedding, and put on a dress ready to go to the party. Vera wondered why Marged and Huw had invited so many people who were neither family nor close friends.
‘You and me, well, we’ve worked there, but Delyth and Madge, who are only day trippers? You’d think they’d want only their family there, wouldn’t you?’
‘With so many men and women in the forces it would be a bleak celebration,’ Maldwyn said. ‘This way the gaps will be less noticeable. People support each other with more than words. Besides, a party is always welcome.’
‘Of course. Bleddyn’s son was killed, wasn’t he, and his other son, Johnny, is far away and hasn’t been home in ages.’
‘It isn’t only the men. Women are being called up now, remember. Girls of seventeen are leaving home these days. That’s somet
hing that didn’t happen before the war, except for maids going into service. Eynon will be going back overseas as soon as the week is over. The thought in everyone’s mind — especially Alice’s — is that he might not come back. Being able to look back on an evening filled with dancing and laughter and friends having fun will be a help in the days to come.’
‘No one knows how long they’ll survive, do they? I don’t think I’d like to get attached to anyone until the war’s over. To find someone then lose them would be terrible.’
‘I don’t think everyone looks at it that way. Some are determined to enjoy what they can. Certainly those involved in the fighting.’
‘Still feeling guilty not being in uniform, Maldwyn?’ When he nodded, she went on, ‘Well I’m glad you didn’t go away.’
‘Are you?’
‘Of course.’ But she didn’t look at him: her eyes stared dreamily into space; she was already looking ahead to the party and the possibility of some fun.
* * *
Ken was going to Alice and Eynon’s wedding party and, although she had been invited, Eirlys had declined. Trying to look happy was exhausting and served no purpose. It was probably her imagination but everyone seemed to look at her as though guessing the sadness within her. She and Ken were hardly speaking and he was away from home even more than usual. He didn’t even bother to tell her where he was going or when he would be back. She dragged herself around the house, doing the usual cleaning and cooking, but she had no heart for any of it. Once there had been pleasure in making everything shine and filling the house with the smells of meals cooking, knowing her efforts were appreciated. Ken was indifferent to it all and made it clear he would rather eat before he came home and avoid sitting around the crowded table listening to the boys talking about their day — often with overloaded mouths.
She had left the church before the photographs were taken, walking home with the boys and urging them to get out of their tidy clothes before they were ruined with boisterous games. Ken returned an hour later. He didn’t come straight inside but hovered as though expecting someone. He was putting his key in the lock when he suddenly turned away and ran to the telephone box on the corner. Opening the door for him, she heard it ringing. Curious, she went to see why he had moved so hastily to answer it. Did he think it was for him? Ken didn’t notice her there and she stepped back in disbelief when she realised that he was speaking words of love. She stood, frozen to the spot, not wanting to know, yet unable to move away. Although his words came to her clearly, she didn’t learn who was at the other end of the conversation. She was trembling as she turned away.
Saddened, but in one way relieved to have confirmation of the real cause of his indifference, she went back to the house while the conversation went on, and didn’t respond when he came in and called cheerfully to let her know he was home.
She didn’t know what to do. There was an impulse to run away, to hide from the cruel truth of his betrayal, but another part of her wanted to shout, tell everyone how he had behaved: she wanted to hurt him, hit out at him for his disloyalty. She did nothing. She couldn’t tell her father and there was no one else with whom she wanted to share the shame that was partly hers.
* * *
The wedding party and dancing couldn’t have been accommodated in a small café, so a hall was booked, which had been decorated by Chapel’s Flowers. As usual, much of the display was made up from what could be gathered free, from the hedgerows. With autumn giving its beautiful swansong as the leaves changed colour before covering the ground with a rich carpet of red and gold, it was easily done. Maldwyn had even managed to cut branches of bramble, with attractive leaves and berries becoming part of the table decorations. Many commented and Marged told them all proudly that it was the work of one of her guests. On the table where Marged, Huw, Bleddyn and Hetty sat, he had placed a bowl of Chrysanthemums, but Bleddyn had moved them away, their pungent scent too strong a reminder of funerals. His thoughts were with Johnny, his only surviving son, and the reminder of Taff’s death was distressing.
There was the usual shortage of men and Maldwyn was much in demand. Delyth and Madge spent most of the evening dancing with each other. Vera hated to sit out a dance and made sure she had his attention. When she did find another partner, Maldwyn would take the opportunity to dance with each of them before being taken away again by Vera or another of the unattached females. Although they enjoyed the social occasion, and the rare excitement of staying away from home for the night, both girls were disappointed not to see some of Eynon’s Army friends there, offering the opportunity to flirt a little or even make a date with a boy who was handsome and free.
‘Even having someone to write to would be better than nothing.’ Delyth sighed.
‘Given up on Maldwyn then, have you?’
‘It seems unlikely he’ll give up on Vera.’ Delyth sighed again, looking towards the corner where Vera danced with both hands clasped behind Maldwyn’s head, hands ruffling the hair on the nape of his neck.
‘I don’t know what he sees in that tart,’ Madge said to comfort her.
‘D’you think she is a tart?’ Delyth asked, the implications of the word filling her heart with dismay. Until then she hadn’t thought of what Maldwyn and Vera might do in the lodgings they shared, and it shocked her. Madge’s description brought visions of Maldwyn and Vera writhing about on a bed, as she had seen her mother and Uncle Trev do one night when they thought she was asleep. She turned away to blot out the vision.
There was a break in the dancing and they were pleased to see Shirley being helped up on to the stage. She still had difficulty walking but her voice was as strong and melodious as ever and she sang three songs to great applause. They went up afterwards and congratulated her, then Vera pushed her way between them and began asking Shirley about where to go for singing lessons so she could perform too. Over Vera’s head, Shirley gave the slightest of winks, as though to share with them the amusement at the confidence Vera displayed.
Sammy Richards the carpenter was playing the accordion, people were beginning to hum the well-known melodies and the crowd was quietly happy when Ken walked in. At once Delyth was nervous. He had been at the church but she had hoped he wouldn’t be at the dance. With Eirlys unlikely to enjoy the party, she had expected him to stay home with her. She looked around the faces, trying to recognise the girl he had been quarrelling with that day in the park.
‘What a heel,’ Madge whispered. ‘There’s his poor wife expecting and he’s out enjoying himself. And I bet he’s still meeting that other woman.’
‘He frightens me,’ Delyth admitted. ‘I still think he might be the one trying to drive Maldwyn away.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘As a warning for me to keep quiet about his other woman.’
‘Sorry,’ Madge laughed. ‘That’s far too complicated for me.’ A young soldier approached and asked her to dance, and Delyth watched Ken, and wondered.
When Maldwyn suggested they went to the table and filled a plate with food, she took his arm, glad to be away from the occasional hostile glances from Ken Ward.
Vera left the hall with a soldier, and it was an unhappy Maldwyn who walked Delyth and Madge back to their accommodation. He had imagined Vera would be with them, but he had seen her red coat disappearing as she left without even a wave. He was disappointed, but couldn’t really blame her. She had never promised more than friendship, in spite of her sometimes passionate kisses.
All the time they were on the street he was on edge, listening for some suspicious sound that threatened Delyth or himself. He sighed with relief when the door closed behind the girls, thankful that the walk had ended without incident.
* * *
With the end of summer, Mrs Chapel and Maldwyn were busily sorting out their autumn and winter plans. They had ordered spring bulbs, and bulbs for forcing into early flowering to add to the Christmas displays. Some were already planted to sell in pots, part-grown. These were in a dark shed
or under the stairs, and others were buried in the garden, ready to bring out when the time was right. When he was tidying up, Maldwyn had found a few hyacinth vases and half filled them with water and set the bulbs on top. These were popular with children, who were fascinated to watch the growth that was usually hidden from their sight.
Maldwyn went to jumble sales and bought anything that he could use as a container: jugs, old kettles, teapots, shallow dishes. The damaged vases and pot he had found in the cellar had given him the idea: even the broken ones would have an air of beauty when the flowers bloomed. The shallow dishes were filled with pebbles from the beach, he added water until the pebbles were half covered, then stood bulbs on them. They made unusual gifts when the buds were beginning to show and the roots were slowly working their way around the pebbles. He hoped to have them at their best in time for Christmas. These things took up a lot of space, but Mrs Chapel cheerfully moved into a smaller room and gave up her bedroom to the shelves that Maldwyn knocked up and rapidly filled with carefully nurtured stock.
Dried grasses and branches were popular, mainly because of their cheapness. Quaking grass sold for threepence a bunch and lasted throughout the winter months, displayed dry in a vase. Mrs Chapel continued to paint twigs, which, with a few artificial leaves and flowers added, offered inexpensive displays to passers-by. They were in such demand that most evenings were spent preparing them for the following day. They both worked hard, but enjoying each other’s company made the time pass pleasantly, and on one of these occasions Mrs Chapel spoke about her nephew, Gabriel.
Holidays at Home Omnibus Page 107
