Holidays at Home Omnibus

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

  He finished the dresses and placed them across a chair. Tomorrow he and Lilly would scour the shops for what food they could find ready to welcome his son home. Perhaps Lilly would help him air the bed and get everything ready, although he doubted it. He had spoilt her and enjoyed doing so, but sometimes lately, when he felt particularly tired, he would have been glad if she would offer to do something other than take Phyllis out, read magazines and listen to the wireless.

  The following morning, when Phyllis was ready to go out and Sam was waiting for Lilly, the post came with another letter. This time it was for Lilly and she read it without showing her husband. Sam Senior had recognized the writing and knew it was from his son. He thought perhaps some surprise was being planned. He had a birthday on the thirtieth of June and his son often surprised him by pretending to forget then presenting him with a parcel. He had probably written to ask Lilly to arrange something.

  He was smiling as they set off. Many thought his decision to marry a woman half his age was asking for trouble, but he was fond of Lilly and enjoyed spoiling her. And he thought little Phyllis, named after her dead father, Phillip Denver, was a darling.

  * * *

  Marged placed the freshly laundered tablecloths on the café tables and looked around her. Everything looked perfect. The floor was clean, the windows looking out across the beach were shining. Through them she could see that the sea looked troubled, a gusting wind blowing the waves on to the beach, throwing them about with foamy splendour. Although foamy splendour was not what the visitors wanted. They wanted calm and sunshine and an atmosphere in which to forget worries, not to look out over an angry sea and wonder about the fate of their loved ones.

  It was still early, not yet half past eight in the morning but already, Bernard Gregory was below with his donkeys, sheltering near the store of deckchairs. He had told her the wind would go out with the tide. She hoped he was right. It was due to turn within the hour.

  A boy she didn’t know arrived on a bicycle and handed her a written message. She read it and groaned. Hetty was unable to come in. Huw then told her that Stanley Love had sent a message too. He was unable to leave his job as a shop assistant until the following week.

  In desperation, Marged decided to try to persuade Lilly to help. Surely she would spare them an hour or two during the afternoon when she understood how desperate they were?

  Sam invited her into the neat terraced house but shook his head when Marged explained the reason for her visit.

  ‘She’s out, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘She’ll be that sorry to have missed you.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ Marged said cynically. ‘Will you tell her Auntie Hetty is ill and Stanley can’t start until next week and we’re desperate? If she could help out for a couple of hours around lunchtime and early afternoon, it would be a life-saver.’

  ‘I’ll tell her, Marged. Although, I don’t expect her back for hours yet. She’s meeting a friend and they’ll be looking at the shops and you must remember how easy it is to forget the time when you’re young.’

  ‘I understand,’ Marged sighed, remembering no such thing. She had worked in the family business from a small child and had loved it. ‘Tell her, though, will you? Desperate we are, mind.’

  As the door closed behind her mother, Lilly came down the stairs hand in hand with Phyllis. ‘Sam, dear, you’re a wonder. D’you think she suspected? You sounded real convincing to me.’

  Smiling happily, Sam said. ‘Come on, get your best dresses on. I’m going to take my two beautiful girls out for lunch.’

  * * *

  Cassie Davies’s shop had been very busy that day. Another consignment of damaged goods had reached her and the sale had been even more successful than the first. She had even dared to increase the prices a little and the bank bag was satisfyingly full. She hid it in her shopping basket under an apron which she was taking home to wash and locked the shop door.

  She was late leaving the premises. Joseph was not coming home and there was no rush, so she had stayed to enter the day’s transactions into the accounts book before going home. After the past four and a half years she ought to be used to going back to an empty house but she still found it difficult. Cold, silent and unwelcoming, her first action was always to switch on the electric fire, the second to fill the kettle for a cup of tea. One plate, one cup, one saucer. It was depressing and it was hardly surprising that she wasn’t in a rush to get home.

  On impulse she didn’t go straight to the bank. Audrey Castle, now Mrs Keith Kent, kept her café open until nine o’clock. Perhaps she would go there and have something to eat. Only chips, she supposed, but at least there would be other people around, and walking into her hollow-sounding rooms could be delayed for a while at least.

  Audrey greeted her politely. As business people they knew each other but had never been more than what Cassie called nodding acquaintances. She gave her order and sat looking around the café. Cheerful groups, mostly young people, sat talking and laughing as they ate the simple food. She recognized several shop assistants and a couple from the library, besides the neatly dressed office girls, and factory hands with their overalls and turban headdresses. They were obviously meeting their friends between work and the pictures or before going home or to start the late shift at one of the small factories. It was obviously a popular rendezvous. She smiled at the flirting glances between boys and girls, and felt old.

  In the mirrors on the walls she saw herself. She looked old. Grey coat, grey hair and tired face. She had never worn make-up and she looked at the young people around her and wondered if she had ever been as beautiful. She thought not. Thank goodness Joseph wasn’t interested in beauty. A partner to help him run his business, and make a home for him, that was what Joseph had seen in her and he hadn’t been disappointed. She touched the bag hidden in her shopping basket and smiled. Wait till she told him about this week’s takings. He would be so proud of her.

  Two girls were helping Audrey that evening. Maude and Myrtle lived with Audrey and Keith in the flat above and, when they weren’t helping Audrey in the café, Cassie knew they were at the beach filling in a few hours at the Castles’ beach stalls and rides. Now, when there was no one demanding their attention they sat with their friends while keeping an eye on the tables in case they were needed, joining in the conversations and the laughter.

  With everyone so busy these days, it was nice to think young people had time for some fun. She enjoyed the meal Audrey had provided, and sat, relaxing over a second cup of tea, enjoying the buzz of conversation around her, the laughter and the comings and goings of the customers, most of whom greeted Audrey by name.

  By comparison, her own life was dull – like I am, she thought, with another glance at her sombre self in the mirror. She patted the bank bag again but the excitement of the successful week seemed less of a joy. It was nine o’clock when Audrey and the two girls were joined by Audrey’s husband to close the place, but still Cassie didn’t leave.

  She began a conversation and pretended to be unaware of Audrey’s reluctance to participate. She didn’t want to go home and face another lonely night. Tomorrow was Sunday and the hours stretched out empty and long. When she could delay the woman no longer, even with the promise of some more tea towels, she left through the door where the blackout curtaining was in place although it was hardly dark, only the dull day making it appear later than it was.

  She was unaccountably tired and she thought she might forget the bank and take the bank bag home. She could always pop it into the night-safe tomorrow. Sunday was a dull day with only the accounts book for company – it would be an excuse to go out. Searching in her shopping bag, she found her torch and headed for the railway arch.

  * * *

  Sam pulled up his coat collar. Rain had ended the day early and the streets were gloomy and chill. It was hard to remember that in a few days’ time they would be into the month of June. He paused near the beach and glanced across the cold water, wondering when the armies o
f liberation would set off on their dangerous mission.

  Experience of the previous war brought pictures to his mind of men, vehicles and animals bogged down, drowning in deep, foul-smelling mud and he hoped today’s men would fare better. Thank goodness that in two more days Sam Junior would be home. War made you very selfish, he thought. He offered sympathy to the bereaved but in his heart were grateful thanks that the victim was not his son.

  It was surprisingly cold and he moved faster. Perhaps he would take a short cut through the alleyway that went under the railway line. He took out a torch, pulled his collar even higher and hunched himself into his coat and, head bent low, entered the darker shadows of the arch.

  * * *

  Cassie hesitated at the railway arch as she approached it from the opposite direction. It was so dark it was like walking into a cupboard and she almost turned back. She held her torch out in front of her, its thin beam worse than useless. The eerie shadows pressed in on her and when she heard light footsteps behind her she turned with relief, thankful not to be alone. There wasn’t even a momentary thought of danger. Not until the weapon hit her head and a leg was placed in front of her and tripped her up.

  She didn’t even scream. She was stunned by disbelief. Instinct made her search for the bag in her basket and grip it with the tenacity of a maniac. As she lay on the ground with the man leaning on top of her, hitting her, hurting her with his knee digging into her stomach, it was then she began to shout, and scream, still clinging to the bag, determined not to let the thief succeed.

  Having found her voice, she felt hope, but only for a brief moment as a train then lumbered overhead and drowned her cries. Still she clung to the bag and still she screamed and shouted for help, her voice startlingly loud once the train had passed by.

  Then there were other footsteps, and shouts and the man pulled even more desperately on her bag and she felt her fingers slipping. The man was pulled from her and as her other hand was freed she grasped the bag to her chest and began to sob.

  The man ran off; soft footfalls receding, he was invisible in the darkness. Then a voice close by murmured that everything was all right. The newcomer began to help her up and unbelievably the first man returned on silent feet, knocked her rescuer down and pulled the precious basket from her grasp.

  To her alarm the second man didn’t move and she crawled towards him and spoke to him. ‘Get up. Please get up, whoever you are.’ She looked back in the direction the thief had run, blinded by darkness and fear, and briefly grieved for her money, then tried to lift the man’s head. ‘Please get up. I can’t leave you here to get help. We have to go to the nearest house. Please!’ The word came out as a scream as sobs overwhelmed her.

  The man groaned and began to sit up. ‘He kicked me in the head and it stunned me for a moment. Sorry if I frightened you.’ He struggled to his feet and offered her his hand, feeling blindly for her in the darkness. ‘I didn’t lose consciousness so I don’t think I need a doctor, I was just confused. I thought he’d gone, you see.’

  ‘So did I.’

  ‘Did he hurt you? Or take anything?’

  ‘Money. I suppose we were lucky. Although it was quite a lot of money. I went to the café instead of taking it to the bank first. My husband will be furious with me. I’m Mrs Joseph Davies, we have the linen emporium in Crown Street,’ she explained.

  ‘Oh yes. My first wife used to buy all her requirements from you. Well, Mrs Davies, I think our first stop should be the police station, don’t you?’

  ‘Joseph will be so angry. Why didn’t I go to the bank as I usually do?’ she wailed.

  Sam thought it likely that whatever she had done, the man would have attacked her. He had probably been watching her for weeks to learn her routine and decide on the best place to steal the bank bag. He didn’t say anything. To imagine being watched by someone planning to rob her would only unnerve the woman even more.

  It was late when he reached home and Lilly was dozing on the couch, the kettle simmering on the gas stove ready for their nightly cocoa.

  ‘Sorry Lilly, dear. But I didn’t get to meet the others. A woman was attacked under the railway arch and I stopped to help her and we ended up at the police station.’

  ‘Sam! You could have been hurt!’ She rose from the couch, her eyes filled with alarm and threw her arms around him.

  ‘I was, the evil man hit her and when I tried to intervene I was knocked to the ground and kicked.’

  ‘Oh Sam. We have to call the doctor now this minute.’

  ‘No, dear. I’m not badly hurt.’

  ‘Then first thing tomorrow.’

  ‘I might go to the surgery on Monday. There’ll be some bruising and I don’t want Sam Junior to be alarmed when he sees me.’

  ‘Oh Sam. I’ve been trying to tell you, thinking of a way to soften the blow. The letter I had from your son was to tell me that leave had been cancelled. He won’t be coming home after all. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘What a disappointment. I was looking forward to seeing him so much.’

  ‘That does it,’ Lilly said firmly. ‘It’s the doctor for you and we want a note telling those in charge that you’ve been attacked and injured and need to see your son.’

  When Lilly wanted something she made a fuss and when Lilly made a fuss everyone knew about it. The doctor examined Sam’s bruises then promised to do what he could to put a case for compassionate leave for Sam’s son.

  * * *

  News of the Normandy landings spread through the town after the sixth of June and the relief that at last the Germans were being attacked by ground forces as well as by air filled the population with hope. Those who suspected their sons and husbands and brothers were among the early invaders smiled with the rest and told themselves it was almost over, that fate wouldn’t be cruel enough to take them after surviving for so long.

  In the factory there was great excitement as the girls working on the benches planned how they would spend their time once they were no longer needed to make armaments. For those first few days everyone imagined that the end of the war was no more than a walk to Berlin. A matter of weeks and it would be over.

  Alice heard about the attack on Cassie Davies at work that day amid the jubilation about the landings. At her first opportunity she called on the woman.

  ‘Joseph should have been home,’ Cassie said, still distressed as she explained what had happened. ‘Women managing alone, it isn’t right.’

  News of the invasion of Normandy had just broken and Alice asked, ‘Involved in the fighting, is he? I thought he’d be a bit too old.’

  ‘Secret work, he can’t even tell me all of what he’s doing.’

  ‘I suppose the fact that he hasn’t been home so often these past weeks is something to do with the Normandy landings?’

  To Alice’s alarm Cassie’s eyes filled with tears and her mouth quivered like a child about to howl.

  ‘I have the feeling that work isn’t the reason he doesn’t come home. I don’t think he wants to. I’m not worth the effort and perhaps someone else is!’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Alice said soothingly. ‘Everyone is doing more than they’re asked to do and he’s probably working extra hours. These are desperate times, Mrs Davies.’ Alice glanced at the screwed-up face of the unhappy woman and found it strange to imagine her being so concerned. Surely she wasn’t thinking of Mr Davies finding another woman? Not at their age? The idea seemed ludicrous. Then she thought of Auntie Audrey and her new husband, Keith Kent. They had fallen in love and they weren’t that much younger than Cassie Davies. It was easy to sympathize and be understanding to those you know and love; strangers seemed to come in a different category altogether. Disapproval and derision came more easily.

  It was almost closing time and there were no customers needing attention. Alice offered to walk Cassie home. ‘I know you aren’t nervous and I don’t want you to feel the need of support,’ she explained. ‘But being lonely is something I understand. So, come on, we’ll
go and have a cup of tea with Auntie Audrey and it isn’t far out of my way to keep you company back home.’

  ‘You’re very kind, young Alice.’

  ‘Not really.’ Alice smiled and added, ‘I know what it’s like to want your husband back home. We have to be patient a little while longer. It’s sure to end soon.’

  ‘“Over by Christmas”, eh? They’ve been saying that since 1939 and it has to be true sometime,’ Cassie agreed, but with little conviction.

  Alice was afraid to look at the newspapers during the days following the invasion of Normandy. There had been no news from Eynon or Johnny and she didn’t want to keep asking Marged and Huw or Bleddyn if they had heard, it only made the waiting seem worse.

  Through the town there was a lifting of spirits but the external joy was hiding the fears that grew daily with the reports of losses.

  ‘And we aren’t being told the half of it,’ Cassie told Alice when she called in one day. ‘You can take it from me.’

  Alice looked at the woman curiously. ‘Do you think so?’ Was Cassie privy to information that was concealed from the general public?

  Cassie guessed what Alice had taken her words to mean and she didn’t disabuse her. It was a small deception and allowing people to think she knew more than most, made her seem more interesting. The truth was that when Joseph had come home after being told about the attack he had hardly spoken a word and had certainly not discussed the war. He was only a clerk and the only secret he held was the destination of the food and materials he requisitioned for the camps in certain areas. Although that was sufficiently revealing for it to be a top secret during the weeks leading to the Allied invasion of Northern France.