Holidays at Home Omnibus

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

  News on the progress of the war was mixed, with battles for the bridges over the Rhine at Arnhem, Nijmegen and Grave being less successful than hoped, but the push towards Germany went on. A landing of the Free French Army back on their own soil back in August had been cheered by many, but for Beth the news had brought added fears. The resistance fighters were out in the open at last and Peter was surely there fighting with them in the streets with the confusion of snipers and booby-trapped buildings adding to the dangers.

  Optimism grew throughout the last weeks of the year and when the lights went on in September, the children roamed the streets in wonder, some of them hardly remembering the freedom given by the lighting each evening of the gas lamps. The lamp-lighter went around with his long pole at dusk turning them on one by one, and a small band of children accompanied him, cheering as each flickering flame grew in strength. Adults too were unable to resist watching the progress of the lamp-lighter and they stood in groups on doorways and discussed the news and silently cheered at the small victory of lights being lit, without the wardens shouting, ‘Put that ****** light out.’

  The border town of Aachen fell in October and in November the Home Guard was disbanded. The headlines told the public that the Germans were on the run. But the V2 rockets devastated the places where they landed and fear encouraged more families to send their children away from the capital to safer places.

  Grieving for the strangers who were suffering the new and deadly attacks on their home, hiding their increasing fear for their loved ones, Alice, Hannah, Beth and Shirley cheered with the rest when encouraging news was announced. Their letters to Eynon, Johnny, Peter and Freddy, were filled with descriptions of the excitement the town displayed, and, as always, their increasing longing for the day they came home.

  In the weeks before Christmas no letters arrived from Johnny, Eynon or Freddy Clements. Three weeks without a word was the longest they had known without a letter from one or the other and they were afraid. Lilly didn’t hear from Sam Junior either but whereas the others wrote more letters and tried to reassure each other, Lilly sulked and didn’t write to Sam Junior at all. ‘If he can’t be bothered to write to me then I’m not wasting time writing to him,’ she told Netta with one of her famous pouts.

  ‘Aren’t you afraid he’s hurt?’ Netta asked.

  ‘You don’t think he is, do you?’ She forced a tear from her eyes, then said, ‘No, we’d have been told. No, he’s just forgotten all about me and two can play that game! And to think of all I risked for him!’

  Planning for Christmas was more difficult than previous years. Besides the difficulty of finding food, and the anxiety of not hearing from the men making any celebration a half-hearted affair, no one wanted to use what luxuries they they still had in their stores. Some tinned stuff had been kept for years and in lofts, apples rotted, while the owners waited for the excuse to use them. Jars of preserves darkened in colour while they stood in pantries waiting. Everything that was at all special was hidden away for the promised street parties when Germany was finally beaten.

  Lilly invited Phyllis’s grandmother, Mrs Denver, to share their Christmas dinner. Three-and-a-half-year-old Phyllis was Phil Denver’s child and although he and Lilly had never married, Lilly was happy to include the dead man’s mother in her life to enjoy watching her granddaughter grow up.

  ‘You’re such a kind and understanding man, Sam, dear,’ she said when he agreed to her suggestion. ‘You bear no malice towards Mrs Denver, or to little Phyllis, knowing she was another man’s child. A heart of gold you’ve got and I love you very much.’

  ‘I love Phyllis. And Mrs Denver is her grandmother even though you and Phillip never married. We’ll have to find a little gift for Mrs Denver to put under the tree with the rest, won’t we?’

  They discussed what to buy and Lilly’s mind drifted to thoughts of Sam Junior. Would she be as happy with him? Would he care for her as much as his father did? She still hadn’t heard from Sam Junior and she looked across at Sam Senior and thought that life with him was pretty good. Enough money, freedom to come and go as she pleased and there were very few demands on her as Sam had continued to manage the house and the cooking as he had done since his first wife had died. She hoped Sam Junior was all right. With him for some illicit fun, life would be perfect.

  Convinced that Sam Junior was safe, but too lazy to write to her, she wondered what would happen when he came home. Would he live with her and his father? If so, would they be able to keep their attraction for each other a secret? Thoughts of the secret and forbidden love that had filled her letters to Sam now overflowed into her dreams.

  Christmas was a duller than usual affair. Little more than a brief respite in the day-to-day routine. Church services apart, everyone seemed to be poised, waiting, looking beyond the celebration towards the news of victory.

  Marged and Huw invited Bleddyn, Hetty and Shirley to share their Christmas dinner, and Audrey, Keith and the girls came too. Ronnie, Olive and their daughter came from their rooms upstairs and tables were joined together to accommodate them all.

  A huge log fire burned in the grate, and an impressive array of drinks were on offer. At closer inspection these consisted mostly of soft drinks for the children: dandelion and burdock, sasparella, orangeade. A bottle of port and one of sherry plus a few flagons of beer were festooned with garlands to make them seem special.

  The parcels under the tree were opened and admired. Socks and handkerchiefs, perfume and hair slides wrapped to make them exciting. Sweets for the children. Three parcels stood there unopened bearing the names of Lilly, Sam and Phyllis.

  Marged had hoped to see Lilly but apart from a card there had been no contact.

  ‘Tomorrow we’ll go and see our Lilly and her Sam and little Phyllis.’ she announced. ‘Who’s coming?’ Hands were politely raised and all hoped a reason could be found for changing their mind. A visit to Lilly was not an exciting event.

  * * *

  In a lull in the fighting, Freddy Clements sat writing to Shirley. He was exhausted. They had been moving almost continuously and he hadn’t had even his greatcoat off for several days. He looked down at his feet and gave a grim smile. Boots, which no longer kept his feet dry, were covered in slimy mud which rose up over his ankles and stained his sodden trousers. He daren’t imagine the state of his feet when the boots finally came off. He could never have believed he could allow himself to get into this state.

  No thought of such discomfort or filthy clothes had entered his head on the day he and Eynon Castle had joined up. Everything was neat and clean; polish had been an important part of their training – something that strongly appealed to him. He had always been fussy about his clothes, his appearance a priority above everything else. Fastidious was how people had described him in civvy street. How had he learned to accept all this?

  He thought of the times he had refused to wear a freshly laundered shirt because the collar didn’t sit precisely, or there was some imagined imperfection in the way the button fastened when it had been replaced. His poor mother had taken such a pride in his appearance, and taken so much trouble to please him. What would she have thought of him now?

  ‘I am fine,’ he wrote to Shirley. ‘The food is okay but I’ll be glad to have some decent fish and chips from Castle’s café. That’s a date. You and me eating our fill at Castle’s fish and chip café.’ He allowed the pencil to drop. Writing cheerful letters was getting harder to do. He was so tired. Gunfire in the distance went on continuously day and night and the explosive sounds seemed to beat into his brain.

  A voice called and he rose to his feet. They were off again. Hastily adding a scrawled signature below the word ‘love’, he pushed the unfinished letter into its envelope, ready to hand to the corporal. Perhaps Shirley would get it and perhaps, he thought with a grimace, I might never know.

  Eynon was writing to Alice, a loving letter full of plans for when he came home. In answer to one of her questions, he wrote down a few
of the streets where they might look for a house. ‘But,’ he added, ‘wherever you want to live is fine by me. Short of the Antarctic or the equator, so long as you and I are together I’ll be happy.’ He handed it in and hoped it wouldn’t be blown up, like rumour told him had happened to the last ones.

  Johnny’s letter to Hannah was similar to Eynon’s, filled with plans for his return. He hadn’t changed, the beach was still what he wanted. Summers on the sands and winters doing whatever work he could find. He did a cartoon drawing of the two girls at the end and added a note to each of them before signing it with love.

  * * *

  Almost oblivious to the progress of the war, Sam Senior went on with the usual routine of his life and writing once each week to his son. He always looked at the brief PS’s at the end of his letters, written by Lilly, but there was never anything amiss. No need, he thought sadly when she can write to him care of her friend.

  He had taken advice given by his solicitor, who had at first tried to persuade him to change his mind about what he planned to do. When he realized Sam was determined, he carefully, albeit reluctantly, set out the details.

  Sam’s first action was to put his neat little house on the market. The estate agent was given firm instructions not to bring a prospective buyer around until Sam had agreed the time. Viewers came when Lilly was out with Netta.

  The days were dark; winter had the country in its cruel grip. Day after day, the ground was either slippery with solid unrelenting ice, or dismally cold and wet. On occasions there were a few days when snow covered the ground and Sam knew it was not the best time to sell a property. So, when anyone called, he made sure the house was shining and clean and warm; and with a roaring wood fire, he made the place as welcoming as he could, and the place was sold within two weeks. Lilly knew nothing.

  Lilly’s friendship with Netta and her children had grown, so they met almost every day. They met at Auntie Audrey’s café, as the weather discouraged walking any further.

  One afternoon in February when they called to escape the cold wind and the rain that threatened to turn to snow, Audrey’s café was so full they failed to find a seat. Lilly waved to attract her aunt’s attention but Audrey shrugged expressively and went on serving.

  ‘Come on, Netta, I’m not standing here for ever,’ Lilly said with one of her famous pouts. ‘Auntie Audrey knows we’re here and she hasn’t made any effort to find us a place to sit.’

  ‘Where can we go?’ Netta asked as they struggled to hustle the three children back out into the wind and rain. ‘I can’t afford to eat anywhere else – we’d have to pay.’

  ‘Mam and Dad will be home, we’ll get a cup of tea there.’

  Netta tried to hide her delight. This was what she had been hoping for since she had first approached Lilly and offered friendship.

  Marged and Huw were both at home, sitting close to the fire and with blankets across their knees. Marged stood up when she heard her daughter call. Lilly came through the back door and put Phyllis down to run to her grandparents.

  ‘There’s a lovely surprise!’ Marged hugged the little girl and smiled a welcome. Then Lilly pushed Netta’s two children forward and Huw turned and beamed in delight as he asked who they were. That he and Marged were pleased to see them was in no doubt. Children were always welcome. Introductions were made, food offered and Marged and Huw began to get to know Lilly’s new friend.

  Lilly telephoned a corner shop and asked the owner to tell Sam she was at her mother’s and would be late, and she and Netta stayed for the rest of the day. Sam stared around the house where he had lived for so many years and was overcome with guilt. What he was doing was cruel. Yet he knew he wouldn’t change his mind. If cruelty was the consideration, Lilly’s behaviour was far worse than this. He spent the time that Lilly was out, up in the loft, packing unused china his wife had collected and rarely used. Tomorrow he would talk to one of the dealers about selling all the surplus. Lilly was out so much, he wouldn’t find it difficult to do all he planned.

  At the Castles’ house in Sidney Street, they were joined during the evening by Alice, and Hannah with her daughters. With five lively children there was a party mood which only Alice failed to enjoy. This was the girl she had seen watching her and she was suspicious of her presence there. Although Netta joined in the conversation, Alice noticed she gave very little information about herself, neatly twisting each query around to become a question of her own. She made comments about the members of the family as though they were all friends and her knowledge of them all was puzzling. She must have been very curious about them to have gleaned so much information. With a shiver of apprehension she wondered why.

  When Alice was leaving, Marged brought out the family photograph albums and Lilly groaned. ‘No, our Mam, please don’t! Dad, don’t let her show Netta the one of me at seven when I had no front teeth!’

  Curious, Alice stayed a while longer and was alarmed when Netta showed a strong reaction when Marged proudly held up a snap of Eynon in Army uniform.

  ‘What is it, Netta? You don’t know my son, do you?’ Marged asked.

  ‘No, Mrs Castle, he just reminds me of someone I once met, that’s all.’ She glanced at Alice and quickly turned away.

  Alice told Audrey about the visit, which she considered an intrusion, the following day. ‘She knows so much about us all, it’s uncanny. Ages, birthday and anniversaries, everything. Why is she so interested?’

  ‘Eynon worked on the sands every summer, Alice. There must be plenty of people who would half-recognize his face and not remember exactly where they’d seen him.’ She looked at Alice and added. ‘You could ask Eynon when you write. He might remember her from somewhere.’

  Audrey tried to reassure her, but she too found it puzzling. What motive could there be? What could Netta gain from studying the Castle family so thoroughly? Was it nothing more than loneliness? A desire to belong even if it were only a pretence? Or something more sinister? Keith laughed at her fears when she mentioned it and told her she’d read too many Agatha Christie mysteries.

  Alice wrote to Eynon when she got home but didn’t mention Netta Mills in her report of her visit to his parents’ house. He wouldn’t be interested in hearing about a stranger when there was always plenty to tell him about the family.

  * * *

  Cassie opened her second shop in March. All the items she had bought ready for the victory celebrations were packed in a back room ready to bring out as soon as Germany’s surrender was announced. Beside those things she had little to sell. She had found some faded lisle stockings in a warehouse sale, patchily coloured by having been left in the sun some years before. There were a few dozen extra-large knickers and some unattractive material, plus more hanks of knitting yarn. She had also found more of the damaged stock. To fill the window while she waited for the real sale, she did a display of the royal family, photographs of them walking through the ruins of the blitz and Princess Elizabeth repairing Army lorries. She didn’t display any flags. The town, like the rest of the country, was waiting.

  Joseph had come home and his help was valuable. Once he had signed the lease, he helped her to clean the shop and while she arranged the stock in convenient rows, he painted the visible areas to smarten it up. It augured well for the future, Cassie thought: starting on a new project, widening their business and strengthening their partnership; although she wished he would tell her so occasionally, instead of accepting it all without a mention of her hard work and imaginative marketing.

  ‘Aren’t you proud of me, Joseph?’ she asked as he packed to return to Cardiff on that Sunday evening.

  ‘Very proud, Cassie dear. I’ll always be grateful to you for what you’ve done during the last few years. Because of you, I can plan a really good future.’

  ‘We can, you mean,’ she said teasingly. She stepped forward for a hug but he moved around her and picked up his case to leave, holding it in front of himself. In her disappointment she felt that he used the case as a
shield to keep her away and the rejection was hurtful.

  She tried to make excuses for his lack of affection. Joseph had never been very demonstrative and perhaps he hated leaving her and the apparent coolness was his way of hiding his regret. Or perhaps his mind was already racing ahead to what faced him when he got back to his responsibilities in Cardiff? Whatever, he had been delighted with the way the business had grown. ‘Proud,’ he’d said, she remembered. ‘Very proud.’ Even if she’d had to put the words into his mouth, he had said them. ‘Very proud.’ She smiled as she washed their dishes later and prepared to go to bed. A really good future: that was all she wanted. That was praise enough.

  Four

  ‘Seen the window of Cassie Davies’s new shop?’ Alice asked Marged one afternoon when she had called to deliver some khaki gloves she had made for the on-going collection for the forces. ‘There seems to be some off-ration towels and pillow-cases and even a few sheets. Where d’you think she got them from?’

  ‘Who cares? If we can get there the minute she opens the shop I won’t ask any questions, will you?’

  She lifted up a small piece of towelling that had started life as a towel large enough for the bathroom and which now had been stitched around, using the best parts, discarding the shredded areas, leaving it no larger than a face flannel. She let her hands fall in despair. ‘Oh, Alice love, when will we ever get back to how things were? I started the war with a good stock of household linen but with curtains and the rest going on ration, then in October 1942 having to use precious coupons for towels, I think most of us gave up hope of ever restocking.’ She pulled at the tender fabric she had tried to save and it came adrift like the rag it was and she threw it down in disgust. ‘What makes it worse is that people think that with us having extra allocation because of the cafés, we’ve got plenty. The truth is we were too honest. I should have hidden what I had in store and pleaded for more than we were entitled to. I’m sure there were many who did just that.’