‘No, Mam!’ There was outrage in her voice but she looked away from her mother’s searching eyes.
‘Then you have to talk to him. Perhaps he’s been spending his savings and they’ve gone. Generous he’s been but he probably has a small pension and with the savings gone he has to cut back. Selling the house is better than getting into debt and having everything taken from you by the bailiffs.’
‘Will you talk to him, Mam? He might tell you. He certainly won’t discuss it with me. It’s my life. I’m his wife and he loves Phyllis like his own, so how can he do this?’
‘He must have his reasons. Perhaps he doesn’t want you worried. He’s managed the money ever since you married him, so you can’t expect him to suddenly change and…’ she was about to say. ‘Treat you like an adult,’ but held back and instead said, ‘expect you to understand the problem.’
‘You think there’s a problem?’
‘Heavens above, girl, how do I know? You’ll have to talk to him, make him explain. Now, I have to get these dishes washed and ready for the grown-ups to eat what’s left. Fancy giving me a hand?’ She watched her daughter move through the lively children who were leaving the now wrecked display of food, making her way back to Sam and Phyllis. ‘I thought not,’ she muttered.
Alice, Eirlys and Hannah had arranged some activities and they led the children through the familiar ‘Ring o’ roses’, ‘Farmer in the dell’, ‘What’s the time, Mr Wolf?’, ‘Hide and seek’, while the sorry remains of the food was cleared and the tables folded. Some of the children looked sleepy and several were sick but a sing-song revived them and by seven o’clock everyone had their second wind and the mood livened once again.
Shirley was helped on to a make-shift stage later in the evening, and a couple of solos were followed by communal singing; sentimental songs that brought tears and fears mingled with joy and optimism. As the applause died, Huw wound up the gramophone and announced the dancing.
The children watched as their mothers danced with the few men present, then with each other. Shirley declined several invitations to join in. A few years previously she had suffered a serious injury to her legs that had ended her career as a dancer and they still ached if she overdid things.
Moving from the music and the chattering crowd, she wandered up the road where those who hadn’t been involved stood on their doorway and watched. She smiled at some, waved to others but didn’t want to stop and talk. She needed to think. The street party was another step towards the day when she and Freddy would be reunited.
When Freddy’s parents had died and he’d been given compassionate leave to settle their affairs, he had given her some money to look after for him. She wished he had settled for a bank account instead. It was a complication she didn’t need. She had sold the contents of his parents’ house and added the money to the amount he had left with her. That trust had added to the commitment she had given by writing to him, implying something greater than being his temporary partner in an illicit affair.
There was another complication too. She still had a certain illogical longing to see someone else. Her strange friendship with Andy hadn’t led anywhere and she knew it never could. She had met Andy Probert only a few times and those times had been brief. She knew little about him except that he was untrustworthy. He had been evading call-up since the beginning of the war. Running, hiding, living on his wits and showing a dishonest streak that he had implied was nothing more than a bit of fun. He had kept a step or two ahead of the military police until he had finally been arrested and taken to a military prison. Twice he had escaped before being sent to his unit to begin the military service he had evaded for so long. Now he was dead, so why was she still thinking of him, imagining seeing him?
Andy’s brother, Reggie, had worked for Bernard Gregory on his smallholding and, through him, Shirley had learned of Andy’s fate. His death was poignant as it had happened exactly as he had foreseen in a recurring dream. The nightmare had been his excuse for not joining up when he’d been called. He had seen himself drowning in the sea with people around who were unable to help him and from the little Reggie had learned, that was exactly what had happened. His body had never been found and somewhere, deep inside her, Shirley wondered if his wily nature had triumphed again and he had used the tragedy to escape the Army once more. Inexplicably she knew she couldn’t make a decision about Freddy until she had cleared her mind of thoughts of Andy Probert. But how she would achieve that, she had no idea.
Lilly left soon after the disappointing response from her mother. She had avoided listening to another lecture by keeping out of Marged’s sight, which wasn’t difficult with the continuing activities in the street. Telling Sam that Phyllis needed to get to bed, she left him with a glass in his hands, talking to some of the neighbours and wandered back through the streets, her spirits fading with the noises from Sidney Street as she moved further away from the partying crowd and nearer to the almost empty house that would soon no longer be her home.
Unaware of how much Sam had drunk, she looked back from time to time, hoping, expecting, to see Sam trying to catch them up. Surely he wouldn’t stay at the party and let her go home alone? At the front door she fumbled for her key, unable to see into her handbag as much from the tears as the darkness.
The living room was chilly but it hardly seemed worth bothering to warm it up. Taking Phyllis into bed with her, not caring whether Sam squeezed in beside them or settled himself on the couch, she hugged her daughter and tried to sleep.
* * *
Sam recognized Eirlys’s father, Morgan, and joined him. Morgan having brought a few flagons of beer in case there wasn’t enough to go round, they took their glasses and sat against the wall of Marged and Huw’s house.
‘I have mixed feelings about this party,’ Morgan said sadly. ‘Celebrating makes you remember all that’s happened, happy and sad and much of it, in my case at least, is very sad. I lost my wife, you know. Killed in London trying to help these evacuees of ours.’
‘Was it an air raid?’ Sam asked, accepting a refill of his beer glass.
‘Road accident.’
‘I’m very sorry.’
‘Devastating it was, and I can’t let it go. The guilt I mean, the guilt won’t go away, you see.’
‘Were you responsible then?’
‘No, no. It isn’t her death making me guilty. Before that dreadful accident I’d treated her bad. Real bad. Another woman, see. Another man’s wife, Bleddyn’s wife, and I drove the poor woman to suicide. My Annie stayed with me, even after that. And then I did a bit of burglary. I’d had some stupid idea of making it up to her. And before that I’d neglected the business my father had left me, and we’d had to move from a beautiful house to a little one and my Annie had to work. I’ve been a driven man, driven to ruin everything. And poor Eirlys lost her inheritance. Beautiful house we had. And a good life, until I spoilt it all.’
Sam, who was beginning to have difficulties with the letter ‘s’, said, ‘Sh’funny, we’ve jusht moved. It’sh my wife you see. Not my fault. She’s been the one to stray. So, I shold the house and we’re moving to two roomsh, and she’ll hate it there, and I’m pleased she’ll hate it there.’
‘Too young she is, man. I made that mistake with the boys’ mother. Went off proper she did, carrying on something awful. Left me with debts, then, she died too. Beautiful she was, and she died. My punishment for being such a terrible husband.’
‘You think they should be punished, shtraying wives?’
‘Like your Lilly? Absolutely. I take my punishment like a man and she should too.’ He gulped as though about to howl, and said, ‘If it wasn’t for the three boys, my evacuees who stayed with me when their mam died, well, I don’t know what I’d do.’
The three boys Morgan referred to were having fun in various ways. Stanley, the oldest, was dancing with Maude. Since going to the local dances they had become quite proficient and enjoyed holding each other close and moving to the music. Har
old was supposed to be dancing too, less successfully, but with a great deal of laughter he fooled around, making silly, exaggerated movements partnering some of the girls he knew from school. Percival was watching, crouched in his brother’s jacket which he was minding for him, and with a pout that could have been used to launch a boat.
Myrtle left the dancing and came to sit with him. ‘Want to try a waltz?’ she asked.
‘No, I want to go ’ome. I think it’s terrible to have a party when it’s bad news for some of us.’
‘How can the end of the war affect you, Percival? Are you thinking of your mam, knowing she’ll never come back home?’
‘I’ll be going back to London, so what difference does it make that Mam isn’t there?’
‘What d’you mean?’ she asked. Stanley called to her then and she began to move away, then stopped, and beckoned Stanley over to join them. ‘What do you mean, Percival?’ she asked, gesturing for Stanley not to speak.
‘Everyone back where they belong, that’s what they’re saying. So I’ll be going home.’
‘You are home, you stupid boy!’ Stanley said. ‘What are you talking about, going back home? You belong here, in St David’s Well, like I do.’
‘I’m from London, ain’t I? That’s where I belong. It’s all right for you, you’ve got a job, but I ain’t old enough.’
‘Our mother and father are both dead,’ Myrtle reminded him. ‘So Maude and I are in the same situation as you and Harold and Stanley. But we belong here now, with the Castle family, like you belong to the Price family. Uncle Morgan and Eirlys and Ken and little Anthony, they’re your family now. They’ve accepted you and love you like you were their own. We’re the lucky ones, you and I.’
‘Is this what’s been putting a face on you like a thunderstorm on Bank ’Oliday Monday?’ Stanley asked, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘Silly sod, why didn’t you talk to me?’
Morgan came over then and overheard enough of the conversation to understand what was going on. He remembered Percival talking about everyone going back where they belonged and suddenly understood.
‘Tell me what you’re worried about, son,’ he said. ‘You aren’t thinking of going away and leaving me are you? That would break my heart.’
A tear-stained face looked up at him. ‘Would it, Uncle Morgan?’
‘You three boys are where you belong, my son. Here with me and Ken and Eirlys, and what would baby Anthony do if you left him? He loves his big brothers, doesn’t he?’
Eirlys saw them and came running and by now Percival was howling unrestrained. ‘What’s happened? Why are you crying?’
‘We’ll be staying?’ Percival wailed.
‘Crying because he’s happy, that’s all,’ Morgan said, edging towards tears himself.
‘I thought I’d ’ave to go back to London and live all on my own in a dark room like before,’ Percival sobbed, now enjoying being centre stage. ‘Sleepin’ on a bed that smells of pi—’
‘Percival—’ Eirlys warned.
‘You’re staying here, with your family. For always,’ Morgan said.
‘Yeh, it’ll take more than victory against ol’ ’Itler to make me move from St David’s Well,’ Stanley said. Then he pointed across the street, faintly lit by lamp-light, open doors and a few candles. ‘Go and talk to some of your school friends, our Percival. And for Gawd’s sake, smile!’ He shook his head, sharing his half amused, half worried emotions with Morgan. ‘Kids, eh?’
‘Stanley?’ Percival said hesitantly.
‘What now, you little twerp?’
‘I’m hungry, d’you think Auntie Marged would let me have a bit of cake?’
Morgan watched the brothers as they went to find Percival some food and then he rejoined Sam.
Lilly’s friend Netta appeared at the party at ten o’clock, explaining that a friend was staying with the children. When she couldn’t find Lilly she approached Sam, who, by this time was smiling inanely and treating Morgan to his innermost confidences.
‘You shee, Morgan, my friend, she let me down and I can’t go on pretending, sho I’ve shold the house.’
‘Yes, so you’ve said, at least six times. Sam, Come on, I think we’d better get you home.’
As the two men struggled to stand up, Netta asked, ‘Is Lilly here, Mr Edwards? We planned to meet but I was delayed.’
‘Lilly? I’ve no idea. She’s probably got an ashig— ashig—’
After struggling through several attempts Morgan said the word for him. ‘Assignation?’
‘With my son,’ Sam finished.
Both Morgan and Netta looked shocked and Morgan, suddenly sober, hastily said, ‘That wasn’t what it sounded like, mind, and don’t you dare repeat it. He’s muddled up something we were talking about with something said earlier. I’m warning you, whoever you are, that what you heard was the muddled words of a drunken old fool. Right? If I hear one wrong word I’ll know where it came from. Right?’
‘It’s all right Mr er – I won’t say a word. Honest.’ She could hardly tell the man that she knew all about it, that Lilly had told her about her affair with Sam’s son. But her eyes sparkled at the possibility that the truth would come out. Netta’s friendship with Lilly Castle had been encouraged for a specific purpose and the time was approaching when that purpose would be revealed.
Cassie had wandered down to join the late-night revellers as they danced and sang. Gradually those with children drifted away and she sat for a while with Marged and Audrey and sang with the rest.
‘Your Joseph not home this weekend?’ Marged asked, and Audrey’s slight shake of her head made her speak quickly to avoid the need for Cassie to reply. ‘It’ll be some time before the men can get back to their own lives, the reorganization won’t happen overnight, will it?’ she said.
‘What’s wrong d’you think?’ Marged whispered to her sister when Cassie moved away to talk to others.
‘Probably nothing, but Joseph doesn’t come home very often and he’s only in Cardiff, so Keith and I have wondered if there’s a particular reason he neglects her.’
‘Ungrateful. And her working so hard too,’ Marged said, tutting in disapproval without knowing anything more.
Netta had joined Beth, Peter, Bernard and Reggie. The baby was wrapped up in his pram fast asleep and Netta looked at him, chanted a few flattering comments and sat near them.
‘I’m a friend of Lilly,’ she explained, then began talking to Beth about her brothers, wording her comments carefully so she gave the impression of knowing them well.
‘Your Ronnie got over his injuries well, didn’t he?’ she began. ‘And he runs that market stall as though he’s done it all his life. Lovely to see him and Olive so happy, isn’t it?’
Bemused, Beth only gave a brief nod in reply.
‘Heard from your Eynon lately?’ Netta then asked. ‘Poor Alice gets so worried when she doesn’t hear for a while, but I’m sure he’s all right.’
A bit taken aback by this stranger talking like a close family friend, Beth responded briefly and stood to move away. There was something impertinent about the girl’s manner which she found off-putting.
‘Is your Ronnie here tonight?’ She looked around at the groups of people huddled together talking and laughing. ‘When will you be going back to your market café, Beth, when the baby’s old enough to go with you?’
Beth turned and said firmly, ‘I haven’t decided yet. When I do I’ll be sure to let you know!’ Her sarcasm was wasted.
‘Great. If you need any help any time, Lilly will know where to find me,’ Netta said brightly. ‘I’ll be glad to help the Castle family.’
Peter put an arm around Beth and together they pushed the pram, with Bernard, puffing on the inevitable pipe, following thoughtfully behind.
‘Goodnight then,’ Netta called, unabashed by their indifference. She looked around for someone else worth talking to, and saw Huw and Marged. Picking up a few dishes from the pavement near the lamp post, she
went to join them. They were so engrossed in clearing up and discussing the way the evening had gone, she couldn’t break into their conversation, so she sat on a doorstep and waited. She wasn’t ready to go home just yet.
It was long after midnight before the party finally ended. Huw and Marged, Bleddyn and Hetty were among the last to go, with a few small groups sitting on doorsteps and the remaining chairs, talking in subdued voices as they dreamed about the men coming home. Alice was among them, sitting on Marged and Huw’s doorstep with Ronnie and Olive, while their child slept inside.
‘The release of the men will start very soon,’ Olive said. ‘Imagine! Your Eynon could be back here within weeks.’
Before Alice could reply, there was a crash and they jumped up to see what had happened. In seconds Netta was beside them and she went with them towards the source of the noise. Bleddyn was laughing as he tried to pull Huw from the wreckage of the temporary stage he had been dismantling.
‘Anyone hurt?’ Ronnie asked.
His father called back. ‘Twisted my leg a bit, I think my ankle’s broke.’ But he was laughing as he said it and no one believed him. ‘Damn me, it hurts, mind. I don’t think I’ll be any use at the beach tomorrow.’
‘I’ll help if you need an extra pair of hands, Mr Castle,’ Netta said.
‘No, you’re all right. I’ll be fine in the morning.’
‘What if you aren’t? Best to have cover in case you need it. Shall I come over and see if I’m needed, Mrs Castle? Just in case?’
‘Sorry, Netta, but no. You’ve got children. You’d have to have adequate arrangements for them to be looked after properly. We need people we can rely on.’
‘I’m reliable. I’ve got sound arrangements for someone to look after the children. Someone who loves them as much as I do.’
In the confusion of trying to extricate Huw from the boxes and planks of their half-demolished stage, and the lateness of the hour, and Netta’s persistence, Marged agreed even though she thought it was unnecessary. ‘Oh, all right then. Come if you want to.’ Netta turned to go home, well pleased with her evening. Huw limped into the house supported by his brother, while Marged and Hetty told them how stupid they were. Keith and Audrey went to help Bleddyn make safe the remaining planks and boxes.
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