Elenor loved children but, at fifty, had long forgotten her yearnings for one of her own. With her un-tapped motherly skills she indulged her nieces and nephews, the children of her two brothers, Harold and Fred. Not extravagantly, she assured Janet, she considered that was wrong; spoiling children was not character-building. But she gave them a small gift on their birthdays and on occasions a non-frivolous book that would help them with their schoolwork.
Janet thought Elenor was the most boring person she had ever met.
Elenor’s life was quiet and orderly with three and a half weeks at the house where she worked, then a long weekend spent sharing her mother’s tiny flatlet, catching up on news of the family and walking in the fields near their home.
To have suddenly been introduced to the Griffithses was a shock, and one which she did not seem to enjoy. They broke all the rules of behaviour she had learned over the years of living in other people’s houses, rules which insisted she remained at all times unobtrusive and hardworking. The old Victorian family’s adage of children being seen but not heard applied with greater force to their servants.
To her, the Griffithses were unmannerly and rowdy, and she frequently took offence at their natural friendliness, and considered their questions an affront.
Marion excused her to Janet and Hywel, explaining that, with so little experience of people, she had been taught by her various employers that people in her position were expected to behave in a manner deemed not to cause offence to others. To this end Elenor had quashed her curiosity and with it any thoughts of betterment.
Janet bravely decided that, dreary though she might be, her “poor dear niece” was not too old to change.
“Although,” she admitted to Hywel, “I know I have an uphill battle on my hands if I hope to persuade the poor, dear woman to liven up and come out of the shadows.”
Marion’s sons, Harold and Fred, were settled in the first job they had been offered, and seemed content to remain there. Harold was a sweeper-up in a factory and his brother travelled on a bicycle as a jobbing labourer working on a number of farms in the area.
They were abysmally formal and uneasily over-polite. Even when confronted by Frank wearing underpants wandering around looking for trousers that Janet had “stolen” to wash they said nothing, but backed away looking at each other like cornered mice. Janet and Hywel had invited them to spend an evening with them, but as the talk became more uninhibited and the laughter loud and regular they made their excuses and left. Only Marion seemed prepared to learn to like them and for this, Janet was grateful.
“How sad it would be if, after finding each other we had nothing to say,” she sighed when she and Hywel had seen the family off after another tedious visit.
“Truth is, love, there isn’t anything to say. You and Marion have led such different lives. Hers is considered a success if she ‘keeps herself to herself’, pays her bills, and is thought to be a decent and honest woman. They’re strangled in respectability and keeping their place. How can you expect them to understand why we live like we do? Best you don’t hold out too much hope of becoming friends,” he said gently. But Janet was still convinced that all her sister needed was encouragement to open out and let some fun enter her life. Surely a sister of hers couldn’t enjoy being manacled by convention?
As time passed, the invitations still went out, but the new family members, apart from Marion, always declined. Janet waited for an excuse to arise to have a real party. It wouldn’t be long, excuses to invite friends around to celebrate something or another weren’t that infrequent in the Griffiths’ household. That would make Marion and her children relax and enjoy being a part of the family.
Ernie and Helen’s engagement was what Janet was waiting for although, having to suffer the inhibitions of her new family as well as the pretentiousness of Helen’s mother might be a lot to cope with. Ernie’s future mother-in-law, Gloria Gunner, was worse than Gladys Weston. At least Gladys once had money and background to account for it.
Once Ernie had confided in her that their announcement would be soon, on Helen’s birthday, the first thing she had to do was convince Gloria and Wilfred that their house was not a suitable venue for the celebration, while hers and Hywel’s was the perfect choice.
To her relief Gloria readily agreed.
“Wilfred and I will be getting the back rooms decorated for the young couple, the house will be in too much disarray to think of a party,” she explained.
And when is mine not? Janet asked herself.
Helen’s mother had generously told Ernie he and Helen could start their married life with her and Wilfred, using the two back rooms and sharing the kitchen. Gloria wasn’t too happy about this arrangement. She wondered whether Ernie – him being a Griffiths – had been taught the basic rules of cleanliness. But at least she would be able to keep an eye on him and make sure he treated her daughter properly.
The engagement party was planned for the end of November and with no rationing to outwit, Hywel thought the preparations seemed rather tame. But with the house filled to bursting and all the food they could need, Janet was sure it would be a success, and it would show Marion’s dull lot how to have fun.
* * *
Nia was looking out of the window at her garden. Since Lewis had come to live there, she had been left with little to do. He insisted on someone to help with the housework and had taken over much of the maintenance outside. He came with her when she chose new shrubs, ostensibly to help carry them, but she usually ended up with his selection and not her own.
She didn’t really mind, she knew Lewis had always enjoyed working on a garden and when he had lived with Dora he had produced large quantities of vegetables and flowers from the plot behind seven Sophie Street. But besides doing the heavy work, he had taken over the organising of it and on occasions she missed not having an excuse to spend the day outside. She had always found satisfaction in spending a day sorting out, cutting back then having a huge bonfire to get rid of the unwanted vegetation.
Today was a particularly long and lonely one. When he worked locally, Lewis always managed to call in at some time during the day, sometimes even to eat lunch with her. Travelling in the Brecon area as he was today, he wouldn’t be back until late this evening and the long hours stretched before her and made her restless.
She looked at the tree he had promised to cut down weeks ago. Charlie had been more than willing to help, he had even offered to do it himself, but Lewis always made some excuse. He didn’t want to show in the slightest way that Charlie could become an accepted member of the family. He had to discourage Rhiannon from seeing the man, he told Nia frequently, and not actively encourage him, by accepting his help. So, because of Charlie’s offer to help, which Lewis couldn’t – or wouldn’t – accept, the tree remained in its precarious state.
The large branch on which young Gwyn had swung looked dead and must be weak. And with winter approaching with its storms she knew it represented a danger as it hovered over the place Joseph liked to play with his toys, several of which were still there, under the tree waiting for him. His tricycle, and the cars and lorries filled with earth, and the beautiful ride-on waggon Barry had made. When weather permitted, she and Lewis often sat, even now with winter on the way, to sip a drink and enjoy the peace of the place.
It was Wednesday, so Caroline might come with Joseph. But they wouldn’t be here until at least three o’clock. Plenty of time to take a saw to the branch and make it safe. Lewis would be cross with her but it would be too late to stop her, she mused. And he was never cross with her for long.
* * *
Caroline left her mother’s house, intending to go straight to Chestnut Road, but on the way she changed her mind and went instead to see Rhiannon. “I’m on my way up to see Barry’s mother – why don’t you come with us?” she asked when Rhiannon had told her she had nothing planned for her half-day.
“Love to. Let’s go the long way round and walk through Pigog Wood first,”
she suggested. “Little Joseph would love to play a game of hide and seek with us among the trees.”
Taking a few cakes and some chocolate in case Joseph got hungry, they set off intending to reach Nia’s by four o’clock.
“Just in time for tea,” Caroline said. “She looks forward to seeing Joseph and always makes a cake on Wednesdays in case we call. I think she’s a bit lonely sometimes after being used to working in the shop, so I try not to disappoint her.”
“Does Barry see his mother regularly?”
“Not really. She doesn’t say, but I don’t think she sees him as often as she would like.”
“Life’s never perfect is it?” Rhiannon sighed. “With plenty of money and my Dad to keep her happy, she still has her disappointments.”
“And I’m the worst of them,” Caroline said sadly. “My failure to make Barry happy.”
“You and Barry, there’s been no change?”
“No change.”
* * *
Nia soon realised the saw wasn’t as easy to handle as it appeared to be when used by Barry. She had watched him making a variety of items from large pieces of furniture to the many smaller things, like toys for Joseph and picture frames for his photographs and, like most experts, he had made it look simple.
Now, balanced on a step ladder and using both hands to push the awkward tool through the branch, she was aching with the effort as the saw continually stuck in the cut. Her hands were blistered, and her head ached and her wrenched shoulder muscles felt as if they were about to split.
She was tempted to abandon the idea, but knowing her visitors might arrive at any time she pressed on, with the intention of boasting of her success. Today she would have earned her tea and cakes.
The weather was humid. The sun had disappeared, the clouds had dropped low and were threatening rain. She was about halfway through the heavy branch when she had to stop and rest and get a cool drink.
She pulled the saw clear of the branch and threw it down before stiffly climbing down the steps. For a moment she stood, stretching her aching muscles and taking deep breaths. Why was the wood so stubborn? It was old and had not shown a leaf for years. Lewis said it was rotten so why didn’t it give way to her efforts? She went underneath it and looked up, trying to gauge how much more she would have to cut before it would break free with its own weight. She touched it and wriggled it about and then stretched some more before going into the house to get the drink she so desperately needed.
* * *
Lewis was on his way home with only a few more calls to make on the way. In a small market town, he stopped and bought flowers for Nia and a couple of story books for Joseph. He enjoyed reading to the little boy and chose them with care. Getting back into the car after collecting his final order of the day, he smiled to himself. It had been a lovely day, more like spring than dull November. Driving through wonderful scenery between Swansea and Brecon, he wished he had brought Nia with him. She would have loved a day out. But she liked to stay home on Wednesdays in case Caroline came with Joseph. He wondered idly whether they were there. He wouldn’t be home in time to see them, but perhaps he and Nia would go to the Griffithses’ after they had eaten and give the books to Joseph.
* * *
Nia returned to the tree, standing and looking at how much she had managed, smiling, thinking about how impressed Lewis would be when she showed him her handiwork, when there was a creaking sound. She didn’t pause to look up but darted away from the danger area. Then she turned to see the huge branch break with an awesome snap and lurch towards her. She turned to move further away, but tripped over the waggon Barry had made, and twisted onto her side. Her head landed heavily on a metal lorry and she was stunned. The branch caught on another, twisted in an elegant dance before falling, falling, like a clumsy arrow. Nia took all its weight on her temple, pressing her down onto the toy lorry. She didn’t have time to call out. If she had she would have called “Lewis”.
* * *
Rhiannon and Caroline stayed longer than intended in Pigog Wood. Joseph was delighted with the game involving two devoted adults who were relaxed and having fun. They put Joseph in his pushchair and hurried along the road hoping Nia wouldn’t be too disappointed at the short time left for their visit. They turned in the drive and Joseph, having been released from the pushchair he hated, ran ahead of them calling, “Nana, Nanny, it’s me!” He disappeared around the corner to where the kitchen door stood open and to their surprise returned, slowly walking backwards around the corner towards them. When he turned his face to them, his thumb in his mouth, his eyes were large with fear. “Nanny,” he said, taking the thumb out of his mouth and pointing.
“You wait here with Joseph,” Rhiannon said and went to see what had frightened the child. She came back white-faced, her eyes as wide and frightened as Joseph’s.
“Oh, Caroline, there’s been a dreadful accident!” she said running to hug them both. “How awful that Joseph was the first to see her.”
* * *
When Lewis came home, whistling cheerfully, with the books for Joseph and the flowers for Nia and a small brooch he had bought for her at a market in one of the towns he had visited, he was surprised to see a policeman waiting at the gate.
“Hello? Is anything up?” he asked.
“Are you Mr Lewis Lewis, sir?”
“Yes, daft isn’t it? What a stupid idea, eh? When I was at school they called me Lewis Twice.” He chattered on; “Did the same thing to my son would you believe? Lewis-boy we called him so we didn’t get mixed up.” He slammed the car door and tilted his head on one side and frowned. “How can I help you? Nothing wrong, is there?”
“I’m afraid there’s been an accident, Mr Lewis. Mrs Martin, the lady who owns this house. I believe you live here with her?”
“Yes. Yes. Go on, man!”
“I think you’d better come and sit down sir.”
“For God’s sake, tell me!”
“I’m afraid the lady had an accident, in the garden it was.”
“That bloody tree! I’ll bet it was that tree! Where is she? What hospital?” He turned to open his car door again and the policeman held his arm.
“I’m very sorry, sir, but the lady is dead.”
Lewis stared at the man, unblinking, just staring, waiting for something more to be said to take away the nonsense of the last sentence.
“She can’t be,” he said finally. He smiled and stepped forward as a figure appeared around the corner and the smile faded as he recognised not Nia but his daughter, Rhiannon. With her was Caroline, who was carrying Joseph. From the expression on their faces he knew he hadn’t been mistaken, the policeman really had told him Nia was dead. He began to wail, a low eerie sound that seemed to emanate from the earth beneath him.
Rhiannon ran to him and together they cried and all Lewis could say was, “What happened?” over and over again, seeming not to hear the oft-repeated reply. That she was dead, the woman he had loved all his adult life was gone from him, that was the only thought that filled his mind.
His head was filled with a strange buzzing sound and it was a long time before he realised it came from himself. His eyes were glazed, seeing a future that didn’t include Nia. He stumbled towards the back door and then he looked at his daughter. “D’you know, Rhiannon, on her headstone it won’t say Nia Lewis. Not even Nia Martin. She’ll be Nia Davies after some man she was married to briefly, when your mother found out about us and she fled to London. She should have been Nia Lewis and now it’s too late.”
Like a child he allowed himself to be led inside and sat in a chair, and to be hugged by his daughter and his frightened grandson. Caroline stood like a statue, wondering how to comfort Barry.
* * *
Barry didn’t finish work until six o’clock. When he saw the foreman approaching him more than an hour before that, walking hesitantly along the benches at which the packers worked, he smiled a greeting.
“You look fed-up. The machines playing u
p again?”
“You’d better come to my office, boy,” he was told.
Caroline was there and her face told him something serious had happened. The foreman left them together while Caroline told him the awful news and they walked out together, arms around each other before driving up to Chestnut Road in the van.
* * *
Later that night, when all who needed to be told had been informed and the seemingly endless line of people trekking in and out had finally stopped, and Lewis had been put to bed with sleeping tablets supplied by the doctor, Caroline and Barry were left alone.
“Please don’t go home tonight,” Barry said. “I don’t want to leave here and I don’t want to spend the night alone.”
“Lewis is here,” she said.
“I want you.”
He looked so confused, so unhappy and so young. She stepped towards him and held him in her arms. Holding back tears he took deep breaths, and gradually calmed down. Neither of them moved for a long, long time.
Caroline put her fingers to his cheeks and turned his face to meet hers. The kiss was like the culmination of years of need. Ice to fire. A need greater than hunger, greater than thirst. An all-consuming need that his enfolding arms and his lips and the scent of him and the warmth of him, melted away.
* * *
Lewis was a man in pain. He wandered around, dealing with the arrangements with Barry, and seemed only half aware of what he was doing. He continued to live at Chestnut Road but went every evening to sit in Dora’s living room, hardly saying a word, but attending to the chores like adding coal to the fire or making cups of tea as if his mind had tripped back to the time before the break-up of his marriage.
Unlocking the Past Page 23
