Beyond the lychgate, more people were lining the path and at her feet, masses of flowers were spread, a carpet of every hue. The sight took her breath away and she stopped for a moment to admire them. Along the path flowers stood in every imaginable container from buckets and bowls to jars and even saucers with small daisies and tom-thumbs floating in them. It was so perfect. Ada felt tears brimming in her eyes. She knew without doubt that this wonderful display was the patient and loving work of Phil’s mother.
The church was dark and cold after the warmth of the sun and she shivered slightly and felt Waldo’s hand tighten on her arm to encourage her.
‘I’m all right,’ she whispered. ‘I just felt a sudden chill.’
Phil stood with young Willie, his best man. He turned and smiled widely at his first sight of his bride. Then he nudged Willie for him to turn and look too. He was obviously not overawed by the place or the occasion. Ada smiled back happily.
The organist saw her in his mirror and began the music she had often heard in her dreams and she glided slowly down the aisle to stand beside her groom. She looked at his cheeky smile and the look of pride that made his face that of the schoolboy who had eyes for no one else.
They repeated the words with all seriousness but when they went into the vestry, Phil burst out, ‘Ada! You’re so beautiful! I can’t believe my luck. Pinch me someone, tell me I’m not dreaming!’
The signing was a blur of faces, talk she didn’t hear, comments she wouldn’t remember. There was just herself and Phil, wearing a smart grey suit and an expensive tie, with chamois leather gloves hiding his ink-stained hands and spats covering the shaped boots he wore to compensate for his twisted limbs and feet. The smart clothes she remembered, and his smile and the love and pride in his eyes. The rest just floated, unformed, out of her memory in a haze of happiness.
Her veil was lifted and as they went to the door to begin their procession through the church, Phil gripped her arm tightly as if afraid she would run away. Walking through the sea of faces, Ada was aware of something different. Almost at once she realized that Phil was not limping.
‘Phil, your leg. You aren’t limping.’
‘I’m walking straight for you today if I never do again,’ he whispered back and she glanced at him and saw the strain on his face and felt such a rush of love for him. He was forcing himself to walk without a limp that was so much a part of him she forgot until it wasn’t there. ‘Oh, Phil, I love you very much.’
They walked out into the sunshine and the beautiful array of flowers where hordes of friends, relations and customers were standing preparing to throw confetti and hand her horseshoes supposed to bring good luck. There was a photographer and he seemed to take an age, insisting they all stood utterly still, but she found a moment to thank Mrs Spencer for the wonderful surprise of the flower-strewn path.
‘Raided every garden in the village I did,’ her mother-in-law whispered, her dimpled face under the fancy hat breaking into the irresistible smile that was so like her son’s.
Among the people come to see them, Ada spotted Willie’s mother with her daughters and her new husband. How perfect this would be if her own mother had appeared. She allowed thoughts to drift momentarily from the happy, noisy scene to wonder where her mother had gone. In spite of constant efforts over a long time, they had never heard from her since the moment she had left them, apart from a few brief notes posted in Cardiff during the first month. How could she have missed her own daughter’s wedding?
She was brought back to the present by a concerned-looking Mrs Spencer asking, ‘All right, are you? Not upset about anything? Is there anything I forgot that I should have done? We tried to think of everything, me and Phil. We want today to be perfect.’
‘Perfect it is.’ Ada smiled affectionately. ‘Everything is perfection. Are we going back to your house now, for the wedding breakfast?’ Ada spread her arms to the ever-growing crowd. ‘Where will you put us all?’
‘Surprise, daughter mine,’ Mrs Spencer said, tapping the side of her nose with a finger. ‘Don’t ask, just wait.’
The cottage was not far from the church so Ada didn’t expect to get back into the carriage, but Phil and Waldo called her and led her to the lychgate.
‘Time to go,’ Phil told her, his eyes bright with excitement. He beckoned to Van and Marged and they followed him through the gateway. Outside was Willie, still in his best suit, driving the two-horse carriage. The Owens had sold their horses and Willie couldn’t contain his delight at handling horses again.
White ribbons were draped over the horses’ backs and each had a bow of ribbon at the side of their necks and white covers over their ears. White ear-muffs for weddings, black for funerals was the tradition. A plume on each proud head had bells attached that jingled as the animals nodded, impatient to be off.
For Ada, the ride through the town was like seeing everything for the first time. She waved gaily to passers-by who shouted good wishes, and Phil threw money for groups of children to scramble for as they passed.
‘Damn me,’ Phil sighed. ‘I’m glad that part is over. I felt like an actor on stage, not knowing his lines.’
‘Your leg, Phil. It was wonderful of you to make such an effort on our wedding day but promise you’ll never do it again. I could see how much pain it gave you.’
‘Do anything for you, Mrs Spencer, but all right, I’ll use a stick and be damned with pride. I wanted you to know I could do it – for you.’
Holding hands and smiling at each other and at the world around them, they travelled on through the town in the direction of the beach.
‘When are we turning back?’ Ada asked. ‘Your mam will be anxious for us to start on the food she’s prepared.’
‘What say we go down Hafod Street, Willie?’ Phil called.
At the Sea View Hotel the horses stopped and Phil and Ada were helped out by a jubilant Willie. ‘There, then! Who says we can’t keep secrets, eh?’
Beryl and Bertie had hurried from the church by car and were waiting to welcome them to the surprise reception. The hotel had been arranged for the largest wedding they had ever hosted.
Cecily waited behind her chair to see who would be sitting next to her. Waldo and Melanie were close by, with Bertie and Beryl. The one unmarked chair remained empty until all the others were filled and to her dismay it was Danny who came to claim it.
‘I sneaked in earlier and changed a few cards,’ he whispered. ‘Cecily, I have to talk to you.’
‘Go away. Please don’t spoil today.’
‘I’ve tried to make it work with Jessie and me but it’s no use. It’s you I love.’
She looked around to see if there was another seat she could use.
‘She’s hateful to me, says I bore her, that I don’t give her enough attention.’
‘I’m sorry but it’s none of my business.’ Cecily guessed there was more to it than quiet boredom. Indifference, unexplained absences and angry scenes were more likely. She leaned forward and began a conversation with Uncle Ben, who sat opposite with his sharp-faced wife, Maggie. Maggie disapproved of her, being a close friend of Dorothy, and made no secret of the fact so Cecily found it difficult to keep a conversation going. Sitting next to Danny would give her plenty of opinions to share with Dorothy. Cecily knew Uncle Ben enjoyed nothing more than talking about himself, and by asking a few questions about his solos with the choir and his garden, she managed to keep his words coming and avoided talking to Danny throughout the meal.
Willie was ready with the horses and carriage to take the bride and groom back to the shop to change out of their wedding clothes. He was loath to part with the horses. He had not realized how much he had missed driving the cart and the trap until he touched the reins and set out for the church. Still, the car was the important transport of the future and he was not a man to waste time looking back. But he went very slowly back to the stables, savouring the joy of managing the beautiful animals until the last moment, and staying to take them out of harness and
spending time rubbing them down.
Ada and Phil were not going away but, as they set off in Phil’s car to the Spencers’ home, boots were tied to the bumper and they were given a noisy send-off by the crowds still gathered. Cecily went back into the shop feeling deflated and inexplicably sad. Danny was with the rest of the relations who were unwilling to leave. No one had invited him but he was perfectly at ease.
‘Better get some sandwiches made, this lot are here for the night,’ he said. He ushered her through the passageway to the back kitchen and handed her an apron. Then he took her in his arms without warning and kissed her. ‘I’ve been wanting to do that all day.’
Breathless with shock, and anger, she said, ‘Go away! I don’t want you here!’
‘All right. But first I’ll help you with the food.’ In a silence tense with unspoken words, they prepared platefuls of sandwiches and cakes. The bread was filled with cheese and meats provided by Waldo, which she and Ada had prepared in readiness. Pickles were opened, freshly laundered serviettes piled up and eventually the loaded trays were carried up to the big sitting room above the shop, where groups of people waited, hungry despite the meal so recently eaten.
‘Where’s Willie?’ Cecily asked, stretching to look around the room filled with smartly dressed people.
‘He’s taking the carriage and pair back and Johnny’s gone to return the car,’ Uncle Ben announced in his ponderous bass voice. ‘That Peter Marshall fellow has followed to bring them back here.’
Cecily and Danny worked as a team, almost unnoticed, as they brought food and drinks to the guests and Cecily felt anger threatening to develop into a row when she heard Dorothy telling others loudly that Ada should not consider having a child. ‘I know he tried to hide it today but the fact remains he’s a cripple and shouldn’t risk having a child born with the same affliction.’
Cecily slammed down a tray she was carrying and said loudly, ‘Phil was hit by a car! His weak leg muscles are the result of an accident. The problem is neither hereditary nor congenital!’
Dorothy shook her head but didn’t reply.
‘She doesn’t know what you mean and is afraid it might be something rude!’ Danny whispered.
Danny stayed after everyone else had gone. The piano tinkled its last tune at 12.30 when Uncle Ben sang a hymn to finish the day in proper mood, and people at last began to drift away.
Van had fallen asleep and Cecily put her to bed. Marged was sleeping too, sitting in the small armchair near the dying fire, and Peter Marshall offered to drive Rhonwen and Marged home. He collected their coats and before leaving found Cecily for a final word.
‘Don’t ever feel you’re alone, Cecily,’ he said, squeezing her shoulders affectionately. ‘I know how close you and Ada are and it will be strange for you to have to share her with Phil. If ever there’s a time when you want company, just pick up the phone and say “Peter”, and I’ll stop whatever I’m doing and come.’
‘Thank you. But I have to face the changes and accept them or I’ll be months before I start living again. Life’s too short to waste it wishing for something that can’t be altered. Best to accept and go on from there, don’t you think?’
‘You’ll do,’ he said approvingly, ‘but my offer remains. Call me and I’ll come.’
Cecily was surprised to realize that although she had met Peter years before, she knew very little about him. He fitted in so easily it was difficult to think back to when he wasn’t there. A day out in Porthcawl, or a long discussion on some aspect of her business, they all seemed as relaxed and easy with Peter as with Waldo or Bertie. Peter Marshall, she thought with comforting warmth, was a good friend to have.
He had sold her a car and a van and looked after both vehicles with a thoroughness she admired. He ran his beach stall, where she often called during the summer months and from where he had on several occasions taken her and Van out for a meal. She looked at him with new interest. He was more than a casual acquaintance; he was someone who really cared.
Danny had disappeared into the back kitchen while she saw the last few guests on their way. The doorbell shook at each departure and played its busy, silvery ditty, and Cecily sighed and leaned back against the door as it closed for the penultimate time. ‘Now there’s only you, Danny Preston,’ she muttered.
He stepped out of the shadows and opened his arms. She shook her head.
‘I was only going to invite you to sit while I get you a drink,’ he said softly.
‘Sorry, Danny. Yes, I haven’t had a drink all evening. Too busy, but I need one now.’
‘How d’you feel? Apart from needing a drink?’ He searched through the bottles and picked up an empty glass. ‘Worried about Ada not being here tonight?’
‘It’s funny, but all these weeks I’ve thought of how I’ll miss her and it’s only now, with the house suddenly so empty after all those people, that I’ve thought of sleeping in this rambling old building with only Van for company. I think I’ll get a dog. And another cat. And maybe a parrot.’
‘You are nervous then?’
‘A little. I think I’ll go in with Van, just for tonight.’
‘No, it’ll be worse tomorrow if you do that.’
‘Part of my nervousness is for Van. She seems so vulnerable on the floor below me and the place is a mass of empty rooms and long dark passages; ghosts and shadows and no living person within call.’
‘I could stay—’
‘No!’
‘I mean just stay. I’ll sleep down here in the armchair. Your father slept there many times.’
‘No.’
‘Tie my hands and feet if you don’t trust me – or yourself.’
‘Don’t be stupid.’
‘Just for tonight. Tomorrow you’ll have had time to get used to the idea and tomorrow is Sunday, a quiet day. You and Van can relax and get the feel of the house in its new mood. For tonight I think I should stay.’ He glanced at the clock on the wall ticking away the hours. ‘There isn’t much of the night left, anyway.’
‘All right. You can sleep in Mam and Dad’s room.’
‘Fine. You’ll sleep well, knowing there’s someone else near you.’ He picked up his coat and hung it on the hook in the passage. ‘I’ll just make sure all the doors are locked.’
‘Ada always did that,’ she said sadly. She ran upstairs then, trying to fight off the excitement that was making her breathless. She knew she should have insisted he went but there was a difference about the house with one less occupant. Although, knowing Danny was so near would hardly make her more inclined to sleep.
She looked in on Van who was fast asleep in her usual position, arms thrown back in contented abandon as she had as a child, then went to her parents’ room and found a clean towel and a pair of her father’s pyjamas for Danny. She paused in the cold empty room for a moment, shivering in the unused feel of the place, redolent of lavender polish and clean linen and half remembered past times. She contemplated on how the absence of her parents had changed it from a well loved and welcoming room to one that was alien and unfriendly.
Why had Mam abandoned them so completely? She touched the smooth counterpane and wondered if perhaps she was unhappy and regretting her action and was too proud to return. If only they could find her, talk to her, but the fact remained that she had appeared neither at Dadda’s funeral nor Ada’s wedding and that seemed utterly final. If there were to be a softening of her resolve it would have been at one of these important occasions.
She put the towel and pyjamas on the bed and went back down. Danny was waiting at the bend of the first landing. He reached out and pulled at the gas-light chain and the staircase was enveloped in darkness in which their breathing seemed inordinately loud. He leaned towards her so she could feel each breath on her cheek and she said warningly, ‘Danny, no.’ She struck a match and re-lit the hissing gas.
‘Good night. Sleep well.’
‘Thank you.’
She didn’t bother to explain exactly where
he was sleeping. He’d been a regular visitor once and nothing much had changed. She heard him open the door and strike a match to light a candle. The door complained slightly as it was pushed shut.
It was exciting, stripping off her clothes knowing he was near. There was something sensual in the silk of her nightdress slipping so easily over her slim figure. The sheets were cool and caressing as she stretched her legs slowly down. The bedroom light was still on and she was reluctant to turn it off. The day had been long and full and she needed time to unwind before accepting that it was over. After a few minutes she reached up and turned off the gas-light but she was far from drowsy. She stood for a moment looking over the roof tops at the stars showing faintly in the navy blue sky. A slight movement caught her eye and she turned to see the door slowly opening.
‘Danny. Go away!’
‘I thought you’d like to see this.’ He stepped into her room and in the light of his candle she saw he was wearing the pyjamas she had left for him. They were crazily tight. About three sizes too small, she assessed pointlessly. She began to chuckle, trying to muffle it and prevent it exploding into laughter. He bulged everywhere. The pyjama legs ended a little below the knees, the cord fastened but the gap was a huge V. His body refused to fit into the jacket; the place for his shoulders was lower than his shoulder blades. Sleeves strained across his muscular arms and the one solitary button he’d managed to fasten was making the straining jacket look like a pleated brassiere.
Laughter was impossible to contain and he struggled out of the jacket with Cecily’s help in spluttering giggles. Then he pulled the cord holding up the trousers and suddenly it was no longer funny, but serious and urgent and they fell onto the bed with the hunger of lovers after a long agonizing absence.
Cecily woke the following morning with a languid dreamy floating sensation. The only sound was the gentle flapping of the curtains in the breeze. The air smelled sweet and clean and only of the sea. There was a startled moment of realization, then a moment to savour, watching Danny breathing lightly beside her, his arms still holding her, the sight as fresh and intoxicating as the morning. In sleep his face had lost its habitual frown and with the lids closed over the intense eyes he looked so calm and beautiful she felt a lump fill her throat. Gently she kissed his cheek, already prickling with the need for a shave, the dark hairs forming a shadow on his cheeks and on the slightly thrusting chin.
Goodbye to Dreams Page 19
