‘I assumed you knew.’
‘Assumed! I thought you were just passing time with me, like that Vera Collins.’
‘It’s always been serious between you and me,’ he broke in indignantly. Vera Collins was a married woman he’d had a brief affair with, an incident he’d long since relegated to ancient history, but unfortunately one Tina never failed to resurrect every time they argued.
‘Ssh!’ Locking her hands around his neck, she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. He crushed her against him with a fervour that belied the separation to come. Almost as though he could hold on to her by simply clasping her as tight, and for as long as humanly possible. But the embrace, far from reassuring, only served to remind Tina that he would soon be gone.
Summoning all her strength, she thrust him away. ‘When will you have to go?’
‘I’m not sure. Next week, perhaps the week after.’
‘You didn’t think to ask?’
‘The recruiting officer couldn’t tell us. You will wait for me?’
‘You expect me to wait around for years …’
‘It won’t take years.’
‘Don’t tell me you’re one of those fools who believe the war will be over by Christmas?’
‘Not Christmas, but by then we’ll have pushed out over the French border and have Jerry on the run.’
‘That’s not what Papa thinks. He knows someone who travelled through Germany last summer. He told us that the Germans have built up a huge war machine. That their army is already trained, and they have factories working flat out producing arms. What do we have? Gas masks, rationing and sandbags? We’re not going to beat anyone with those.’
‘Whose side is this friend of your father’s on?’
‘Ours, of course.’
‘Italian or Welsh?’
‘The Italians are neutral.’
‘Non-combative,’ William corrected, recalling the stance Mussolini had taken when the Germans and Russians marched into Poland.
‘What’s the matter with you? Tony and Angelo joined up alongside you, didn’t they?’
‘They’re Welsh.’
‘And Italian,’ she countered. ‘We’re both, and proud of it.’
‘There’s no reason why you shouldn’t be. I wasn’t accusing you of anything.’
‘I didn’t say you were,’ she capitulated, ashamed of her touchiness. ‘How many others are going with you?’
‘Glan Richards from next door, Charlie …’
‘Russian Charlie?’ Tina was shocked. William’s boss who had an unpronounceable name had been christened Charlie by a market wag when he’d opened a stall in Pontypridd. He hadn’t been married a year, and she couldn’t see his wife, Alma, being very happy at the thought of losing her husband before they’d even celebrated their first wedding anniversary.
‘He said now he’s married Alma, he’s more Welsh than anything else, and if Wales is fighting a war then so is he.’
‘Against his own kind?’
‘We’re not fighting the Russians.’
‘They marched into Poland like the Germans, didn’t they? I’m surprised that the recruiting office let Charlie join up.’
‘They haven’t yet,’ William answered evasively not wanting to get sidetracked into discussing the hard time Charlie had been given by the senior officer.
‘And your Uncle Evan?’
‘The pit manager’s already warned him that they won’t let him go. Experienced miners are worth their weight in gold now that war’s been declared. You still haven’t answered my question,’ he reminded her, deliberately drawing the conversation back to personal matters.
‘You want me to sit at home and wait for you, while you go to France and have a whale of a time with French girls who don’t know any better than to throw themselves at Welsh boys?’
‘I had hoped we could choose an engagement ring before I go.’
William’s matter-of-fact assumption that she would fit in with his plans kindled a blaze of conflicting emotions Tina could barely understand, let alone control. He’d been around as long as she could remember. He was tall, dark and far too good-looking for her peace of mind, with a wicked sense of humour that drove her to distraction, simply because most of the time she found it impossible to tell whether he was clowning or serious. But loving him hadn’t blinded her to his shortcomings. He had an eye for other women. Vera Collins’s son’s black curly hair and dark eyes was proof enough of that, but fortunately for William, Vera’s husband was either the forgiving or the stupid sort.
It had been hard enough to overlook William’s philandering until now, when they had only been boy and girlfriend – if only he hadn’t been going away – if she could have kept him in Pontypridd where she could watch him – if he hadn’t already had at least one affair: there were simply too many ‘ifs’ in the equation. ‘I don’t want to get engaged to a man who may never come back,’ she answered forcefully.
‘You won’t be, because I will be back.’ He folded his arms around her once more. ‘I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love you. All you have to do is turn your enormous, dark eyes on me to get anything you want that’s mine to give. And you love me, Tina, almost as much as I love you. We’re made for one another.’ He caressed the back of her neck with his hands, curling the soft tendrils of hair around his fingers. ‘Do you remember the fight I had with Tony when I told him we were going to elope?’
‘As we were six years old at the time I don’t think we’d have got very far.’
‘We would now.’ He slid his hands down to her waist.
‘Then let’s elope, now. Tonight,’ she suggested impulsively. ‘I have some money, we could go to Gretna Green.’
‘And if I get a letter from the army tomorrow?’
‘You won’t be here to receive it.’
‘They’ll come after me and charge me with desertion.’
‘How can they do that, when you haven’t been there to desert?’
‘We’ll get married the minute the war is over.’
‘I could have grey hair by then.’
‘No war can last that long.’
‘It’s not just the war. There’s Mama and Papa. They’ve never liked the idea of you and me. If the war hadn’t broken out Papa would have carried out his threat and sent me to Italy to marry a nice, Catholic, Italian boy.’ She made it sound like a fate worse than death.
‘They accepted your brother Ronnie marrying my cousin Maud, and she’s Baptist and Welsh.’
‘And they got married in an Anglican church and Papa wouldn’t even go to the wedding. Sometimes I think it’s just as well Ronnie carried Maud off to Italy the day after. Papa’s hopelessly old-fashioned, he really does want all of us to marry Italians.’
‘He’s not having much luck in that department, is he?’ William commented, thinking of Tina’s elder sister Laura who was married to one of the local doctors, Trevor Lewis. ‘You’re not going to try and make up for his disappointment in Ronnie and Laura by marrying an Italian, are you?’ he asked anxiously, wondering if there was a café-owning rival for Tina’s hand that he was unaware of.
‘No, but I don’t want to get engaged to someone I might not see for ten years either.’
‘A minute ago you wanted to elope.’
‘A minute ago I wasn’t thinking straight. The least you could have done was tell me you were going to join the Guards before you did.’
‘I might have if I’d thought you’d be reasonable about it,’ he asserted, furious with her for ignoring his offer to buy her an engagement ring.
‘Reasonable –’
‘Why do all Italians have such foul tempers?’
‘You’re the one who’s shouting!’
Temper rising, William lifted his hat from his head and shook the raindrops from it. The only sound in the street was her quick breathing and the quiet patter of rain.
‘Goodnight, Will.’
Turning sharply, he seized her and kissed her the way he�
��d wanted to all evening. Kissing and holding was as far as he’d ever gone with Tina, although there had been long walks around the deserted paths of Shoni’s pond last summer when he’d burned to do a whole lot more, and would have, if she hadn’t slapped his face.
‘We could get married before you go?’ she faltered when he finally released her. She had a sudden, dreadful, terribly real premonition that he would never come back. That this was all the time they were ever going to have. She loved him, would always love him, and wanted to prove it to him before he left, even if it meant spending the rest of her life a widow.
‘No,’ he answered swiftly.
‘Why not?’
‘Because I love you.’
‘If you really loved me, you’d marry me. It would make everything more permanent, more settled than if we were engaged. We’d have something more than just the end of the war to look forward to.’
He searched his mind for words that would explain his feelings. How he’d been overwhelmed by trying to assume the responsibilities of the man of the house at four years of age. How he’d been forced to stand by and watch his mother struggle, not only to make ends meet and feed and clothe him and his sister, Diana, but also bear the loneliness that had settled like a blight, clouding her life after the arrival of the telegram that had brought the news of his father’s death. He had seen the sadness and wistful yearning in his mother’s smile whenever she had looked at his father’s photograph, watched her sob her heart out on the anniversaries: his father’s birthday – their wedding anniversary – the date of his death – Armistice day … He had slunk into the house more times than he could count with torn trousers and bruised knuckles from fighting boys who had repeated the rumours about his mother and any and every man she stopped to talk to; even – God forbid – his Uncle Evan who’d never had any thought in his head other than practical ones of how to help his brother’s widow and children. He loved Tina far too much to risk putting her through anything like that.
‘How can you love me and not want to marry me?’
Her voice shattered the silence, reminding him that he hadn’t voiced a single thought.
‘I don’t want you left alone.’
‘I’d be just as alone when you leave, whether we marry or not.’
‘But you wouldn’t be left with a wedding ring and possibly a baby. You’d be free to look for another man.’
‘And the thought of me with another man makes you happy?’
‘Of course not, but …’
The door opened behind them and there was a swish of blackout curtains being dragged aside. ‘Tina, you going to be out there all night?’
‘No, Papa.’
‘Time you were in bed, girl.’
‘Evening, Mr Ronconi,’ William called out.
A loud sniff was followed by the door slamming.
‘We’ll talk tomorrow.’ Tina kissed him one last time before turning and feeling her way up the steps.
‘I do love you, I really do,’ he repeated despondently as she closed the door softly behind her.
‘How come Angelo signed up for the Guards with you and Will?’ Diana Powell asked Tony Ronconi as he checked the locks on the back door of the café. ‘I thought they were advertising for men between the ages of twenty and thirty-five?’
‘They are, but they decided to make an exception in Angelo’s case.’
‘Exception! He’s only seventeen. He lied about his age, didn’t he?’
‘Lie is a strong word.’
‘Does your father know?’
‘No, but he will when I get home.’
‘And if he won’t let Angelo go?’
‘Papa’s no fool. He knows Angelo will have to go some time, and better he goes with me and Will to look after him than later by himself.’
‘I’m not sure you two can look after yourselves, let alone Angelo.’
‘We’ll be fine.’ He walked behind the counter and opened the door that led to the kitchen. ‘I’ve locked the back door, Angelo. I’ll lock the front on my way out.’
‘Your turn to sleep here tomorrow,’ Angelo shouted above the clatter of pans.
‘As if I could forget it. Just make sure you’re up by five to serve the early-shift tram crews.’
‘Have I missed yet?’
‘There’s always a first time.’ Tony followed Diana behind the curtain he’d hung in front of the door to comply with blackout regulations. ‘Don’t open the door for a moment,’ he ordered, tussling with the folds of cloth in an attempt to reach her.
‘I have to get home, work tomorrow.’ She slipped through his restraining arms and darted out into the rain.
He closed the door behind him, turning the key in the lock before posting it back through the letterbox. His pulse was pounding, and his hands were damp from more than the rain. Although he would have walked barefoot over hot coals rather than admit it to his brother, or William, or Glan Richards, who assumed from the stories he’d spun of his exploits with women that he was far more experienced than he actually was, he was terrified at the thought of going to war and getting killed without ever having known what it was to sleep with a woman. And as he’d been ‘courting’ William’s sister, Diana, since the summer, she was the obvious choice. Even if she exacted marriage as her price for bestowing the privilege.
The more he considered the idea of marriage, the more attractive it became. Diana was uncommonly, head-turningly pretty, in a brown, curly-haired, dark-eyed way that wasn’t unlike the Italian ideal of beauty. She had a sweet nature and, unlike his sisters, an even temperament. He could quite happily spend the rest of his life with her, especially if it meant being able to sleep with her before he went away.
‘You wouldn’t be able to run away from me if we were married,’ he blurted out suddenly, as he caught up with her under the railway bridge that marked the beginning of the Graig hill.
‘Married!’
‘Why not?’ he broke in quickly. ‘We’ve being going out for a while.’ He put his arm around her waist. ‘I’d like to stake a claim in case some other man decides to snap you up while I’m away.’
‘I haven’t even thought about it. I don’t know what to say.’
‘Try yes. We can get a ring, apply for a special licence, and marry before I go, or we could get engaged now and married when I get embarkation leave. The recruiting officer promised us that we’d have a break after our six weeks’ training.’
‘Do you want to marry me, or do you just want a wife before you go away?’ she asked perceptively. It was the most tactful, if obtuse way she could think of phrasing a difficult question.
‘There’s no one else I want to marry. Come on Di, are you going to say yes, or no?’
‘I don’t know,’ she answered hesitantly. ‘I love you Tony, you know that…’ All she could think of was her secret. A corrosive, destructive secret she’d managed to keep hidden from most of the people who mattered, like her mother, Will, and Tony. But her boss, Wyn Rees and Tony’s sister Laura and her doctor husband, Trevor, knew about it. If she married Tony, would Laura tell him?
‘Then that’s settled. We’ll see Father O’Donnelly tomorrow.’
‘Father O’Donnelly? I’m Baptist.’
‘Papa won’t let me marry outside of the Catholic Church. You don’t mind converting, do you?’
‘No, but …’
‘If you take instruction and work hard you should be ready by the time I finish my training.’
Diana’s head was spinning. Tony’s words echoed, alien and incomprehensible through the shrouding darkness. She couldn’t think of anything except her secret. It wouldn’t be fair to keep it from Tony, but once she told him, would he still want her? ‘You’re sleeping in the café tomorrow night?’ She’d spoken in a whisper, but he understood her – perfectly.
‘Yes.’
‘If I stay with you for a while, will you walk me home afterwards?’
A lump rose in his throat. He hadn’t expected this. Not fro
m a decent girl like Diana. ‘Are you sure you want to stay?’
She clung to his arm. ‘Yes.’
‘Then I’ll tell Papa we’re getting married.’
‘No, please. Not until after tomorrow.’
‘Then we’ll tell everyone the day after tomorrow. We’ll buy the ring then. This isn’t just about… about you staying on at the café,’ he stammered in embarrassment. ‘I want to marry you.’
‘I know, Tony,’ she echoed, hoping and praying he’d still feel the same way about her and marriage – after tomorrow night.
As the radio concert of Tchaikovsky’s sixth symphony drew to a close, Alma Raschenko looked up from her knitting at her husband, who was sitting in an easy chair across the hearth from her.
‘You haven’t told me how it went in the recruiting office.’ By nature, Charlie was a silent uncommunicative man, and it had taken Alma months to become accustomed to his ways, and to understand that the silences between them didn’t necessarily mean that he was unhappy, troubled, angry, or that he loved her any the less. But there was a considerable difference between his silences and the full-blown argument that had flared between them last night when he had told her of his intention to join the Welsh Guards. Feeling betrayed, abandoned and resentful, she hadn’t exchanged a word with him above the absolutely essential since he had returned to the shop with William Powell early that afternoon.
A frown creased his forehead as his white-blond hair fell low over his eyes. ‘It went as I expected it to.’ He folded the newspaper he’d been reading.
‘They signed you up along with the boys?’
‘They signed up the boys. They didn’t want an alien.’
She tensed the muscles in her face, forcing them to remain rigid. They didn’t want him! She suppressed the instinct to fling herself into his arms and cover his face with kisses. That meant he’d stay with her, here in Pontypridd, and continue to run his shop for the duration. Of course the war would make a difference, especially to their profits, but she’d been poor before and survived the experience. Poverty held no terrors for her in comparison to Charlie’s absence.
He left his chair and walked to the window that looked out over Taff Street.
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