Pontypridd 05 - Such Sweet Sorrow

by Catrin Collier

  ‘Your youngest daughter?’

  Evan nodded. ‘God alone knows what’s happening to her and her husband now Italy’s joined the Fascist cause. I can’t see Ronnie Ronconi fighting in the Italian army.’

  ‘Damn this bloody war.’

  ‘Well said, Alexander.’ Laura clutched John as she watched the last vestiges of smoke from the engine blow over the track.

  ‘What happens now?’ Alexander asked as he stood up and brushed the soot from the shoulders of his jacket.

  ‘We all go to the restaurant and eat,’ Laura said firmly. ‘I’ve ordered a lunch to be served in the upstairs function room. This might be a wartime wedding, but I won’t allow it to be a hole-in-the-corner affair.’

  Laura had done her best. There were flowers on the table, the linen was spotless, the chicken dinner was excellent and the waitresses cheerful as they congratulated the happy couple. Alexander tried to sustain the party mood. At his most expansive and entertaining, he insisted on adding to the bottles of wine Wyn had provided in the hope that a little alcohol would lubricate the party, but every time a newsboy cried in the street someone left the table to see if the headlines were new.

  Alma was beset by a peculiar mixture of gratefulness for the letter she had received from Charlie that morning, and guilt because her own husband was safe when the Powells and Ronconi girls didn’t even know where Eddie, William and the Ronconi boys were, so she concentrated all her attention on trying to cheer up Megan, Bethan, Jenny, Laura and Tina, but neither her own nor Wyn’s and Alexander’s well-intentioned efforts succeeded in driving the anxious look from the women’s eyes.

  ‘I should go and check the Tumble café,’ Tina said as soon as the plates had been cleared. It wasn’t the thought of the work that needed doing that motivated her to make a move, but an acute longing for William that worsened every time she saw Wyn put his arm around Diana, or Gina and Luke gaze into one another’s eyes.

  ‘The cook can manage for another half-hour.’ Laura signalled the departing waitress to bring the cake. A cake for which she had allowed the cook to squander half a week’s ration of butter and eggs.

  ‘What about the High Street café?’ Diana asked.

  ‘That’s staying closed today. I’ll take it over tomorrow. But for now let’s forget about the cafés and celebrate. Mr Powell, would you fill everyone’s glasses for the toast please?’

  Evan picked up the bottle and walked around the table. A year ago he’d never have imagined Gina and Tina, who’d rarely had a thought before the war other than what film to see or what scent to buy, running the Ronconis’ cafés. So much had changed, and so many sacrifices were being made. Laura and Bethan pulling together without the support of their husbands, trying to keep one café open between them by sharing the workload and the care of their babies. Tina running the Tumble café, which had always been the roughest, by herself. Gina taking over the restaurant, and a married woman at sixteen. Alma keeping Charlie’s shop open with only a couple of young boys and an untrained workhouse girl to help her. Jenny living alone and managing Griffiths’ shop while her father languished in the asylum, making no discernible progress for all the doctors’ confident predictions that the depression that had clouded his brain would lift within a year.

  ‘That’s the cake,’ Laura announced as she heard a step on the stairs. ‘Now who wants coffee and who wants tea after the toast?’

  ‘I don’t know about you,’ Alexander whispered to Wyn, ‘but I wouldn’t mind raiding the wine cellar to see if there’s any bottles left.’

  Laura cleared a place on the table for the cake. She turned her head to look for the waitress. Somehow John ended up alongside Rachel on Bethan’s lap as she ran headlong to the top of the stairs. Trevor stood there, hollow-eyed, exhausted, his uniform creased and filthy.

  Laura flung herself into his arms, half-crying, half-laughing. The others looked on awkwardly. They would have left the room if Laura and Trevor hadn’t been blocking the only exit. Megan reached out and lifted one of the babies from Bethan’s lap, taking the opportunity to grip Bethan’s hand as she sat, white-faced, trying not to think the worst as she watched Laura and Trevor.

  Wrapping his arm around Laura’s shoulders, Trevor stepped forward. ‘They told me downstairs that congratulations are in order.’ He managed a weary smile for Gina, as he held on to Laura’s hand on his arm. ‘You going to introduce me to this new brother-in-law of mine?’

  ‘Trevor, this is Luke.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you.’ Trevor extended his free hand. ‘We must have a talk some time. I can give you hints on how to handle the Ronconi women.’

  Bethan couldn’t wait another moment. ‘Have you see Andrew and the boys?’ she begged.

  ‘Let the poor man get his breath. Sit down, Trevor.’ Evan pulled out a chair and took the wineglass Bethan hadn’t used. He tipped the last of the wine into it and handed it to Trevor.

  Trevor looked to Bethan first. ‘I have a letter for you from Andrew. Don’t worry, he’s fine. Overworked maybe, but perfectly well.’

  ‘What’s it like over there?’ Tina asked.

  ‘Difficult.’ Trevor closed his eyes against images that would haunt him to the end of his days. Images he had no right to inflict on anyone who hadn’t been through the hell he had. ‘We’re retreating on every front.’ His words were short, clipped as he made an effort to produce a sanitised view of the war for his audience. ‘It’s orderly enough but we’re having to fight every step of the way. The Germans don’t let up for a minute. They’re hot on our heels however fast or far we run.’

  ‘And Eddie –’ Jenny’s question was interrupted by Tina and Megan.

  ‘And Will …’

  ‘And Tony and Angelo?’ Gina pleaded.

  ‘I heard before I left that the Welsh Guards are being used to fight the rearguard. But Tony will be home in a few days, he’ll tell you more. He’s been wounded.’

  ‘Is it serious?’ Laura asked anxiously.

  Trevor shook his head. ‘I dug a bullet out of his shoulder. It’s not bad, but it was enough to get him a place on the medical transport I came home on. All the boys were fine when he left them. They gave Tony some letters.’ He pulled a small bundle of papers from his pocket and distributed them among Evan, Megan and Jenny. ‘And these are for you –’ he passed two battered and stained envelopes to Tina and one to Gina.

  ‘I’m sorry they’ve been through the mire.’

  ‘Like you, by the look of you.’ Laura couldn’t stop staring at her husband as though she found it difficult to accept that he was really home. He held out his hands to his son.

  ‘Oh no you don’t.’ Megan whisked John out of his reach. ‘Not until you’ve washed.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’ He settled for tickling John under the chin.

  ‘If the Guards are fighting the rearguard action, they’ll be the last off the beaches,’ Evan said slowly, as he absorbed the full implications of Trevor’s revelation.

  Trevor picked up his wineglass. ‘That’s if they get off at all.’ He looked around the table. ‘I’m sorry, but it might be as well if you all prepare yourselves for the possibility.’

  The party broke up as soon as the cake and coffee had been served. Evan, Phyllis, Brian and Megan went across the road to Alma’s after first extracting a promise from Bethan to join them later. Clutching her letters, Tina made her way up Taff Street to the café. Jenny, Gina and Luke walked with her as far as the Tumble on their way up the Graig. Luke still had to move his few belongings from Evan’s house to Danycoedcae Road. Wyn and Diana left to open the theatre shop. Finally only Bethan remained.

  ‘I’ll give you two a lift home,’ she said as she buttoned on Rachel’s cardigan.

  ‘I’d appreciate that, Bethan, I’m whacked.’ Trevor’s eyes met hers and Bethan knew that he hadn’t told her all the news of Andrew, not yet.

  ‘I’ll make us some tea.’ Laura opened the car door and went into the house. As the front door s
wung wide Trevor saw the packing cases Mrs Ronconi had asked Fred Davies to deliver to Laura for safe keeping. Laura’s mother had insisted on splitting her ‘best’ china and linen between Laura’s house and her own in case of bombing, in the confident, if misplaced, belief that a device falling on Danycoedcae Road would leave Graig Street totally unscathed.

  ‘We’re moving?’ Trevor asked Bethan.

  ‘It’s a long story, Laura’ll tell you about it.’

  ‘You’re coming in, Bethan?’ Laura asked as she returned to the car to fetch John.

  Bethan shook her head. ‘I have to pick up my father and the others and take them home. But if you’re willing, I’ll borrow your husband for five minutes.’

  ‘Ten if you like, as long as I can have him all to myself afterwards. But you’ll come tomorrow?’

  ‘I’ll telephone. I’ll manage the High Street café while Trevor’s on leave.’

  ‘I haven’t even asked how long you’ve got?’ Laura looked at Trevor.

  ‘Twenty-four hours. It’s all they could spare. They need every doctor they can get. The wounded haven’t stopped flooding in, and won’t for a while.’

  ‘I bet you’re hungry.’

  ‘And tired. I intend to spend every minute of my leave in bed. Sleeping,’ he added, reading the amused expression on Bethan’s and Laura’s faces.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he apologised after Laura had taken John into the house. ‘I’m in such a state I’ve messed up your car. And unlike me, Andrew is always so particular …’

  ‘He’s staying, isn’t he?’ Bethan broke in abruptly.

  ‘We drew lots. He was caught with the short straw. One of the bachelors offered to take his place, but he wouldn’t hear of it.’

  ‘He wouldn’t have.’ There was bitterness as well as resignation in her voice.

  ‘I’m sorry, Beth, but none of us felt we could just abandon the wounded. Someone had to stay in Dunkirk …’

  ‘And it had to be Andrew.’

  ‘Here,’ he pulled a creased scrap of paper out of his pocket and pressed it into her hand. ‘I wish you’d come in.’

  ‘You want me to eat into your precious leave minutes? If it was Andrew who was home I’d be telling Laura to get lost.’

  ‘Beth …’

  ‘Leave me in peace to read my husband’s letter, and remind Laura not to set foot in the café until you’ve gone.’

  Bethan laid the letter on the front seat after Trevor left the car. She turned her head to check that Rachel was still sleeping peacefully in the cot on the back seat. Driving slowly and steadily she made her way back through Taff Street and up on to the Common. She didn’t go straight to Andrew’s parents’ house but parked on the bluff overlooking the town. It was only after she’d checked on Rachel a second time that she unfolded the scrap of paper Trevor had given her. There was no envelope.

  Darling Beth,

  I’m sorry this is so short, but Trevor’s convoy moves out in five minutes.

  I love you and Rachel, and always will. One day we’ll be together again. I have to believe that, it’s all I have to live for. I’ll write the very first minute I can.

  Don’t worry about me, even the Germans need doctors.

  Your loving husband Andrew

  She crouched over the steering wheel, clinging to the note as though it were a lifeline. He was alive, and hopefully he’d stay that way. She tried not to think how long it would be before she’d see him again, or what the Germans would do when they overran the medical post he was working in.

  He was alive!

  She laid her hands over her abdomen. One day they’d be together again – all four of them – and it was her job to look after their children, and wait for that day to come.

  ‘I thought I’d feel completely different once we were married, but I feel the same as I did yesterday. Don’t you?’ Gina asked Luke as she shut the door on the bedroom she’d shared with her sisters and walked down the landing to the box room.

  ‘I don’t feel married after that Registry Office ceremony, if that’s what you mean. I’m sorry, it was all a bit impersonal. I know you would have liked a white wedding with all the trimmings.’

  ‘I couldn’t have had that and a Quaker for a bridegroom, and as I didn’t want anyone else, I realised from the start that it would have to be a Registry Office or living in sin. But I’m still amazed after what you told me about your father that he gave you permission to marry me.’

  ‘It was the letter I wrote.’ He stepped past her and examined the tiny box room. Anything other than meet her steady gaze. He never had been very good at lying. She retraced her steps along the landing and opened another door.

  ‘And this is my parents’ bedroom.’ She glanced down the stairs. Luke’s case was still standing where he’d dropped it, by the front door. They’d been in the house two hours, and as yet they hadn’t even decided which bedroom they were going to occupy.

  ‘I don’t think it would be right for us to sleep in here,’ he said, as he looked at the stripped mattress and dark heavy furniture.

  ‘I agree, I’d never feel comfortable in Mama and Papa’s room, but you saw the room I shared with my sisters. There’s precious little space between the two double beds.’

  ‘That leaves your brothers’ room and the box room.’ He moved clumsily backwards, stepping down from her parents’ bedroom on to the landing. ‘If you like, I could sleep in the box room until you get used to the idea of being married,’ he offered nervously, remembering her reaction the time he had lost his head in the High Street café.

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ Feeling as apprehensive as she sensed he was, she opened the door to her brothers’ bedroom. ‘The decision’s made, then. I’ll make up this bed.’ She went to the wardrobe. ‘If you carry your case up I’ll hang your clothes away, and I’ll move mine in here too. At least they left the room clean and tidy.’

  ‘Do you want some help?’

  ‘No, but I’d love a cup of tea afterwards, and if you feel like spoiling me you could make some toast.’

  He went downstairs, trying to remind himself that this was his home now, and would be until he and Gina could afford a place of their own. Taking his marriage certificate from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, he read it again in an effort to convince himself it was real.

  ‘Do me a favour Alexander?’

  ‘For you, Tina, anything.’ After the traumatic day, Alexander’s light-hearted comment fell flat.

  ‘Drop a note into Laura’s house on your way up the hill.’

  ‘I thought you’d moved in there?’

  ‘I’m exhausted. If I don’t sleep here tonight I’ll never get up for the early-shift tram crews in the morning.’

  ‘This has nothing to do with Dr Lewis arriving home unexpectedly?’ he asked perceptively.

  ‘Nothing,’ she bit back sharply. Trevor’s arrival had intensified her longing for William into an acute yearning that bordered on pain, but she had no intention of admitting or discussing her heartache with Alexander.

  ‘What about your things? I could go up there and bring them down for you?’

  ‘No, I’ll go up tomorrow morning after the cook comes in. In fact, thinking about it, it would make sense for me to move in here rather than with Laura. Sooner or later John’s going to reach that horrible crying, teething stage. At least here I can be sure of getting some rest in between opening hours.’

  ‘There’s a flat upstairs?’

  ‘A couple of rooms. They’re a bit shabby. I don’t suppose you’re any good at decorating?’

  ‘I’ve never tried, but I’m willing to give it a go. How hard can it be?’

  ‘Alexander?’ Ieuan, the miner who worked with Evan, called out from the back room. ‘Fancy a game of cards?’

  ‘Why not?’ Alexander raised his eyebrows in surprise as he picked up his tea.

  ‘Watch it, you’re in danger of becoming accepted around here,’ Tina mocked.

  ‘I can just see the headlin
es in next week’s Pontypridd Observer: ‘Conchie makes inroads into town’s society’.’

  She forced a smile as she turned to the kitchen and shouted to the cook to take over for ten minutes. Lighting a candle she walked upstairs. She pulled the blackout and examined the two cheerless rooms. There was no electricity in the upstairs of the building, but she could manage without. The walls were damp, the paint peeling, the floors filthy, but wallpaper and paint could still be bought on Ponty market, and she wasn’t afraid of hard work. What furniture there was, she’d probably have to pay to have carted away, but there were plenty of pieces in Danycoedcae Road that wouldn’t be missed. She could bring down one of the double beds to replace the creaking, single, iron bedstead; a dressing table and a toilet set for washing, the small wardrobe from Ronnie’s room, a rug – she and Laura had found three rolled up in the attic. Ones that her mother had replaced but never thrown out because she’d thought them ‘too good’ so had consigned them to cold and damp as a way of preserving them.

  She walked along the dusty landing and opened the door to the second room. At the beginning of the war it had been filled with tins and boxes, but rationing had put paid to stockpiling. A couple of easy chairs from the middle room at home, another rug, a table, and perhaps an electric fire for the winter and she’d be self-sufficient, reasonably comfortable, and out of Laura’s way whenever Trevor came home on leave. The only wonder was she hadn’t thought of furnishing the rooms before.

  Trying not to think how happy she and William could be here once she’d effected the transformation if he ever came home again – she returned to the room with the bed, sat on the mattress and pulled the envelope Trevor had given her out of her pocket. The writing on the outside wasn’t Will’s. Someone, probably Trevor, had put the pieces of paper Tony had given him into envelopes. It was no more than a scrap, a single page torn from a notebook and scribbled in pencil:

  I’ll be home even if I have to swim the Channel. Wait for me. Love you always. Will.

  The two rooms weren’t much, but she was determined to turn them into a home of sorts. Was it tempting fate to hope that some day she and William would be together again?