“Why should he?” Sian demanded. “Why expect Daddy to bail him out? Why doesn’t Ryan get back to work?”
“I’ve tried to persuade him, but all he does is tell me not to nag.”
“Cowardly argument that is, Sally! A retort from the defeated!”
They went around the town, gathering items, some of which would be delivered later, then Sian suggested they went to the Rose Tree Café near the lake. They had once been regular customers but since the notoriety of the police investigation, their friends had been less than welcoming. Today, Sian decided it was time they returned to their normal routine and call in for a coffee and a chat after shopping.
The small tables were full and it was with some hesitation that one of their acquaintances moved up to allow them to sit.
Ignoring the clientele who were determinedly showing their indifference, they continued with their conversation quietly, their words muffled by the hum of a dozen conversations going on around them. Probably about them, they surmised.
“We can’t go on without money coming in for much longer,” Sally whispered. “I think I’ll have to look for something myself. It isn’t as if I have that much to do, now the girls are grown-up.”
“It’s certainly time they started earning!”
“It’s hard for them, brought up indulged by a doting Grandmother who convinced them they would go from being kept by us, to being kept by their husbands, with the transition nothing more than a mild disturbance.”
“A decade ago it might have worked, but things have changed. No one demands that women stay home any more. They have a choice, but in the case of the Weston family, now, in 1953, the choice is work or starve. Don’t your three realise that?”
Sally shrugged, then she smiled at her twin. “Remember the fuss when your Jack came out of the army and announced he was going to train as a teacher? Without a word to anyone he applied for that one-year scheme the government cooked up to increase the fallen numbers of teachers.”
“Mummy thought the teaching profession rather low down on the scale of things,” Sian smiled. “Unless he were to teach Latin or Ancient Greek at one of the better universities, of course! Islwyn and I were no more keen than Gladys at the time, but Jack is good at what he does. Working with youngsters was one of his better decisions.”
Rose Tree Café was a little way out of town, not far from the lake and the pebbly beach, but it was popular with the women who didn’t work and who had a few hours on their hands each afternoon. They would come in twos and threes, spread their shopping bags to colonise briefly one of the blue cloth-covered tables. News would be exchanged then the huddles would break up, mix again and the knots of expensively dressed women would share a few minutes with an assortment of different people before waving brightly to all and leaving.
On this afternoon, Sian and Sally did not expect to be a part of the usual exchanges. A few smiled nervously and there were one or two doubtful nods of recognition. People who had once been their friends did not know how to behave. Sally and Sian sat and ignored them all. They had too many important worries on their minds to concern themselves about the antics of the idle wealthy.
Sally was worried and although Sian spoke harshly at times, she knew she spoke sense. Ryan needed to get a job, and with some urgency. Their money was running out at an alarming rate and she needed someone to tell her what to do. With her husband refusing to listen, Sian was the only other person she could turn to. Mummy would simply take out her purse and try to soothe the situation with a pound or two – “For a little treat to cheer you up…”
It was as they stood to leave that Gwennie Woodlas came over and sat down, determined not to be discouraged.
“You don’t know anyone who could give accommodation to a couple of reps working for a motor car accessories manufacturers, I suppose?” she asked loudly.
“Hardly!” Sian laughed. “Islwyn, Jack and me in that tiny terrace? There’s hardly room for us!”
Gwennie’s eyes swivelled around to Sally. “What about you, Sally, dear? Great big house and only the four of you. Those extra bedrooms could make you a bit of money.”
“She doesn’t need money,” Sian defended swiftly.
“Oh, I thought, being as though you haven’t been to order anything special for Christmas parties and dances, you might be still recovering from bad old Arfon’s bit of trouble.”
Until recently Sian and Sally had been regular customers at Guinevere, Gwennie Woodlas’s dress shop.
“We manage, we just won’t be celebrating much this year,” Sally said.
“Think about it, the summer visitors pay well for bed and a good breakfast, and they say rationing will be finished for definite before next season. Practise on a couple of reps and you could make a packet come the summer, mind.”
“Just out of curiosity, how much do they pay?”
“Big posh house like yours, Sally love, and you could ask fifteen shillings bed and breakfast. Each! Two to a room. Fill up their plates with fried bread and fried potatoes so they go out feeling full to bursting and they’ll come again and recommend you to all their friends. Worth thinking about, isn’t it?” She lowered her voice and said to Sian, “Little house like yours, so near the bomb sites, you’d be lucky to get seven and six pence, mind. Pity you moved, eh? Big mistake that was, gel. Always look prosperous, Sian, even when you got nothing in your purse except dead moths.”
“Wicked old busybody,” Sian muttered as the large, impressive form of Gwennie waved to them all and went to where a taxi waited. “Wealthiest widow in Pendragon Island and she’d skin a flea.”
“It is worth thinking about though,” Sally said thoughtfully. “But there, Ryan would never agree, not for a minute.”
“Then don’t ask!” Sian said firmly. “If he won’t get off his backside he can’t complain if you find a way of earning money, can he? If it will give you an extra couple of pounds in your purse, why not?” She gestured toward the departing taxi and added, “Better than a couple of emaciated moths!”
“It isn’t as if food would be a problem, only having breakfast to get. I’m not as good a cook as you, Sian, but I’ll manage that,” Sally mused. “And it wouldn’t inconvenience Ryan all that much, would it?”
“Pity. It might make him get out and find a job!” Sian retorted and Sally couldn’t help but smile.
“Specially if I told him he had to do the washing up,” she added.
Leaving the café, with its blue and white table cloths, artificial roses and groups of gossiping women, they went back to the main road and called to see Gwennie Woodlas.
* * *
“Definitely not, Sally. I don’t know what you’re thinking of. Can you imagine your mother’s face if you told her we were taking in lodgers!”
“Summer visitors, Ryan, for about eight weeks in the summer that’s all.”
“Summer visitors, boarders, paying guests, lodgers, it’s all the same, demeaning yourself and waiting on people who won’t have any manners – or understand how to use a bathroom. Rough they’ll be.”
“All of them?”
“Yes!”
“Pity you aren’t enthusiastic, Ryan,” Sally said quietly, as she cleared the last of the dishes from the table, “because I have two motor trade reps arriving on Friday, looking for somewhere permanent. If I like the look of them, I might offer to take them here.” She glanced at his face as she left the room, assessing his reaction. Only hours earlier she would have said, ‘if we’ – and not – ‘if I’.
His reply was lost as she closed the kitchen door and burst into giggles with Joan and Megan, who had been supporting her, waiting in the kitchen while she broke the news.
“Come on, Mummy, leave the rest of the dishes, we’re taking you to the pictures to celebrate,” Joan said. “Megan, you and me.”
“On the way, we’ll have to stop and explain to Grandmother and Grandfather. The Westons are really on the way – ‘down’, aren’t they?” she laughed. “Poor
Mummy, after all her efforts to make us into the most important family in the town, too. But d’you know, I think I’m going to enjoy the next few months, I really do.”
Once it had been explained exactly what Sally was going to do, Gladys accepted it with reasonable good grace. “After all, if it’s good enough for the Jenkinses, it’s good enough for the Westons, I suppose,” she said with a forced smile.
The smile remained as she waved them off but as the door closed it was wiped off as if by magic and she went to the telephone and demanded that Ryan call to see her at once.
“Are you really going to allow your wife to demean herself, cleaning up after other people, Ryan?” she demanded as he took off his coat. She glared at Victoria who was waiting to hang it up and snapped, “Go and fetch the tea, Victoria. Mr Ryan can hang up his own coat, he isn’t helpless.”
When they were seated beside a glowing wood fire, Gladys shot a few whispered comments towards her son-in-law but didn’t begin the real onslaught until Victoria had delivered the tea and left the room. She took a deep breath but Ryan stopped her with a raised hand.
“Don’t waste your breath, Mother-in-law, I’ve given up any hope of changing Sally’s mind. The two reps arrive on Friday and the room is ready for them. She won’t even discuss it. She can be very stubborn you know.”
“And you aren’t? Months it is since you earned any money and my daughter is showing you how! She’s capable enough to do something about the situation if you aren’t.”
“I can’t go back to the business and work for that Viv Lewis character, I’m sorry Mother-in-law, I’d do anything for Sally but I can’t do that.”
“No one is asking you to. There isn’t a job for you there if you begged! There are other jobs though and you haven’t even been looking.”
Ryan was saved from further criticism by the fortuitous arrival of Terry.
“I’m sorry Terry, dear, but Megan isn’t here. She and Joan have taken their mother to the pictures.”
She invited him in and when he sat, Ryan stood. “Sorry, but I have to go, I want to hear The Archers.”
“Can you tell me which cinema they went to? I can meet them and walk them home,” Terry said.
“No need,” Ryan said ungraciously. “It isn’t far and hardly dangerous.”
“Thank you, dear,” Gladys said, and glared at her son-in-law. “You might have forgotten the attack on Rhiannon Lewis, but I have not!”
Gladys offered Terry a drink and he sat with her and Arfon, relaxed and comfortable. He flattered Gladys by admiring the room and congratulating her on her excellent taste. “There’s such a skill in home-making, Mrs Weston,” he said. “So few really create a room where people can feel truly relaxed.”
“My girls have that skill too,” she said at once. “Even in that poky little house on Trellis Street, and temporarily being out of funds, my daughter has made a little haven for herself and her family.”
“It isn’t money, it’s flair,” Terry agreed.
Gladys took out her lists of party arrangements and asked his advice about music entertainment and Arfon slipped away, leaving them to it. With one eye on the clock, Terry began to offer suggestions and admire her organising skills. If he were to succeed with Megan, he needed Gladys on his side. Specially now, where there was danger of his previous life coming to light.
That damned letter had followed him through several changes of address and finally caught up with him at Montague Court.
It had been so unfortunate that Basil Griffiths had been there when the letter had arrived. Basil was talking to Edward and Margaret about their order for chickens and pheasants for the Christmas period. The letter was handed to him by the postman Henry Thomas and they had looked at him curiously as it had been re-addressed more than once and was tattered by its travels.
He had been unable to hide his shock and dismay at his whereabouts being known. Although his cousins had politely turned away, Basil had watched his face with undisguised curiosity. He had better think up a good story before Megan had suspicions roused by that interfering Griffiths. He’d better leave early and wait outside the cinema. He didn’t want to miss her.
* * *
Megan was more and more uneasy with Terry Jenkins. He attracted her and excited her but there was something that wasn’t right. It wasn’t something she could put into words and discuss with her sister, just a less than comfortable state of mind. His kisses were exciting and she knew her body was developing a need for love, but his strength frightened her making her aware of his impatience, instead of making her feel safe. Grandmother was so enthusiastic and her friends envied her new and handsome escort, so why wasn’t everything perfect?
It must be the strangeness of having someone special for the first time in her life, such a change from Joan’s and her brief flirtations which had always ended in their derisory laughter, leaving the boy feeling gauche and less than worthy of them.
Being with Terry so much of the time and only he, and being half in love and half afraid to let it happen, was like a barrier that she had to climb or push her way through to something wonderful that was waiting on the other side. She was half in love with him and she did want to let go and enjoy being one of a couple, yet something was holding her back from complete surrender.
It was nothing more than insecurity, a fear of depending on one person for her happiness and of someone driving a wedge between herself and Joan.
When she came out of the cinema with her mother and her sister she was unable to control the slight groan of disappointment that escaped her lips on seeing Terrence waiting for her. She didn’t want to talk to him. Not tonight when she was so confused about how she felt about him.
Sharp where her twin was concerned, Joan pulled her away on the pretext of looking at next week’s posters as soon as they had greeted each other. “Are you getting fed up with him?” she asked in a whisper.
“No, I’m not! So don’t think you can muscle in,” Megan retorted.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, but why did you groan when you saw him waiting for you?”
“It’s late and I wanted to go home and get to bed.”
Unconvinced, Joan walked with her back to where Terry and Sally waited. She walked with her mother, leaving Megan and Terry to follow them.
“Your grandmother told me where you were and I offered to see you safely home,” Terry explained, stealing a shy kiss.
“Thank you, but do you mind if I don’t ask you in? It’s late and Mummy’s had a busy day.”
“Only if we can lose the other two for a few moments,” Terry whispered and at once she was filled with excitement, imagining his deeper, longer kisses when they were alone.
Without waiting for Megan’s agreement, he called to Sally and explained they were going by a different route. “There’s something I want to show Megan in a shop window,” he said by way of an excuse.
“No, I don’t think so,” Sally said. “If you’ve waited so long to escort us home, then we should stay together.”
Late on the following day he called and invited Megan to go for a walk. The weather was a typical December day, cold and damp, with a chill seeping up from the ground and stiffening the muscles of the poorly clad. Megan, dressed in a fur coat and thick leather boots was cosy. She wore a bright blue scarf at her throat and expensive fur-lined gloves with a hat to match. Her face glowed, her eyes were clear and shining with good health and she knew she looked her best.
To her surprise they didn’t walk to the shops but instead, Terry led her through an alleyway and stopped where a bend concealed them from the sight of people passing. A tantalisingly brief kiss then he led her on to where a churchyard gate stood open. Another tormenting kiss and on again to where a seat and a porch offered privacy. There at last he stopped and after looking down into her eyes for a long moment, he gave a low groan and uttered her name.
“Megan. Lovely Megan, I love you.”
Gathering her into his arms he kissed her slowly, ea
sed her coat away from her and held her tightly against him so she was aware of his growing desire.
All fears forgotten she relaxed in his arms and drifted into a dream of such joy she wondered why she had ever been afraid.
Then he began sliding his hands over her most intimate places. His lips drifted lower and lower, touching her taut breasts through her thin blouse, his fingers reaching inside her skirt, and the fear came back.
“No, Terry. Please take me home.”
He pleaded and begged, then, with his breath still ragged, he moved away.
“I can’t stand much more of this, my darling,” he said as they walked away from the tempting silence of the cold churchyard. “Seeing you, being so close to you, wanting you and being unable to have you.” He put an arm around her shoulder, feeling the slight movement of rejection with some dismay. “I’ve loved you from the first moment we met.”
Why did that sound so insincere? she wondered with sudden alarm. Such a well-used sentence, how could anyone believe it? They walked home in silence, side by side but separate.
When she went inside she looked at Joan and shared a frown. They would talk later. She had to talk to someone, however difficult it was. Terry had woken her body to love but not her heart. She just wasn’t ready to put her life in his hands.
* * *
Gladys Weston looked at her daughter with horror. “You mean Gwennie Woodlas hinted that we couldn’t afford new clothes for the Christmas season? How dare she? I hope you put her right, Sian?”
“I said we weren’t in the mood for celebrating and that our Christmas would be a quiet one,” Sian replied.
“And there’s me organising a party and Gwennie knowing all about it? Good heavens, child, she must think we’ll be buying from the chain stores!”
“Does it matter what Gwennie Woodlas thinks, Mummy?”
“Her clientele includes everyone who is anyone in Pendragon Island. Of course it matters! Come on, find Sally and the girls and we’ll go at once and order dresses for the party.”
The Weston Girls Page 12
