The Weston Girls

by Grace Thompson

  She didn’t cycle as she had so much to carry. Much of the food had been delivered to Sian’s house but Dora had already gathered quite a lot before Ronnie had become ill. Struggling with two bags and several carriers, she was encouraged to think more hopefully on this strange partnership when Sian saw her coming and hurried along the road to help her. That generous thought was not enough to make them temporary friends, but it helped ease the first few minutes.

  Almost in silence they gathered together the ingredients and equipment and began their preparations. But with a kitchen so minuscule and with tension between them it was not long before trouble erupted.

  “Don’t make the sandwiches so full,” Sian warned. “They’ll split and look awful, mind.” Then later: “You’ve made that sardine mixture too soft, Dora. Sandwiches made with that will collapse before it reaches a mouth.”

  Dora gritted her teeth but her eyes flashed warningly. Then Sian said almost kindly, “Don’t you think that’s enough egg on that pastry? It’ll be like a cardboard box. And we’ll run out of egg before we’ve finished at the rate you’re using it.”

  Dora held her temper with a struggle, then she said loudly, “I’ve been cooking for a family for as long as you have Mrs Heath and I’ll thank you not to tell me how to deal with a fiddling little task like this.”

  Sian raised her head and glared as if to add to the threat of an argument but, perhaps realising how condescending she had sounded, she smiled instead and said, “I bet you didn’t do it in a kitchen as small as this one.”

  “Mine isn’t much bigger,” Dora admitted, “but if I have my way it will soon be at least arranged efficiently and contain some decent equipment.”

  With both women greatly interested in cookery they were soon discussing the changes planned for Dora’s professional kitchen and when they had finished their preparations so far as they were able, Sian walked back with Dora to look at her kitchen and hear more of her plans.

  Rhiannon came in for her lunch and Viv dashed in and out and still Sian and Dora talked. With the kitchen replenishment and the departure of Lewis discussed, as well as Sian’s dilemma with Islwyn, and with all the food for the party organised, they parted for an hour or two, each surprised by the knowledge they had made a friend.

  Dora hadn’t been completely truthful about Lewis. She had told Sian that she had told him to leave. Perhaps, when they knew each other better she would tell her how much it hurt to have to say goodbye to someone with whom she had expected to spend the rest of her life.

  “Not bad, that Sian Heath-Weston or whatever she calls herself,” she said to Viv when he returned from meeting Jack and the others. “Sorry I am for little Ronnie being ill, but if he hadn’t been, I might never have talked to her and found out how much we have in common. Strange how things happen, eh?”

  “Basil wasn’t at The Railwayman’s. But Frank said the little chap is much improved.”

  “I know. I went to see him before I went to sort out the food with Sian.”

  “Sian?” Viv queried. “You call her Sian?”

  “I never waited for her to invite me to use her christian name. She called me Dora so why shouldn’t I call her Sian? I did call her Mrs when she made me angry, mind,” she grinned. “Lot of snobs they are and that Gladys is the worst. I think I went there intending to put Sian in her place, but she wasn’t all pompous like I expected at all.”

  “Joan and Megan are all right too, Mam.”

  Dora looked at her son with a frown. “Maybe, but it wouldn’t do for you to be getting any fancy ideas about the Weston Girls. Gladys still thinks the Westons are a special breed, far above the likes of us, mind! So watch yourself at this party of theirs.”

  “Yes Mam,” Viv said, with a wink. “I’ll munch with manners, simper my sentences and dance with decorum.” And with luck, he added silently, I’ll walk Joan home.

  * * *

  Barry was excited about Christmas that year. He couldn’t remember when he had looked forward to the season with greater pleasure. He had moments of guilt, knowing it should have been thoughts of parties and social events with Rhiannon that gave the occasion its excitement, but baby Joseph was old enough to enjoy the fun. Seeing the Christmas period through his eyes was going to be magical.

  He wasn’t keen to attend the Westons’ party that evening, in fact he knew that if he had been escorting Rhiannon he would have made an excuse. But Caroline needed a change of scene and he couldn’t disappoint her.

  That thought hung in the air and alarmed him. What was happening to him? His emotions were being taken over by a small child and, he admitted in a kind of awe, by the child’s mother.

  “I wonder why the Griffithses were invited?” he wondered as he and his mother were putting the finishing touches to the tree in Nia’s house in Chestnut Road. “When you think what a snob old Gladys Weston is, it doesn’t make sense. Glad I am, mind. Caroline is so looking forward to going.”

  “I think the young people have persuaded her. Lewis heard from Viv that they threatened to stay away unless they were allowed to ask Viv, Frank, Basil and the rest. I don’t think Gladys is getting all her own way with her grandchildren these days.”

  “The old order changeth?”

  “— yielding place to new, something like that, yes.”

  “Talking about changes, Mam, what are you and Lewis going to do? I mean where will you live?”

  “The flat for the moment. I don’t think I could face coming here. Lewis and I are both married and not to each other. There might be changes on the way, but I can’t see the day when my living with a man who is married to someone else will be accepted without disapproval, can you?”

  “Will you sell this house?”

  “Probably, but not for a while. Why? Are you and Rhiannon making plans?”

  “How can we, Mam? My divorce from Caroline will take years.”

  “And she’ll wait for you?” she asked but before he could answer she added, “And you will you want her to wait?” She stared at him but he didn’t reply.

  “I’m taking Caroline to the party,” he said later. “I invited Rhiannon but she’s going with Jimmy Herbert, you know, the sweets rep who worked for Bottomleys.”

  “I know him.” She stared at her son, a frown wrinkling her brow. “Which came first, Barry? Rhiannon accepting Jimmy’s offer or your telling her you were taking Caroline?” Again there was no reply.

  Barry was in a state of restlessness. He loved Rhiannon, certainly he did and she would be a perfect wife for him. Running his mother’s business that would one day be his, managing children and the shop without difficulty. They had discussed it and the future was clear. Or was it? He felt himself drawn more and more to Caroline and young Joseph.

  It’s only the baby, he told himself. When I have a child of my own this attraction for Joseph will fade and be forgotten, but it would be years before that could happen.

  If only he and Caroline were truly man and wife he could start building his future now. Instead he saw years ahead, barren years of marking time. Shaking the thought away, convinced it was melancholy due to his need of Rhiannon, he asked his mother, “Mam, where’s the best place to buy flowers? I thought I’d surprise Rhiannon and there’s no surprise in giving her chocolates, is there?”

  “I hope that isn’t all you’re buying her for Christmas? A fiancée – even an unofficial one – deserves more than that.”

  To his horror Barry realised that with only a week to go, he hadn’t even thought of Rhiannon’s gift. “Got any ideas, Mam?” he asked.

  * * *

  Dora and Sian arrived at the Hall at seven. There wasn’t much to do until it was time to set out the food. The sandwiches were made and were wrapped in damp tea towels. Sausages and pasties were protected by greaseproof paper and stored in biscuit tins. Other tins contained various cakes, some bought and some made with the aid of scrounged and illegal butter and sugar.

  “Won’t it be a relief when this food rationing is f
inally ended,” Sian grumbled as she and Dora stacked the food on one of the trestle tables set out in readiness. “I think the first thing I’ll do is spread butter on toast so thick I won’t be able to see over the top!”

  “My fantasy is to buy a joint of meat that will only just fit into the oven and invite as many people as will sit around the table to come and help me eat it.”

  “You enjoy cooking don’t you? This new career of yours won’t just be a convenient way of making a living?”

  “I get great satisfaction from preparing a meal and putting it in front of someone who appreciates it.” Dora smiled grimly. “Not that Lewis ever came into that category. Too busy dreaming about Nia Martin! Then I went out to work during the war and Rhiannon took over the running of the house while I continued with my insurance round, so I didn’t do much cooking for a long time. I missed it.”

  The day had been dull, a typical December day with the daylight failing to arrive to bleach away the night-time mists. The party was due to begin at eight and with the cold air seeping in through doors and windows it was hard to imagine anyone being able to take off outdoor coats and expose bare arms in party dresses.

  Jack and Viv dashed in to check that the bunting hadn’t fallen down and that the lighting was in order, before dashing out again to get ready to return as guests.

  Dora and Sian sat in the gloomy hall, huddled around a small electric fire while all around them shadows hid the artificial magnificence, the veneer of jollity, that would soon set the mood for the evening. Both women were tired but satisfied that they had done their best to ensure that their contribution to the party would be a success.

  “I feel I need to find a way of earning money,” Sian said.

  Dora looked at her wondering how to deal with the embarrassing subject. As usual, she decided that pretence was not the way and she replied, “Because of him refusing to go back to the Wallpaper and Paint and accept my Viv as his boss? And now making chips for the hoi polloi.”

  “Yes, I think that’s a fair summing up!” She looked at Dora, small, red-haired and with those intensely blue eyes that so often threatened anger. “The wages are low. I think the time has come for me to do something.”

  “Good on you!” Dora said.

  “Did you know the Rose Tree Café is up for rent? I’m wondering, just wondering, if we could take it over and run it between us?”

  “You and me work together permanently, you mean? Well, I’d thought to start my own business catering for parties, something like we’ve done here,” Dora frowned.

  “I have a little money. Not much as we’ve had to use my savings since Islwyn—”

  “Since he spent weeks out of work and still refuses to find a proper job,” Dora finished for her.

  “You don’t mince words do you, Dora Lewis? I don’t think it’s necessary to be quite so rude!” Sian stood up and walked a little way away, arms folded in an angry posture.

  “Look, Sian,” Dora sighed. “If we are even to think about working together we have to stop pretending. I’ll start us off. I didn’t throw Lewis out. He left me for the woman he’s been in love with for years. She even had his baby. Did you know that?”

  “A child by – by Nia Martin? I’m so sorry, Dora.”

  “Yes, well, it’s true. Her son Joseph who died at the same time as our Lewis-boy, he was Lewis’s son.” Her eyes glistened as she saw the shock register on Sian’s face and she defensively added, “And there’s your husband, so guilty at the way he cheated on your father and allowed the family’s business to crumble, he couldn’t face looking for a proper job. He still can’t, except for the lowly chip shop. And he probably only threatened that, hoping your father would take pity on him and help.”

  “Dora!”

  “Those are the facts and it’s no use dressing them up in pretence. We have to get on with things without them.” Her expression softened then and more calmly she asked, “What about this café then? D’you really think we could do it?”

  “I don’t know what Mother would think of me working after all these years. She’d be upset.”

  “Pity for her! She’s swallowed her son-in-law working in a chip shop! The Rose Tree Café can’t be any worse!”

  “Oh it would be. It’s where all her friends go for coffee and afternoon tea.”

  “Good! They’ll all come nosying around and give us a good start then, won’t they?”

  “You think we should consider it?”

  “Why not? The money Lewis promised for the new kitchen would be used in a different way, but I think I could persuade him to agree.”

  “I’m sure you can,” Sian said wryly.

  The doors opened, lights came on, there were voices of the staff entering, their chattering and laughter advancing before them, sounding hollow in the empty room. Someone put on a Sid Philips record while the band found their places; and if you were able to ignore the coldness, the dull room was immediately transformed into the venue for people to have fun.

  “Come on, Sian,” Dora chuckled. “No more time for dreaming, the bell’s sounded for round one!”

  * * *

  Jimmy Herbert had called at Temptations just as Rhiannon was closing. It was six-thirty and even on a Friday evening she usually closed earlier than that. With a party which she did not want to attend, she wasn’t anxious to get home. He found her looking into the corner of the window and frowning.

  “What’s up? You look very serious?”

  “There are three chocolate bars missing and that bottle of humbugs was almost full. Someone’s helped themselves.”

  “Forget it for tonight, Rhiannon, love. We’re going to a party!” He hesitated then asked, “Would you mind if I came home with you and waited until it’s time to leave? I don’t have time to go home so I came dressed ready to go.” She looked at him and felt a warmth that surprised her. He was wearing what was obviously a new suit. Mid-grey and with a blue shirt, and darker blue tie. His eyes were shining, his hair was neatly combed and even his moustache had been forced to submit. His black dancing pumps shone like mirrors and he had a neatly folded handkerchief in his breast pocket. He looked very handsome. The party didn’t seem such a bad idea after all.

  “Jimmy, you really look the part,” she said stretching up to receive his salutary kiss.

  “I didn’t want to let you down, this being the Westons’ ‘Do’,” he said modestly.

  “Mam is out, she’s helping with the buffet, but she’ll have left something to eat. I’m sure there’ll be enough for two.” They went into the house and at once Rhiannon realised it was empty.

  “I’d forgotten,” she said. “Viv will have gone to check on the hall with Jack.”

  She felt shy as she prepared a light snack, and as he stood beside her while she washed the dishes and he stacked them away. The shyness changed to something different later, when she was upstairs washing and changing into her party dress. Alone in the house with him gave her a frisson of excitement. An exhilarating sensation of daring as she stripped off, bathed and re-dressed in her party clothes.

  It was near half-past seven when Viv dashed in and demanded tea and the freedom of the bathroom, from which he emerged frozen, having washed and shaved in the icy cold room, a brief fifteen minutes later.

  They set off together, the three of them walking arm in arm.

  “I bet the room will be divided into two camps, them and us,” Viv prophesied.

  “I don’t know any of them apart from Rhiannon and Barry, but I’ll be careful I don’t offend,” Jimmy said seriously.

  “There’s the Westons, see,” Viv explained, “and they’ve always treated the rest of us like inferior beings. But after Old Man Arfon was found guilty of setting fire to his shop and his son-in-law was found to be dipping his hand in the till, they haven’t found it as easy to lord it over us. They try, mind,” he chuckled, “they try.”

  “Dad says fortunes are changing,” Rhiannon added. “The Westons’ days are numbered, They can’t
afford to keep the whole family from what the old man made during the war and the shop run by Viv, and they’ll soon have to work like the rest of us.”

  “Damn me, Rhiannon,” her brother smiled, “I haven’t had the nerve yet, but I’d love to go in and ask Islwyn for a bag of chips!”

  “He’s better than Megan and Joan’s dad who won’t work at all.”

  “You’re right. Ryan just idles his time away, moaning about what I’m doing and trying to cause trouble,” Viv said. “He’s hanging his hopes on his mother-in-law. He knows she won’t let the Weston Girls go without anything.”

  “I don’t think even Old Gladys can do anything for them now,” Rhiannon said. “Dad thinks they’re finished.”

  “I’m not so sure. It’s the Weston Women who will get the family back on its feet,” Viv predicted, repeating Joan’s words. “You have to admit that the Westons are strong, and sensible enough to do something, even if Gladys does insist it’s common to work!”

  The hall was already full when they arrived and Rhiannon left Viv and Jimmy, to deposit her coat and touch up her make-up. Joan and Megan were dressed in summer dresses with frilled sleeves and long, full skirts. Megan’s was blue and green on white, Joan’s yellow and orange on cream. Rhiannon looked down at her long brown dress which she had bought three years ago and at once felt dowdy.

  But the dances were lively and Jimmy a superb partner and she forgot her dress and the inhibitions the Weston Girls created in her and relaxed into the party mood. Tonight was going to be fun, flirting with Jimmy and being envied by other girls. She hadn’t realised just how handsome he was with his fair curly hair and saucy blue eyes. Tall, too, and with his smart, well-fitted suit he was quite a dish.