‘Couldn’t we… I mean, perhaps he’d like to come and share Christmas Day with you, Miss.’
‘Perhaps.’ Delina went back to her marking as applause ended the radio programme. It was something she had herself considered, but it was too soon to suggest it yet. Christmas was still seven weeks away.
On the radio The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes began and Delina put the marking aside and said, ‘Eight o’clock, Dawn. Time for bath and bed.’
Dawn began to protest but thought better of it. If she was quick Delina might read her a story. She loved being read to, both by her father and by Delina. Sometimes it was worth swallowing a protest she decided.
It was just before nine-thirty when Tad came in. Delina went to light the gas under the kettle as he greeted her and went upstairs to look at his daughter. She brought the tray in and sat waiting for him beside the electric fire, her books in two piles at her feet. The unmarked pile she saw with dismay was still higher than the marked one.
‘She’s asleep,’ he said as he slid into the chair opposite her. ‘Thank you for your care.’
‘It’s a pleasure, Tad. But I hope I’m handling her right,’ she added doubtfully.
‘Handling her right? But she’s a different child since you began to help with her!’
‘When my mother died so many things changed and now—’
‘You can’t do it any more. I understand.’ Tad’s head dropped and he stared into the glow of the electric fire, his jaw tightened and his small neat hands gripped his cup like a lifeline.
‘I’m happy to continue looking after Dawn. I just think that with the atmosphere in my home so charged with unhappiness she is becoming too subdued. I just hope she isn’t being badly affected by it. That’s all I was going to say.’
He looked at her then, the small, rather aggressive, eyes almost disbelieving. ‘You only have to say if you want to give up looking after her. For what you’ve done so far I will always be grateful.’
‘Tad, I want to continue to care for her, it isn’t Dawn that’s the problem, it’s…’
‘The role that has been allotted to you and for which you’ve no liking? I felt that, believe it or not, when I lost my wife. There was anger in my grief, anger that she could die and let me down so badly. It’s normal, Delina, don’t distort it into guilt.’
She was surprised by his understanding. Heartened by it she went on and explained about her father and her brothers wanting things to go on as they had before but with her carrying the burden of a job and the household duties.
‘Shall I talk to Victor, your father I mean?’ asked Tad.
‘No, I think it’s something I must sort out myself.’ She smiled then and Tad felt his heart lift with pleasure at the sight. ‘He’ll be uneasy if you try to discuss something with him, remembering how you made his nose bleed on a previous occasion!’
‘I wouldn’t hit out now, that stupid aggression’s all gone from me. Well,’ he grinned, a boyish grin that eased away the almost constant frown he wore, ‘almost gone. I wouldn’t be able to hold back if someone hurt Dawn. Or you.’ Their eyes met and there was a spark of a growing awareness.
On the radio, Hancock’s Half Hour finished and Delina stood to leave.
‘I hate not being able to walk you back home,’ Tad said, holding her coat for her. ‘One day I’m going to make it up to you.’
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Delina said as she slipped out of the front door into the dark chill of the night.
‘Talk to Amy,’ Tad called as she ran to the gate. ‘She might have some ideas on the future, her and your dad.’
‘I might do that,’ Delina called back, but the reply hardly connected in Tad’s brain, he was thinking of how beautiful she was and imagining how he might help solve her difficulties if only he weren’t broke and without a decent job.
* * *
‘Delina wants to see me,’ Amy reported when Nelly came into the shop a few days later.
‘So what? You and Victor are – well, you know – and she must want to talk to another woman about how she’s coping.’
‘I hope she doesn’t want me to take over and manage the family for her!’ Amy snapped, earrings sparkling and her blue eyes flashing with the emphatic shaking of her fair head. ‘Heaven’s above, Nelly, I manage a shop and run a home for Margaret and Freddy when he’s home on leave. I can’t take on Victor’s family as well.’
‘I suspect Delina’s feeling much the same. She ain’t ’ad much luck lately ’as she? First Maurice Davies ditching ’er for that Sheila Powell, then ’er mother dyin’ and leavin’ ’er with two brothers to look after. Gawd ’elp her, she’s only twenty-two. I bet she’s ’opin’ you an’ Victor’ll marry and take it all off of ’er ’ands, Amy.’
‘She’s got another think coming!’
Nelly began the Sunday morning chores by putting the kettle on. While the tea settled she began to open out pages of the local paper to spread on the floor when it had been scrubbed and soon she was kneeling on the floor with a paper spread over the first of the stairs leading up to the flat, studying the items of news she had missed.
Amy handed her a cup of tea, complaining, ‘Come on, Nelly love, I don’t pay you for doing this!’
‘Ere, Amy, it’s Prince Charles’s sixth birthday on the fourteenth an’ ’is gran, the Queen Mum, won’t be ’ome. It says ’ere the Queen Mother is in America and will miss the party. Shame, ain’t it. You going to ’ang out a flag or two?’
‘If you like, but let’s get on, I have to make tea for Delina and I don’t want her to arrive while I’m washing the after dinner dishes!’
‘Coming today, is she?’
‘Yes. And as Margaret is going to Billie’s farm with Oliver I’ll be on my own. I confess I’m not looking forward to it, Nelly. What does she want to say to me?’
‘What d’you want to say to her is more important! If you ain’t goin’ to marry Victor then tell ’er. I always said Billie Brown the farmer is a better bet fer you. Filthy rich ’e ’is.’
‘Filthy clothes, too! And sheep to be shorn and chickens to be fed and killed. Ugh! And a sister who’d expect to be the boss of my home. Mary-Dairy wouldn’t take kindly to my intrusion. No thanks, Nelly. If I marry anyone, it won’t be Billie, nice as he is.’
‘Shame. But then you never did ’ave any sense where men was concerned.’ Nelly pursed her lips, unrepentant.
* * *
Delina and Amy sat uneasily in front of Amy’s log fire and made small talk. Each waited for the other to begin the discussion they both wanted. Both blonde and with sixteen years between them, they were superficially alike, but the way they dressed showed very different personalities. Amy wore an angora jumper in pale pink and had added a crystal necklace with matching earrings that dangled and swung below her ears, catching the light from the fire. Her blonde hair was fluffed out and she looked boldly attractive. Delina was beautiful. She wore clothes that were formal and with little ornamentation. Her slim fitting navy skirt and the neat Peter-Pan collared blouse in pale blue with a cardigan that matched spoke of quiet confidence. The way she sat reinforced the impression. Neat court shoes placed precisely together below straight legs, hands curled and resting on knees that touched, the straight back that refused to relax into the comfort of the armchair all told of a formality both in fashion sense and character.
Amy thought her dull. Beautiful, with her naturally blonde hair, translucent skin and those lovely blue eyes, but dull.
‘I shouldn’t have come,’ Delina said, staring out through the window at the dark November sky. ‘I’m sorry, I’d better go…’
At once Amy was swamped with remorse. Delina was Victor’s daughter and she had been made to feel unwelcome. She stretched out a hand and touched the girl’s shoulder. ‘Please, Delina, let’s talk. You know I love your father. You know he and I were meeting before your mother died. Let’s get it over with. I suppose you’re going to tell me how much you disapprove.’
‘No. Strange to relate, I don’t think badly of you and I don’t blame Dad for finding someone who cared. My mother didn’t care for him you see, and he’s been very unhappy. I just wondered if you and he… I wondered what plans you and Dad have made.’
‘None,’ Amy answered in her forthright way. ‘Your mother dying like that was a shock that pushed us apart somehow. It was what we’d wanted, for Victor to be free of her, but coming the way it did made us feel ashamed, as them agreeing to separate would never have done.’’ She looked at Delina and her heart softened towards her. ‘Fed up, are you, love? It’s quite a burden you’ve been left with for sure.’
‘I shouldn’t mind, but I do. I’m selfish. I want to feel able to plan my own life and now, with David thirteen and Daniel eighteen and planning to go to university, I’m trapped into caring for them for years.’
‘So you hope I’ll take them off your hands?’ Amy’s voice was sharp and Delina looked up and saw to her relief that she was smiling.
‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘Neither do I, love. Neither do I.’
‘Then you and Dad won’t marry?’
‘Not for a while, out of respect for your mother we have to wait a few months at least, but I love him and I know we’d be happy together. But whether a new marriage would stand the strain of David, Daniel and you, plus my Margaret and my Freddy, well, I go cold at the thought of it to be honest.’
‘David would be difficult,’ Delina admitted sadly. ‘Daniel will be away. I – I’d do all I could to help.’
‘Thank you, love.’ Amy patted the stiffly held shoulder. ‘My Freddy is a boy soldier and he doesn’t get home much, so I suppose there’d be you and David and my Margaret. It doesn’t sound so bad said quick, does it?’ She laughed and to her relief she saw Delina relax slightly and smile with her. ‘Sort it out together, we will.’
When a more cheerful Delina had left, Amy sat for a long time considering what had been discussed. Her life had been filled with dilemmas she thought. Two pregnancies and in both cases, no husband. An affair with Victor, who was married. Now there was the chance of marrying him and she still considered it a dilemma.
Victor’s wife was a disapproving spirit hovering around her and preventing her from feeling joy in the chance she had of marriage to the man she loved. Victor was the second great love of her life; the first had been Harry, her sister, Prue’s, husband, now dead. There had been lovers, but only two loves. She would be a fool to risk losing Victor by refusing the challenge of taking on his sons.
Victor arrived an hour later having seen Delina and been given a blow-by-blow account of her meeting with Amy. He knocked on the door and walked in.
‘Amy, love? You there?’
‘Oh, Victor, I wish it was six months hence and we were together,’ she said as she ran into his arms.
‘Six months? You mean you’ll marry me in six months time?’
‘I give myself six months to talk your stiff and stilted sons around!’
‘And then?’
‘And then, whether they like it or not, I’ll become the dreaded step-mother. I might even borrow a broomstick to frighten them into behaving like reasonable people!’
‘Oh, Amy. We’ll be so happy.’
‘And they’ll come and live here,’ she said dodging away from his kiss. ‘I can’t face that dark, gloomy morgue you’ve called home all these years.’
‘Right then.’ It was Victor’s turn to avoid a kiss. ‘Now can I tell that Billie Brown to stay away from your garden?’
‘Our garden, love,’ she said as their lips touched. ‘From now on it’s all ours; our Margaret, our Freddy, our David and Daniel and our Delina.’
* * *
When Hilda Evans went to see her husband, Griff, in prison, she was shocked at the change in him. He seemed to have faded. His rather florid face was paler, especially around the eyes.
His hair, while still black, was showing traces of the grey she had not noticed before. Perhaps, she thought with a frown, she had been so used to his comings and goings she hadn’t really looked at him for years.
He was forty-three, they were both in their forties and there was she being surprised to see grey hair. His body was badly run to fat, too, she noticed for the first time. His belt worn under his bulging stomach had been tightened a notch or two since his arrest, but the paunch still hung like an over-ripe fruit, the top button of his trousers failing to fasten.
She smiled at him, her false teeth revealed in an oversized double row, and he smiled back, his teeth identically artificial, large and ill-fitting.
‘There’s glad I am to see you,’ he said.
‘I’m your wife, it’s my duty to come,’ she said, the smile widening. ‘I came to see if you wanted anything and to tell you the police are still searching everywhere for some of the stuff you stole, or the proceeds!’ She whispered the last words, in a hiss that could be heard in the next building.
‘Hush, you old fool!’ Griff growled. ‘Want to get me put away for ever, do you?’
‘You’ll only get a few months, the money will be handy for when you get out, you with no job to come back to. Yes, I doubt the forestry will have you back, not with a record for thieving. Best I put the money somewhere safe, Griff. I’ll make sure it’s there for when you get out.’
Griff’s eyes rolled around the bare room, seeking some answer to his unspoken question in the green walls and small, barred windows. He had to trust her. At least she wasn’t a fly-by-night tart who’d cheat on him. He looked at her, dressed in a black dress that had once been smart but now looked as if it had been slept in for months, hem dropping and a button missing from the bodice. Yes, Hilda would keep her word. Thank God she hadn’t found out about him and Bethan, then it would be a different story. He looked at her inane, smiling face and decided that even if she had found out, she would still be loyal, she didn’t have the gumption to be otherwise.
He had spent a lot of time thinking about the future during his brief confinement, and as Hilda talked about the small happenings in Hen Carw Parc, his mind drifted back to his conclusions. Perhaps he could leave Hilda and set up a home with Bethan. She was much more to his taste and, although shy, was a passionate woman who would treat him well in all aspects of life. The thought gave him a warm feeling towards Hilda, simple Hilda, who had no idea of his second life and would still love him if she had. In the lowest whispers, interspersed with louder, more general chatter for the benefit of the guard, he told her where he had hidden the money.
Coming out of the tall prison gates and crossing the busy Mumbles Road, Hilda felt an urge to run and whoop in excitement, like a child. Instead she stood and waited for Nelly, whom she saw hurrying towards her from the direction of the town. Behind them was the beach and impulsively, Hilda led Nelly towards it. Along past rows of identical terraced houses and down over the dunes to the wide expanse of Swansea Bay they went, Nelly carrying a wicker shopping basket filled with produce from the market close by, Hilda carrying a secret that she hugged to herself like a warm coat.
The beach was grey and empty, the cold sands stretching in a curve to the distant Mumbles pier, barely visible in the mist. There was no one to be seen apart from a solitary dog who was sniffing along the tide line in the hope of a snack. The sea was reflecting the grey sky above, the scene was sombre, the day almost spent, but to Hilda it was beautiful. Today, everything she saw was full of wonderment and joy. Today she had become a woman of means.
‘Is Griff all right then?’ Nelly asked, when Hilda seemed unlikely to tell her anything.
‘Oh, him! He’s all right, but he won’t be when he gets out. I’m not having him back you know, Nelly. Not him being a confessed thief. He doesn’t know it yet but today’s the last he’ll see of me!’ She took the arm of a surprised Nelly and led her back towards the road. ‘Come on, let’s have a cup of tea to celebrate. Pity the pubs aren’t open or we could do it proper.’
Nelly stared at Hilda, a woman who
had never been inside a pub in her life so far as she knew. What had happened inside the prison to change her so much? Almost bursting with the need to know, Nelly allowed herself to be led to Eynon’s cafe on Bryn Y Mor Road, where they ate one of the popular pies and drank a welcome cup of tea.
Hilda said very little on the bus journey home, but Hilda’s excitement was clearly written on her wrinkled face. Nelly was aching with curiosity but when Hilda and she alighted she had learned nothing of what had been said inside the prison visitors’ room. She consoled herself with the thought that nothing stayed secret for long, not in Hen Carw Parc.
Chapter Three
Before Amy had opened the shop, there were three people waiting to be served. One was Nelly who, always willing to wait, went straight through to the small kitchen behind the shop and put the kettle on for a cup of tea. Amy looked at the second person to enter and said sharply, ‘Well, Milly Toogood, what you run out of this morning then?’
‘I want some Trex cooking fat. I’m making some pastry for the supper after tomorrow’s meeting.’
‘What meeting is that?’ Amy asked reaching for the blue and white packet. ‘That’ll be two shillings and threepence.’
‘This idea for the best kept village. There’s a meeting to discuss it and the vicar asked specially for some of my apple pies.’
‘’Andy if we run out of bricks to build the ’all,’ Nelly muttered near Amy’s ear. ‘Kettle’s on, Amy,’ she said more loudly.
‘My Bethan wants to see you, Nelly,’ Milly said as she took her change. ‘That Hilda Evans hasn’t come to work and she won’t answer the door when my grandson calls to ask why.’
‘Upset she is, her husband being in prison, poor dab. Besides, I don’t think I’d want to go to that cold storeroom behind the fish and chip shop and spend ages chopping up potatoes, not in this weather.’
‘Hilda doesn’t mind, she’s done it for years.’
Valley in Bloom Page 3
