‘Come to see our little Sian, have you? I’d better wake her, Prue, or she’ll never settle tonight.’ She went and picked the sleepy little girl out of the pushchair.
‘I called to ask you both what you’d like me to buy for Sian’s birthday,’ Amy said. ‘I wanted you both here so you could make sure it’s something no one else is buying. Now I thought of clothes with a small toy as well. On her birthday she must have something to enjoy. What d’you suggest?’
If Prue was surprised at the curious excuse she didn’t show it and the three women played with Sian, admiring her progress and discussed clothes and toys for about ten minutes, then Amy stood up to leave.
‘Come to the party, won’t you?’ Prue said as Amy closed the gate behind her.
‘Thank you, I will. If I can arrange it with Mavis.’
‘But don’t bring that son of yours anywhere near my daughter, d’you understand?’
Startled, Amy looked at her sister and saw that the tension was back. Worried and wondering what to do about it, Amy collected her bicycle from the shop and hurried home.
* * *
Maurice had gone away again. Sheila went to Ethel’s to try and see him but Ethel told her he had gone for a job in London.
‘He left an address this time, though, Sheila,’ Ethel explained, handing her a piece of paper. ‘But I doubt if it will do us any good. London seems as far away to me as Australia did.’
‘What’s he going to do, Mrs Davies?’ Sheila asked, her pert face less confident than usual. ‘I want this baby you know. Yes, it’s surprising but I really want it. I won’t give it up, even if Maurice doesn’t stay. But it will have his name, me being married legally to him.’
Ethel didn’t reply, her dark eyes were sad and she stared into the red glow of the fire as if seeing all her hopes for her son burning in the heart of it.
‘You must do what you think best, Sheila, and I’ll support you in any way I can, you know that. Look upon this as your home and on me as your mother-in-law, because that’s what I am, no matter what happens. I’m your mother-in-law.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Davies.’
‘I think you should write to Maurice and ask him to tell you what he plans to do. You must know soon, so you – so we can make plans.’ She smiled then and touched Sheila on the shoulder. ‘Fun it’ll be, to look forward to a new baby. It’s always a source of joy, a little one coming into the world for us to love and enjoy.’
‘I wish Mam and Dad thought so,’ Sheila said bitterly.
‘They will. All babies come with the art of attracting love.’
Sheila wrote a letter with Ethel’s assistance and posted it that day, but a week passed and there was no response. She called daily to the cottage on Sheepy Lane but Ethel had heard nothing either. They commiserated with each other at the lack of news, becoming more relaxed and easy together. To her surprise, Sheila began to look forward to the brief visits between work and going home to cook for her gran, more and more. Phil was often there and occasionally Sidney, too. Their wives each made a knitted garment for the expected baby. Sheila was developing a sense of belonging.
* * *
Freddy had returned to camp with nothing decided about Sheila and their baby. Seeing Maurice and knowing how he had cheated on his friend had been a numbing experience. He felt dread of the future and wished he, like Maurice, could run from it.
Instead of the strength he had expected to show, he had avoided any discussion and instead spent the time working in the garden or fishing. What had happened to his determination to persuade Maurice he should divorce Sheila? Why hadn’t he tried to convince Maurice that Sheila’s future was best in his, Freddy’s, hands: that Maurice should go away and leave them to make the best of the situation until the divorce came through and they could marry? When he had seen Sheila and Maurice he knew he no longer loved Sheila and feared the future if it meant being tied to her. He already had one child he couldn’t acknowledge. That was a secret never to be told. This was an open secret and he would never be able to forget it, not in a village like Hen Carw Parc. The future seemed a tangle from which he would never be able to extricate himself.
Cards on the table time he decided and, taking up a pen, he tried to put all his thoughts and fears down on paper, first to his mother and then, with less honesty, to Maurice and Sheila.
* * *
Amy received the letter while Victor was with her and they read it together, lying on her bed, a tray of tea beside them. She had the morning off from the shop and they were stealing an hour together in the house before he went on with his deliveries. The van was parked in the drive, as it was when ever they could arrange to meet and enjoy being alone.
‘Freddy has accepted there’s no future for him with Sheila. Thank goodness for that at least. But that doesn’t set me free. Sheila will still expect me to help her with Freddy’s baby whether or not Maurice stays. What chaos I seem to attract. There’s never a time when things are calm and stable. D’you think there ever will be? Think of Nelly, look at how her life suddenly came together and she settled into a happy, contented relationship with George, a tramp she met on a pub crawl! I ask you, who would believe it? Then there’s me. I can’t ever see my life sorting itself out like hers.’
‘Not even with me?’
‘I can’t see us ever being given the chance.’
‘Now seems a good time to try. So many changes, what’s one more? It seems you were right,’ Victor said slowly, touching her cheek with his lips. ‘You and I, my love, will have a baby to look after.’ He raised a hand in front of her and counted on his fingers. ‘Besides David and Daniel and Delina and Margaret and Freddy to make a home for we might have Freddy’s and Sheila’s baby.’ He waggled his fingers but he was smiling. ‘But, love, we’ll be together. Let’s marry and sort out all the problems afterwards?’
‘The date is still fixed,’ she said. ‘But Victor, it’s so much to sort out. Two families and a baby to mind?’
‘David seems happier and Delina might be staying in the house. Daniel will be at university next October.’ He was lowering the raised fingers, one by one, as he spoke. ‘Margaret and Freddy aren’t problems. There’s only the baby and you. And I think I can manage you all right. Please, Amy, let’s marry as we planned. Sometimes the only way is to face the difficulties head on and defy the fates. Let’s do it, let’s marry in June, give the village a good party and start our life together. We’ll snatch happiness and make it work for all of us. Please, Amy.’
‘Victor, I can’t—’
‘Please, Amy love.’
‘Can’t think of a reason not to.’
‘Go and order your dress tomorrow and I’ll order the cake before you can change your mind. Amy, love, I promise I’ll do everything to make sure you never regret marrying me. I love you more every day and…’ The rest of his declaration was lost in their kiss.
Chapter Twenty
Oliver and Margaret were pleased to include David Honeyman in their secret plans to organise a skiffle group. Margaret had played the melody on a mouth organ, but the guitar was much better and, after some practice, David played quite well. He remained rather surly and unfriendly but gradually his enthusiasm for what they were doing was easing him into a happier mood. He looked forward to showing his family his ability.
‘I spoke to the headmaster,’ Margaret told them one morning as they prepared to rehearse, ‘but Mr Chartridge says our music isn’t suitable for the school. So, where are we going to play for people to hear us?’
‘After all this practice we haven’t anywhere to play?’ moaned Dawn. ‘I think Mr Chartridge is a pig! He lets you play piano, doesn’t he?’
‘He says skiffle is for fun and not for things like the end of term concert. What are we going to do?’
‘What about playing here, in Uncle Billie’s barn?’
‘Better still,’ Oliver said, his eyes bright with the thought of it, ‘what about playing in the castle ruins?’
The ruined old castle stood not far from Nelly’s cottage, in the woods high above the village. From the tallest part of the walls all you could see of the village was the church spire. In 1953 the community had celebrated the Coronation there with a party and games that included the people of Hen Carw Parc and many of the villages around. It was there, too, that the end of the Second World War had been celebrated. What fun it would be to have an out of doors concert there.
‘We’d have to do it properly,’ Margaret said solemnly, ‘and I think Mrs French is the one to talk to first. She would sell tickets and we’d have to give the money to the school or the church.’
‘The church,’ the others chorused, still angry with their headmaster.
It was difficult for them to carry their box-bass to Mrs French’s house and they didn’t think they could ask her to come to Uncle Billie’s barn, so Mary-Dairy took them and their instruments in her milk van.
Mary had telephoned first and Mrs French came out to meet them as the van drew up at her gate. She helped them inside and listened with great interest while they gave her an impromptu concert. She was interested in talking to David, who showed an ability to pick out a melody as well as produce pleasing chords. When they left, the instruments being left for the kind-hearted Mary to collect later, Mrs French had ideas buzzing in her head. Another concert at the castle. That was something that always brought a response from children and adults. There was some magical excitement in performing in a building that had seen so much history, so many changes in music and dress.
‘Yes,’ she promised the children as they waved goodbye. ‘I think it’s an excellent idea and we’ll meet soon to discuss your ideas. Your ideas,’ she assured them. ‘I’ll help, but this is your concert and will remain so.’
* * *
Amy was waiting for Margaret when she returned home. She had something important to discuss with her.
‘Margaret, love, I want to talk to you.’
‘I’ve only been down the farm, Mam, and Auntie Mary brought us home.’
‘It’s all right, I wasn’t worried about where you were, I know you and Oliver and Dawn go to the farm every Saturday.’
‘David as well. He came with Dawn one day and now he likes us and comes often.’
‘That’s good. It’s partly about David I want to talk to you. You see, love, I’ve been undecided about whether Uncle Victor and I should marry and, well, we’re going ahead with the plans for June. Now, are you happy about having Uncle Victor for a father and Daniel and David for brothers? You’ll have a sister, too. Delina will be your new sister.’
‘Can I have a blue dress, Mam?’
‘We’ll go in on Monday to choose it. And ribbons for your hair and some flowers.’
‘And Uncle Victor will come here and live with us?’ she frowned. ‘Where will we all sleep?’
‘Uncle Victor will share my bedroom and David will have Freddy’s room. They’ll share when Freddy’s home on leave. We’ll buy an extra bed. Daniel and Delina will stay in their house until Delina marries Dawn’s father. There, is that your questions answered?’
‘Uncle Victor will sleep in your bed, with you? Will there be room for me sometimes?’
‘Always, love. Two people who marry always want to sleep in the same bed, but there’ll be room for you when you come for a cuddle, I promise.’
‘Will we have a party?’
‘The best ever. But I haven’t decided yet where we’ll hold it, there are so many people who Uncle Victor and I’ll want to be there. The church hall is hardly big enough for half the village!’
‘I think I’ll talk to Mrs French. She’s good at arranging things.’ Margaret hugged her mother. ‘Mam, can I go and see her now?’
‘If you wish, love, but telephone first in case she’s busy.’
* * *
Johnny Cartwright jumped off the bus at the end of Sheepy Lane and ran up the hill to St David’s Close. Fay’s car was outside and he sighed with relief. She had intended to go shopping that day and he was afraid that with the baby due she might have become ill. He was puffing and gasping for breath as he opened the door and called her.
She didn’t run to meet him and he called again looking into room after room until he had searched the house and not found her. With a shaking hand he rang the hospital. Yes, his wife had been brought in. She was all right and so far the baby hadn’t been born.
Johnny took a bottle of milk and drank some of it. He cut a slice of bread and a piece of cheese. There was no time to make tea, the carelessly prepared snack would stave off his hunger.
He drove back the way he had come and, after a brief call to put his mother in the picture, went to the hospital in Llan Gwyn. Like fathers for generations he walked up and down, asked every nurse he saw if there was news, and waited for his baby to announce its arrival. He smiled, remembering how Fay had scolded him for rushing and said, ‘Johnny, I left a note propped up against the teapot. I was sure you’d see that first.’ Teapot: all he had thought of when he reached home was his lovely Fay having to suffer the pains of child-birth.
* * *
Johnny hurried up to George and Nelly’s cottage with news that was too exciting to whisper. From the gate he ran down the cinder path, calling, ‘I’m a dadda, I’m a dadda. My lovely Fay has a little boy and he’s beautiful. Gregory Lewis Cartwright he’s called and isn’t that a wonderful name?’
Nelly and George laughed with him and shared in his delight.
‘A son, Johnny, what a lovely start to a family,’ Nelly said, hugging the excited young man. ‘’Ow ever many you ’ave they’ll ’ave a big brother to look out fer ’em, eh, George?’
‘I envy you, Johnny, a beautiful wife and now a son. I wish you well in the years ahead.’ George too hugged the proud father.
‘Thank you both. Well, I got to go, spread the word, like. I think I’ll put a bit in the paper, so everyone will know, what’d you think, Nelly?’
‘I reckon you could shout it an’ everyone’ll know, Johnny,’ Nelly laughed. ‘Shout it from yer bus as you drives along. But yes, a notice in the paper would start young Gregory Lewis’ baby book off a treat. An’ get young Dawn to take a picture of ’im why don’t yer?’
‘I expect there’ll be a real fancy christening fer that baby, George,’ Nelly laughed when Johnny had gone. ‘We’ll need our best clothes on fer that.’
‘I don’t think posh christenings are for the likes of me, Nelly,’ George said. ‘Now Amy’s wedding, I reckon that will be more fun somehow.’
‘Yes, that’ll be a good laugh that will. Amy will make sure of that.’
* * *
Mrs French called to see Amy in the shop just before she closed for lunch on Monday.
‘Pull the blind down would you, Monica, or I’ll never get home. Thank goodness I have the bicycle, it saves a few minutes. What can I get you?’
‘I want to talk about your wedding,’ Mrs French smiled. ‘I have an idea for your party. Do you mind my offering some help?’
‘I think we’d better walk as we talk or I won’t get home at all.’ Amy closed the shop, collected her bicycle and met Mrs French on the road. ‘Now, what idea have you come up with?’
‘It’s your Margaret, really. But before I tell you will you promise not to mention our conversation until I’ve spoken to her again?’
Curious and intrigued, Amy listened.
‘The children have organised themselves into a small band playing home-made instruments and a guitar which, incidentally, is played rather well by young David Honeyman. Now they want to perform to an audience and I thought, why not for your wedding? I know this might be different from what you and Victor planned, but I know how highly thought of you are and can guess at the many people who’ll want to come and share your day with you. So what about the castle grounds? Make it an afternoon wedding then an evening of celebration, like we did for the Coronation?’
‘Monica, you’ve taken my breath away!’ Amy’s eyes glowed as s
he imagined the scene. Her long diamante earrings jangled and glittered as she shook her blonde head as if unable to believe such a thing. ‘We couldn’t, could we?’
‘Why not?’
‘I’ll have to ask Victor, of course, but I admit the idea appeals to me. Now, you talk to Margaret and the others and I’ll talk to Victor. I’ll come and see you tomorrow morning and we’ll see what has been decided, right?’ Laughing almost breathlessly at the very idea of such an unusual wedding, Amy raced home on her bicycle. Throwing it against the wall she burst through the door and rang the wholesalers where Victor worked to ask if they could send an urgent supply of dried fruit. It would have to be a very large cake to feed the whole village.
* * *
Griff Evans came out of prison to find no one waiting for him. He caught the bus from Swansea to Hen Carw Parc, passing The Drovers and seeing a few of his former workmates standing chatting outside in the warm sunshine. He had no idea of his reception from them or from his wife and son. Hilda hadn’t visited or written and it was only from Pete he had any news of her.
The boy had been hesitant in what he’d said and Griff had a mental image of Hilda, still with her over-large teeth and with curlers in her scraggy hair, who had perhaps bought a new coat. Surely nothing else would change?
These long months while he had been in prison she was entitled to feel anger towards him, but surely when she saw him it would all be forgiven? It had been Pete who had exchanged information that dealt with his release, not Hilda, but he put that down to the fact that as Hilda was uneasy filling in forms and writing letters she had gladly accepted Pete’s willingness to deal with it for her. Silly old fool that she was, she was still his wife and would remember her duty and welcome him back with relief that her loneliness was over.
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