‘Come in, Nelly, love,’ Amy called.
‘’Oo’s bin upsettin’ you, Margaret?’ Nelly demanded.
‘It was Auntie Prue. But Mam’s explained about her illness and how she doesn’t really mean half of what she says. Mam thinks she’ll have forgotten all about it by now.’
‘Why d’you think she’s so angry with us?’ Amy asked when Margaret went upstairs to change into her new skirt with the stiff petticoats that held it out like a frou-frou, to show Nelly.
‘’Ow do I know,’ Nelly shrugged. ‘But it looks like she’s ill again, Amy. Picking on those you love isn’t that unusual.’
‘She shouted that Freddy wasn’t Sian’s father. What a daft thing to even think! And she won’t stay in the same room as him. What can be the explanation for that?’
Nelly shrugged again. ‘Freddy worked for ’er didn’t ’e? ’Elped in that garden of ’ers. Per’aps he did something to annoy ’er and ’er muddled mind got it all mixed up and wrong.’
‘Harry wasn’t Sian’s father you know. She told me herself that her husband wasn’t the baby’s father. I remember how pleased I was, knowing that she and Harry, well, that it was me who he loved and not my sister even if she was his wife. Wicked that was, being glad. But I hated the thought of him sharing a bed with her. It was me he loved, Nelly.’
‘So who was the father, then?’
It was Amy’s turn to shrug. ‘She didn’t tell me that. Only that it wasn’t Harry.’
‘But who could it have been?’
‘I’ve racked my brains but I can’t imagine. But whatever delusions she’s suffering, it could hardly be my Freddy.’ Amy smiled. ‘He was only a boy at the time.’
Walking home Nelly met several of the cricketers on their way to The Drovers. To her surprise Hilda was walking with Griff, not arm in arm but with civil looks on both their faces.
‘Nelly, come and join us,’ Phil called.
‘Go and fetch George and we’ll have a sing-song,’ Billie invited.
‘No, I don’t think I can cope with more excitement today.’ Nelly bared her crooked teeth in a laugh. ‘Ere, you two friends again, are yer?’ she added as Hilda, Pete and Griff passed her.
‘We have things to discuss, Nelly,’ Hilda said primly, her lip-sticked mouth pursed into a bow. Then she turned back and gave Nelly a broad wink.
Nelly walked up the lane and, aware of how long she had left George, increased her speed when she reached the top. The two ungainly dogs got stuck in the door as they both tried to push their way through at the same time to run and greet her. She accepted their exuberant welcome and went towards the now wide open door. Her smile widened as she heard laughter coming from the cottage. What a treat to have Doreen there. The lively and affectionate girl would do George and herself a power of good. She crossed her fingers and hoped she would stay for ever.
But it wasn’t only Doreen and George who were laughing at the reports of the cricket match. The dark-clad figure of her gypsy friend, Clara, sat on a chair close to the table and beside her were some bottles of herbal medicines for George.
‘I find your George much improved,’ the wrinkled face smiled. ‘Much down to your new lodger I don’t doubt.’
‘And lots of loving care,’ George smiled. ‘Now, Nelly my dear, tell me more about the match. I wish I’d have done what Doreen suggested and sat in the wheel-barrow for you to transport me down to the field in style. It was something I shouldn’t have missed by Doreen’s account.’
‘Always take the opportunity for laughter,’ Clara said. ‘Medicine that is, even if you can’t pour it from a bottle.’
Nelly looked at George, his pink mouth widely smiling amid the white beard, blue eyes bright and creased with contentment. As the stories and opinions flowed she had to agree: George was improving, he would get well again. She saw that in the look on Clara’s face. The sad and doubtful frown had gone and hope showed in its place. She gave a rare exhibition of her feelings and gave him a hug. He would get well again. She just knew it.
‘Push the kettle over why don’t yer and we’ll all ’ave a nice cup of tea and some of Doreen’s cake.’
Chapter Twenty Three
Phil called on the Monday following the match with lots of news. He rubbed his nose in a gesture familiar to Nelly and George which told them he was about to impart a confidence.
‘I heard that Griff and Hilda went home together last night,’ he said, adding sugar to the tea Nelly had poured. ‘Didn’t go in, mind, but he saw her home, just like they’re courting. Funny that, courting your own wife. Damn me, after all these years I wouldn’t know where to start.’
‘Good luck to him,’ George said. ‘He’s paid for his mistakes and Hilda is punishing again it seems to me.’
‘He was liked well enough, before he turned criminal that is. He was always thought of as a bit of a lad, mind, but with a chuckle as if he was the bit of a devil that others would like to be,’ Phil said. ‘Now everyone treats him like a leper. But if you think of it, that is a part of his punishment.’
‘People’ll ferget,’ Nelly said. ‘Although I doubt that Archie Pierce will! Curses ’im up in heaps, ’e does.’
‘He’s been offered his job back up at the forestry. Rod Taylor handed him a letter after the cricket match. That’s hopeful. They’ll watch him, mind! Young Pete shows he’s forgiven his wayward Dad so there’s only Hilda and I suspect she’s enjoying her freedom too much at present.’
‘Can’t blame ’er fer ’aving a fling, can yer? All them hours cutting up spuds and ’im spending money on Bethan Toogood. It’s a wonder she didn’t murder ’im!’
‘Oh dear,’ George looked at Phil then hid his face behind his hand. ‘I’d better be careful, I don’t like the look in Nelly’s eyes, do you, Phil?’
‘You an’ me’s different, George. We’re free and we stay together because we want to.’
‘How’s your lodger settling in?’ Phil wanted to know.
‘She’s a smashin’ kid, Phil. A joy to ’ave around.’
‘So helpful and she treats us as if we were her favourite aunt and uncle,’ George smiled. ‘Funny thing, she seems to know the cottage. She described the landing and bedrooms before she went up the stairs.
‘An’ clean. She’d bath every day if she could. But we can’t afford to light two fires every day, can we George? She ’as to make do with a good wash and a bath once a week, like we do.’
‘Working with that Bethan then?’
‘Not yet,’ George told him. ‘We told her not to rush into anything, we hope she’ll find something better before long.’
‘Johnny says there’s a vacancy for a farm hand at Billie’s place. Fancy that, would she? Helping Mary with the herd and on the round? Sometimes working with Billie?’
Nelly’s dark eyes lit up. ‘She might, Phil, she just might.’
* * *
Johnny always ran up Sheepy Lane when he finished his shift on the buses. It was wonderful to know that Fay would be there with baby Gregory Lewis, waiting for him, impatient to tell him about their day. He imagined what it would be like when Gregory didn’t need his mother to translate for him and would run to meet him while Fay watched and laughed at his tottering, rolling walk. Then he stopped himself. Now was to enjoy, it was madness to waste the perfect now, dreaming of what was to come.
The house was silent when he entered and at once his spirits fell. He had become used to having Fay there when he came in. Monday, he mused, where could she be? He knew his mam went to the church hall to the Sewing Bee where the ladies made articles to sell at the bi-annual fairs the church held. But that wasn’t Fay’s idea of a pleasant afternoon.
He looked around the house; nothing out of place and each room sweet-smelling and shining. Outside the clothes line was filled with small garments and white napkins, dazzling his eyes with their brightness. Perfect he thought, but nothing without Fay and the baby. He made himself a cup of tea and sat nervously waiting for them to return.
His anxiety escalated when she finally arrived home. He heard the car stop and ran out, trying to hold back his agitation. The baby was in his carry-cot on the back seat, held secure with cushions. He kissed Fay and saw from her expression that she had something on her mind. He smiled, hoping it didn’t waver as much as he felt it did, then went to lift the baby out of the car. Whistling cheerfully, he went inside.
‘I didn’t know how long you’d be, lovely, so I didn’t start cooking anything.’
‘Can we go out for a meal tonight, Johnny?’
He stared at her in surprise. Since she had temporarily given up her work they had been careful not to spend money unnecessarily. But he could see this was something she wanted to do.
‘Ask Mam to baby-sit then, shall we?’
He dressed with extra care putting on a navy suit and a white shirt. His dark straight hair he slicked down and he carefully trimmed his moustache. He had to do her justice, she was so beautiful.
They went to a restaurant in Llan Gwyn where scampi was on the menu and they tasted it for the first time. Johnny didn’t savour a thing. He kept a conversation going, talking about some of the episodes of his day driving the bus, but it sounded to him like a monologue, long and boring, as Fay did little other than smile and nod or shake her blonde head. He was so proud of her: she had a natural elegance that made heads turn and waiters give them that little extra care and attention.
He wanted her to tell him what was on her mind, although his lack of confidence where she was concerned made him dread to hear. Perhaps she was leaving him? Women did. What if she left and took Gregory Lewis with her? What would he do without them?
They finished their meal and walked to the car. The evening was rather chilly after a day of rain and he put an arm around her, holding her close to him. He helped her into the car and sat in beside her. He couldn’t stand it any longer.
‘Fay, my lovely, what is it you’ve been trying to tell me ever since you came home this afternoon?’
‘Am I that obvious, Johnny?’
‘Full of surprises you are, never obvious, never boring like me. Now, what is it that’s been creasing your beautiful forehead these past hours. Tell me and we’ll work it out, together.’
‘I went to see my boss today and took Gregory Lewis to show him off.’
‘I see.’ This was Johnny’s second most dreaded situation. Fay was going back to work. He knew it had to come but every day he hoped for another week and another. ‘Tell me, lovely, when are you going back to work? It’s your decision and we’ll sort it out between Mam and whoever you choose to look after little Gregory. It won’t be for long each day, what with Mam helping and me working shifts, and—’
‘Johnny, I don’t want to leave him.’
‘Of course you don’t, marvellous Mam that you are. But it’s what you want, so we’ll make it as painless as we can.’
‘I mean I can’t let someone else mind him. I want us to be the ones to watch him grow and be thrilled with every new thing. D’you think we could manage if I stayed home, just for a year or two?’
Johnny shook so much he half-expected the car to fall to pieces. ‘Manage my lovely? Of course we can manage. Is that what’s been worrying you? I’ll work all the over-time I can scrounge and we won’t want for a thing.’
He wondered afterwards how he had managed to drive home without putting the car through a hedge. He was so happy that the car seemed to drive itself and all he had to do was float along beside Fay and imagine a future with the three of them always together, a home filled with her presence and their combined love.
They went home and told Netta, who smiled and said, ‘It’s no surprise to me, Johnny. I knew that when Fay saw her first-born she’d find it hard to hand him over for someone else to enjoy.’
‘Impossible, Mam, impossible,’ he beamed.
When Amy saw Prue passing the shop she ran out to enquire after her health. Not wanting to show how worried she was about her sister, she pretended a different reason for running down the road after her and Florrie and baby Sian.
‘Thank you for making the cake for me, Prue,’ she called but when her sister stopped and turned, her smile faded. There was hatred in the icy blue eyes. Prue’s face was ashen and she looked as if she hadn’t slept for several nights. ‘Are you all right, love?’ she asked with a glance at Florrie. Prue took a small step towards her and Amy backed away as if preparing for flight. What had happened to make her sister ill again?
‘Go away, Amy. Keep away and keep that son of yours away, too.’
‘But what’s the matter, Prue? Why are you so angry with Freddy?’
‘He’s nothing to do with this,’ Prue almost screamed the words.
‘Exactly. So why are you angry with him. God ’elp, Prue, you haven’t seen him for more than five minutes since Sian was born.’
‘Don’t mention my daughter in the same breath as that wicked son of yours.’
‘Wicked? Oh, I see,’ Amy said, thinking she at last understood. ‘So it’s about him and Sheila Powell, is it? Well, I’m not proud of that either, but what’s it got to do with you? Or baby Sian?’
‘He’s just like you. Having babies and them left without a father.’
‘Freddy will face up to his responsibilities,’ Amy said with rising anger. ‘He’ll do whatever Sheila and he decide, not what you or anyone else think. How could you possibly understand.’ She hurried back to the shop and Prue almost ran in the opposite direction.
‘What’s up with her?’ Mavis asked. ‘Still on about your Freddy and my Sheila, is she? Can’t say I blame her. It isn’t nice to have a disgrace in the family.’
‘Shut up! Or better still, go home,’ Amy snapped. She had to stay on at the shop all day instead of having the afternoon off.
Amy was furious with herself for snapping at Mavis, and with her sister for making her so angry in the first place. She walked up and down in the shop like a trapped animal, thinking of all that she should be doing. Her wedding was only weeks away and there was so much to sort out. She had planned to make a poster for the shop window and the church hall inviting everyone to come to the party after the marriage service. No point in trying to send out formal invitations, there were too many and she’d be sure to forget someone and cause even more trouble in the village.
The shop wasn’t busy and she ignored the shelves that needed tidying, hoping that once Mavis had calmed down she would be able to persuade her to come back to work and deal with them. Taking a piece of sugar paper she began to plan the poster. ALL WELCOME, it began, then in small letters underneath she added, except my dear sister Prue! She crossed it out, ashamed of the childish gesture, and began again.
The phone rang. It was Freddy.
‘Hello, Freddy, love, don’t say you aren’t coming home for the wedding.’
‘It’s all right, just that I’ll be home a bit earlier that’s all, so if there’s anything to do up at the castle, well, leave some of it for me, okay? Mam, how’s Sheila?’
‘I saw her walking up the lane last night with Maurice, but I don’t think they’re together again if that’s what you want to know. I’ll go and see Ethel if you like and ask her what’s new.’
‘Will you, Mam? Thanks.’
‘Has she written to you lately?’
‘No, that’s the trouble. I don’t know what she plans to do, about the baby I mean.’
‘I’ll go and see her after I close the shop.’
‘I tried home first, I thought this was a day when Mavis took over after lunch?’
‘I told her to shut up or go home and she did both,’ Amy said ruefully.
‘You’d better be nice to her, Mam. How will you manage to have a honeymoon if she doesn’t mind the shop?’
‘Oh, Freddy! I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll make a cup of tea, call her down and grovel. Now this minute.’
Margaret was with Mrs French and after phoning and asking if she could stay a while longer, Amy went to see Et
hel. Maurice was there and he stood to leave when she came into the room.
‘Ethel, have you a minute? No, don’t go, Maurice, I’d like to talk to you, too, if you don’t mind. It’s for my Freddy really. He rang an hour or so back and asked if you and Sheila have come to any decision?’
‘No, we haven’t,’ Maurice said rudely. ‘And if I see your Freddy around here I’ll probably punch him in the face for his nerve.’
Amy sat down suddenly, as if her knees had failed her, and stared at Ethel. ‘D’you know, Ethel, I think my wedding plans are driving me out of my mind. First Prue shows a tendency to return to her depression and blames me, and she tells me I have a wicked son for no reason at all. Now Maurice, who spent Freddy’s last leave with him as if they were the greatest of friends, says he wants to punch him. Can you tell me what’s going on?’
‘It’s only what Prue says in her confused state. But she’s very convincing, mind, even if she is a bit tense.’
‘What has Prue been saying?’ Amy demanded. ‘Tell me so I know what’s being passed around the village gossips. If I don’t know I can’t very well put everyone straight, can I?’
‘She says Sheila isn’t the only one in the village to have a child fathered by Freddy.’
‘Nonsense!’
‘She says her own child was the result of him seducing her while he was working on her garden, just before Harry died.’ Bile rose in Amy’s throat. Shock travelled through her like worms under the skin.
‘My sister says she was seduced by my son? Her nephew?’
‘It’s only in her confused mind, like I said, Amy. We all understand,’ Ethel said sadly. ‘Poor dab, she doesn’t know what she’s saying.’
‘A boy, that’s all he is. A boy.’
* * *
Amy’s first instinct was to cancel the wedding. She’d go now and tell Victor it was off. It wasn’t true, of course it wasn’t true; but people would believe it. Few could resist a bit of really juicy gossip and this was a story to whet even the most jaded of palates. How could she face them all while this tittle-tattle went the rounds? She’d be a laughing stock and so would Freddy. And what about Margaret? How would her lovely, happy daughter be affected by such wicked talk? She hurried to Victor’s house, shivering, sickness threatening to overwhelm her.
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