At the bottom he turned into the main road, wavered, and fell off.
* * *
Freddy was making tea for his mother who, in her ankle length wedding dress of pale blue, with skirt upon skirt of lace-trimmed fullness, looked lovely. Her hair had been fluffed out into its usual fullness but the hairdresser had added small glinting threads that were woven through her hair falling from the small hat and veil which matched the dress. Her shoes were silver. She had on a necklace of pearls interspersed with silver beads and there were similar decorations on the hat. At great expense she had had gloves made from the same material as the dress.
‘You don’t think I’ve over-done it, do you?’ she asked her son as she looked in a mirror.
‘Mam, you look fantastic.’
‘Doesn’t that mean unbelievable?’
‘You look lovely. Victor will be bowled over when you walk into that church.’
‘And all the old biddies will accuse me of being dressed too young.’
‘Only those who are jealous, Mam,’ he smiled. ‘And they’ll be plenty jealous of me, too, with my Mam and my beautiful sister.’
Margaret came down the stairs in the long, slightly darker blue dress she had chosen and stood beside her mother.
‘Mam, Freddy and I want to say we love you and we’re thrilled to be joining Uncle Victor’s family and having brothers and another sister. We bought you this.’ She handed Amy a small gift-wrapped parcel.
Inside was a pair of earrings, each tiny golden dropper was in the shape of a rose.
‘We hope it’ll be roses all the way, Mam,’ Freddy said as they both kissed her.
* * *
The walk down the aisle was completely unrehearsed, but to the villagers attending Amy and Victor’s wedding it was a touching and beautiful scene. All the members of the two families were waiting for the bride outside the ancient grey-stone building. Delina and Tad walked behind Amy and Margaret, holding Dawn’s hands. David and Daniel behind them formal but smiling in their new suits and shiny shoes and flattened down hair. Amy was kissed by them all before they formed the impromptu procession and walked behind her and Margaret into the church.
As she entered the church, overflowing with friends there to wish her well and share her day, she felt the warmth of the surrounding love flow over her. She went slowly down the aisle, smiling at all the familiar faces. Billie was there and he blew her a kiss. Gasps of delight followed her progress. The procession followed her and remained behind as she met Victor at the altar.
It was all Victor could do to restrain from hugging them all there and then. He smiled at his bride-to-be and her entourage like a man in shock, his throat choked with emotion. The moment was so dream-like, the sight so wonderful, that he trembled with the joy of it. Phil touched his shoulder for reassurance.
Amy was so touched. First Margaret and Freddy’s surprise gift and now this, her new family showing their support and love. The wonderful gesture was unexpected, emotion made swallowing difficult. Her beautiful blue eyes were shimmering with unshed tears and she was afraid that if anything else as wonderful happened they would spill over and she would ruin it all by crying.
The hymns were sung with enthusiasm, everyone joining in, and with the church filled right out to the porch and to the steps beyond, it sounded as perfect as the finest rehearsed choir, the core of it being just that.
In spite of his early celebrations Phil stood up to the ordeal of acting as Victor’s best man and managed to produce the ring without any last minute panics. The touching service went without a hitch of any kind and the congregation was moved by the way the couple turned and looked into each other’s eyes to give their vows.
When Amy and Victor as Mr and Mrs Honeyman stepped outside into warm sunshine, the roar of cheering was almost frightening. Victor was startled out of a dream. Since turning and seeing his bride entering the church, glowing and utterly beautiful, surrounded by his family, he had been responding like an automaton to what was happening around him. In the first photograph Dawn took as Amy entered the church, he looked as if he were sleep-walking.
Amy threw her bouquet of white rose-buds with their ornamental silver ribbons and it was caught by a startled Delina, who looked at Tad shyly and, to everyone’s delight, blushed profusely. The moment was captured perfectly by Dawn’s camera.
Many people were using cameras but it was Dawn who, in her new pale green, flower-print dress, seemed the most determined. She even pushed people out of the way and ordered them to, ‘Be still, this is a colour film and I can’t waste it!’ to get the shot she wanted. There were no complaints. The happy mood seemed set to last through the whole of the day and the sun shone, determined to light up every corner.
Nelly was in several photographs, her wide-brimmed hat decorated with flowers from her garden starting off straight but, due to the crush, tilting drunkenly before the last click of a shutter. George tried to straighten it but gave up. His own trilby was also awry, giving his bearded face a saucy air.
* * *
The wedding breakfast was to be a family affair and Amy and Victor with their combined family were cheered off to drive to a restaurant in Llan Gwyn to enjoy a few hours of comparative peace before the party in the castle grounds. No one said much, everyone sated in the excitement of the happy morning. When the cars brought the united families back to the village they found flags had been hung across the drive and around the front door of their house. Nelly and George had come to tidy up the chaos of their preparation and were waiting with a huge bunch of flowers to welcome them home, but they didn’t stay.
‘We’ll see yer all later,’ Nellie called and, taking George’s arm, hurried off down the lane.
Left alone, the combined families of Amy and Victor just hugged each other and even David, who had seemed determined to remain as difficult as possible, succumbed to the happiness of the day. They changed their clothes, Amy and Victor almost shyly sharing their bedroom, aware of the children below. Then, in more casual wear, prepared to leave for the castle grounds.
* * *
From the lane behind Nelly’s cottage there was only a rough track leading to the ruined castle, but the chauffeur managed to drive them almost to the walls, the Austin bumping its way along the deeply rutted surface without complaint. Johnny followed with David, Daniel and Freddy and Margaret.
‘We should have borrowed Billie’s tractor,’ Victor said.
Amy shared the laugh but she remembered with sadness and a touch of guilt that it was in Billie’s arms she’d once thought to find the happiness she longed for. It wasn’t to be. Her heart had told her it was Victor she loved and now it was Victor who held her future in his hands.
Within the ruined castle walls lights shone out over the scene. Some of the trees were floodlit and these, with the black countryside beyond, was a spectacular backdrop to the setting for the wedding party. Dancers were already adding colour and movement. Oliver was proudly helping his father, Timothy Chartridge, who had arranged to be there with a collection of records and his old wind-up gramophone.
Dance music met Amy and Victor as they alighted from the cars. Dawn was there with her camera. The dancers abandoned the grassy dance-floor and swarmed towards them, dragging them to start the next dance. Timothy put on a slow waltz and the evening was underway.
From the edge of the roped-off dance area, Hilda and Griff watched. They had walked up separately but, once there, Griff had attached himself to her although little was said. He wanted to talk to her but didn’t know how to begin. Looking at her face, so different and so attractive with the carefully applied makeup and the new clothes, he felt like a gauche and pimply youth.
‘Come on, Mam, I know how you like to dance,’ Pete called. He offered his hands to his mother and Hilda went to join the throng.
A few moments later, while they danced, a hand touched Pete’s shoulder and Griff said, ‘Is this an excuse me? I’d like to dance with my wife.’
Pete grinned an
d left them as they tentatively touched; the minimum possible contact to enable them to dance.
‘Hilda, can we start again? I won’t rush you, I promise that, but I’m lost without you to support me. I don’t know how to start again alone. I depend on you.’
‘Depend on me? How’s that for a laugh then! What about Bethan? You gave her much more of yourself than you ever gave me.’
‘Flattery I suppose. She’s young and you and I were, you know, sort of flat, dull, used to each other and…’ He looked at her for help.
‘You robbed me, Griff Evans. Robbed me of my youth long before time. Short of money, never going out apart from working in that girl’s back yard. Because of you I was lacking in any self-esteem, wearing old cast-offs, being pitied by everyone who knew me, especially those who knew about you and Bethan. I was worse off than Dirty Nelly – I mean Nelly Luke.’
‘It just happened, gradually, our losing interest in each other. I was unaware of it happening and I think you were, too.’
The record ended, the dancers stood waiting for another to begin and Hilda and Griff stood like two protagonists without any fire in their arguments. They both wanted to go home and pretend the last year hadn’t happened, but neither could suggest it.
The music began again, a quick-step, and they went into each other’s arms, still stiff and afraid, but with no wish to change partners.
Maurice and Sheila were dancing together but already Maurice was regretting his attempt at a reunion with his wife. He knew that once again he had been too easily persuaded by his mother and his brothers into accepting the bed he had made and was expected to lie on. If the bed’s uncomfortable, I get up and make it, he thought wryly.
‘Sheila, I’m fond of you, you know that,’ he began, wondering if there was a convenient hole he could jump into. ‘Very fond but—’
‘I know, Maurice, you don’t love me,’ Sheila finished for him brightly. ‘I don’t mind, fond is enough for the moment. I’ll have to make you change your mind about loving me, won’t I? By being a perfect wife. When the baby’s born it will be different, a little family and with a home of your own. I know that’s what you want, Maurice, and I really don’t mind about the other. Love is only an addling of the brain anyway, isn’t it? It’s friendship and caring that count. I know you’ll care for me and that’s enough for now.’
Maurice didn’t reply, it was all hopeless. The bars were closing around him. He could hear the clanging of doors reverberating through his head. And he was unable to prevent them making him a prisoner. The sentence was life.
Ethel sat in a chair carried up for her by Phil-the-post and Sidney and Teddy. It was good to have all her sons around her. She watched her youngest son in nervous attendance on his wife. She guessed from Sheila’s fading smile which was followed by a strained expression and from Maurice’s attitude that something was about to happen.
Excusing himself from Sheila, Maurice went to talk to his mother and brothers. He explained his dilemma and, after a few attempts to persuade him, they agreed to look after Sheila for him. He stood and watched her for a while, then as the dancers began a lively rock ‘n’ roll number, he walked through the woods and headed for the bus stop.
Phil-the-post was unsteady on his feet but he managed to take Sheila’s arm and guide her to where Ethel waited to begin an explanation and offer her sympathy and regrets. To their surprise, Sheila seemed almost relieved.
‘I’m over Maurice now, really I am,’ she said, after Ethel told her Maurice was gone. ‘I just want to be free of him. I’d never have a moment’s peace wondering who he was with and when he’d decide to up and leave me again. No, Mrs Davies, we’ll be all right me and my baby, you’ll see.’
* * *
When Amy and Victor thought their surprises of the day were over the Reverend Barclay Bevan added another. He climbed up on to a temporary stage erected by Billie and Johnny with help from Oliver and George and called for silence.
‘The entertainment for this evening is supplied by your capable selves,’ he began. ‘This village has the happy knack of creating enjoyment and good fun out of nothing more than the goodwill that surrounds us all. There is one small exception tonight. May I introduce to you Hen Carw Parc’s own skiffle group, the Farm House Four!’
Amy and Victor were pushed to the front of the crowd and they saw Margaret, Oliver, David and Dawn climb up and their instruments handed to them, the tea-chest bass lifted by Billie.
They began with a brief melody written by Margaret and David, then they began to play ‘Rock Around The Clock’ and the dancers tapped their feet, wanting to dance but knowing this was music for them to listen to and enjoy.
Evie frowned as they were introduced and even more when she saw the collection of instruments, Oliver’s being an old wash-board. But as the crowd showed their approval she relaxed and accepted the admiring glances as people turned to her and smiled their admiration. After all, it couldn’t be too terrible if Barclay Bevan had introduced it.
When the children had finished and jumped down, she went to find her son and said, loudly, ‘Oliver, I’m proud of you. That was very clever.’
‘Well done, young man,’ his father echoed. ‘That was a treat for us all.’ Oliver felt his insides swelling painfully, overwhelmingly. His father’s smile and the way his mother hugged him was like the return of a long lost treasured possession.
* * *
Nelly was drunk. The wedding and its party was a double celebration: seeing George almost recovered made the day perfect and she accepted every drink she was offered with enthusiasm. Doreen offered to walk her home, fussing about her like an anxious hen. Freddy saw Doreen with an arm around Nelly at eleven o’clock, pleading with her to go home and sleep.
‘Want any help?’ he asked. His uniform abandoned, he wore casual grey trousers and a sports jacket that, since his months in the army, had grown too tight. ‘I’m Freddy,’ he explained. ‘Freddy Prichard.’
‘I know who you are,’ Doreen smiled. ‘If you can persuade Nelly to go home before she falls down we might get her there without having to carry her.’
‘Where’s George?’ Freddy looked around.
‘Asleep on three chairs in the castle kitchen being looked after by Netta and Fay.’ She laughed and shook her curly head. ‘What a pair they are. I love them as if I’ve known them all my life.’
‘Come on, Nelly. Time to go.’
Gradually they supported her under the arms and half-carried, half-dragged her until they were near the kitchen. Huge quantities of food had been consumed but there was still a lot left. The remainder was packed in boxes and bags and placed on shelves to be disposed of the following day. Brenda Roberts, Bert’s patient wife, and the ladies who had helped serve had abandoned their posts and had gone to join in the fun.
George was snoring gently. They put Nelly to lie on three more chairs close to him. Instinctively, Nelly’s hand reached out and found George’s searching for hers and, hands held tightly, they both slept.
‘Fancy a dance?’ Freddy asked. Smiling, Doreen followed him to join the rest.
* * *
No one knew quite how the argument began. Some said it was an unguarded word from Emlyn and Gwen Parry about the way Hilda Evans had carried on while her poor husband was in prison. Others insisted that it was Bert Roberts tripping over Archie Pierce who had laid down for a rest, and Johnny seeing them and thinking Archie was being attacked.
It was long past midnight yet few had left to go home. The drink was lasting out, the dancing continuing, although fewer were actually dancing as more and more people found their feet unwilling to behave. There were several present who liked the thought of going home but who weren’t too sure in which direction their homes lay.
Above the music the argument grew and soon involved the majority of those revellers still fully awake. Those who began as by-standers were pushed unintentionally by others, took offence and pushed back and the field, lit by flood lighting was awash with
fallen bodies and fighting groups. No one knew why they were fighting, but the occasion demanded it. Only the women moved to escape the rolling, shouting figures and even they stayed close enough to watch and shout encouragement.
Bert, among the first to be hit, was soon standing holding a handkerchief to his nose and trying to act as referee. His wife was trying to drag him away, calling him names she’d never dare to use when he was sober. The opportunity was too good for Milly Toogood to miss and, amid the confusion, she ran up and clouted Griff around the side of his head.
‘That’s for ruining my Bethan,’ she shouted. She ducked through the crowd and followed, as always, by Sybil Tremain, scuttled home.
Griff turned and seeing Milly’s husband Tommy standing there thought him responsible and hit him on the ear with an open hand. Tommy didn’t retaliate but shouted after Milly and threatened to do the same to her if she didn’t clear off home this instant.
Archie Pierce, crawling away out of trouble managed to trip up seven people, leaving behind him a trail of angry bemused men looking for someone to blame. They hit out at any who were near. It was a war with as many sides as there were participants.
The survivors swooped into the kitchen and, grabbing the left over food for weapons, began pelting each other with it, sometimes pausing to take a bite out of a sandwich before throwing it.
Nelly and George, snoring peacefully on the chairs, were roused from their sleep, sat up stiffly and reached for the floor with their feet. They wondered vaguely where they were, half-remembered and tried to open their eyes wide enough to check. The floor wasn’t level. The light was swinging and making shadows dance. The room was full of strangers fighting to get at the food. Nelly decided it was all a dream and went back to sleep. George did try to get up but decided it wasn’t worth the effort and did the same.
Valley in Bloom Page 31
