‘I’ll try the ideas on Mrs Rogers, but I don’t expect she’ll be keen. I quickly learnt that she doesn’t like changes,’ she told him. She described the pretty tea rooms where she had worked all her life. ‘Glass-fronted shelves filled with dolls in Victorian dress, and china tea plates and beautiful vases of dried flowers above the picture rail. The gingham trimming and the linen tablecloths that are darned but still immaculately white, fine china Mum still manages to provide, even after the years of shortages.’
‘I don’t think Mrs Rogers would cope with all the work that entails,’ Betty said. ‘But one day, when she retires you might be able to change things.’
‘I talk about starting a new life and I have to some extent, but my dream is one day to own a café just like Jessica’s Victorian Tea Rooms. So my dream hasn’t taken me far, has it?’
‘Nothing’s impossible, Seranne,’ Alun said. ‘Keep dreaming the dream, wait for the opportunity and if you really want it, you’ll seize the moment and make it happen.’
‘And while you wait, be happy,’ Betty added.
Alun and Betty walked her home in the cold crisp air, and she went into Badgers Brook utterly content. She might have been forced to make the changes by the arrival of Paul Curtis, but the present was good and a future beckoned that was even better.
CHAPTER THREE
Betty Connors had lived in the Ship and Compass all her life. The public house had been owned by her grandparents then her parents, and when they passed away it had been left to Betty and her brother Ed. He had not been interested in owning the place with all the accompanying problems and, after valuation, she had bought him out. Ed had continued to work for her until he had married Elsie Clements who owned the local guest house behind the post office.
Since Ed moved out Betty had found it difficult to find a reliable assistant. Some were useless and others were good but didn’t want to stay. For a few weeks, Alun Harris, who had worked casually for Jake Llewelyn at the boat yard, had become at first an occasional help then had agreed to work for her full-time. She was delighted as he was experienced, having run his own restaurant, and was good with customers. She hardly had to explain a thing, he had fitted into the place as though born to it.
Even their sense of humour was the same and they only had to look at each other to share the fun of something said in the bar. She stood at the door of the cellar and listened as he moved things around making room for new stock, preparing for a delivery. He whistled as he worked and she hoped he’d stay for ever. She knew it was foolish to think that way. He was a qualified and experienced chef used to running something more complicated than a small pub in a small Welsh town, and would be off one day to revive his own career. But still, there was no harm in hoping, she thought as she gave the bar top an extra rub.
She went into the room behind the bar and turned up the heat under the kettle. It was time for their mid-morning cup of tea and a snack. Working through until two o’clock, they usually had something before they opened and then relaxed after everything was done, to sit and eat their main meal.
Today it was her turn to cook and she’d queued that morning and bought some fish with which she planned to make a potato-topped pie. She wasn’t as imaginative as Alun, but he never criticized her plain and simple food. She’d been given a few extra eggs so perhaps she would make some real custard to liven up the remains of yesterday’s sponge cake.
Her brother Ed called as she was pouring their tea and she added another cup to the tray. ‘How is Elsie?’ she asked, always her first question. Ed’s wife was suffering from a muscle-wasting disease that made her less and less able to help with the running of the guest house.
‘Not so good. Yesterday was a good day and I think she did more than was sensible.’
Betty handed him his tea as Alun came to join them. ‘Can I do anything?’ she asked.
Ed shrugged his shoulders. ‘Not really. I’m coping all right, with the nurses coming in and making sure she’s comfortable. We’re quiet at the moment, only a couple of people staying and two cyclists expected this afternoon.’
Betty shuddered. ‘Cycling? In this weather?’
‘We don’t get as many as we used to. More people are buying cars these days. I wish I had a car. It would be nice to take Elsie out sometimes – when she’s well enough.’
Alun threw his keys on the table. ‘Use mine whenever you need it,’ he said. ‘I don’t use it much.’
‘There’s mine too,’ Betty said reprovingly. ‘You know you only have to ask.’
‘How could I ask you? You’ve never approved of me marrying Elsie.’
‘What rubbish. It was nothing to do with me. I knew she was ill and I only wanted you to make sure you knew what you were letting yourself in for, that’s all.’
‘She makes me happy. Right?’
‘And I’m glad. Right?’
Alun stood up, aware that they were heading for one of their rows. ‘And I want to wash the front windows before we open. Right?’ he said with a grin.
The Ship was busy that lunchtime and after they had closed and eaten their meal Betty said, ‘I think I’ll go and see Elsie, perhaps take her a few flowers.’
‘I’ll go for a walk. Even in this cold January weather Cwm Derw is a beautiful place.’
‘Think you’ll stay around here?’ she asked casually. ‘When you look for a place of your own?’
He stared at her and then smiled, his blue eyes seeming to stare into her mind to see what was there. ‘That’s up to you, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t want you to go,’ she said at once. ‘I’ve never had anyone so easy and pleasant to work with as you, Alun.’
‘Good,’ he replied. He was still smiling at her as she turned away and reached for her coat.
Elsie was sitting in her usual chair near the fire and Ed had just brought her a cup of tea and a biscuit. The affection between them warmed Betty as she sat near them both after Ed had brought another cup and saucer. Elsie was always smiling, her cheerfulness forbade sympathy and she brushed away any attempt at it in a light-hearted way. Elsie wouldn’t live into old age, but Betty knew that Ed would never regret the time he spent with her and was building happy memories to comfort him after she had gone.
She sipped her tea and listened to them laughing about some of their more unusual guests, watching in delight at the way Ed jumped up the moment Elsie needed even the slightest help. She marvelled at the change in her brother. When he had helped at the Ship he had been unwilling to do more than the basic tasks, and managed to talk himself out of many that he should have done with easily found excuses.
She remembered once when the cleaner had failed to turn up and a delivery was expected and a phone call from one of his friends had him running through the door ignoring her demands that he stayed and did what she paid him for and be there to open up. She watched now as he helped Elsie with her food, doing more than was necessary and she delighted in his attentions, at the way they looked at each other. Their affection for each other was strong and she wondered at the power of love to change people so remarkably.
Alun had left Betty at the turning for the guest house and went on past a group of people waiting for a bus. He wore a heavy waterproof coat, wellingtons on his feet, a rather battered trilby on his head. A large man, he moved fast through the wet streets and headed for the lanes. He greeted those he knew with a lift of his hat and with long strides soon left them behind.
The drizzly rain didn’t affect his contented mood. On the branches and leaves as he entered the wood he saw the glitter of raindrops and likened them to diamonds. Underfoot, the slippery mud in which the debris of long dead plants was revealed in the hint of many colours pleased his eye, and he even found the smells of winter exciting. Cwm Derw was a good place to live.
He stopped to look at the badgers sett that had given the stream and the house their names. He paused again to pick a few branches of the chestnut that was showing the first hint of sticky buds, beauty
waiting in the wings to perform its spring drama. Betty would enjoy watching the buds unfold.
There wasn’t time to go far but he had half decided to walk through the lower part of the wood from where he could look down on the old farm buildings and the new bungalows that had replaced the animals in Treweather’s fields. Wandering idly he came close to the edge of the trees on the road opposite Badgers Brook. On impulse, he walked up the path to the door and the kitchen window intending to leave a few of the branches for Seranne.
He knew Seranne was working at the café so he was curious to see the silhouette of someone inside. Probably Kitty, who he knew looked after Seranne by getting fires lit, or opening windows on mild days to freshen the house. This wasn’t Kitty, though, it was definitely a man. It was probably innocent but he knocked on the door anyway. No harm in checking.
A man opened the door, someone he hadn’t seen before.
‘Oh, hello,’ Alun said. ‘I just wondered whether the lady of the house was home. He stepped inside and put the branches on the kitchen table.
‘No, I’m sorry, she’s at work.’
‘I see. And you would be…?’ he questioned.
‘I’m her father.’
‘Oh, hello, I’m Alun Harris, I work at the Ship and Compass. I’ll tell Seranne you’re here if I see her, shall I?’
‘Thank you.’ The man stood holding the door obviously wanting him to leave.
Still doubtful, but realizing he could hardly ask the man to leave his daughter’s home, Alun stepped outside. ‘Nice to meet you,’ he said but the man didn’t reply. The door closed swiftly behind him and Alun turned away from his intended walk and hurried back to the main road. He ought to tell Seranne, describe the man, reassure himself that the man was really her father. He headed for the café, after a glance at his watch with the aid of a torch. He needed to hurry, he had to be back and ready for the evening opening.
The café was busy, the windows steamed up from the cooking and the wet coats of the customers. He went in and explained to Seranne that she had a visitor. ‘He said he’s your father.’
‘Stepfather,’ she corrected. ‘I wonder what he wants? Perhaps Mum is ill.’
‘I didn’t ask.’ Alun didn’t explain that the door had been closed before he’d had the chance. He was still uneasy and after explaining to Betty he got into the car and drove to Badgers Brook, parking on the lane a short distance from the gate.
Seranne left early after a word with Mrs Rogers and jumping off the bus, ran down the lane towards the house. A gaslight showed through the kitchen window and looking in before opening the door she saw Paul dozing in a chair. She went in and touched his shoulder to wake him.
‘Sorry, I must have dozed off. How odd. That’s something I never do. It’s very quiet and peaceful here, isn’t it?’
‘Why are you here? Is Mum all right?’
He rubbed his eyes and stretched. ‘Funny that, me sleeping in the day.’
‘It’s a very relaxing house, now please tell me, is she ill?’
‘Not ill exactly, but I think she’s a bit tired and I want to take her away again, just for a few days, a little holiday would be good for her and perhaps she’d get used to the idea of letting go a little, leaving more of the day to day management to others. And it’s the quietest time in the tea rooms, isn’t it?’
‘Are you sure she’s not ill?’
‘To be honest, she was upset when you left and she hasn’t felt really well since. Could you come and look after things for a week while I take her to the sea side?’
‘How can I? I have a job here and I don’t want to lose it.’
‘Don’t worry, Pat – Mrs Pat Sewell – will run the place. She’s fitted in very well. I just had to ask, you might have been hurt if I hadn’t at least asked.’
‘You’re sure she’s capable, this – Mrs Sewell?’
‘Pat. Yes, she and your mother get on very well. Different ideas about some things, but nothing they don’t sort out between them.’
‘I’ll come on Sunday and perhaps I can meet her and make sure all is well. Sorry I can’t help, but it’s difficult, having just started a new job.’
‘Relax, there isn’t a problem, I just felt you should know.’ He stood up and stretched lazily. ‘This is a strange house. I never sleep in the day, but I slept and had some really vivid dreams. I was working in a shop selling beautiful china. Isn’t that odd?’
‘Beautiful china like my mother once had on the shelves in the tea rooms?’ she couldn’t help asking.
‘Good heavens, no. Not old-fashioned gaudy Victoriana. This was smart, modern china, simple designs and smart lines. The windows were filled with quality pieces and, do you know, I can imagine that being a reality. I’m looking for something new and….’
There was a knock at the door and Seranne opened the door and invited Alun inside.
‘I just wanted to see if everything was all right,’ he said apologetically.
Seranne thanked him and introduced him to Paul.
‘It’s good that you have friends, Seranne,’ Paul said. Turning to Alun he added, ‘But if you’ll excuse us, I’d like to talk to my daughter-in-law in private.’
Alun looked shocked at the curt response but he just nodded at Seranne and left. Seranne hadn’t been in the village very long but she was a friend and deserved care. He realized there was nothing he could do, but there was something about the man that made him uneasy.
‘This little holiday, it’s a celebration,’ Paul told her and he looked away as he explained. ‘Your darling mother has insisted on becoming an equal partner in my business. She now owns fifty per cent of my leather goods factory. I didn’t suggest it,’ he added hastily as Seranne drew a deep breath to complain. ‘It was your mother’s idea and it’s perfect. We’re partners in every way and we’re very happy.’
He insisted on taking Seranne to the Ship for a sandwich before leaving and Alun waved across from where he was serving a customer, but Paul just nodded vaguely.
He was obviously in a hurry to get away and hardly giving her time to eat her food and drink the shandy he’d bought, he drove her back to Badgers Brook. Seranne watched as he drove away, with a feeling of unease. She had never liked the man but couldn’t explain why. There was always a question in the air, as though he hadn’t told her all he was thinking, keeping the most important things to himself. The feeling was strong that day. Why had he come? She and her mother communicated by letter and telephone, so why was he telling her about their little holiday? Questions raced through her mind. Why drive over here to tell her? And why had he waited here at Badgers Brook when it would have been more sensible for him to go to the café where he knew he could find her? Why a holiday in January? Something about his visit was not right. She telephoned her mother from the phone box at the end of the lane and asked about the little holiday Paul had suggested.
‘Holiday, dear? I don’t know anything about it. Besides, how can I get away? Pat Sewell isn’t experienced in my ways yet, I wouldn’t like to leave her to manage the place. Unless you—’
‘Sorry Mum, but as I explained to Paul, I really think it’s better I stay away, give you and Paul a chance to settle into your new life.’ Jessie thanked her and then Seranne said, ‘Congratulations on becoming part owner of the factory. Mum, are you sure about this, I mean …’
‘Seranne, dear, of course I’m sure. The accounts for the tea rooms should be half Paul’s anyway and the money is really half his. It was just a gesture on my part to assure him of my trust and confidence. Your share in the business is protected,’ she added.
‘That wasn’t my worry,’ Seranne replied sharply. ‘I’m concerned about you.’
‘Then don’t be. Paul will look after me, as I will him.’
After the phone call she was more concerned than before. She would definitely pay her mother a visit on Sunday and hopefully meet Pat Sewell too.
Wednesday was her afternoon off and it was tempting to go home but Ba
bs dissuaded her. ‘Best you act casual,’ she advised. ‘You’ll learn more if Paul isn’t on his guard. Besides, haven’t we got work to do?’
During an afternoon off Seranne and Babs had gone with Kitty Jennings to the market at Maes Hir – Long Field – and bought some material to make seat covers for the chairs in the café. Rather grudgingly Mrs Rogers had agreed to pay for the material. ‘But making them is down to you, mind,’ she had warned. ‘And I’m still not sure they’re hygienic. You can’t wash them every day like wooden seats.’
With Kitty helping, they used their afternoon to work on the new covers. The material was soon cut and tacked ready to sew on a sewing machine borrowed from Stella. Seranne had hinted that matching curtains might be nice but Mrs Rogers had firmly refused.
Trying to cope with her anxieties she filled every moment working at the café, even after the place was closed. The tatty table covers were trimmed and neatly fastened to the tables, fresh paper was bought to line the shelves. Two pictures she had found at the market were fixed to the wall. It wasn’t much, but the place looked a little more inviting than before.
Mrs Rogers nodded approval, but still refused to consider curtains. ‘We don’t want them to feel too much at home or they’d never leave,’ was her comment.
Sunday finally came and Seranne set off with some trepidation to see her mother. She was heading for the bus at the end of the lane when she saw one sail past and she ran after it but the driver didn’t see her. Standing in the road she stamped her foot in frustration. Now she had a long wait for the next one.
In the way of impatient people in a hurry, she stayed in the road to look further for that first glimpse of the bus on its way and brakes squealed as a couple of cyclists swerved to avoid her. She glared at them, then as a car appeared from the opposite direction, she had to jump for the kerb. She didn’t take any notice, not expecting to know the driver, so she was surprised when the car stopped and she heard her name.
Time to Move On Page 6
