Goodbye to Dreams (15 page)

‘I’m beginning to see what Danny had to put up with,’ Gareth muttered darkly. It was liver and onions tonight, his favourite, but instead of going straight home, he went to see Cecily.

She was contrite and submissive and he forgave her impulsive agreement to help a fellow businessman, and gave gracious permission for her to go. Cecily turned and gave Ada a wide wink.

‘But,’ Gareth said importantly, fear of losing her overcoming his nerves for once, ‘this shilly-shallying must stop. I want us to name a day for our wedding and decide where we’re going to live. Now, Mam would be willing for us to live there and—’

‘Gareth, love, I have to stay here. There’s Van and Ada and the business.
No, we’ll get the top rooms decorated and start our home there. Come on, let’s go and see what alterations are needed.’

By the time Gareth left, they had decided on a Christmas wedding and Cecily promised to go on the first free afternoon to choose a wedding dress and begin the arrangements.

He told his mother the news in great excitement as he began to eat his shrivelled-up food, but was soon holding smelling salts under her long nose. When she had recovered sufficiently her first words were, ‘You don’t have to get married, do you?’

‘No Mam!’

‘Thank goodness for that. There’s no telling with a woman like that, seeing Danny Preston one week and accepting you the next.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Dorothy Owen. I met her in Waldo Watkins’ and she was saying how Cecily has seen Danny twice recently.’

‘Damn it all! And now she’s off to Porthcawl on Sunday with some man with dirty fingernails called Peter Marshall!’

‘What?’

Gareth passed her the sal volatile.

The month of August was always frantically busy, the town heaving with so many visitors it was hard to imagine where they all ate and slept. Towards the end of the month, the sisters and Gareth, sometimes with Van, managed to enjoy several of the entertainments arranged for the busy holiday period. Dancing On The Green, listening to the town’s silver band in the parks, racing and crazy sports at the beach one afternoon, and even a few evening dances when they weren’t too tied up with extra work. Everywhere they went, they met Danny.

He greeted Cecily like an old friend, patted Gareth on the shoulder and, if Van was with them, found her some sweets from his pocket or bought her an ice cream and a balloon. He would discuss in a relaxed manner what they had all been doing during the day and seemed not to notice the way Gareth’s cheeks puffed out in anger at his constant intrusions.

Cecily wondered how he knew exactly where they would be. Even when they made some last change of plan, he would be there. But she didn’t ask. She was going to marry Gareth.

There was the road race on roller skates that Mrs Spencer had told Ada about and they all went to see the fun. Cecily stood at the side of the road to wait for the competitors to pass and found herself looking into the sea of faces, certain that somewhere among them would be Danny’s. To her surprise, he was competing, dressed in the costume of a gypsy fiddler. As he
passed her he slowed down and waved, again knowing exactly where they would be standing.

There was community singing in the large park, polo to watch in the swimming pool and fashion shows organized by Dorothy’s department store. Firework displays delighted the children and there was a choral singing competition, in which Van took part, dressed in a very warm Welsh costume. Danny was there to cheer her on.

One Sunday, Gareth was finishing off the decoration of his shop and Cecily and Van were invited to join Ada for tea with Phil and Mrs Spencer.

‘Looking forward to seeing you all,’ Phil said, bouncing around as he settled the three of them in the temporary seats in the van. ‘Sorry it isn’t more comfortable. Getting a car soon, I am.’ He limped around to the driving seat and they set off with a series of jerks.

He chattered non-stop all the way through the town and Cecily was struck by the happy, relaxed relationship between him and her sister. Phil was not a handsome man and rumours abounded suggesting he was not exactly honest, but there was something about him that made criticism or censure impossible – with the exception of his driving!

He looked at the passengers and pointed out people and places he thought would interest them, like a courier on a grand tour, but he seemed happily unaware of other vehicles, driving furiously ahead and leaving it to others to swerve and avoid a collision in a cavalier way that gave Cecily a taste of sheer panic. Ada seemed unaware of the risks he took and even pulled on the steering wheel on occasions to attract his attention to
something
she wanted him to see.

Mrs Spencer was at the gate. She was dressed in a long, dark blue dress over which she wore a snow-white apron, its wide ties in a large bow at the back. She ushered them inside, remarking on Cecily’s paleness, told Van she was beautiful, and told Phil to hurry himself and get to the table before everything was cold. Ada she hugged with great affection. Cecily gave her flowers and some cordial which came in a pretty flower vase, a special offer from Corona, both of which delighted her.

The food was wonderful. Hot pancakes and syrup, toast spread with a homemade paste of chicken and herbs, an assortment of cakes and
sandwiches
and plenty of hot tea. After they had eaten, they were invited to sit near the fire, which, in the thick-walled cottage was necessary as the room was constantly cool.

Mrs Spencer stacked the dishes on the scrubbed table in the back kitchen and said, ‘I’ll see to them later. Have you seen the paper, then? Wonderful to know the Queen has had her second daughter safely. The little Princess
Margaret Rose has made history, too. Hers will be the last birth at which the Secretary of State is present. Best for them too! Who wants a man about at a time like that? Terrible, I think, him a stranger and only there to make sure there’s no mistake about who is the mother.’ She handed the paper to Cecily and ran her finger down to the relevant place. Ada smiled, knowing the woman’s secret and admiring the panache with which she hid it.

‘What d’you think of your sister and my son, then?’ Mrs Spencer asked Cecily as they were taking their coats to leave. ‘Happy they are and that’s what counts, isn’t it?’

Cecily didn’t get the chance to reply. Phil came limping in and calling them. Outside the engine purred and Cecily tensed herself for the maniacal drive home.

Cecily felt she had been fed through a mangle. She felt giggly and a sudden sympathy for her niece Marged, who was constantly reprimanded for showing unexplained hilarity.

‘Your Willie lives over there.’ Phil turned, pointed and narrowly missed a stone wall. ‘Not there at the moment. Out with Danny I expect. Making a wireless they are now. Always making something or the other. I bought a table from them last week.’

So that’s how Danny knows my movements, Cecily thought. Her
reaction
might have resulted in anger against Willie but the visit to Phil’s home had left her in the mood to chuckle instead. She sobered then, and felt a niggle of envy. The family her sister was soon to belong to was so happy and uncomplicated, and compared to Mrs Price-Jones, Mrs Spencer was the perfect mother-in-law.

When Phil left them, breathless and laughing, outside the shop, Dorothy was waiting for them.

‘Dorothy? Is something wrong?’ Cecily asked as Ada unlocked the shop door. The bell tinkled its welcome as they walked inside and Dorothy glared at it as if offended by its pleasantry.

When it had stopped, she said, ‘Only that I’m about to lose my home, thanks to your friend Bertie Richards!’

‘What are you talking about?’ Cecily slipped off her coat and handed it unthinkingly to Ada. ‘Take this up for me, will you, love?’

Ada took the coat and her lips tightened as she said, ‘All right, but don’t start talking until I get back. Right?’

Cecily went to where the kettle was standing and after stirring the coals swivelled it around to the heat. It began to murmur almost immediately and before Ada had returned, minus the coats and hats, Cecily had the teapot ready to receive the boiling water.

‘Well?’ Ada asked her sister-in-law. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Bertie Richards has given me notice. The whole row of cottages is going to be knocked down.’

‘But why?’

‘He says they’re condemned. Nice little places like that? Never! Knowing him, it’s sure to be money. Tidy them a bit he will, then find new tenants willing to pay a better rent, that’s it for sure.’

‘When were you told?’

‘A letter yesterday, telling me I have to vacate the property at the end of September. Well? Are you going to talk him out of it? Persuade him to change his mind? Or are you going to watch as I and my children are thrown into the street? Robbed of this shop, and now this!’

‘We’ll go this evening and talk to Bertie, find out exactly what is happening.’ Cecily poured a cup of tea for Dorothy. The look on her
sister-in
-law’s face was fear. She was frightened at the prospect of searching for a new home. If only our family had more men, Cecily thought angrily. Women were at a disadvantage at times like this, no matter how she tried to believe differently.

Ada’s thoughts were similar. ‘We’ll help if it does come to a move,’ she promised. ‘And there’s Uncle Ben and Johnny Fowler, they’ll give a hand. The twins, Tomos and Trefor too, if Uncle Ben can persuade them.’

‘I don’t
want
to move! I’ve just spent money buying new linoleum for the kitchen and I’ve papered two bedrooms. I want some use of it before men come and smash it all to dust!’

‘You go home and we’ll talk to him,’ Cecily said.

‘If we learn anything we’ll call on the way home to tell you,’ Ada added.

‘Do what you can, will you? It’s been so hard getting everything together since Victor died, and to start again—’

‘We’ll do everything we can.’ Ada ushered her out into the dusty summer evening. She frowned at her sister on her return. ‘What she expects us to do I don’t know. If Bertie wants to sell, how can we stop him?’

They went to the big house overlooking the sea and Van ran at once into the garden with Edwin. A few words were exchanged, the sisters telling them about their happy visit to the Spencers’ home. Then without explaining the reason for their visit, they followed the children out into the wide expanse of lawns and shrubbery.

Van had dragged out their pretend shop made from empty boxes and Cecily saw the pebbles in what was their till. But the shop was empty and there was no sign of the children until a muffled laugh gave away their hiding place.

They all pretended to search for them and even showed concern for their safety, then, laughing, first Van then Edwin slithered down from an apple
tree into Bertie’s arms. He carried Van inside, Edwin following close behind. Like a great bear with his cubs, Cecily thought affectionately. Bertie loved children and it was sad they had only managed to have one.

They were offered refreshments but refused, wanting to get home and settled down with the books to up date.

‘Before we go, can we ask you something, Bertie?’ Cecily said quietly.

‘Of course. Beryl and I want to help with any problem. Marvels you two have been. Such a business brain, Cecily, and you, Ada, well, I don’t know how Cecily would manage without you.’

Ada smiled but the smile was sour. She was always referred to as Cecily’s assistant. Couldn’t people see she was as capable as her sister? That they were equal partners?

‘Everything is fine with us,’ Cecily assured him. ‘It’s Dorothy. She’s been told you’re selling her house.’

‘She’s right. I am, forced to by the council. Condemned it they have. The drains need replacing, the roof is in danger of collapse, and one of the walls is bowing out with the window unsafe.’

‘Can’t it be repaired?’

‘It would cost too much, and I’d have to spend a lot more than the places would be worth. I’d lose a lot of money. You’ll understand that, Cecily.’

There he goes again! Ada thought angrily. Cecily understands but not me. I’m just the dogsbody! ‘Come on, Cecily, it’s time we left.’ Her voice was so sharp the others looked at her in surprise. In a quieter tone she added, ‘It’s been an exciting day and none of us will get any sleep tonight if we don’t get this child home soon.’

‘You’re right.’ Cecily stood and smiled at Ada. ‘Come on, young Van. Find your hat and coat. Monday tomorrow and we’ve all got a lot to do, haven’t we, Ada, love?’

As they left, Cecily stopped for a moment and spoke to Bertie and Beryl and Ada waited. Cut off from important things again, she decided.

‘Did Bertie tell you anything Dorothy should be told?’ she asked.

‘Nothing you need to be told, Ada, love. As for Dorothy, I think we’ll wait till tomorrow and think up the best way of telling her we failed, don’t you?’

‘Nothing about the business then?’

‘Nothing important.’

Another decision made without consulting me, Ada fumed silently.

Cecily didn’t tell her sister that Bertie had not been discussing Dorothy, but warning her about a series of burglaries that had taken place locally and reminding her to make sure the doors were firmly locked and bolted. Cecily didn’t see the point of worrying Ada, who was so particular about
locking doors anyway. It was a big house and the normal sounds would be misinterpreted if her mind was on someone breaking in.

Her silence just added to Ada’s resentment.

W
HEN
C
ECILY AND
Ada had gone, taking Van home to bed, Bertie went into his study and called Beryl to join him. He set out the map showing the area of the proposed demolition site. Was there anything he could do to avoid putting Dorothy out of her home?

They discussed the situation for a while, but with the properties condemned and there being no possibility of Dorothy’s, being in the middle of the terrace, being exempted from the order, her house would have to be demolished with the rest.

‘I’ll ask around and try to find her a place,’ he decided. ‘There is a place soon to be vacated in Slope Street.’

‘Oh, dear. Dorothy wouldn’t like that,’ Beryl said. ‘Too near the docks.’

‘It’s clean and it’s cheap. I don’t think she can refuse, do you?’

‘It’s a long way from the shop and that might be a good thing. It might stop her pestering Cecily. I’ll make enquiries tomorrow,’ Beryl promised.

At the beginning of September there was a special entertainments day in the large park. Ada and Cecily were going with Gareth. Van and Edwin had been invited too, although it was likely to end rather late.

‘I’ll come away early with them if they’re tired,’ Ada offered. ‘Without Phil there it won’t be as much fun for me. He won’t come, he’s too conscious of his limp, silly man.’

‘Can Marged and Annette come too?’ an excited Van asked when she was told of the treat. Eventually it was a party of seven setting off to walk through the town, among the crowds heading for a day of fun.

There was a gymkhana and a flower show, then as evening approached there was dancing on the green and Edwin danced with Van in a corner set aside for children. Illuminations were added as daylight faded and to end it all, a display of fireworks.

As Cecily and Gareth danced a quickstep, Cecily saw in the shadows at the edge of the area a figure she recognized: Danny Preston. When she
looked again he had gone and she searched the crowd, desperate for another glimpse of him.

She felt the usual fluttering confusion of her senses even though she was not certain it had been he, but anger with herself swiftly took over and she pressed herself closer to Gareth, looking up at him, smiling in her
provocative
way.

‘Gareth, I want you. I can’t wait for us to be married,’ she whispered against his cheek.

‘Hush, girl! Someone will hear you,’ he hissed back, whisking her away in a fishtail, their feet in perfect unison, to where the crowd was thinner.

‘What does it matter if they do?’ She laughed at his agitation. ‘Really, Gareth, love, you shouldn’t be so easily embarrassed.’

‘You do embarrass me, Cecily, and I won’t pretend otherwise.’

‘I want to sleep with you,’ she said, raising her voice so his eyes revealed his alarm. She loved to tease him and Danny’s presence was an added thrill. ‘I want to wake in your arms. There! What would your mam think of that?’

‘Stop it, Cecily. You know I can’t cope with your tormenting.’

‘Tormenting you, am I? Tormenting you with desire?’ She hugged him close and he stopped and led her off the dancing arena and back to Ada and the children. Standing next to Ada was Danny. Gareth saw him as he approached Ada and he pulled Cecily back into the dancing.

‘For a moment there, I thought you were going to give me back to Danny.’ She laughed, her head back, her mouth temptingly close, but it was Danny she was aware of, not her stiff-faced partner.

‘There are times when I sympathize with Danny. He called you a tart, didn’t he?’

‘I am a tart, Gareth, but only for you.’ She touched her lips against his tight jaw and he pulled away angrily.

‘All right. I’ll be chaste and well behaved, but only till we’re married. Then,’ she whispered into his reddening ear, ‘then look out. I’m going to be a demon in our bedroom!’

‘I think it’s time we went home.’

She looked at him as they moved back once more from the dancers, feeling guilty for teasing him, but in his face, strange in the gaudy coloured lights, she saw an expression she hadn’t seen before. Desire was there and she knew her tormenting had aroused him. ‘Tiger!’ she whispered and this time he was unable to hide a smile. He pulled her into a pool of darkness and kissed her more fiercely than he’d ever kissed her before, his face hungry with longing. But for her, the kiss had been as disappointing as everything else in their courtship.

As they strolled back to the others there was no sign of Danny and she
began to wonder if she had imagined his presence. She was melancholy, alone among the crowd. She wished for the magic of the late summer evening to transport her to some place where she could be free, abandoned, without restrictions, where she was not committed to this marriage and where she and—She stopped her wild thoughts as Danny’s face swam into her vision; as if the magic was working, as if she had created his image out of passionate memory and subconscious longing. But Danny’s face was real, and frowning with disapproval.

He had approached them by pushing his way through the dancers and now held her, his face only inches from hers. ‘Van is tired and wants to go home,’ he said harshly. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, she’s the little six-year-old you and Ada promised to care for!’

‘I’m seven!’ Van said promptly, before being dragged away by Ada.

‘What business is it of yours?’ Cecily demanded, shaken by his
appearance
out of her imaginings, shocked at the shattering of her dream. She looked to Gareth for support against Danny’s rudeness but he had bent his head and walked to where Ada waited with the children.

She felt ridiculously close to tears, wanting to display the stamping rage of a child. She was let down so badly, both by Gareth’s kiss, which failed to arouse the passion she longed to feel, and by his lack of concern when she had been accused of neglecting Van. She pushed Danny aside and ran to where Ada and Van had been joined by Annette, Marged and Owen. The children were playing ring-o-roses, falling down like idiots and having a happy time just being young and free from parental restraints.

‘Ready to go home, are you?’ she asked brightly.

‘Oh, no, Auntie Cecily,’ they chorused. ‘Please, not yet!’

Cecily didn’t dance any more, refusing invitations, although the band continued to play. Danny had disappeared and Gareth sat near her on the yellow, straw-like grass, his shoulders a hunched barrier, and did not speak. Cecily watched the youngsters, wishing she was as carefree and not facing a marriage she didn’t want and a future that looked loveless and bleak. ‘Thank you Danny Preston!’ she muttered.

The season was almost over but Annette and Willie still met on Mondays and had tea with Peter Marshall. He had become a friend and confidant and they discussed with him all the daily happenings as though he were a favourite uncle. Willie told him about the wireless he had made and the programmes he enjoyed.

‘Wireless Willie Mam used to call me,’ he chuckled, ‘after the comedian Willie Rouse.’

Annette explained about the demolition of their house and the planned
move to Slope Street, and of Bertie’s kindness in finding the house for them.

Peter was also informed of their plan to marry one day. He wished them luck and offered to help in any way he could. He always walked with them now, to where they had parked the van, and seemed reluctant for them to go. ‘You’re like a family to me,’ he told them once. ‘The wonderful
youngsters
I never had. God bless you both.’ He always waited, waving a work-stained hand until the van was out of sight.

As he set off back to the garage, where he spent most of his days, he sighed deeply. If only he were younger, and Cecily were free. He sighed again. Things were never well timed in his life. He could only to continue to watch her and enjoy vicariously her successes and joys.

Annette and Willie had a second unexpected meeting that week. Cecily had asked the new boy, David, to take a box of groceries to Dorothy’s home.

‘A big order for Miss Dorothy, isn’t it?’ Willie said with a smile, his forthright comments accepted by the sisters, as he was a very important part of their success. ‘Wants a favour, does she? Buying from us instead of Waldo Watkins?’ He knew all about Dorothy’s move to a new house from his discussions with Annette, and since from the sisters themselves. They chuckled at his remarks and told him he was right. She wanted them to ask Bertie if he would compensate her for having to move, but that they would not do.

‘I’ll take the order,’ Willie offered. ‘Leave the boy, he’s sorting out boxes in the stable loft. Van is down below helping him so he’ll be busy for a while.’

When Annette opened the door to him his heart lifted with joy. She was flushed, having just taken some small cakes out of the oven, a few touches of flour on her face.

‘Willie!’ She opened her arms and hugged the box of groceries as well as him.

‘Annette.’ He bent to kiss her soft, warm cheek. ‘I had the chance to deliver these and thought I’d surprise you.’

‘Come in. Sit down. Owen won’t be home for ages yet. He’s gone to play with Marged and Auntie Rhonwen is sure to offer him tea.’

Willie kissed her again and the warmth of his greeting melted her. She relaxed into his caress and seemed to float on air. To Willie, her skin, hot and moist from the baking, felt like swansdown.

‘Annette, love, I ought to go,’ he groaned as she pulled him close and kissed him again and again. This unexpected moment of privacy was a dream come true.

She sat then and he stood, looking down at her. For the first time since they had become friends, he was at a loss for words. Wanting her was so painful he couldn’t think of anything except her loveliness and his own desire. She slowly removed her apron and although there was no intention of being seductive, the movement added to her allure in a way that was almost wanton.

‘Annette, show me your room,’ he murmured huskily.

‘No, Willie, I shouldn’t.’ Then she slipped off her cardigan, revealing plump pale arms and he lifted her from the chair. ‘Please,’ he whispered. ‘No one will be back for ages yet. Oh, Annette, love, it seems so right for us.’

He carried her upstairs and she pointed to the back room overlooking the small back yard. He placed her gently on the bed and stared into her eyes. The answer to his unspoken question was reflected there.

She was limp like a doll as he slowly removed her clothes, then she turned to him and soon they were both naked. When they came together, there was never a moment in his life so perfect.

They lay together for a while, smiling at each other, marvelling at the wonder of it, kissing gently, relaxed and content in their love.

‘What time is it?’ Annette asked when the aftermath of their loving had subsided. ‘We don’t want Mam to catch us, do we?’

‘Plenty of time.’ He reached on the floor for his waistcoat and pulled out Owen Owen’s watch. ‘Not half past one yet. We’ve time to do it again.’ He began stroking her round, rosy cheek and her neck and shoulders, but she became impatient and guided his hands, then her own exploring awakened his body with wonder and exquisite joy.

Willie knew he would never forget that room, wherever life took them. He would only have to close his eyes to see his beloved Annette lying on the bed with the blue covers and the white sheets framing her beauty. He would see the marble wash-stand with its bowl and jug, the polished
floorboards
and the small blue rug at the side of the bed. And the long wardrobe mirror in which they stared at their reflections, his long and thin, covered with dark curling hair, Annette’s small and rounded and as feminine and perfect as any dream.

Dorothy was restless and unable to concentrate on her work. She had been waiting for weeks for a reply to the letter she had sent to London and had become almost obsessed with the need for a response. The wedding of Cecily and Gareth was two and a half months away and time was passing so quickly. If Cecily married, then the birth of a son would add to the
difficulties
of gaining the grocer’s shop for Owen. With both sisters past their
youth it was so unfair that they should marry now and produce an heir to thwart Owen’s right to inherit.

At lunchtime she planned to go home to see if the second post had brought the letter. Two reps delayed her but finally she could bear it no longer and, complaining of a headache, she went home.

She stepped inside and saw the freshly made cakes and smiled proudly. Annette was a dream of a daughter. Apart from her unfortunate shyness, she was everything a mother could want. One day, she thought, her daughter would make someone a very good wife, but not for a long time yet. Annette was needed until Owen was old enough to manage without her.

Seeing the order still in its box, she wondered why it hadn’t been packed away but thought that Annette, with her recent liking for walking, and probably gone to stroll through the park in the centre of the town.

On the mantelpiece, tucked behind the tea-tin with its picture of Queen Mary and King George, was the post. Eagerly she tore open the one with the London postmark, reading it with her green eyes open wide. Tucking it into her handbag, she prepared to leave. There were a few people who should see this.

She was pulling the door shut behind her when she heard something, and stopped. She was about to call her daughter’s name but something held her tongue. There were voices. Surely Annette couldn’t be talking to herself? She climbed the stairs softly, expecting to find that Owen had not gone to his Auntie Rhonwen as arranged. Avoiding the creaking stairs by walking at the edge, she looked into Annette’s room first.

Annette had not dressed. She and Willie stood admiring each other in the long mirror. They heard the wail of dismay and at once covered their important parts in the classical pose beloved by sculptors. Open-mouthed, they stared towards the door.

‘Annette! I can’t believe what I’m seeing!’ Dorothy began to wail then she turned on Willie and the wail became a scream of shouting in a babble of angry words. Willie couldn’t understand any of it but from the look on her face and the position in which they still stood, he needed no translation.