Goodbye to Dreams (16 page)

‘It’s all right,’ he said stupidly, ‘we’re getting married.’

‘Oh no you’re not! Get out of here and never come back, d’you hear? When I see my sister-in-law you won’t have a place there either! No one will employ you, Willie Morgan. No one! After this no one will trust you near a decent girl.’ She picked up his abandoned clothes and threw them down the stairs. Willie refused to move. He took Annette’s hand and waited until all his clothes had disappeared over the banister.

‘We love each other and we’re getting married.’ He spoke calmly, although he was trembling with shock and the embarrassing vulnerability of being without clothes. It was difficult to stand his ground in the face of his nakedness and Dorothy’s fury, but one hand gripping Annette’s hand, the other covering as much as he could with the other, he waited until the first wave of Dorothy’s anger subsided.

‘If you aren’t out of here in two seconds, you disgusting animal, I’ll go and call the police. Get out! My son will be home soon and I don’t want him mixed up with this—’ She searched for a suitable word but found none.

‘Go now, Willie,’ Annette said quietly. ‘I’ll talk to Mam when she’s over the shock. Best you go now. I’ll be all right.’

‘Are you sure? I’d rather stay and talk this through. I don’t want you facing it alone.’

‘I’ll be all right. Go, and we’ll make our plans later. Don’t be anxious for me, Willie. Mam won’t hurt me and I can explain better if you aren’t here.’

‘There’ll be no explanations from you, young lady!’ Dorothy shouted. ‘All you’ll do is listen! You are never to see this – this – person again. D’you understand? And you, Willie Morgan, get out of my sight before I kill you.’ She picked up the china jug from the dressing table and threatened him with it.

He didn’t flinch but moved when he saw the fear in Annette’s eyes. ‘Please, Willie, it’s best you go, love.’

He sidled over to the door trying to avoid Dorothy’s wildly flailing arms as she waved him away as though dealing with a bad-tempered goose. As he reached the comparative safety of the landing, she threw the jug, which smashed against the wall, the pieces chasing him down the stairs. He grabbed his clothes and stood outside the back door and hurriedly dressed, darting glances at the windows overlooking this and other yards, then went back to the shop.

Dorothy went back to her daughter, trying to calm her racing heart and holding back tears of dismay and shame and disappointment. That this should happen to her and with Annette, whom she had always considered the last person to give trouble of this sort. Shy Annette! It was unbelievable! She stood for a moment on the landing and looked into the room where her daughter was dressing in fresh clothes. A lump of love and sympathy overcame her and she ran in and hugged the now tearful girl.

‘Please, Annette, let’s forget this happened. We’ll hush it up. I doubt Willie will talk about it and no one else will know. But promise me you’ll never see him again, never give in to temptation again.’

‘Only with Willie, Mam.’ Annette was unrepentant, unaffected by her
mother’s rare demonstration of love. ‘Only with Willie. There’ll never be anyone else.’

‘You will never see that stable boy again, d’you hear me?’

‘You won’t stop me. Short of locking me up and throwing away the key, you’ll never stop me.’

Dorothy stared at her daughter, alarmed at the change in her. She had never dreamed that the quiet, obedient child could harbour such defiance.

‘You’re still a child. I’ll do whatever’s necessary. You and Willie are forbidden to meet. Do you understand?’ She said the last word slowly and with emphasis but as she looked at the coldness in Annette’s eyes she knew she had lost her daughter and a stranger stood before her.

Dorothy had forgotten the long-awaited letter and it was much later, when it was almost time to put Owen to bed, that it came back to her mind. With pain and anger boiling inside, believing she could lay all her troubles at Cecily and Ada’s door, she told Owen to re-dress and put on his coat.

‘You too, Annette. You’re both coming with me.’ She threw on her own coat and sent Owen to the stand beside the picture house to get a taxi. They set off in silence, Dorothy looking strained, Annette convinced the journey was to do with her and Willie, Owen wondering if he could persuade his mam to buy him some chips.

Their first call was on Gareth’s mother who fortunately was alone. Leaving the children in the taxi, Dorothy opened the letter and handed it to the woman.

‘But this means – oh, my poor boy!’

‘You agree he must be told?’

‘There’s no other way. I’ll come with you now. Wait while I get my coat.’ The shocked expression left her face as she raced up the stairs in a way that would have amazed her son, who thought her frail. She smiled in
satisfaction
as she collected her coat and jammed a felt hat on her head.

At the shop, arrangements for the forthcoming wedding were being discussed. The wedding dress had been tried on and was now carefully wrapped in blue tissue paper and hanging outside the wardrobe, in their parents’ room. Now, Cecily, Gareth and Ada were discussing lists of guests, and the sisters’ suggestions for the meal were resulting in long columns of ideas, crossed out, added, then crossed out again as they struggled to plan the best menu.

‘Can I try on my dress again?’ Van pleaded.

Ada laughed. ‘Not while Gareth is here. He mustn’t see how beautiful you are until the wedding day.’

‘Or I might change my mind and marry you instead,’ Gareth said, picking her up and dancing with her round the chenille-covered table.

There was a knock at the door and Cecily looked at Ada. ‘Go, will you, love? I expect it’s someone wanting serving. Honestly, I think some people use us as their pantry!’ She put down the pencil she was using and hardly stifled a groan as Ada returned with Dorothy and Mrs Price-Jones. This would probably mean even more changes in the guest list. Not that she minded. They could afford it and she wanted it to be a memorable day. She stood up and found seats for Owen and Annette, and only when the silence penetrated did she look up and see the grim expression on her future mother-in-law’s face. The long thin nose looked more sharp, the eyes showed undisguised dislike. What have I done now, she wondered irritably, but she asked politely, ‘Is something wrong, Mother-in-law?’

‘Your mother-in-law I am not! Nor will I ever be!’

Dorothy thrust the letter that was shaking in her tight grip and both women watched Cecily’s face pale as she read it.

‘Mam? What is it?’ Gareth looked from one face to another, stepping towards Cecily, and Van, aware of the atmosphere of suppressed anger, sidled closer to Ada.

Dorothy snatched the letter and waved it. ‘It’s about Cecily, your intended. Did you know she’s Myfanwy’s mother?’

When the mists of pain, shock and disbelief had cleared, Cecily looked at Gareth and knew he would never forgive her. His eyes were wide as he stared at her but there was no disbelief. He hadn’t, even for a moment, doubted what had been said. Thoughts tumbled through her brain. To deny was useless, to defend even less likely to wipe the look of horror off the faces of Gareth and his mother – suddenly so alike with their pursed mouths and the raised, tilted heads as they looked down their long noses.

Her confused mind wrestled firmly with the need to make Gareth
understand
, but with his mother standing close to him, like a lioness protecting her young, there was little chance of that. Oh, why hadn’t she told him long ago? She had intended to so many times. Now, as she looked at his closed expression, she knew there was no chance of him listening to her. ‘Who told you?’ she asked at last. Her face was clouded as she tried to guess. Who knew, apart from herself and Ada? Then she remembered one other. ‘Danny, how could you?’ she breathed. The room began to spin and waver and she felt for the edge of a chair, sensing rather than seeing Ada push it under her and guide her trembling body into it. ‘Gareth, I would have told you, in my own time,’ she whispered.

‘Left it a bit late, didn’t you?’ Mrs Price-Jones snapped. ‘And it was Dorothy who found out and she felt duty bound to tell me.’

‘And I wish she hadn’t,’ Gareth muttered as he stumbled from the room.

Cecily rose to follow him but his mother leaned towards her, glaring, daring her to move and she sank back into the chair, too weak to fight. ‘I wish Mam was here,’ she said to Ada.

They had forgotten the presence of Van until Cecily saw Gareth’s mother turn to the child and open her mouth to speak. Then she found the strength to stand up and threaten. ‘Say one word to Myfanwy and I’ll push you through the door so fast your feet won’t touch the ground!’ Mrs
Price-Jones
opened her mouth but didn’t speak. She left the room and the sisters stood as footsteps receded across the wooden floor of the shop and ended with the shop door banging and the discordant tinkle of the bell.

Cecily looked at Van. The girl was deathly white and the flesh seemed to have left her face, enlarging her eyes. Her mouth was a disbelieving ‘O’. Both sisters hugged her and, holding each other tight, Cecily and Ada cried.

Van didn’t respond to their hug or join in their tears. She stared unseeing across the room, the hurt already growing into coldness towards them.

Dorothy and her children walked home. It was a long way but she needed the time to recover from the confrontation. She had decided to say nothing about Annette and Willie. Gossip materialized from the slightest word and Annette would recover quicker without that. Better she was sent away and that could be arranged very quickly.

Van was very late going to bed that night. Cecily tried to talk to her, explain about her denial of her daughter, her intention to tell her one day when she was old enough to understand, but the words wouldn’t come. Van was too young to accept this. Besides, the memory of Gareth’s face and the way he had stood beside his mother – a united front against her – made rational thought impossible. She hugged the little girl, finally telling her she loved her and had concocted the story to make things easier for her. She promised that all the explanations she needed would be given in the morning. Van went to her bed bitter and confused.

She sat up in bed watching as the light of morning touched her curtains, remembering all the teasing she had endured, which could have been avoided. She sat silently thinking of how Mrs Price-Jones and Auntie Dorothy had looked at her. The expression on those faces had frightened her.

Panic, fear and resentment grew in her like a black miasmic cloud, the centre of which was the face of Cecily. She hated her and the thought made a shiver of fear ripple down her spine. Hating someone was wicked, she knew that, but Cecily deserved it. The way Gareth and his mother had looked at her had made that clear, made it all right to feel that way.

As soon as she was old enough she would leave. Then everyone would be sorry. Edwin would know what to do. She’d go with him and find a place where she’d never see Auntie Cecily and Auntie Ada ever again.

Downstairs, Ada and Cecily talked until morning. Ada announced that she would cancel her plans to marry Phil. ‘It wasn’t official, anyway,’ she said.

‘But you can’t do that!’ Cecily pleaded. ‘Dorothy will have succeeded in ruining both our lives if you change your plans. She’d be in her cups! Happy, like she hasn’t been for years! Please, Ada, love. Don’t cancel your wedding. I’ll be all right. I’ve coped with only you for support for so long, and you’ll still be there, won’t you? I’ve lost Gareth but things here will go on just the same. Who knows, perhaps Van and I will be even closer now she knows I’m her mother. Why spoil your life for no purpose? I’ll soon get over this, see if I don’t.’

‘No, I’ll talk to Phil tomorrow – I think I mean today,’ Ada said tearfully, lifting the curtain aside. ‘He’ll see it’s for the best. We couldn’t be happy thinking of you and Van suffering the humiliation of people knowing. We agreed more than seven years ago that Van would be our shared
responsibility
and that will never change.’

Van enjoyed a certain notoriety which she didn’t really understand and she soaked up the sympathy she enjoyed when news leaked out, and added her own criticisms of Cecily. The attacks on her mother became the only
believable
part of her life and Cecily saw her daughter moving further and further away from her, affection gone, replaced by resentment eagerly fuelled by others.

It was this as much as Gareth’s defection that made Cecily spend even more of her considerable energies in building up the business. Time passed and the business grew, but Van and Gareth remained cold and accusing.

For Willie, too, it was a difficult time. Annette had vanished almost overnight and he couldn’t find out where she had gone. Eventually it was Marged, Rhonwen’s giggly daughter, who told him a part of the story, and he spent hours driving around searching for her. He was kept very busy with the shop and his growing carpentry business with Danny Preston but every moment he could spare was spent asking, seeking the slightest clue to her whereabouts. He knew he would find her. He would never give up.

Life for the Owen sisters became a round of shop and sleep, with only the occasional evening out for relaxation as they both felt unable to leave Van. They were afraid the slightest sign of indifference would add to the child’s unhappiness.

Van wasn’t unhappy. She enjoyed the way she had the sisters running about trying to please her and soon discovered that, however she behaved, disobedience was met with soothing understanding. She rarely smiled at them and it was only when she was with Edwin, who refused to listen to her tales of largely imagined anguish, that she acted normally. Edwin was her strength and his acceptance of Cecily’s deceit almost persuaded her she was wrong to harbour bitterness and hatred. Almost, but not quite. She derived too much pleasure from it to give it up. Forgiving her mother would never, ever happen. She dreamed in her child’s mind of some distant day when she would take her revenge. Revenge – that was a word she liked.