Hearts of Gold (16 page)

These shops didn’t even hold goods against future payment. The merchandise on display was uniformly old, in good condition, and not an item of clothing amongst the stock. Fine French china and porcelain, elegantly turned mahogany Regency furniture. Scenes of rural landscapes no longer recognisable as part of modern industrial Wales. Ornate highly wrought late Victorian jewellery heavily encrusted with precious and semi-precious gems and lighter, more tasteful early ornaments that Andrew examined with interest.

They were in a small booth in the arcade when he appealed to her for assistance.

‘It’s my mother’s birthday next week,’ he explained. ‘Would you help me choose a piece for her?’

‘But I don’t know her taste,’ Bethan protested.

‘Good.’ He smiled at her perplexed look. ‘Good taste,’ he qualified patiently. ‘Which is what I suspect yours to be.’

Flattered, Bethan bent over the glass display table and studied the pieces. ‘I like that,’ she said slowly, a little uncertain of herself.

‘The blue enamelled and gold locket?’

She nodded.

‘My suspicions are correct. You do have good taste.’ He called the proprietor.

‘Very nice, sir, very nice,’ the man repeated, sensing a sale in the air. ‘The lady has an eye for excellence if you don’t mind my saying so.’ He unlocked the cabinet with a key that hung on his watch chain and delicately removed the locket laying it out, face uppermost in the palm of his hand. ‘Late Regency and in superb condition, which isn’t surprising considering where it came from. Can’t say any more than that, sir. Confidentiality you know,’ he whispered close to Andrew’s ear. ‘The maker’s mark is on the back,’ he continued in a louder voice. ‘French, authenticated early nineteenth century and I can offer it to you for a very good price.’

The very good price sent Bethan reeling. Twenty pounds! She thought of what her family could do with twenty pounds.

Andrew carried the locket over to the window and while he examined it more closely she wandered around the rest of the shop. Judging by the mound of black leather jewel cases on display, there was no shortage of women prepared to part with their rings and necklaces, and there was an abundance of other valuables. Silver and gold cigarette cases, watches, hairbrushes and ladies’ toilette sets. She couldn’t even begin to imagine having enough money to buy such luxuries and envied the people who had them to sell. One gold cigarette case would buy new outfits for Haydn, Eddie and her father. And put Sunday dinners on their table for a month or two.

‘Ready? Ready to go?’ Andrew repeated in reply to her quizzical look.

The shopkeeper opened the door for them with much bowing and scraping. The heavens had opened while they’d been in the shop and Andrew turned up the collar of his coat and opened his umbrella as they reached the mouth of the arcade, placing it more over her head than his own.

‘Here, take my arm,’ he said as he looked up and down the street. ‘Is there anywhere special you’d like to visit?’

‘Nowhere.’

He pulled his pocket watch out of his waistcoat and flicked it open.

‘It’s too early for the cinema, we could have tea? Are you hungry?’

‘Not really.’

‘We could visit my favourite place in Cardiff. Game for a mystery tour?’

‘I’d be interested to see your favourite place.’

‘Favourite place in Cardiff,’ he qualified. ‘Let’s go.’

He walked past a large department store and into another arcade that opened out next to a churchyard.

‘It’s so quiet here,’ she murmured. The only sound was the rain pounding on the gravestones and the thick leaves of the yew trees. ‘You’d never think you were in the middle of a city.’

‘Or next to the market’ he agreed. ‘Sometimes when I come to Cardiff in the summer I just sit here for a while, watching the world go by.’

‘You watch the world go by?’

‘Occasionally,’ he replied unconvincingly.

He clenched her arm tightly in the crook of his elbow as they left the shelter of the arcade for the open street. Turning left he led her up a step into a building. He shook the umbrella and folded it while she wiped the raindrops from her eyes and hat, then she looked around in amazement.

‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’

‘I have, but not in Wales. Isn’t it magnificent?’ He was as pleased with her reaction as if he’d been personally responsible for the decor.

They were in a long corridor, the ceiling plastered, arched and moulded after the Norman style. The walls were tiled, but with tiles that would have done justice to an Oriental mosque, brilliantly patterned and coloured in a multitude of blending and contrasting styles. The narrow tile borders were moulded, thrown into sharp relief above and below the bands of squares that bore designs in every conceivable colour and flow of lines.

She walked slowly, running her fingers along the walls, allowing the textures and colours to assail her senses. The corridor finally ended in a sharp left turn and she looked back to see Andrew smiling.

‘Watching your reaction is as good as seeing it again for the first time.’

‘What is this place?’ she asked.

‘Public library.’

‘I wish I’d joined when I was in the Royal Infirmary.’

A pointed rather forced coughing echoed towards them.

‘Reading room around the corner,’ he whispered. ‘If we creep along quietly, we can take a look at it on the way out.’

Embarrassed; she hung back, but Andrew forged ahead oblivious to her discomfort.

She followed shyly and found herself in a large pillared and niched room, as beautifully decorated as the corridor but far lighter and altogether airier.

‘It takes very little to imagine a stunning harem girl sitting at one of those windows,’ he whispered in her ear as they left.

‘Is that why you like it?’

He laughed out loud, throwing his head back as he opened his umbrella.

‘No. I’ll like it even when I’m too old to appreciate beautiful girls.’ A sudden violent downpour drowned out his words. Taking her arm he quickened his pace, steering her into a Lyon’s tea shop. He helped her off with her coat, and they sat at a table resplendent with white linen tablecloth and napkins.

An impeccably turned out waitress came to take their order, and without consulting Bethan, Andrew ordered a plate of mixed cakes and a pot of tea for two.

‘I think we’ve exhausted the arcades and we can’t really walk around the streets in this.’

‘No, we can’t,’ she smiled, beginning to relax. The unease she’d felt when she’d been alone in the car with him had vanished during their walk around the city. She glanced at the occupants of the other tables then looked back at him, managing to sustain eye contact even when he winked at her.

‘We have an hour to kill before the film. We may as well wait here in comfort.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed.

‘I thought we’d go to the Pavilion in St Mary Street. It has talkies.’

‘All singing, all dancing, all talking …’ she began in the manner of the promotional trailers in the cinema. Suddenly she felt happy. Very happy indeed.

‘I don’t know about all singing or all dancing. There’s a court room drama showing this week. With Pauline Frederick and Bert Lybell.’

‘I love Pauline Frederick.’

‘Who doesn’t?’ he asked drily, leaning to one side so the waitress could set the cakes and teapot on the table. The girl dropped a curtsy, straightened her cap and with a backward glance at Andrew left.

Bethan poured out the tea, feeling very grand and privileged. It felt good to know that other women in the room were admiring Andrew and probably envying her.

‘Tomorrow?’ he asked. ‘Would you like to do anything special?’

‘You’re off duty tomorrow as well?’

‘I told you. I read rosters.’

‘I don’t know. I really should work.’

‘Nonsense, you must be way ahead with your studies,’ He helped himself to a large cream bun, dividing it into two with his fork. ‘Pity it’s not high summer. I could think of lots of things to do in fine weather.’

‘Such as?’

‘Motor to the coast.’

‘I love the sea.’

‘Really? Most girls don’t like the beach because the wind and the sand mess up their hair.’

‘I’m not most girls.’

‘I noticed that the first time I met you, which is why you’re sitting where you are.’ He put three lumps of sugar into his tea, hesitated and added a fourth. ‘The beach in winter is very impressive, and if the weather is like this I know a very good tea shop in Porthcawl.’

‘No picnic?’

‘You’d like another picnic?’

‘Yes, please.’ She lifted a chocolate éclair on to her plate.

He stared at her for a moment. ‘Then a picnic it is,’ he mumbled through a mouthful of cream and choux pastry.

‘I wish you’d let me drive up your street.’

‘So you can bring all the neighbours out on their doorsteps, no fear,’ she said firmly.

‘You had a good day?’

‘A very good day. Thank you.’

‘You enjoyed the film?’

‘Very much.’

‘And you’ll still come out with me tomorrow? Even after this?’ He leaned towards her and brushed his lips over hers.

‘Even after that,’ she whispered. Her lips tingled, tantalised by the light touch of his. For the first time in her life she felt as though she actually wanted a man to kiss her, and kiss her hard.

‘I parked outside the vicarage so you could call for help if I became too ardent,’ he joked, seeking her hands with his.

She looked up at him, glad of the darkness that concealed the colour flooding into her cheeks, embarrassed by his veiled reference to her earlier behaviour. Shyly, tentatively she lifted her face to his.

He needed no other invitation. His lips bore down on hers. She raised her arms, and running her fingers through his thick curly hair she pressed her head against his. Weak, breathless, she was conscious only of the crushing of the heavy layers of woollen cloth that separated their bodies – his breath, warm, moist as it mingled with hers – the smell of his cologne as it filled her nostrils – the sensation of slow-burning, heavily restrained passion.

‘I’d better walk you up the Avenue before you’re the talk of the neighbourhood,’ he said huskily as a light flicked on in one of the cottages opposite the car.

They walked in silence. When they reached her house he whispered, ‘Ten o’clock tomorrow.’

‘Station car park?’

He nodded and walked away quickly. Taking a deep breath she climbed the steps and opened the front door. The kitchen clock was chiming the hour. Eleven. Heart pounding she switched on the light and walked down the passage, bracing herself for another ordeal with her mother.

The room was in darkness, but not deserted.

‘Hello, love.’ Her father’s voice floated from his chair. ‘I’ve been enjoying a quiet time, want to sit with me a while? There’s a fresh pot of tea on the range.’

‘Thanks, Dad.’ She unbuttoned her coat; and asked the question uppermost in her mind. ‘Where’s everyone?’

‘Your mother’s gone to bed with a headache. Eddie’s walked down the hill to meet Haydn, and Alun’s out. Want to tell me what you’ve been up to?’

‘I’ve been picnicking.’ She kicked off her shoes and sat in the chair opposite his, waiting for her eyes to become accustomed to the gloom.

‘In this weather?’

‘In this weather,’ she laughed. ‘And then I window shopped in Cardiff. Had tea in Lyon’s cafe. Saw a talkie, a really good one, and ate fish and chips on the way home.’

‘This boy of yours, is he a good one, Beth?’ he asked gravely.

‘I think so, Dad.’ She leaned forward and hugged her knees. ‘I think so,’ she repeated slowly.

‘That’s all right then.’ He reached for the cups and put them on the table. ‘We all want to see you enjoy yourself, love, but none of us wants to see you get hurt.’

‘Don’t worry, Dad.’ She picked up the teapot and began to pour. ‘I won’t.’

Bethan’s relationship with Andrew and Laura’s with Trevor soon became the worst-kept secrets in the Graig Hospital. And within a very short time Bethan discovered that despite the embargo she no longer cared what anyone, even Squeers and

Matron, thought about her or her liaison with Andrew.

Some of Andrew’s self-confident, happy go lucky attitude, rubbed off on her. Haydn no longer complained that she rarely smiled. Now she not only smiled but frequently laughed, even in her mother’s presence.

She only had to catch a glimpse of Andrew across one of the yards in the Central Homes or in the corridor of the hospital to get a surge of happiness that would lighten her step and last her the whole day.

Eligible, charming and incredibly handsome – and out of all the girls he could have chosen, he’d chosen her. Everything he said to her, every place he took her to, every moment they spent together, became precious memories to be mulled over, and dwelt upon.

Hidden beneath her underclothes in her drawer lay the chocolate box Andrew had bought at the circus. She’d distributed the last of the chocolates to Maud and her brothers, and as winter faded she filled it with mementoes of her outings with Andrew.

There was the streamer that she had found caught in the neckline of her dress after the hospital ball. One of the programmes he’d bought at the circus, a sugar cube from the Lyon’s café and the ticket stubs from the film he’d taken her to in Cardiff (stubs she’d retrieved from under his seat when he thought she was picking up her handbag).

A perfect round pebble she’d pulled out of a rock pool at Rest Bay, Porthcawl. More cinema ticket stubs, from Pontypridd this time. A programme from a variety show they’d seen in the New Theatre, another from the Town Hall, a wrapper from a bar of chocolate they’d shared – every day off brought a new addition.

Two or three nights a week, Andrew and Trevor would sit in his car around the corner from the hospital in Courthouse Street and wait for her and Laura to finish their shifts. Then he’d drive up the Graig hill and drop them off at Leyshon Street, where they changed clothes in Megan’s bedroom. With their uniforms folded into bags, they’d spend what remained of the evening in one of the villages on the outskirts of Pontypridd. They visited cinemas in Aberdare, Abercynon, Llantrisant and the Rhondda, and afterwards they ate fish and chips out of paper bags and newspaper in Andrew’s car. And, when Trevor finally saw Laura to her house in Danycoedcae Road, Andrew walked Bethan the long way home, over the Graig mountain.