Such Sweet Sorrow (34 page)

‘Good luck!’ Bethan shouted as Diana stepped through the taxi door Wyn was holding open for her. Someone else called out, ‘Be happy!’

With the cries ringing in their ears, Wyn sat beside her in the taxi. His hand closed over hers.

‘Well, Mrs Rees?’

‘Well, Mr Rees?’ Her eyes unaccountably filled with tears. Wyn produced a handkerchief. ‘I know, don’t say it.’

‘Say what?’ he asked, watching as she dried her eyes.

‘That I never have a handkerchief at any crisis point in my life.’

‘I was going to ask if you had any regrets for what you’ve just done?’

She shook her head.

‘No worries?’

‘None.’

He pressed her hand. ‘Make that the last lie you ever tell me.’

When she dared to look at him, he was smiling. He squeezed her fingers again, and she tried to smile back, hoping against hope that she really had done the right thing.

‘I think you need a hand with that, Miss Rees.’ Huw Davies walked into the foyer of the New Theatre and took the heavy shutter from her hand.

‘Thank you very much, constable. I don’t think I could have managed it by myself.’

‘You look worn out, Miss Rees, if you don’t mind me saying so. After-effects of all that hard work you put into the wedding breakfast?’

‘I enjoyed it.’

‘You did Wyn and Diana proud.’

She blushed at the compliment. ‘It did go off all right, didn’t it?’ she asked, seeking reassurance like an insecure child.

‘I don’t know that either of them could have asked for more, unlike me. I could have eaten a bucketful of those cheese straws. I resented every one Evan and the minister filched from under my nose. Somehow it doesn’t seem right for a minister to have such a healthy appetite. His thoughts should be concentrated on more spiritual matters than food.’

‘I made those straws from an old recipe of my grandmother’s. I can give it to you if you like.’

‘I’d rather you gave it to Megan. That way I might get to eat them again.’

‘It can’t be easy for you, living alone.’ Realising the connotation of her words, her colour heightened.

‘It made a nice change to go to a wedding where all the food was home-made,’ Huw complimented her, as though he attended a wedding every week.

‘It was nothing, really. I like cooking.’ She walked into the kiosk and tipped the float into the drawer. Before she’d even finished separating the coppers from the silver the first customers had walked through the door.

‘I’ll be back about ten to walk you home.’

‘There’s no need to put yourself to any trouble, constable.’

‘Trouble? Between the blackout and you having to drop the takings into the night safe, I call it preventative crime measures, not trouble. Promise you’ll wait?’

‘As you put it that way, yes.’ She smiled uncertainly. He tipped his helmet to her as he walked away. She tried to concentrate on her customers, but old Mrs Evans had to ask for her bag of cracked nut toffee three times before Myrtle finally handed over exactly what she wanted.

*……*……*

‘Do you really like this place?’ Wyn looked at Diana across the candlelit table in the upstairs dining room of the Mermaid Hotel in Mumbles.

‘I love it. I’ve been in the New Inn in Ponty for tea and dances on special occasions, but this is the first time I’ve ever actually stayed in a hotel.’

‘I haven’t been here in years. We used to come for holidays when my mother was still alive.’

‘That must have been wonderful. I’ve never slept away from home except for the time I worked as a ward maid in the Cardiff Royal Infirmary. Mam used to take us to the seaside on day trips, mainly Barry Island and Porthcawl, but that’s not quite the same, is it?’

‘This place was Dad’s idea. I’ve never asked, but I suspect it’s the only hotel he’s ever stayed in. He brought my mother here on their honeymoon. She loved Swansea and Gower.’

The waiter stepped forward and poured more wine into both their glasses, emptying the bottle Wyn had ordered. Diana suspected that Wyn’s injuries had been mistaken for war wounds, but as Wyn appeared not to notice the extra service they were getting, she decided not to draw his attention to it.

‘More of anything?’

She shook her head. ‘I couldn’t eat another thing. I think I’m tired,’ she murmured, suppressing the desire to hit the waiter, who smirked knowingly when he overheard her remark.

‘It’s been a long day. That journey down was horrendous, especially the wait when we had to change trains in Cardiff.’

‘It felt as though we were going to be stuck there for ever,’ she agreed. ‘But I’d still like to find out if there’s a radio around here that we can listen to.’

‘I’ll look for one. If there’s any news I’ll come up and tell you. I promise not to hold anything back, good or bad,’ he added, sensing her reluctance to entrust the task to him.

He left her outside their room. She walked in and closed the door behind her. It was a well-proportioned room that could have swallowed her bedroom in her uncle’s house four times over. High ceilinged, elegantly decorated in a light floral wallpaper that complemented the gilt mirrors and mahogany furniture, it looked out over Swansea Bay, affording a view of sands and sea that had taken her breath away when she had seen it for the first time that afternoon.

The maid hadn’t pulled the blackout, but there was sufficient moonlight to guide her path to the window. The beach was shrouded in shadows that mercifully hid the wartime barbed-wire fortifications, but no blackout could darken the brilliance of the stars and full moon that cast a shimmering path on the glistening, inky waters that filled the bay.

She couldn’t help feeling that Will and Tina should be here, not her and Wyn. It was the perfect romantic setting she and Tina had sighed over in so many Hollywood films. Everything was right – the view, the wax roses on a side table that could almost pass for real in this light, the enormous double bed, its crisp white linen perfumed with starch and lavender; there was even a bottle of champagne that Bethan had ordered and sent up in Andrew’s name as well as her own that she and Wyn had decided to leave until after dinner.

She clung to the curtains, light-headed at the enormity of what she’d done in marrying Wyn. The whole day had been diffused with a sense of unreality, and now everything about this room and the hotel seemed far too good for her. She felt like an impostor, a maid perhaps, who had wandered into a guest’s bedroom. Any moment now the door would open, voices would be raised in anger and she would scuttle back to the kitchens and linen rooms where she belonged. The familiarity of menial work seemed a safer, easier option than the unknown quantity of married life.

Tearing herself away from the vista of night sky and sea, she opened the smart leather suitcase Tina and Gina had bought her as a wedding present and removed her toilet bag and the silk negligée set Bethan had insisted she buy as part of her trousseau. Opening the door she walked along the corridor to the bathroom.

Ignoring the signs prohibiting baths of more than four inches, she filled the tub half full of scalding hot water, shook a few drops of Evening in Paris into its depths, added a burst of cold and got in. Resting her head on the lip, she stretched out until her toes touched the tap, revelling in the unaccustomed luxury of immersing her whole body in water. After ten minutes of indulgent wallowing she felt inordinately guilty and unpatriotic. Here she was, living in the lap of luxury while William and Eddie were probably fighting for their lives in God only knew what dreadful conditions in France.

Trying not to think about much of anything, she washed and dried herself, cleaning the bath after her before dressing self-consciously in her bridal nightwear. Opening the door a fraction of an inch she scanned the corridor, checking it was empty before slipping back into her room.

On closer acquaintance the bed proved softer than the one in her uncle’s house, and the fragrant linen sheets colder than the flannelette she was used to. She lay there, shivering in the moonlight waiting for Wyn, recognising the thud of his crutches on the stairs long before the door opened.

‘Is there any news?’ she demanded as soon as he walked in.

‘It’s not good.’ He shrugged off his suit jacket. ‘Ghent’s fallen.’

‘I hate it when they say a city’s “fallen”. It makes it sound like it’s tripped over.’

‘I think when they say fallen to the Nazis, they mean flattened. The bastards like using bombs to soften up the opposition before they go in.’

‘Did they say anything about our troops?’

‘No.’ He moved closer to the bed: ‘but if I know your brother, he’ll be all right, and they did say that none of our troops are anywhere near Ghent.’

‘There was nothing else?’

‘Nothing, I swear it.’ He went to the window. ‘Do you want me to draw the blackout?’

‘No. I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as that moon and the view from the window. If I wake up in the night I want to be able to look at it.’

‘Do you want the window open or closed?’

‘What are you used to?’

‘Open.’

‘Then open it. We’ll be able to hear the sea as well as see it.’

‘Diana,’ he looked towards the bed but it was difficult to make out the expression on her face in the gloom.

‘Don’t throttle this marriage at the outset with politeness.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked nervously.

‘Any marriage, even one like ours, has to be a matter of compromise, of rubbing off the edges of personal preference to accommodate another’s inclinations. It’s not going to be easy for either of us, but you’re going to make it a whole lot harder if you’re the one who always bows to my wishes.’ He opened his case and took out what he needed for the bathroom. When he returned she lay curled on her side, her face buried in the pillow.

He knew before he went to her that she was crying for Will – for her mother – possibly even for herself. As he sank down on to the bed alongside her she shuddered, bringing a vivid memory to his mind of that dreadful night two years ago when he had found her wandering along Taff Street dazed by shock and pain, her face and body battered and bruised by the violence Ben Springer had used to rape her. By some miracle neither his father nor sister had been home, so he had taken Diana back to his house, found her some of Myrtle’s old clothes to replace the ones Ben had torn off her, patched her up as best he could, and walked her up the Graig to her uncle’s house. That appalling, traumatic night had marked the beginning of their friendship. Try as he might, he couldn’t forget what Ben had done, and dismayed by Diana’s refusal to go to the police and have fingers pointed at her as a ‘fallen woman’, he had cornered Ben one dark night not long afterwards and made sure that he would never be able to do to another girl what he had done to Diana. But revenge had never tasted as sweet as he hoped, not even when he’d heard that Trevor Lewis had operated on Ben Springer, finishing what he’d started, but although Ben’s injuries had destroyed his manhood, they hadn’t helped Diana in any way. Not then, and certainly not now.

Lifting her by the shoulders, he held her against his chest.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry. You’ve been so kind. This beautiful room, the hotel, the trip …’

‘You’re worried about Will and your mother?’

‘Yes,’ she murmured in a small voice.

‘We’ll go back to Pontypridd whenever you want.’

She looked up at him, her eyes luminous in the cold light. ‘You mean it?’

‘I told my father this honeymoon idea was stupid, he was the one who insisted on booking it. It feels wrong to be here enjoying ourselves with a war on.’

‘You really don’t mind going back?’

‘Of course not.’ He slid carefully into the bed alongside her, still holding her against his chest.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘What for now?’ he teased gently.

‘For being the way I am.’ She trembled even more violently as his body stretched out warmly alongside hers.

‘I promised you’d be safe with me, and you will.’

Despite her trembling he drew even closer to her. ‘Do you mind sharing a room and a bed like this?’

‘It will take some getting used to,’ she confessed, struggling to subdue the tide of nausea that threatened to engulf her even though it was Wyn, not Tony or Ben, who was holding her.

‘I think the hotel would have found it odd if we’d asked for separate rooms on our wedding night.’

‘I know.’

‘And Myrtle and my father will expect us to share a bedroom at home, but I promise to keep my side of the room clean and tidy. I’ll put all my dirty clothes into the linen bin just as my mother taught me, and I’ll try not to snore.’

She couldn’t raise a smile at his poor joke. ‘It’s just that …’

‘You can’t help remembering Ben Springer?’ He locked his arms around her, cradling her as though she were a child. ‘You told me you shared a bed and a room with Maud before she married Ronnie.’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, think of me as Maud.’

That time she did laugh.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘You. You’re ten times the size of Maud.’

‘I’m also tired. Come on, time for sleep.’

He wrapped his arms around her, imprisoning her against him as the hotel closed down for the night. Snatches of conversation floated up from the stragglers who were leaving the bar. She tried to decipher their cries as she continued to lie in Wyn’s arms, muscles tensed in a vain attempt to still her trembling, but her fear didn’t finally fade until long after Wyn fell asleep. Only then did she allow herself to relax and enjoy the novelty of her surroundings. The hiss of the waves breaking amongst the pebbles on the shore, the throb of Wyn’s heartbeat beneath her head, and a new, and wonderful sensation of quiet and absolute peace that she hadn’t known since the night Ben Springer had robbed her of her innocence.

Chapter Twenty

‘Heard the news this morning, Tina?’ one of the waitresses called out as she walked into the restaurant.

‘Fat chance, when I have to be here early to get this place ready to open.’ Tina poked a wary finger at a new concoction the confectionery chef had come up with. It looked like a normal custard slice, but as she’d inspected the sugar and fat situation in the restaurant larder only last night, she doubted that there was either ingredient in the new creation he’d christened ‘Victory’.

‘Aren’t you even going to ask what it is?’ The waitress hung up her coat and tied on her apron.

‘I only want to hear good news.’

‘There’s not much of that about,’ the girl who served at the front of the shop intervened. ‘Rumour has it the Germans have cut off all the escape routes for our boys. They’ve taken Boulogne, so the navy won’t be able to get any more soldiers out.’

Suddenly finding it difficult to breathe,’ Tina sank down on the nearest chair. ‘Does that mean the whole army is trapped in France?’

‘I should think so,’ the girl replied airily. It was well known that her father had engineered ‘reserve occupation’ positions for himself and her brothers. Tina touched the pocket in her skirt, wanting to hear the reassuring crackle of the envelope she’d made the postman ransack his bag for early that morning when she’d met him setting out on his rounds. She’d meant to save William’s letter for the quiet time, just before the eleven o’clock rush, but after hearing the news she couldn’t wait any longer. Leaving her chair she took a knife from the butler’s station and went to the back of the restaurant. Sitting facing the wall, she slit the envelope open.

My darling Tina,

No fears about censorship this time, or perhaps he was beginning to learn to disregard it.

France is not a bit like I expected it to be, and you needn’t worry about the girls. I’ve been here for two days …

She deciphered the postmark on the envelope and discovered the letter had been posted in England. Had William handed it to someone homeward bound? The censor would certainly never have allowed the mention of France, and that might explain why they hadn’t heard from Angelo and Tony, and why she hadn’t received anything from William since their meeting except a brief postcard to let her know he was in transit. She checked the date on the envelope against the one he had written. It had taken nearly three weeks to get to her. Had he received any of her recent letters? She picked up the precious page again.

… and I’ve yet to see a girl as beautiful as you. The good news is that Eddie’s still with us, and he’s promised to show us all the ropes. He’s already taken us to the shop where he bought the silk underwear he gave Jenny when he was home, and you wrote to me about. As he bought a whole lot more, it looks as though he and Jenny have really made it up. I tried to ask him what was going on between them, but you know Eddie, he always has played everything close to his chest.

We were given a pass to go into the village last night so I’ve seen the French at close quarters. Their inns aren’t as cosy as our pubs, and their beer isn’t up to much, even Eddie’s taken to drinking wine and cognac, but I can’t see any of us asking for a glass of wine in the Graig Hotel when we’re home next.

It seems a long time since I’ve had any letters from you, but as no one in the unit has received anything for five days we’re putting it down to a hold up somewhere along the line. I keep your last letter in my battledress pocket and think about the Tally Ho all the time. Just knowing you love me as much as I love you keeps me going, and just like you, my darling, I can’t wait until we are married.

I’m sorry this letter is a bit rambling and rushed, but they only told us two hours ago that we’re staying here and I wanted to let you know that I am settled. I’m sending this back with a mate going out on a sick transport. I promise I’ll write a longer letter tomorrow, but for now I want you to know where I am, what I’m doing, and that I miss you more than words can say.

I wish there had been an embarkation leave and a wedding. Wish is the wrong word, I get angry every time I think of what we’ve been cheated out of, but we had the next best thing thanks to you, and look on the bright side. Imagine the homecoming when I finally make it.

I love and adore you,

your ever loving Will

P.S. Eddie wasn’t the only one to buy silk underclothes in that shop. I’ll expect a full fashion show when I come home.

Tina sat staring at the three week old letter. There was no mention of fighting, war or invading Germans. How long would it be before she’d get another letter, or find out what was really happening to Will and her brothers?

It was raining in Cardiff: a fine drizzle that coated the windows of the Lyons tea shop, hazing the street and distorting the faces of the people scurrying for shelter. Diana leaned back in her seat, making room for the waitress to set down the coffee and teacakes they’d ordered. She smiled at Wyn as he pushed aside the bag containing the books they’d bought as presents for her mother, Myrtle and his father.

‘Will there be anything else, madam, sir?’

‘Nothing thank you,’ Diana answered glancing down at her wedding ring. Being called ‘madam’ was taking some getting used to, unlike living with Wyn. In only two days they had slipped into an easy-going, friendly familiarity. It was almost like spending time with a quieter, more thoughtful brother than Will had ever been. She picked up the coffee pot, ‘Strong or weak?’

‘Strong, no water.’ Wyn glanced at his wristwatch. ‘We’ve still got half an hour to kill before the next valleys train comes in.’

‘It was a good idea of yours to leave the station and do some shopping.’

‘The longer you live with me, the more you’ll realise I’m full of good ideas.’

‘Was Myrtle very surprised when you telephoned to say we were coming home?’

‘Not when I told her you were worried about your mother and William. From what I gathered, your mother’s been putting a brave face on it, but that doesn’t stop her jumping sky high every time the doorbell rings.’

‘There’s a newsboy coming down the street now.’ Diana moved from her seat, but Wyn left the table before her.

‘I’ll go.’ Wyn was self-conscious about his crutches and the awkward movements he made with his artificial leg, which sat painfully on his barely healed stump, but as Diana watched him go up to the newsboy, she sensed that he was making an extra effort for her. Over the past few days there had been no trace of the self-pity he had fallen prey to in the hospital, and as she looked back she realised there hadn’t been since she’d agreed to marry him. He rushed clumsily back into the tea shop, scanning the headlines as he sat down.

‘Have the Germans …’

‘They’re still advancing, but look –’ he pushed the paper towards her. ‘The first British troops have been evacuated at a place called Dunkirk.’

‘You think they could be the Guards?’

‘There’s no way of telling yet, love.’

‘But they’ll get them all out?’ she asked anxiously.

He reached across and took her hand in his. ‘Let’s hope so.’ He kept the thought, ‘if they’re still alive’ to himself.

At the beginning of the war the Ronconis had installed a wireless in their Tumble café, but it had hardly been used until the German advance threatened the British positions in France. That night, the trouble with Dai Station was forgotten as a crowd of people who couldn’t afford to buy their own wireless sets assembled in the back room to glean what information they could from the news broadcasts.

The town was awash with rumours. One of the tram conductors had assured Tina that a passenger had already received a telegram from the War Office telling her of her husband’s death, and he was ‘pretty sure’ her husband was in the Guards. A driver argued with him, telling Tina that he’d heard from a mate who worked in the chainworks, who had a brother in the Guards, that the Welsh Guards had already left France. Mrs Evans from Station Terrace insisted that a woman in her street had received a telegram from her husband to say that he’d landed, was safe and well and would soon be home, but when Tina pressed her Mrs Evans couldn’t say what regiment the man was in, or what number in the street the woman lived.

It was the same whenever Tina or Gina tried to pinpoint the origin of a rumour. Neither of them succeeded in fingering a specific person or address. The only news they could be certain of were the items read out on the wireless, and they weren’t good: German bombs falling on the Rhone Valley and Marseilles; Germans on the march, advancing ever closer to Paris; the hair-raising evacuation at Dunkirk among falling bombs and bullets – and with every bulletin the faces of the men and women in Pontypridd who had relatives ‘somewhere in France’ grew more and more tight-lipped, and strained.

‘I wish I could do something to help your sister,’ Luke whispered to Gina as they followed Alexander and Tina up the hill after the girls had closed the café for the night.

‘It’s bad enough having to worry about Angelo, Tony and Trevor without having to worry about a boyfriend as well.’ Gina wove her fingers into Luke’s and squeezed tight to let him know how glad she was that he was with her, and not in France. ‘If only we knew where they were it would be something. Sometimes I think it’s the not knowing that’s wearing Tina and Mama and Papa down.’

‘The Guards are a crack regiment, aren’t they?’

‘The best.’

‘Then it stands to reason they’ll be one of the first regiments they’ll bring back.’

‘You think so? Judy thought they’d leave them to last, because they’re such good fighters.’

‘Evan says that they’ll try to bring all the troops back and regroup them ready to invade Europe again.’

‘If the Nazis don’t invade us first,’ she said gloomily.

‘Luke, what will happen to the ones they can’t bring back?’

‘They’ll be taken prisoner I suppose, but the Germans have to look after prisoners.’

‘They won’t kill them?’

‘Not if they surrender.’

‘I hope you’re right.’ She walked slowly towards the white cross painted on the wall. Alexander had already said goodnight to Tina and was waiting for Luke on the corner.

‘See you tomorrow.’ Luke waited until he heard Tina going into the house before kissing Gina on the cheek. Even under the cover of blackout he hadn’t felt easy about showing affection to Gina since the night he had lost his head in the café. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him back before following Tina inside. Luke waited until he heard the door close, then walked away.

‘You ever regret not signing up?’ Alexander asked abruptly as he joined him.

‘I try not to think about it.’ Luke pushed his hands into his pockets as they turned the corner.

‘I wish I could stop thinking about it.’

‘You changing your mind about being a conscientious objector?’ Luke asked in surprise.

‘There’s not much point in standing on your principles when you’re looking down the barrel of a Nazi gun.’

‘You really think they’ll invade?’

‘Once France has fallen, which it may well have done by now, what’s to stop them?’

‘Our troops.’

‘In case it’s escaped your notice they’re being hammered in France.’

‘Then there’ll be nothing to stop the Germans taking over this country too?’

‘If I was Hitler I wouldn’t be unduly worried about a few Home Guard battalions.’ Alexander dug in his pocket for his cigarettes and matches. Too many envious glances at his lighter had led him to pack it away for the duration like so many other things; including, he decided cynically, his hard-thought-out principles.

‘Then you’re going to join up?’

‘Once France falls. They’re going to need every man they can lay their hands on when the Germans cross the Channel. What about you?’

‘I’ll write to my father and ask him what he thinks.’

‘Luke,’ Alexander drew heavily on his cigarette in exasperation. ‘You’re doing a man and a half’s job, you’re living in lodgings, you’ve got a girl prepared to follow you to the ends of the earth. Don’t you think it’s time you started thinking for yourself?’

‘If I volunteer it would go against everything I’ve ever been taught, everything my family believes in.’

‘Looks like you’re going to have to give up your beliefs one way or the other. If not to carry a gun, then to accept and adopt Hitler’s philosophy. I’m not sure what the man thinks of Quakers, but I’d lay a pound to a penny it’s not good. It’s decision time for all of us, boyo,’ he said, unconsciously aping the Welsh slang, ‘and something tells me that every one of us is going to be mourning the passing of at least one principle before the year is out. Let’s just hope that none of us are mourning our friends and neighbours along with our integrity.’

Tina gazed wistfully through the window of the café at the bright spring sunshine. The air looked warm and inviting; inside the restaurant the atmosphere was close and humid, with a stickiness that threatened to stale the cakes and curdle the cream substitutes the confectionery chef had invented to decorate and fill his creations.

She checked the tables. It was late afternoon and already the place was half empty. Another half-hour and she could close up and move on to the Tumble café to help Gina. The thought wasn’t an appealing one. Pouring herself a coffee she sat at the table closest to the till. She’d taken to putting a ‘Reserved’ sign on it. Although Laura and her father did most of the accounts at home there was still a certain amount of book-keeping that had to be done in the cafés, and most of it had fallen on her shoulders since Tony had left.

She had just settled down with the purchase ledger when the cook burst through the door that led down to the main kitchen.

‘I’ve just heard. It’s terrible. What are you going to do about it?’ he demanded excitedly.

‘Do about what?’ she asked irritably, expecting yet another wild rumour about parachuting Germans.

‘Mussolini has declared war on France and Britain from midnight tonight. You know what that means? Italy’s in the war!’

She turned around. Expelling her breath slowly she looked him coolly in the eye. ‘Where did you hear that lot of nonsense?’