The Weston Girls Read online

  Joan and Megan were coming to tea and bringing Terry and Jack with them. It seemed likely that Megan and Terry were going to make their friendship into something more serious. One of her grandchildren possibly settled and two more to deal with before the month was out. It no longer seemed an impossible task. This party would help, bringing together all the best of Pendragon Island’s young people.

  She telephoned one of her most loyal friends and asked about the Jenkinses. Not really for reassurance but to boast.

  “My dear granddaughters are coming to tea today and bringing Terrence, one of the Jenkinses. Do you know of him?” she asked Gwennie Woodlas, who kept the exclusive gown shop, called Guinevere.

  “Terry Jenkins, Gladys my dear? Wasn’t he living in London or Bristol or somewhere like that? Selling something, I believe.”

  “Jewellery, my dear. And only the very best. He was in the army with my grandson. I know his grandfather, Mr Jenkins who lives over near the Pleasure Beach. Lovely family, aren’t they?”

  They chattered for a while, promised to meet soon and Gladys put down the phone reassured that although practically penniless and reduced to running what had been the family home as an hotel, the Jenkinses were a respectable family as near to upper class as the town could provide. She added a few drops of cointreau to the orange sponge. No point in being niggardly when someone like Terrence Jenkins was calling.

  * * *

  Terry and Megan were in Cardiff, having spent an hour looking around the splendid market, with Megan drooling over the puppies and other pets on the upper floor above the main stalls. They were intending to do some Christmas shopping. At least, Megan was hoping Terry would buy something for her and make their friendship more permanent. She told him to turn away when she bought him a rather expensive cravat and pushed it into her shopping bag with a teasing warning for him not to try and guess what it was.

  She was gratified when a little while later he told her to wait while he did a bit of shopping on his own. Waiting on a corner at the arcade she noted the shops within walking distance and wondered if he might be visiting a jewellers. He returned in less than ten minutes and told her not to be nosy, when she asked what he had bought. It was fun, flirting and getting to know someone who might be ‘the one’.

  They left Cardiff at three, not wanting to be late for Grandmother’s tea party. When they went in and saw the spread she had managed to provide, which seemed to suggest that rationing was a myth and had never happened, Megan secretly pretended it was a celebration of her growing friendship with the handsome and charming Terrence.

  “Where are you two young people going this evening?” Gladys asked as she cut up the last of the orange cake.

  Megan looked at Terry for confirmation before saying, “We thought we’d go to the dance class.”

  “Again, dear? What can you want with a place like that after the private lessons I paid for all those years?”

  “Joan enjoys it and it is fun, Grandmother.” They went to Gomer Hall, with Joan, Jack, Rhiannon, Jimmy and Viv, but they left after half an hour. Terry had whispered in her ear that there was a more interesting way to spend the next couple of hours and taking their coats from the attendant, they slipped out into the crisp darkness.

  The park wasn’t far away and with ease, Terry found a place at which they could climb through the hedge and find precious privacy. Almost at once he began disturbing her clothes and alarmed, she pulled away from him.

  “Come on, Megan, you know you want it. You’ve been giving me the ‘glad eye’ all day.”

  “I want you to hold me and kiss me but not like this,” she said, a sob distorting her voice.

  He released her then and collapsed forward with his head almost on his knees. In a muffled voice he said, “Don’t you know what you’re doing to me? Teasing me like this?”

  “Teasing? but—”

  “Yes, teasing, tormenting me, saying ‘love me’ then ‘don’t touch’. You don’t know how hard it is for me, loving you so desperately and being afraid of frightening you away.”

  She only heard the words she wanted to hear, the rest made no sense and she put her arms around him and pulled him to face her.

  “You love me?” she said in awe.

  “Of course I do, you silly little thing.”

  “Oh, Terry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease. I didn’t know you felt anything more than liking, you see.” He touched her face gently, allowing a sob to escape his trembling lips until she stilled them with her own. Almost without realising it she was engulfed in a dreamlike sensation that made her unaware of anything except their two bodies and the love that had until then, been something read about, dreamed about, but not real. This time she made no effort to still his wandering hands. She had never been kissed so thoroughly before and she was starry-eyed when they returned to the hall to walk sedately home with Joan and her cousin, Jack.

  Joan and Viv still saw each other at the dance and found their steps matched as if they had rehearsed for years. But through the last days of November, when Megan and Terry were out every evening, visiting friends and becoming accepted as a couple, she was lonely. She began to call at the Wallpaper and Paint store during the afternoons to give Viv a little help by entering the goods in and out, keeping the stock control system up to date. Viv was grateful but a little uneasy. He had asked her to meet him on several occasions but she refused.

  The day after the dance class, when her sister’s sparkling eyes had told of her discovery of love, she surprised him by saying she would be at her Auntie Sian and Uncle Islwyn’s the following evening, and why didn’t he come.

  “What? Me call on your Uncle Islwyn? No fear! He hates the sight of me and can I really blame him? Damn it all, Joan. I daren’t even call for Jack. We have to meet on the corner like shy lovebirds! I couldn’t go visiting, specially not now, with them living in that little terraced house after leaving the posh place they had. No matter how I twist it round, it is down to me, isn’t it?”

  “He’s changed, Viv. I’d like you to see how he’s changed. Come on Monday then, instead of the dance, see what you think.”

  “You’ll tell him I’m coming?”

  “I promise there won’t be any trouble.”

  “If there is, I can go across and see Basil and Eleri.” He was thinking aloud. “All right then. Meet me tonight and we’ll discuss it.”

  Joan smiled. He did have the most wonderfully blue eyes. “All right, Viv. Tonight.”

  * * *

  Telling her mother she was going to the dance class again, she went to the corner of Goldings Street and Trellis Street and waited for Viv. Unfortunately, Gladys had been gathering children’s clothes which she intended to take to Victoria for her younger brothers and sister. They met as Viv ran up and hugged Joan before walking off, arm in arm, in the direction of Sian and Islwyn’s house.

  “Joan? Is that you?”

  “Grandmother!”

  “Mrs Weston?”

  Neither knew what to say and it was Joan who gathered her wits first. “Viv and I are just going to call for Jack. He’s probably forgotten and it leaves us short of a man.”

  Gladys knew it wasn’t done to start an argument in the street, so said, “I will see you tomorrow morning.”

  Leaving the young couple hesitating about what to do, Gladys knocked on the door in Goldings Street and it was answered, not by Victoria but by her grandson, Jack, jacket off acting as if he lived there! The world has gone completely mad, she thought in alarm.

  “Hello, Grandmother, I just called to deliver a new table for Victoria and her mother. Basil’s here too, we got it from Mam and Dad, there were one or two pieces they couldn’t find room for or sell. Want to see?”

  Shaken and anxious to get home, Gladys shook her head and handed the bag of clothes to Victoria. “Your family might find a use for these,” she said as if telling the girl off for some misdemeanour, adding, “Don’t be late in the morning.”

  * * *

>   “I don’t want you mixing with the likes of Vivian Lewis, dear,” she said when Megan and Joan were in her sitting room the following morning eating ‘Teisien Lap’ spread with the last of the farm butter. “We are grateful to the young man, for supporting your grandfather in his efforts to rebuild the business, but that doesn’t mean you can be friends. It’s quite enough that we have to be grateful!”

  “We only talk shop talk, Grandmother,” Joan said, knowing how it angered her grandmother to hear the business referred to as the shop. When her sister was out of hearing, fetching a fresh pot of coffee, she added that it was Megan who Viv was soft on anyway.

  “You mustn’t encourage him to be ‘soft’ on either of you. How will you find a good husband if you’re seen with people like the Lewis family? Look at Megan, she’s found herself a handsome young man and so must you, dear.”

  * * *

  With everyone accepting them as a courting couple, Megan should have been happy, but there was something about Terry that made her uneasy. He was charming and attentive and the look of admiration and love in his eyes made her weak at the knees, but just occasionally she sensed a lack of sincerity. His flattery came out too pat, as if it had been said many times before.

  She had tried questioning Jack, but he seemed to know less about him than Terry implied, she had the impression that although they had been in the army together, Jack didn’t actually know very much about the man.

  “Shall we go to the pictures this evening, Joan?” she asked.

  “Without Terry you mean?”

  “Yes, I want a chat, and with you in the shop helping Viv most afternoons, I miss you,” Megan said.

  “Hasn’t Terry asked you out this evening, dear?” Gladys asked refilling their teacups.

  “Yes, but I said I wanted to stay in and wash my hair, Grandmother,” Megan replied.

  “Ring him up and say you’ve changed your mind. I’ll pay for you to have your hair washed and set. It looks so lovely when it goes in that under-roll.”

  “No thanks Grandmother, I’d really like an evening in with Joan.”

  “Nonsense, go and telephone now and you can bring him for supper after the film, you know how he loves my cottage pie.”

  Megan agreed, but with a sense of being pushed in a direction she hadn’t decided whether or not to take. The knowledge that she was being pushed into a closer relationship with Terry excited her but at the same time she knew she was moving too fast, she needed more time to gradually get to know him. Grandmother was pushing her and Terry was pushing her and Joan wouldn’t discuss it. She had an uneasy feeling of loneliness.

  “We won’t ever drift apart, will we, Joan?” she said as they were walking home.

  “Don’t be ridiculous! But we do have to move away and accept that we have a life of our own, if that’s what you’re trying to tell me. Mummy and Auntie Sian managed to stay close but build their own lives. I don’t mind – about you and Terry, I mean. I really don’t feel jealous or pushed out.”

  But I do, Megan thought sadly.

  * * *

  At the cinema they found themselves sitting next to Rhiannon and Jimmy. Megan and Rhiannon were wary of each other. Through Joan, Megan knew a lot more about Rhiannon and the Lewises than she would be expected to know and she was on her guard, afraid of revealing her sister’s involvement with Viv. For her part, besides being aware of Viv’s occasional meetings with Joan, Rhiannon only knew the Weston twins as the prickly granddaughters of Viv’s boss. They met at the dance class but Rhiannon didn’t trust either of them to be friends. Any misbehaviour on her part would be reported back to Mr Weston.

  She and Jimmy often brought a sandwich with them to save time when the shop closed late. Tonight she didn’t want to do anything that might be criticised.

  She sat as far away from Jimmy as was possible and refused the ham roll he had brought for her.

  “What have I done?” Jimmy demanded in a hissing whisper, her being so far away from him.

  “Nothing. I’ll tell you later,” she hissed back.

  * * *

  Viv and Joan were working on an idea he had first mentioned the night he and Jack and Basil had delivered furniture to Victoria Jones’s sad little home in Goldings Street. He had wandered around with a deep frown on his face until Joan had demanded to know what he was thinking about.

  “The shop next door to the store is empty,” he began in the hushed tone of a conspirator. “Now then, if we could rent it and knock the two into one, we could supply all people’s furnishing needs under one roof.”

  “What are you talking about, Viv? Furnish a house? With paint and paper?”

  He explained further in a reverential whisper, the idea growing like a spiritual painting in his mind.

  “Utility furniture, dockets for this, coupons for that and the other, people have had enough of it all, and with the new ideas of contemporary furnishings, and this bright carpeting that can be cut as easily as cardboard, people could transform their homes. The beauty of this new carpet is I don’t have to buy expensive stock. We have pieces in the full range of colours and take orders, see? It’s brilliant.” He frowned then and added more soberly, “I’d need you to be my adviser, mind. In fact, you could go to college and learn more about interior design. How does that grab you?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve had all the education I need and the thought of returning for more makes me shudder, so you can forget it! But, tell me more about you idea. Isn’t it too costly?”

  “Ask Old Man Arfon. He’ll tell you that there are times to take chances and times to stand still. This is a time to grab opportunity and force the business upward and outward.”

  “Really, Viv, you’re sounding like a politician now!”

  “Carpets and a few small items of furniture at first, but moving on to bedroom suites and dining suites and three-piece suites and—” He hugged her and made their one remaining assistant look away in embarrassment. “Joan love, let’s go and see your grandfather now this minute, or as soon as we close the shop.”

  “Don’t call me love or the idea will be finished before you’ve even started to explain.”

  “You are my love, though, even if you don’t yet know it!” he said, boldly hugging her again. “My love and my inspiration.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said again, but she was smiling. And this time she didn’t slap his face.

  Chapter Seven

  Joan and Megan, the Weston Girls, were similar in appearance, although with the tiny scar on Megan’s cheek, a result of the accident in which Lewis-boy Lewis and Joseph Martin had died, most could tell them apart. But their characters were different. Joan was the leader, the forceful one, born first and four minutes older than her twin. Of the older twins, their mother Sally was the quiet one like Megan, their Auntie Sian the one most like Joan.

  Sian and Sally had chosen different husbands, to match their disparate personalities and Sian had married the outwardly easy-going, but quietly resentful Islwyn. For the gentle Sally, her husband Ryan was the stronger of the two brothers-in-law. He was basically a lazy man and when the illegal behaviour of Old Arfon and Islwyn became known he had thankfully refused to consider going back to work at the Wallpaper and Paint store.

  With finances becoming a worry, Sally tried again to persuade him to go back to her father and ask for his job back.

  “You have had so much experience, Ryan, Daddy needs you to rebuild what he’s lost. I’m sure you can persuade him to take you back. We really do need to stop using our savings.”

  “Mix my name with all that dishonesty? I have to accept being called a ‘Weston’ when my name is Fowler, but I don’t want people to think I’m like them. To be honest,” Ryan complained, “I don’t want to associate with them at all! But as we are family I owe them some loyalty.”

  Untypically angry, Sally said quietly, “Oh yes, you put up with them don’t you, out of loyalty? And sitting around hoping my father will continue to support us
isn’t anything to do with it?”

  “He owes it to me for having to face all the disgrace.”

  “Perhaps he thinks you owe him something for all the years he’s helped support us.”

  “I’ll get a job, I’m just considering the options. There’s no rush. I will not go back to the shop, though, so forget that. Can you really imaging me having to do what that jumped-up Viv Lewis tells me? I’ll get something.”

  “When?”

  “Soon! And stop going on at me, woman! You’re becoming a real nag!”

  Sally left the room with a swish of her skirt and returned seconds later with a bank book which she placed before him.

  “Just look at how much we’ve spent since this happened and tell me how long we can last without having to do what Sian and Islwyn have done, and sell the house.”

  “They didn’t have to move. Islwyn wanted to get rid of the guilt he’d been feeling. I’ve done nothing. It’s different altogether.”

  “How long, Ryan?”

  “Stop your fussing. Your father wouldn’t see us in real difficulties.”

  “My father works his way through difficulties, perhaps he thinks it’s time you did the same.”

  Ryan shook out his newspaper and held it up, a barrier between them and an end to the futile discussion. Couldn’t Sally see how impossible it was for him to go and beg someone for a job? No, he’d wait until one was offered. If nothing turned up, well, Arfon would help. He and Gladys wouldn’t allow their precious daughter’s standards to drop. Gladys was too much of a snob for that. Thank goodness.

  Sally met her sister that afternoon with the intention of getting started on Christmas shopping.

  “Although,” she explained to Sian, “I can’t see how I can buy anything more than tuppenny-ha’penny gifts this year, what with Ryan not working and Daddy unable to help us.”