Nothing is Forever Page 3

  The four honeymooners finally left at midday. Aunty Blod helped by tidying up the kitchen and dealing with the left over food, then they sat with a cup of tea wondering where to start on the rest. Ruth was about to ask Blod what time she was leaving when that lady asked, ‘Ruth, love, you wouldn’t mind if I stay all next week, would you? The decorators are starting tomorrow and it won’t be very pleasant having them push me here and there as they do the repairs. Then there’ll be the painting and a new window’s going in where Emrys chopped some firewood and sent a piece flying through the pane. Everything is packed away ready for them and the landlord will be supervising.’

  ‘Good,’ Ruth said jumping up and reaching for the vacuum cleaner. ‘That’s the incentive I need to get me going. Come on, Aunty, we’ll start by getting a room ready for you.’

  Aunty Blodwen was ready to leave at five o’clock, when she asked, ‘What’s happening about this house now the brothers are all gone? It belongs to all five of you. So will you sell it and share the money?’

  ‘No. The boys discussed this ages ago and they all agreed that I can stay here until I choose to leave. If I decide to stay, then after my time it’ll be sold and the money shared between the brothers and any children.’

  ‘Things have changed. They’ll be glad of the money now they’re married, won’t they?’

  ‘They’re grateful for the way I stayed and kept home for them. None of them wants me to have to leave. Besides, Ty Gwyn is still their base, it’s the family home and has been since our grandparents’ time; I don’t think they want to see it go to strangers.’

  ‘Now they’re setting up their own homes, though … Can you sit here on their inheritance, knowing they need it?’

  ‘We had a couple of valuations a few years ago and to be honest, they didn’t think the amount was worth tipping me out for. There won’t be much more than one hundred pounds each after bills are settled, so they’re happy to let me stay.’

  ‘Unless you marry Henry.’

  ‘The way I feel now, I’d be marrying for the wrong reasons. I can’t marry Henry because I don’t like living alone, or because the boys want to sell the house, can I?’

  The bus took her aunt away at last and Ruth took a deep breath as she went back into the empty house. She couldn’t shut the door. If she did she would be shutting herself away from the world and now the boys were gone, the world wouldn’t be coming in. She propped the door open with a couple of bricks painted and left there for the purpose and went into the kitchen. Even that had lost its comforting feel. Being here alone wasn’t going to be easy.

  Henry came that evening and, as usual, Ruth couldn’t decide whether she was relieved to see him or not. They had been seeing each other regularly for years, but had never reached the stage when marriage was a certainty. Henry popped the question from time to time but she had always used the excuse of looking after her brothers. She wondered whether the wait had been too long and the pot had gone off the boil.

  She told herself she wasn’t sure of his love, but that wasn’t true. The true reason, which she tried to deny, was not being here when her brothers needed her. That commitment to their welfare would always be there.

  The second reason was her doubts about her feelings toward Henry. Did she really love Henry, or was it just a habit, a convenient way of planning for a future in which she didn’t have to cope alone? She wasn’t even sure what love really meant. Her parents had argued all the time, some times violently, and they had frightened her as a small child with their fights. Yet they had stayed together and between their frequent disagreements, they seemed content. There had been occasions when their happiness and laughter had filled the house, but those moments were rare and the strongest memories were the bad times.

  More recently she had seen her four brothers fall in love and marry and those relationships had overridden memories of the fights between her parents to a certain extent. Any marriage was taking a chance, she was convinced of that. Even with the obvious happiness of her four brothers and their wives she knew it wasn’t the same for her and Henry. Perhaps they had waited too long.

  She cleaned and tidied the house and washed the bedding, and threw out the oddments of leftover food into a bin for next door’s chickens. The day ended, darkness came and, with it, the dread of the night alone in the large house for the first time in her life. It was with reluctance that she closed the door.

  She didn’t want to waste electricity by burning the light all night but couldn’t face the utter darkness. She lit a candle and set it in a dish beside her bed. It’s flickering light didn’t really help. A movement of the flame set her wondering whether there was a draught from an open door to account for it.

  Restless and a little afraid, she rose three times and went down the stairs carrying the candle as well as switching on the landing light. Each time, she checked every door and window but nothing had changed. At four she made a cup of cocoa and at five she gave up trying to sleep and made tea and toast, sitting on the old couch to eat it, an electric fire glowing in front of yesterday’s ashes.

  Jack had been in the area for a couple of months. He had escaped from his previous address just ahead of a police inquiry and with just enough cash to survive for a month. He had eked out his money by scrounging from other men sleeping rough and stealing when an opportunity arose. It was mostly food he took, but once he had found a purse temptingly easy to pick up and on two occasions an open window had enabled him to reach inside and take an ornament which he then sold when he was far enough away from where it had been taken. It was so easy. He laughed when he thought about it and his confidence grew.

  In 1954 people still left keys hanging down behind their letterboxes and on that day in March, he risked entering a house after seeing a woman and three children leaving it and getting on a bus. Entering a house was something he swore never to do again, but he had nowhere to sleep and he was very hungry. He watched the bus stop and the family of mother and three children get in and find seats. He waited for a few minutes then pulled the key on its chain through the letter box and let himself him.

  He went silently up the stairs and looked in drawers, carefully opening them and more carefully closing them again. With luck he wouldn’t leave evidence of his presence and anything missing would be presumed to be carelessness. A bank book was under some clothes and inside was a pound note and five shillings in coins. Pocketing the money he continued the search. Downstairs he went into what was obviously the best room with its table and three-piece suite and sideboard. It smelled of polish with a slight tinge of dampness. In the sideboard were three books; insurance, rent book and one marked coal and gas. Another three pounds. Without intending to go in – it was time to leave – he looked around the door of the living-room and to his horror saw an old man sitting near the fire.

  ‘That you, Dolly? What did you forget this time?’

  Jack ran and didn’t stop until there were three streets between him and the old man. He travelled a long way that day, even using some of his money to go a few miles by bus, then, as darkness was falling, he found a barn and slept cosily and without any qualms of conscience. He was used to getting up with the dawn and as soon as a pale light appeared in the sky he was on his way before the farmer was aware of his presence.

  In a café, he took out the notebook he carried and marked off another town on his list. No luck so far, but he felt sure he was in the right area. Today might be the day, he told himself, as he did every morning as, relaxed after a good night’s sleep and with a full belly, his confidence was at its height.

  He was searching for a family, but he didn’t know where they lived, just that it was in South Wales and not far from the sea. He had spent time in several small towns, investigating families with the name he sought, but hadn’t found the people who owed him money.

  He made his way by thumbing lifts and walking, back to where his fiancée Abigail, and her mother Gloria lived. He had given up his job and with Abi’s blessing w
as touring the towns of South Wales searching for the family whom he believed owed him an inheritance.

  Abigail was not quite twenty but already a successful hat saleswoman. With a car, she travelled around towns of Wales and western England selling to hat shops. She and Gloria lived in a beautiful flat which they rented; she had the smartest clothes so she looked successful and every customer who bought her hats hoped to look as glamorous as she did.

  She earned a lot of money for someone so young and knowing how badly Jack wanted to find his family and the money he felt he was due, she agreed that he should spend a few months searching for them.

  Abi’s mother was not happy about the arrangement and tried to persuade her daughter not to trust him. ‘You’re young and foolish,’ she told her, when Jack had once more left to continue his investigations. ‘You have a wonderful job and you earn a great deal of money, so why is he trying to find a family that might exist only in his imagination?’

  ‘Jack has to get it out of his system, Mum. If he doesn’t he’ll regret it later and perhaps blame me. Now is the time, before we marry and have children.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘I don’t exactly know,’ Abi admitted, ‘but I know he’ll come back to me.’

  It was three more nights before Aunty Blod came back and by that time sleep had begun to come more easily to Ruth. She wondered whether she would have to start getting used to the emptiness again, after having Blod’s company for the week.

  They spent their days sorting through drawers and cupboards trying to decide what to keep and what to throw away, Ruth’s intention being to reduce the clutter in the house and make the place easier to run. Henry came for a meal twice while her aunt was there. He explained that he was off to trawl the second-hand shops in the west of England. Listening to their conversations, to Ruth the house seemed almost back to normal and it was a painful moment when Henry left.

  Her aunt telephoned from the telephone box on the corner each day to learn of the progress on her house and Ruth crossed her fingers and hoped she would stay another day. It was only a few small repairs and some decoration and it hadn’t been expected to last more than a week.

  Aunty Blod, eventually and regretfully, left. Ruth went with her to the bus stop and walked back to the house as though to her execution. She opened the windows, even though it was a chilling late-March morning, and the front door stayed open. Foolishly she convinced herself that it offered the promise of someone calling, stopped her feeling so cut off and alone, even though no one was likely to come. Henry was in the west of England buying antiques. The twins and their wives were still away. It was a pity Toni had refused her offer to clean and tidy the flats ready for their return, and Brenda, less enthusiastically, echoed her brisk insistence that they would manage just fine. Ruth would have been glad to show them how much they would still need her.

  Emrys and Susan lived in Bridgend and they called a few times at first. Geraint and Hazel lived in London running a business selling items by post. There were a couple of brief notes but no suggestion of a visit. She was beginning to feel invisible!

  After her aunt’s help the house was as clean as she could wish and she knew that before she gave in to her situation and succumbed to becoming less and less valued and no longer needed, she had to start looking for work, or something to fill her time, but the thought of a job appealed less and less. She was afraid. With a surge of guilt, she wondered if she should forget trying to build a career and marry Henry. She was ashamed of the way she thought about him, not as the love of her life but as an escape from everything she feared. She needed to do some serious thinking about where her life should be leading. It was changing in every way and she should face the future with confidence and hope, not use Henry in case nothing better turned up, like a shipwrecked sailor clinging to flotsam. But life without him would be unimaginable. At least the house was returning to its friendly atmosphere and at eleven o’clock she relaxed easily and comfortably into sleep.

  She was woken by a sound from downstairs, like something breaking. She reached for a torch and leapt out of bed and switched on the light. Putting on lights as she went, she headed for the kitchen from where the sound had come. It was empty, but the back door stood wide open and on the table was a broken dish that had apparently fallen from the shelf. Holding the torch like a weapon, she locked the door then searched every room. Each room was empty and apart from the open door and the broken plate she might have convinced herself she had dreamed it. Someone had been in there, but who? No one except her brothers had a key and she picked hers up and gripped it tightly in her hand.

  She decided not to tell anyone. She must have forgotten to lock the door, it was time she stopped delaying closing it. It had to be her forgetfulness, there wasn’t any other explanation and a plate, propped against the dresser shelf could easily have slipped.

  Outside, hidden in the shadows, Jack stared up at the house. Ty Gwyn? There was definitely something familiar about the name, but the book he had found in a drawer stated the name of the occupier was Thomas. Not the name of the family he was looking for. He wished he had listened with more care when the old man had talked about his childhood.

  On the day Tommy and Toni, Bryn and Brenda were due home, Ruth had a casserole simmering in the oven, and fresh bread waiting on the board ready to slice. They’d be starving when the got back and she had left a note pinned to each of their doors promising them a meal would be waiting for them, in case they had forgotten her invitation. She had no idea when they would be back but everything was ready at nine o’clock.

  At 10.30, she turned off the oven and sat with the wireless on low, listening for the sound of the gate. An hour later they came, laughing and apologizing for being so late.

  ‘We stopped to have a meal on the way back, Sis. I hope you didn’t wait for us.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, Tommy. You can—’ She had been about to say they could eat it tomorrow, but stopped in time. There were no tomorrows so far as her brothers were concerned. ‘You can have a hot drink if you like?’ she amended.

  ‘We won’t stay,’ Bryn said, ‘But we’ll come and see you soon. Tomorrow?’ he suggested.

  ‘Not much chance of that,’ Toni added quickly. ‘We haven’t finished unpacking yet and heaven alone knows where the saucepans are.’

  ‘Would you like me to come and help?’ Ruth offered. But all four shook their heads.

  ‘Time we looked after ourselves, our Ruth. You’ve done enough.’

  ‘Now it’s time for you to find a life for yourself.’ Toni spoke kindly, although there was a firm gleam in her eyes that startled Ruth. Then Toni stared at Brenda, who stared back, then nodded confirmation. Again, Ruth forced her smile. ‘Yes, now it’s time for me,’ she agreed.

  Ever since the wedding she had opened the back and front doors as soon as she got up and they stayed open until darkness came. That was the time she hated most, closing the doors and knowing there would be no one there until the following day – if then. She slept fitfully and often woke and sometimes read for a while in the hope of tiring herself. It was always still dark each morning when she went down to make tea and open the doors. Even after her fright of the night before she still found it impossible to close the door until dusk.

  The following morning, Tommy stared at his wife and frowned. ‘Where am I? And who are you?’ he joked.

  ‘My name’s Dolores De-lightful. What’s yours?’

  ‘Bob Hopeless. Come here.’ He pulled her close and she struggled playfully.

  ‘Come on, we have to get up.’

  ‘We don’t! Isn’t it wonderful? Our own place and we can do what we like.’

  ‘No we can’t. We have to get up and try to work out how to use the cooker for a start. Tomorrow it’s back to work.’

  ‘Ruined my mood you have, Mrs Tommy Thomas.’ He kissed her and asked anxiously, ‘Happy?’

  ‘Utterly.’

  ‘I love you, Mrs Tommy Thomas. Thank goodn
ess the wedding’s over. Now all we have to do is convince everyone that you can produce a six and a half month baby!’

  Jack wandered through the villages and eventually found himself in a small seaside town, where the small shops suggested it was a popular place for holidaymakers. As he travelled he was looking for information, something that would help him find some member of the family – if there were any left after all this time, which he doubted. From the little he had learned, the family wasn’t large and names could have changed and, after forty years, who would care even if they did remember?

  He stopped at a newsagent’s shop but he didn’t go in. He didn’t want to make the search official, not until he was certain how he would be greeted. He suspected that most would be only too glad to send him on his way. If only he could go from town to town working each one as a paper-boy. That would be a way of finding out people’s names. He had to talk to people and depend on luck. Meanwhile, he would take another look at the house called Ty Gwyn. He had little to go on, but the name rang that persistent bell somewhere in his memory.

  One morning Ruth had just thrown away a cake she had made, wondering when she would learn to cook for one and stop wasting precious rations on food no one wanted. Would she ever stop making cakes in case someone called? Or learn to prepare small meals instead of continuing to throw excess food in the bin for the chickens? The postman touched the gate and shocked her out of her reverie.

  Opening a letter from her aunt, she gave a huge sigh of relief. Aunty Blodwen was having trouble after the repairers had caused a leak in the kitchen. It would take a few days to fix.

  ‘They can’t do anything until next week, so I was wondering—’ the letter said. Ruth wrote straight back and invited her to stay for as long as it took.

  ‘All right, I’m a coward,’ she said aloud to her reflection in the hall mirror. ‘I will cope with this, I really will, but not yet.’