Paint on the Smiles Page 4

‘She’s talking about working with Dorothy and learning about fashion. Such a waste of her qualities.’

  Waldo shook his head. ‘Not necessarily. She’ll succeed at whatever she does. Perhaps the world of fashion will interest her even if she does stay on.’

  ‘If you’re right about there being a war,’ Cecily said gloomily, ‘how much fashion will there be in khaki uniforms?’

  They were both waiting for Johnny the next morning to see his haircut. Ada saw him first and she groaned. ‘It’s like a smaller piece of badly woven cloth,’ she reported. ‘Poor dab. There’s one who’ll benefit from premature baldness!’

  Johnny had something on his mind. He wanted to tell the sisters but was afraid of putting it badly and upsetting them. He compromised by telling Van.

  ‘I saw your gran last night,’ he told her.

  ‘Where? Have you found out where she lives?’ Van was excited. ‘Oh, I’d love to see her. D’you think she wants to see me? If I went without telling Mam and Auntie Ada?’

  ‘I know where she’s living but I can’t decide whether or not to tell the sisters.’

  ‘Not!’ Van was emphatic. ‘Please, Johnny, tell me and let me see her on my own before the others find out. Please, Johnny.’

  ‘That boyfriend of hers was with her,’ he said, giving himself time to think, ‘and his son.’

  ‘Happy is she? Without us?’

  ‘She seems different. The son, Paul Gregory, was about twenty and looks a bit of a handful. Tough as a mad gorilla he was, with sinews like steel hawsers. He’s been in the army since a young boy, so Auntie Kitty – your nan – told me. They asked us to go back for supper, me and my girlfriend, Cleo.’

  ‘Cleo? Cleo Robbins? Is she your girlfriend, Johnny?’ Van chuckled at the thought of her cousin courting. He’d always been a source of amusement and it was hard to imagine him taking a girl out, especially one she knew.

  ‘We’ve been going out for a couple of months, until last night. Now she’s going out with a big, bull-necked bloke called Paul Gregory!’

  ‘You let this Paul Gregory steal your girl?’

  ‘Glad I was really. She started looking at furniture shops and jewellery.’ His Adam’s apple went into top gear and a faint blush drifted across his angular features. ‘Hey, what am I telling you all this for? Not old enough yet, you aren’t, Myfanwy Owen.’

  ‘Neither are you by the sound of it!’

  After a great deal of pleading, Johnny agreed to take Van into Cardiff to see her grandmother and also not to tell the sisters. Johnny was not completely happy about this but Van was hard to argue with when she wanted something really badly.

  When they reached the small house in a road near the canal, Johnny knocked and insisted Van waited around the corner while he asked Auntie Kitty if she would see her. When she knew her granddaughter was near, Kitty ran to greet her and almost lifted her off her feet in a wild hug of joy, although Van was taller than her.

  Johnny walked along the canal bank, looking down into the greenish, glutinous water while they talked. When they caught the bus with their story of a visit to the museum well rehearsed, Van sat silently gloating over the secret which she intended to keep from her mother and aunt. Finding Gran was her secret, something to be cherished, a private possession safe from interference, Johnny her unwilling accomplice.

  ‘It’s Gran’s wish that they aren’t told,’ Van told him several times on that bus journey. ‘You’ve got to promise not to tell.’ So he promised and the secret remained intact, and Van kept in touch with her grandmother without anyone else finding out.

  Outside the holiday cottage in the little village in west Wales, Danny was checking on the fishing. He had driven most of the way to the hotel where Willie had booked a week’s stay and, leaving Willie and Annette to unpack and settle Victor in, he’d taken his rod and set off to explore the river running alongside the delightful property.

  There was no one else staying at the hotel, although the manager had told him another booking had been made but not yet filled. He wondered idly if there would be another child for Victor to play with.

  He walked slowly, looking around him, enjoying the peace and quiet, listening to birdsong and the occasional slap as a fish jumped out of the water after a fly. At thirty-five he was still a handsome man, and he kept that carefree gypsy look that women found so fascinating. His figure had thickened a little but the dark hair was as black and curly as ever. The earring with which he showed defiance of convention glinted in the sun.

  This week had been a good idea on Willie’s part and already he felt the tension easing from him. The shock of Jessie’s divorce and her initial refusal to keep Cecily out of the notoriety had been a nightmare. This week was the perfect opportunity to forget it and refresh himself. Willie’s family were good company even if they were a constant reminder of his solitary state. They made him aware that he was alone, with no one who cared a pig’s bristle for him.

  He walked for several miles along the bank of the river, noting the deep pools where large fish might lie and seeing from the pattern of worn grass where feet had walked and fishermen had stood, casting hopefully into the dark waters. Further up, where the river ran through woodland, the river was deep and wide. In a small clearing he came across several coracles lying upside-down, the smell of tar evidence of their recent maintenance. There was a smell of rotting bait too. He could see where unused worms had been thrown carelessly towards the water, some getting caught on the branches.

  A water rat scuttled through the grass and stopped to chew at a freshly discarded morsel. The water ran swiftly past, sleek and smooth, its surface hardly showing a ripple as the rat slipped in and headed for its home in the bank.

  Danny left the coracle station, having decided to return in the early morning to watch them set off. He would love to try and manage one of the fragile craft but thought it unlikely they’d agree.

  ‘Caught any fish, then?’ Willie called as he walked back into the hotel.

  ‘No. Nice walk though. I think I’ll go down early tomorrow and see if one of the fishermen will let me try one of the coracles.’

  ‘My brother is one of the coracle men,’ the landlord told them. ‘In fact, he caught the lovely Sewin you’re having for dinner tonight. Shall I have a word with him?’

  So it was arranged for Danny to have an early call, an early breakfast and maybe a trip on the river.

  He went to bed but didn’t sleep straightaway, allowing the sounds of the strange house and the nearby river to settle around him. Muffled voices from the room next door gave him moments of self-pity, in which he felt envious of Willie, his plump wife and small son.

  Cecily should be here with him. Cecily with whom he shared a love neither would accept. She was independent and he couldn’t help wishing her father had left the shop to that brat Owen, the son of the unpleasant Dorothy. There would never be a time when Cecily would settle for a quiet life; she would always want a new challenge, a goal to achieve. He believed he could learn to cope with all that, though. It was the easy way she had with men, flirting and driving him to anger, that he found so difficult.

  Perhaps he should have settled for Jessie. She was the antithesis of Cecily: quiet, submissive and patient. But she was so irritating he found himself wanting to hurt her deliberately by being sarcastic – something she couldn’t cope with – and treating her unkindly when she didn’t deserve it. Best he stayed away from her, but now, lying all alone, he wished she were with him. Darkness is a large space to fill when you’re lonely.

  The friends ate separately, Danny rising early to meet the coracle men and leaving before Willie and Annette came down, although he heard the lively chatter from their room, reminding him of how early three-year-olds awoke. A stab of jealousy trapped in his thoughts from the previous night jolted him as he passed their room with his rods and the box of tackle. He sighed it away. A good day stretched out before him.

  He was welcomed by a young man who earned a precarious
living from the river and after a lot of wobbling, and two soakings, he managed to sit in one of the wildly bobbing boats and find the point of balance. He was glad he was attached to the bank by a strong rope. There was no possibility of fishing!

  ‘Spent five years at sea I did,’ he told the young man. ‘But I never tried anything like this. It’s like sitting in a bowl of jelly!’

  ‘Let her take you, don’t fight her,’ he was advised. ‘Sit tight, relax and you’ll soon get the feel of her.’

  ‘Sit still? Man, I daren’t move! How do I paddle without going arse over tip?’ But the men had moved off. They were willing to give him a ride but not generous enough to miss the tide which raised and lowered the river so dramatically. He watched them until they disappeared, marvelling at how easy it looked to manage the unstable craft, then hauled himself back to the bank. Although he was a strong man, the struggle with the unwieldy boat had exhausted him. He sat for a while before finding the strength to walk back to the hotel. He was too tired to fish, or to think about Jessie and Cecily. He’d thought of nothing but the boat during the busy and enjoyable hour.

  The others were in the garden when he reached the gate. ‘Hello, young Niblo,’ he called to Victor, who came running to greet him.

  ‘Poo, Uncle Danny, you smell of fish!’ Victor laughed as he was swung in the air. ‘I bet you didn’t catch one though.’

  ‘Damn me, you should have seen the giant salmon I wrestled with. Never seen a bigger one, not even on the fishmonger’s slab!’

  He talked to them for a while then went into the hotel to change. As he was about to open his door, the door next to Annette and Willie’s snapped shut and a gasp made him turn.

  ‘Jessie!’ he said in disbelief.

  It was Jessie who recovered first from the appearance of her ex-husband. ‘So, it was you behind all this!’

  ‘All what? What are you doing here?’ He stepped towards her. ‘Where’s Danielle?’

  ‘I’ve just put her down to rest. She’s tired after travelling. It was a long journey and tomorrow we’ll have another one! Straight back home! Don’t think you can trick me like this, Danny Preston!’

  Her face, usually so calm, was bright with anger and he felt a wave of deep sympathy and affection for her. ‘But, Jessie, what are you doing here? Did you know I’d be here? Is that why you’ve come? Who told you? What d’you want? I’ve tried time and again to talk to you at home and your guardian dragon wouldn’t let me in. Is that why? So we can talk about us and Danielle without interference?’

  She didn’t answer any of his questions, just staying quiet until he fell silent, then said, ‘I’m going back home at once. If there was a train to take me I’d leave now but as I have to wait until the morning, I’ll stay in my room until then. Please, Danny, go away.’

  He was shocked at the vehemence of her words. ‘It was at my instruction that Mam wouldn’t let you near me or my daughter.’ She turned and fumbled with the key, trying to unlock the door, and Danny took the key and turned it. As she went in, he followed.

  ‘Please go,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what you hoped to achieve by this trick but it won’t work.’

  ‘It’s no trick,’ he said. ‘I’m as surprised as you.’ He was alarmed now at the harshness of her expression, the tightness around the once-generous mouth. He had done that. He was responsible for the change in her. He went to the single bed, needing to get away from the reproachful stare in her eyes, away from the inimical accusations showing in their depths. Danielle was sleeping peacefully, unaware of the anger that filled the air in the small room.

  Pain showed on his face as he watched the dark-haired sleeping child. His child. ‘Jessie, I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have. I’ve done enough damage to this little sleeping beauty. I won’t stay or cause a fuss but please explain why you’re here. Don’t tell me this is a coincidence that you arrived at this hotel this particular week.’

  Jessie hesitated, her mind grappling with the confusion his appearance had caused. When she had arrived she had hoped her fears of some unexplained and unwelcome reason for the invitation were groundless and she was simply going to enjoy a pleasant week. Then, just as she began to relax in the luxury of the unexpected holiday with Willie and Annette, Danny had appeared, wild, untidy and smelling of the clean, fresh country air, like some demon king shot up onto a stage.

  She thought of Annette and guessed the idea had been her attempt to help, a genuine belief that confrontation far from home would give them a chance to sort out their differences. Kindly meant but misguided.

  ‘I think someone meant to be kind,’ she said at last, in a voice nearer to normal. ‘Kind but misguided,’ she added, repeating her thought.

  ‘But who?’

  ‘I don’t know for certain, but I was offered a free holiday. I think whoever did it thought we might be glad to talk privately and far from any interference.’ The harshness was back in her voice as she added, ‘They were wrong, I’m sure you’ll agree.’

  Danny had been standing, looking down at the sleeping child. He sank into a chair and stared at her. The curtains were drawn across the window and she stood very still in the shadowy room.

  ‘I’ll go,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t see why you and little Danielle should be deprived of a holiday. If someone “kind but misguided” arranged it, you shouldn’t turn down the generous offer. I only wish I’d thought of it myself,’ he added quietly.

  ‘And you didn’t?’

  ‘No, Jessie, I didn’t.’

  Even in the poor light he saw a slight pain cloud her eyes as she asked obliquely, ‘Are you alone?’

  ‘Yes, and no.’ He smiled for the first time and leaned over to look again at Danielle. ‘I’m with Annette and Willie and little Victor. So, alone and not alone, depending how you mean it.’

  ‘I – I don’t want to see them. I’ll stay here until the morning, in my room. Will you take a note down for the manager? I’ll ask for a car to take me to the station for the early train. Until then I’ll stay out of sight.’

  ‘No, Jessie. Don’t do that, please.’ He stood up and looked down at her and a flood of tenderness engulfed him. She was so vulnerable. Small, defiant and surprisingly fierce. ‘Stay, come down and have a cup of tea with us all. I won’t bother you. You have my word on that. Just stay and enjoy the week. Annette is good company and Danielle will have Victor for company.’ He hesitated, watching her face to see if his persuasions had any chance of success. ‘I’ll go if you prefer, but if you allow me to stay I’ll be off fishing most of the time so I won’t embarrass you. Don’t say anything to the others about how you got here, just put it down to one of life’s remarkable coincidences. Please, Jessie,’ he coaxed when he saw she was wavering. ‘Better than going back to your mam, isn’t it?’

  ‘I do need a break,’ she said, and before she could reconsider Danny went to the door.

  ‘We’ll go and tell the others. So pleased they’ll be.’

  ‘Danny,’ she said firmly as the door opened wide, ‘this isn’t a change of mind.’

  Danny nodded, lowering his head in case she saw the gleam of hope in his eyes. Jessie and Danielle! Someone of his own. With Cecily far away and with little hope of her ever coming back to him, he’d settle for second best – if he could persuade Jessie to do the same. Lifting the sleepy little girl, they went down to meet the others. Willie greeted Jessie with a surprise that Danny thought was genuine.

  For the rest of the day they stayed together, Annette and Jessie formal and rather ill-at-ease, Danny showing nothing but pleasure at the unexpected arrival of his daughter and ex-wife. When the two children began playing together, it seemed the week would be a success.

  ‘How did you work it?’ Willie asked Danny suspiciously but Danny assured him the idea had not been his.

  The following day, Danny went to wander along the river and fish as he had promised Jessie, but he found no pleasure in the solitary activity and returned early to the hotel.
There was no sign of the others and he sat in the garden under a tree and waited for them to return.

  ‘Hello, Danielle, hello, young Victor,’ he called as the children ran through the gate, barefoot, dusty and sun-kissed. ‘Been to the beach, have you?’

  ‘No, Uncle Danny,’ Victor called, running to hug him. ‘We’ve had a picnic in the woods.’

  Danny sat with a child either side of him and listened as they told him of the small brook where they had paddled and splashed, and the birds they had seen, which Jessie had identified for them.

  ‘Why don’t you come with us tomorrow?’ Victor asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Annette agreed, ‘it’s good fun watching the antics of these lively characters discovering things we’ve known and half forgotten.’

  ‘Well, I.…’

  ‘Yes, Danny. Why don’t you?’ Jessie said, relieving him of his promise.

  So he agreed and the rest of the week was one of the happiest times he had known.

  On the morning they were leaving, Danny suggested he travelled back with Jessie and Danielle to help with their luggage.

  ‘No, Danny.’ Jessie’s voice was firm and he saw the cold look was back in her eyes. ‘Nothing has changed. It was a lovely interlude and I’m grateful to whoever arranged it for me, but it’s over and I’m going back to Mam’s.’

  ‘But Jessie, it’s been so good.’

  ‘It was a holiday. Today we return to reality with all its problems. Please don’t make a fuss, Danny, you promised.’

  Her small hands packed away their days together, closing the lid on their brief reunion with a firm click. His sense of failure drenched him in melancholy. Why couldn’t he make a success of love like Willie?

  First there had been Cecily, who loved him but whom he tried to change from the person he’d been attracted to, now Jessie, who he had deliberately driven away in the hope that he and Cecily could begin again. Wrong decision all the way; now this. Someone had given him a week to play happy families and he’d failed again, failed to impress Jessie with his willingness to work at their marriage. His acute unhappiness gave a need for honesty.