Time to Move On Read online

  ‘Seranne?’ From the passenger seat Stella leaned out and beckoned. ‘You’ve got a lift if you want it,’ she invited. Seranne presumed the driver was Colin, Stella’s husband, and let herself into the back seat.

  ‘Did you see that? Those cyclists almost ran me over. They should have used their bell.’

  ‘You were in the middle of the road, mind,’ Stella said, adding quickly, ‘Going to your mother’s, aren’t you? Well, we’re going there too, my friend lives just one street away from Jessica’s Victorian Tea Rooms.’

  ‘Thank you. This is kind of you, are you sure it isn’t out of your way?’ They moved off and it wasn’t until they stopped to let a car reverse out of a driveway that the driver turned and she recognized Luke.

  ‘I thought I’d better stop and let you in, you being a danger to road users,’ he said with a wide, mocking smile.

  Her instinct was to demand to be let out at once and she tightened her face into deep disapproval. ‘I thought it was your Colin driving,’ she told Stella haughtily.

  ‘My Colin doesn’t have a car,’ Stella said. ‘Shunts big-huge railway engines he does, but he can’t drive a car. Luke is taking me to see my friend. Coincidence her living not far from your Mam’s tea rooms. Goes there often she does.’ She chattered on and Seranne lowered herself back into her seat. Getting out here would mean a long delay and the temptation of a lift straight to her mother’s door was too good to refuse. Catching Luke’s eye in the rear-view mirror she was aware that he was still smiling.

  ‘What is it about me that amuses you so much?’ she demanded.

  ‘I’m amused by your habit of looking around for someone to blame when you do something silly,’ he replied.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, I don’t do that, do I Stella?’

  ‘Leave me out of it. All for peace and a quiet life I am.’

  ‘Do you still go to my mother’s tea rooms?’ she asked.

  ‘Sometimes,’ Luke replied, ‘but it isn’t as interesting now the quick-tempered little waitress has left.’

  She wanted to ask him if it had changed since Mrs Sewell had taken charge but with him giving silly answers she decided to complete the journey in silence.

  Luke had to call in to a bookshop, and while he was out of the car, Seranne learnt from Stella’s chatter that besides owning a long-distance haulage firm and several shops, he was a director of other businesses, and lived not far from Cwm Derw. Although eaten up with curiosity, she managed not to ask a single question, feigning indifference.

  When they reached their destination, Seranne surrendered to curiosity and asked Stella exactly where he lived. She waited until they were out of the car and Luke had driven off before putting her question, and insisted she wanted to know so she could avoid him.

  ‘He’s got a smart flat in Summerland Court,’ Stella explained. ‘Big family he’s got, but his Mam is in a nursing home, poor dear. He’s got two cars and a van. Busy beyond he is, looking after all his interests, but he always has time to help when it’s needed.’

  Her mother had a tray set with biscuits and stood ready to make coffee. There was no sign of Paul, for which Seranne was grateful.

  ‘What’s this about a holiday, Mum?’ she asked. ‘Paul says you’re tired. Is that all it is? You aren’t ill, are you?’

  ‘I’m perfectly all right and it’s Paul who keeps on about a holiday. I think he finds living here, with me “on the job” and working long hours, a bit of a strain.’

  ‘Surely he knew what to expect? You’ve lived here all your life, and run the tea rooms for most of it. You must have explained what it entailed.’

  ‘Talking about it isn’t the same as living it. He’ll settle down, it’s only an hour or two most evenings I need to get the preparations done for the next day, and keep the books up to date. In fact, he’s offered to deal with the bookkeeping to save me that boring chore.’

  ‘Don’t rush into anything. He’ll get into the routine of your week soon, and it’s best to keep everything in your hands so nothing is forgotten.’

  ‘That’s what I told him. He’s really very kind, Seranne. I’m so lucky to have a second chance.’ She turned to her daughter, looked at her for a moment and asked, ‘What about you, are you all right?’

  ‘Fine. I’m slowly persuading Mrs Rogers to smarten up the café, although she’ll never create anything as beautiful as our Victorian tea rooms. Chair seats this week, that’s another step forward from scuffed chairs.’

  ‘Do you have any social life yet? Made any friends?’

  ‘Lots of friends, although most are your age group rather than mine, apart from Babs and Tony.’

  ‘Such a pity you haven’t brothers or sisters: even a cousin or two would help.’

  ‘Isn’t it at least possible there are cousins? My father had a sister, didn’t he? It’s strange that she’s never been in touch.’

  ‘Not really. They quarrelled and soon after they left school, she went into service and we didn’t hear another word. She probably married and with the change of name and a few changes of address it’s so easy to lose touch.’ She patted her daughter’s hands, ‘I’m sure you’ll start making friends as soon as summer comes. Winter is a time for enjoying the fireside.’

  ‘You’re right, Mum. And the neighbours frequently enjoy mine! Badgers Brook attracts visitors like no other place I’ve known.’

  Jessie passed on a few messages from friends wanting her to contact them, and gave her the post which had arrived for her, then took her to meet Pat Sewell. They met in the woman’s home and she brought them tea and biscuits on a tray. The doubts Seranne had weren’t fading and she swallowed the tea with difficulty. Pat Sewell was immediately on the defensive when Seranne asked if she was sure she could manage for a week after working there for such a short time.

  ‘I’ve been a cook all my life. And I’ve run kitchens a lot bigger that your mother’s tea rooms, so yes, of course I can manage.’

  ‘Won’t you need help?’

  ‘My oldest daughter will assist me and my youngest will come in to deal with the cleaning. All right?’

  ‘Perfectly,’ Seranne said, hiding her concerns behind a smile.

  Paul was there when they got back to the flat and they discussed the necessary details they needed to pass on to Pat Sewell. Lists were made and Seranne promised she would risk losing her job and come at once if she were needed.

  ‘No, don’t put yourself out, Seranne,’ Paul said. ‘But if she needs help Pat will telephone the café and ask you to come.’

  Seranne had the impression that Pat wouldn’t phone even if the place blew up, but she agreed. ‘I won’t come unless I’m asked,’ she promised.

  At four o’clock as they were drinking yet another cup of tea, this time with cream cakes, there was a knock at the side door and Seranne opened it to see Luke standing there.

  ‘Are you ready to leave?’ he asked. ‘I promised to call for Stella at half past. And there’s some cream on the end of your nose,’ he added casually.

  Self-consciously rubbing her nose with a handkerchief, she invited him in, and he followed her up the stairs to where her mother and Paul stood waiting.

  Jessie chattered to him about his visits to the tea room. ‘We see less of you these days,’ she said. ‘I hope you have no complaints?’

  ‘None at all. I’m just passing at the wrong time of day.’

  As Seranne went into the bedroom to collect her coat, her mother whispered, ‘All your friends are my age, did you say?’

  ‘He isn’t a friend, in fact he’s the most irritating man I’ve met,’ she retorted.

  ‘Mmm, sounds promising!’

  ‘How is Paul?’ Luke asked as they walked to the car. ‘Has he been involved in any more fights?’

  ‘No, but I still have the feeling that he’s dishonest. And my mother buying a half share in his factory hasn’t made me feel any better,’ she added.

  Luke stopped and stared down at her. ‘You don’t mean t
he leather goods factory?’ She nodded and he asked, ‘How much, do you know?’

  ‘Know? Why, is something wrong? He’s promised her a good return on the investment.’

  ‘I’m sure your mother knows what she’s doing,’ He replied, but he frowned. How could she own half of a factory that had been sold weeks ago?

  ‘What have you been doing?’ Stella asked when they were on their way home.

  ‘I’ve been to see a property and made an offer to buy it,’ Luke told them as they set off back to Cwm Derw. ‘It was a bicycle shop but I plan to reopen to sell saucepans and kitchenware.’

  ‘Why saucepans?’ Stella asked.

  ‘Food rationing is sure to end soon and people will be glad to go back to cooking in the traditional way. That will mean replacing all the things that are old and worn.’

  ‘When restrictions are finally lifted, won’t money be spent on food rather than things to cook it in?’ Stella said. ‘My Colin said he’s going to buy the biggest joint of beef the butcher can supply, and I’m going to spread butter on toast so thick it’ll look like an ice-cream wafer!’

  Seranne said nothing. Saucepans? That’s too mundane, she thought. Surely people will need luxuries after all the years of want. The man was wrong but why should she care? Stella talked about her friend, and Seranne opened up enough to admit that she wasn’t too happy about leaving the tea rooms in the hands of Pat Sewell.

  ‘Go on, your mother deserves a holiday and it’s January, they can’t be very busy.’

  ‘The place is crowded most mornings,’ Seranne disagreed. ‘There isn’t the passing trade as in the summer, but locals meet there for a mid-morning chat and Mum and I used to be kept busy cooking fresh scones and making sandwiches most of the day.’

  ‘You ought to tell Mrs Rogers you can make scones,’ Stella said. ‘Hers are like sawdust and taste of bicarb!’

  ‘I already have, but she isn’t interested,’ Seranne replied.

  Luke went through the main street and dropped Stella off at the post office, where Colin and the little dog Scamp came out to greet her.

  ‘It’s all right, I can walk from here,’ Seranne said, beginning to open the door.

  Luke leaned over her and closed it. ‘It will take only a few minutes in the car.’

  He turned in the road and headed for the lane. At the front path, he stopped and turned to look at her. ‘If you’re worried about the tea rooms, I’ll take you there on your half day, just to reassure you, although I’m sure everything will run smoothly.’

  ‘Thanks but there’s no need, the buses are very convenient.’

  ‘Hoity-toity.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s what my mother will call you when you meet her.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘The dictionary says it means “haughty and petulant”. Are you like that with everyone, or just me?’

  ‘How dare you be so rude?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think you’re petulant, but my mother will.’ He was laughing again.

  ‘Don’t worry, if she’s as ill-mannered as you, I’ll never meet her.’

  ‘You’ll win her round. See you outside the café on Wednesday,’ he said, as he drove off.

  He tried to deny the pleasure he’d just had having her in the car. It wasn’t any use hoping. Once bitten twice shy might be a well-worn cliché but like most clichés there was a grain of truth in it. He would never feel confident again, not after the last time. Best to forget her. If he could. Besides, he wasn’t free. Neither consideration would affect his decision to make further enquiries about Paul Curtis, though.

  Seranne went in and found the fire burning brightly. Kitty had been in to make sure the house was warm for her return. She put a couple of small potatoes in the ashes to bake and took out her sewing. Still angry with Luke she worked fast and with less than usual care. After she’d pricked her fingers several times she eventually dropped the cushion cover she was making back in the basket and glared around the room. It was then she admitted that Luke was probably right. She did often look around for someone to blame.

  But now she was living alone, that habit will be easily lost, she thought with a sigh. Whenever she looked up there would be no one to share the moment with, neither good ones, nor bad. The thought made her feel lonely and she knew that even in the warm friendliness of this wonderful house, she needed someone to share her life. Such a basic need that most took for granted.

  Betty slid the bolt across the pub door and switched off the outside light. The bar was its usual muddle of unwashed glasses and dirty plates. Cigarette ends littered the fireplace where the ashes had sunk low and mellowed into a pink glow. She could hear Alun singing in the kitchen and carried a tray of glasses through, to find him filling the huge sink with soapy water to start washing up.

  ‘Go on, Alun, I’ll see to these tonight, you go up. We’re late tonight and I know you like to read a while before you sleep.’

  ‘Nonsense. These won’t take long.’ He took the tray from her, his hands touching hers, his fingers stroking, holding them a moment longer than necessary. She looked up and he smiled at her. ‘Go and make our hot drink, what is it tonight, cocoa or Ovaltine?’

  ‘Isn’t this a dull existence for you, Alun?’

  ‘I might have thought so once, but that was before I’d met you,’ he said, turning to start on the glasses. ‘I’ve never been happier.’

  She didn’t know how to answer, and, afraid of making herself look foolish, she went back to the bar and collected more glasses. He didn’t mean it, he was just being polite. How could someone like him feel anything more than friendship for someone like me? she thought, pushing aside foolish hope.

  After she had cleaned up in the bar rooms and mopped the floor, she went through the kitchen and began to mix their drinks. He was singing, ‘The bells are ringing, for me and my gal …’ and he said nothing more, just smiled at her as he thanked her for the hot drink. As they went their separate ways to their bedrooms, he patted her shoulder as usual and said goodnight.

  She lay for a long time thinking about him, conscious of him being only yards away along the landing. Was she making too much out of what had only been a polite remark? Someone like Alun, who’s a few years younger than my forty-seven years wouldn’t be interested in someone like me, she told herself again.

  Because she liked him, was attracted to him, that was the reason she had been flattered and encouraged by his words. That was it. If she hadn’t liked him so much she wouldn’t have given them a moment’s thought. Time she stopped daydreaming like a schoolgirl or she’d lose him. And besides being a hardworking and utterly delightful companion, he was a very good barman.

  The café in Cwm Derw remained open every afternoon, but Seranne was given an afternoon off. She had chosen Wednesday because that was the day the of Maes Hir market and it was useful to be able to go shopping. On the Wednesday after her unsettling visit home, she stepped out of the café door to be met by Luke. He gestured towards the MG standing at the kerb. ‘Shall we stop on the way and have lunch?’ he asked by way of greeting. ‘I’m starving and I doubt whether you enjoy eating in the place where you work.’

  ‘Thank you, but I was going back to Badgers Brook for a sandwich before setting off.’

  ‘No need.’ He opened the car door and gestured for her to get in. ‘I know just the place. You’ll love it.’

  Prepared to argue, she changed her mind and slid into the passenger seat. She expected pretty tea rooms similar to Jessica’s but was surprised when he stopped at a large shed-like building that was surrounded by lorries and cars.

  ‘This place is for lorry drivers!’ she said outraged. ‘What on earth made you think I would eat at such a place?’

  ‘Because you’ll like the owners.’ He took her arm as she protested and led her inside to the steamy, noisy place. A few people called to him and several waved a greeting. Finding her a seat at the table where there already sat a young boy and
an overweight man dressed in cowboy shirt and denim trousers supported by a wide, ornate belt, he left her and went to the counter to order their food.

  ‘Known Luke long, have you?’ the man asked.

  ‘Not really. He’s just giving me a lift to visit my parents.’ She turned away to discourage further questions but the man persisted.

  ‘He drove lorries for my father for years.’

  ‘Luke was a lorry driver?’

  He nodded and waited until his mouth was empty then added, ‘Until he bought the firm.’

  Luke arrived with two plates on which there were some chips and a couple of sausages. ‘You’ve introduced yourselves, have you?’

  Trying to look indifferent, Seranne shrugged vaguely.

  Seranne, meet my Uncle Pete and my cousin Billy.’

  ‘Your uncle?’ She tentatively offered a hand which was lost in the huge grip of Uncle Pete, then gently taken by the shy Billy.

  ‘Got to go, places to see, appointments to keep.’ The two stood up and with a wave were gone.

  Seranne didn’t know what to say, so she ate the food, and with more enjoyment than she had expected. ‘That was very good, thank you,’ she told him as she replaced her cutlery across the empty plate.

  ‘She’s a good cook,’ he said. ‘She’s my auntie.’

  She wasn’t sure whether or not to believe him. Wondering whether there were more surprises planned, she got back into the car. ‘Were you really a lorry driver?’

  ‘I’ve done many different jobs and yes, driving lorries was one of them. I was also a conductor on the buses, and an apprentice carpenter, but I gave that up, I didn’t have the necessary skill.’

  The day was full of surprises but the next surprise didn’t come from Luke and it was more a shock. Jessica’s Victorian Tea Rooms was closed.

  She knocked on the door and rattled the handle but there was no sound from within. Using her key she went up to the flat and saw that everything was orderly as her mother would have left it. Downstairs it was not. In the tea rooms the tables were still littered with the remains of previous customers, the kitchen showed no evidence of having been recently used – or cleaned – and there was no sign of Pat Sewell.