Goodbye to Dreams Page 8

  ‘Lovely. Thank you.’ Annette had shed the relaxed manner she showed with Willie and returned to the nervous voice she used when her mother was around. ‘Can I, Mam?’

  ‘No, you’re needed at home!’

  The sisters escorted their visitors through the shop, Cecily carrying Van, and opened the door. But Dorothy wasn’t finished.

  ‘It isn’t very likely,’ she said loudly, ‘but should you two marry, I want it written down that my son has precedence over any children you might have.’

  ‘Not likely?’ Ada queried.

  ‘Without your poor dear father to mind Myfanwy, when will you be able to get out? Unless you fancy courting with Myfanwy on your arm!’ She clutched Annette’s shoulder and hurried her out into the cold, dark street. She didn’t reply to the sisters’ cheerful ‘good night’.

  ‘Phew! I hope that gale’s blown itself out.’

  ‘I doubt it.’ Cecily frowned as she put Van down and pushed the bolt on the door. ‘But she’s right about one thing. When are we going to get out and have some fun?’

  ‘I’ll stay with Edwin,’ Van said. ‘Uncle Bertie and Auntie Beryl say I’m as welcome as the flowers in spring!’

  Hugging her, Ada said, ‘We won’t be able to go out as often as before.’ She kissed the little girl. ‘And we don’t might one little bit, love.’

  ‘Come on, let’s warm up that stew. I’m starving. There’s nothing like a blast of Dorothy to whet the appetite!’ Cecily poked a blaze from the fire. ‘Let’s sit and eat and forget all about Dorothy and her Owen Owen for today.’

  But the remarks about them being unlikely to marry gave a sombre end to the evening, both sisters reminded that they were of an age when most of their friends were married and had children.

  ‘If you and Auntie Ada marry,’ Van said solemnly, ‘will that mean I have two fathers? I get teased in school for not having one.’

  Chapter Five

  IT WAS A week after the funeral when Danny Preston called. He came into the shop as the sisters were about to close and introduced the young woman accompanying him.

  ‘Cecily, Ada, this is Jessie.’ The small, shy young woman offered a limp hand hesitantly, giving a brief smile.

  Jessie had thick, rich auburn hair tucked apologetically into a tight bun as though she were ashamed of its beauty. She wore a brown coat out of which thin wrists showed and slender hands revealed her unease by their twisting. She followed Danny into the room where they were invited to sit, and found the chair in the corner behind the door which Annette always chose.

  Danny talked loudly of their plans, but when a question was asked of Jessie, her hazel eyes would flutter anxiously to Danny. Asking permission to speak, Cecily thought with contempt. She was determined to dislike this girl whom Danny preferred to herself, yet as they sat and drank tea and made small talk, she found a glimmer of sympathy for her. Why had Danny made her face such an unpleasant interview? Surely not to impress me with his good fortune. Her pity for the girl grew.

  ‘I’m Cecily, my sister is Ada,’ she said, ‘In case Danny’s casual introduction confused you.’

  ‘It didn’t,’ Jessie said with another brief smile. ‘Danny talks about you so much I knew at once which was which.’

  ‘We came to see how you’re managing,’ Danny said.

  ‘We’re all right. Why? Are you offering to help us? You and Jessie?’

  ‘If there’s anything we can do—’ The words sounded as false coming from his lips, the lips she had once known so well, as they would coming from a stranger.

  ‘No thanks. We’re managing fine.’ She spoke the words emphatically, the final word on the subject. ‘Now, it’s getting late and unless you want something from the shop, Ada and I are just about to close the door.’

  ‘Best we’re off, then.’ Danny glared at Cecily. ‘We’d hate to bother you.’

  ‘We could do with some tinned plums,’ Jessie said. ‘I thought I’d make a plum pie.’

  ‘Forget it.’ Danny took her arm and led her through the shop into the street. ‘Don’t forget to call us when you need help,’ he shouted back, but he was looking at Ada not Cecily.

  Another week passed before Gareth visited them. Both girls had almost despaired of seeing him again. Cecily thought about him, deliberately trying to force his image over one of Danny. Danny Preston, whose dark, powerful presence seemed to surround her with longing.

  In the rush of extra business the funeral had caused, with people calling to eulogize over the dead man, and the curious stopping to make small purchases and see how they were managing without a man to look after things, it was rarely that the sisters mentioned either Danny or Gareth. All their time was spent either dealing with customers or planning how to serve them better.

  It was late on a Friday evening in February when the gas-lights in the shop spluttered and outside was nothing but blackness when Gareth walked in. He came through the shop door bent slightly forward as usual but with added reluctance making his nervous stoop more pronounced. He coughed to make his presence known. Ada was alone in the shop; Cecily was in the back kitchen with Van, preparing their meal for when they closed the shop.

  Ada was startled to see him. She had been thinking about him, wondering how he felt at the date with Cecily being so dramatically cancelled, and whether he might now change his mind and invite her to Cardiff instead. She was remembering how well she fitted into his arms when they danced and suddenly seeing him was as if he had materialized out of her dream.

  She bent down to hide her blushes, pretending to rearrange some slabs of soap under the counter. He didn’t speak or repeat his cough but stood patiently waiting for her to reappear. She stood up when she was in control and asked brightly, ‘Gareth. What can we do for you?’ Both girls used the ‘we’. Everything they did was a shared responsibility and when either spoke it was as one of the co-ordinated pair. ‘We haven’t seen you for ages. Been ill, have you?’

  ‘No, no, not ill, though Mam hasn’t been strong this winter. No, no. It’s busy I’ve been. The business, you know.’

  He always referred to the barber’s shop as ‘the business’, giving it an air of importance it didn’t deserve, being a small one-chair establishment. It wasn’t even a complete shop but a rented half, owned by the man who kept the other half, which was a tobacconist called The Wedge, owing to its oddly shaped front.

  ‘We thought to see you at Dadda’s funeral,’ Ada couldn’t help saying.

  ‘No, no. I couldn’t shut the business, see. As Mam pointed out to me, let people down and they’ll go somewhere else so fast, before you know it there’s no business left. Got to be careful in times like these you have. I know you and Cecily would understand, you being seen laughing on the way to the beach only the day after your father’s funeral, God rest him.’

  ‘Who told you we went to the beach?’ Ada asked with a frown.

  ‘Mam happened to see you as she was coming out of a flower shop. Loves flowers, Mam does.’

  Cecily came in, wiping her floury hands on her apron. ‘She’d have loved the funeral then, Gareth. Plenty of flowers there.’ Gareth began to splutter a reply but Cecily went on with a laugh, ‘Thought you’d moved and not told us, didn’t we, Ada?’

  ‘No, no, couldn’t do that.’ Gulping in embarrassment, he explained that he wanted some apples for his mother. His eyes followed Ada as she went to the window display and put some apples in a brown bag. ‘I’ll call again when you aren’t too busy,’ he said, handing them the money. ‘Pity you won’t be coming to the dances for a while.’

  ‘Respect for Dadda,’ Ada said solemnly.

  ‘No, no, I was thinking you’ve got no one to mind Myfanwy.’ He swallowed nervously. ‘That too, of course.’

  ‘Why, are you offering, Gareth?’ Cecily smiled brightly.

  ‘I wouldn’t be able to dance with you then, would I?’

  ‘Well, Happy Christmas, in case we don’t see you before then.’ Cecily leaned on the counter, offering a g
limpse of the swell of her breasts. He swallowed again and hurriedly said good night.

  ‘Cecily,’ Ada scolded with a grin. ‘You’ll ruin his sleep!’

  ‘Honestly, you’d never believe he invited me out just weeks ago!’

  ‘That mother of his has put in a word no doubt. Warned him about two predatory females.’

  ‘You could be right, about us being predatory females,’ Cecily said thoughtfully. ‘We’ve had a few strange remarks since Dadda died. We’re getting a reputation for being women ready to pounce on the first unsuspecting male to come near us. Dangerous, that’s what we’ve become, Ada. Dangerous women.’

  ‘There’s lovely.’ Ada’s grey eyes glistened with held back laughter. ‘Put it on my tombstone. Ada Owen was a dangerous woman!’

  Gareth’s visits to the shop became regular but not frequent. He called once a week to buy fruit. He was still attracted to the vivacious Cecily but it was at Ada he looked when he spoke, unable to meet the blue eyes of the bolder sister who was the object of his dreams.

  Willie appointed himself the sisters’ protector. Whenever they had to go out he insisted quietly but firmly that he would take them and wait to bring them home in the trap. One evening they had been to Bertie and Beryl’s for a meal. Van and Edwin had been allowed to stay up late and it was almost twelve when they came out of the big house, the door being held by young Gaynor, who rarely seemed to be off duty.

  Willie was leaning against the lamppost outside. He wore a Welsh flannel shirt ending at the neck with a band of white cotton, the usual shiny white collar not worn on this late-night duty. Its absence was hidden by a long, knitted scarf wound several times around his neck and with its ends tucked inside the too large waistcoat and jacket.

  He held a cigarette between the tips of his finger and thumb, its glowing end within his cupped hand. Cecily wondered how many he had smoked as he had patiently stood there, always arriving early rather than allow them to wait. He leaned against the softly hissing gas lamp, one leg straight, the other bent, with one heavy boot tilted on its toe. He changed feet occasionally to ease the chill. The horse pointed its feet in a similar way, the gesture like a mock curtsey.

  When the three passengers were settled into their seats, Bertie went to where the young stable lad was holding the horse’s head. ‘I’m very grateful to you, young Willie,’ he said, puffing on his large cigar.

  ‘Grateful? What for, Mr Richards?’ Willie was surprised.

  ‘For the way you take care of the Misses Owen. I know you get extra pay but you do a lot more than most would.’ He touched the boy’s shoulder. ‘This is too late for you, though, so in future when they come here you needn’t wait. I’ll take them home in the car. All right?’ He pressed a pound note into the boy’s hand. ‘Just a little extra to show my appreciation.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Richards!’ Willie felt self-conscious as he tucked the rug around his passengers, although it was something he always did. Now, with a crisp pound note in his hand, he hoped Mr Richards didn’t think it was done to impress.

  ‘There’s something about that boy. He deserves to get on,’ Bertie said to Beryl as they watched the trap disappear into the night. He threw his cigar butt into the gutter. ‘Yes, a good boy that one.’

  Over the next weeks as days grew warmer and lighter, Cecily and Ada used their spare time visiting as many of the beach traders as possible. With them all they left a list of prices and the promise of a first-class delivery service. Ada left them a card printed by Phil Spencer, with a drawing of their shop and their name and address, in case others approached them, making it easy for them to forget the promise of reliable business from the sisters.

  Waldo Watkins came often to the shop during the months following their inheritance and helped sort out any problems that arose. He was a small, neat man in his early forties but with hair as fair as a young boy. His small hands were deft in their basic skills of preparing food, boning fish and bacon with a speed that made the tasks look easy.

  On the day he demonstrated the way of dealing with a side of bacon, Willie was invited in and he listened and watched carefully, questioning Waldo until he was sure he could deal with the job. He boned a carcase while Waldo watched and smiled proudly when the proprietor of the large grocery store on the main road complimented him on how little flesh he’d left on the bones.

  ‘Damn it all, I thought you’d have trouble with the oyster bone but it’s out as clean as I could get it, boy.’

  Patiently a shoulder was boned and Willie declared himself satisfied. ‘That’s another thing I can take off their hands,’ he said. ‘Got enough to do with selling, they have. Best I do the back-room jobs.’

  ‘Lucky they are to have you, Willie Morgan.’

  As the days lengthened, the sisters’ world widened. They weren’t as free as when their father was alive but they found time for a little fun: life had to be more than work and sleep. Bertie and Beryl met Myfanwy from school at least once a week and they were able to go dancing again. Through the dancing, Gareth became more relaxed with them and after many false starts invited Cecily to go to Cardiff for a meal. Ada hid her disappointment and promised to wait up.

  ‘No need,’ Cecily laughed. ‘I’m a big girl now!’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep, knowing the big front door wasn’t bolted. Best I wait and make sure everything is safe before we go to bed.’

  They planned to go on the bus. Gareth chose the route that wandered through several small villages rather than the direct service most people preferred. ‘Nice to have a leisurely drive,’ he explained vaguely. The bus went via the beach in one direction, further inland on its return. Cecily was curious but accepted Gareth’s plan.

  She suspected, though, that the bus into Cardiff and the meal so far away was partly so they wouldn’t be seen by anyone who knew them, saving him the embarrassment of people knowing about their date. He really was a shy man. She wondered whether his mother knew, or if he had concocted some tale about an appointment with a business friend, to save her destroying his confidence by warning him about taking out one of the Owen girls.

  Cecily did not love Gareth. She hardly knew him apart from as a dancing partner and occasional customer, but there was something appealing about him, and when they danced she wanted nothing more than to spend the hours with him. He was a different person on the dance floor. He lost his shyness and talked amusingly and with confidence. Yet, when they met outside the world of the shimmy, the Charleston, the polka and the foxtrot, he was hardly able to string a few words together.

  After weeks of being so involved with building the business, the thought of a bus ride and a meal were something to look forward to and she chose her dress with care. She decided on a slim-fitting, button-up coat reaching to mid-calf, the buttons threatening to bruise her knees as she walked, but so fashionable it was worth the risk. She chose Cuban heeled shoes, a cloche hat, and a handbag in the same dark green as the shoes. The coat was mauve and had buttons in the same green as the accessories. Ada was impressed when she saw her ready to go out.

  ‘I’d never have chosen green to go with that mauve coat but it looks very smart.’

  ‘Auntie Cecily, you are beautiful!’ Van said in awe. Then she added cheekily, ‘Except for the hat, mind. It looks like a bucket for coal!’

  Gareth was due at seven, but it was almost eight when he knocked the shop door. Ada went to let him in and the bell jangled its disapproval. Cecily had removed her hat and was sitting, her feet free of shoes, on a stool close to the fire. Gareth puffed in, his face red with embarrassment, bending forward in his anxiety at being so late.

  ‘Mam had a turn,’ he blurted out. ‘Sorry I am. But we still have time, if you haven’t changed your mind.’

  ‘If you hadn’t turned up, Gareth, I would never, ever have considered accepting an invitation again.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  Ada walked to the door, a wide smile disguising her dismay at seeing her sister and Gareth walking side by si
de up the hill to the bus stop.

  ‘Come on, Van,’ she said to the little girl who had been allowed to stay up to see Cecily in her new clothes. ‘We’ll have a game of Snap before I tuck you in.’

  When Van was in bed, Ada picked up some knitting and turned on the wireless for entertainment from Savoy Hill. She hoped to hear her favourite, John Henry, with his wife Blossom, a popular comedy act. In his lugubrious voice he told stories abut married life. And the audience laughed as soon as he began in a low voice, with ‘Hello everybody’.

  Married life was a regular source of fun but tonight Ada didn’t smile quite as much. Married life was something she was unlikely to experience. Dorothy’s spiteful words remarking on the improbability of anyone wanting to marry her had rankled ever since, and had left her with a sense of emptiness and dismay.

  The restaurant where Gareth finally took Cecily was far from grand. In fact it was little more than a cafe offering only simple fare, which was a disappointment to her. Overdressed and underfed was the theme for this long-awaited date, she thought with rising irritation. Gareth seemed unperturbed by the limited choice and settled for mashed potatoes, cabbage and sausages over which he enthusiastically poured the glutinous gravy the waitress supplied.

  ‘Nice, this,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Sort of home cooking.’

  Cecily picked at a greasy omelette and was glad when Gareth had finished his disgusting meal. The waitress hovered near and would have come to the table to collect the money but Gareth elected to go to the kitchen door where he counted coins into her hand with his back to Cecily. Her irritation rose dangerously again.

  He surprised her then by admitting that the food was not what he’d hoped for. ‘I was planning something far better,’ he said as they left the warm, moist air of the cafe and were walking back to the bus stop. ‘It was so late, see. I’d booked at a hotel but being so late I just went for the first place I saw.’