Ivor stared at Geoff, wanting to argue, searching his mind for a reason for not telling Marie. Geoff glared back defiantly. There was a lot more he could say but he didn’t want to completely alienate the man and put himself in a position where he could no longer be available to help Marie. He looked at Ivor but it was Marie he was seeing.
He stared through the dirt-rimmed window and saw the man was making a futile effort to gather the piles of old newspapers into some order. Resignation showed clearly in the bent shoulders and the droop of the man’s head, as the untidy pile slithered slowly across the wooden floor, a waterfall of white and yellow.
‘Can’t we help him?’ Geoff said at last, glancing at Ivor.
‘I’ve cleared the room twice and the kitchen at least four times. But he goes out on the road, searching the ashbins, and within a day or so it’s all back again. I’ve stayed through the night to stop him going out but as soon as I leave out he goes and drags it all back in again.’
‘He’s sick, is he?’
‘It’s since my mother died. Although she wasn’t much better,’ Ivor added bitterly. ‘Although there was no food left about, not when Mam was alive. Just papers and empty bottles and anything people put out for the ashman that she thought was worth saving, perhaps selling. Most of it didn’t find a buyer and ended up in there.’
‘What are you going to do? Something has to be done, he won’t get better on his own. Can I do something?’ There was no reply and he asked, ‘Shall I go with you to the authorities?’
Ivor turned angrily then, and demanded, ‘What are you doing? Sneaking around, following me.’
‘Marie was worried. You should have told her.’
‘What, that I was brought up in a home like this? That he’s my father? I told her a load of lies. Everything I told her about my life before we met was an invention. She mustn’t find out the truth.’
Geoff touched the man’s shoulder and urged him to move. ‘Come on, we can at least make the room safe by taking the papers away. We can get the fire going properly – there’s plenty of wood around – then get him some food, find some clean clothes for him.’ Like a child, Ivor allowed himself to be led back into the noisome place.
‘Wait,’ Geoff said as they began to gather up some of the mess. ‘Whether you seek help or not, I think we need a photograph of this. Come with me to get my camera.’ Geoff was afraid to leave him there in case he locked the door and refused to let him in, or tidied up the worst of the filthy room. Ivor was in such a depressed state he didn’t think to argue.
They were gone about an hour. Geoff driving them back in Ivor’s van. The old man was exactly as they had left him, trying in vain to pick up the papers then watching as they slid back down again. Geoff took half a dozen snaps then handed the camera to Ivor. ‘Is there anything you want to record?’ Ivor shook his head. He seemed as unaware of what was going on as his father. Geoff hung the camera around his neck, afraid to put it down in all the filth surrounding him, and began the work of clearing up. He gathered some empty boxes, plenty of those thrown haphazardly around, and began filling them with the newspapers and books that were in untidy heaps around the floor. Ivor put a scarf around his hand and collected the half-empty food tins, and the wrappings from chips, and, with a shovel, scraped up potato peelings and other unrecognizable vegetation that had stuck to the slate floor. The man sat in the solitary armchair and watched, rocking rhythmically to a tune only he could hear.
‘You have to get some help for him, Ivor,’ Geoff said, when they had succeeded in creating some order, and had a tire of logs burning cheerfully in the grate. ‘You can’t manage this on your own.’
‘Don’t you understand? I can’t allow people to know he’s my father, that my background has been an invention.’
‘I understand that you should have told Marie. She’s your wife and you’ll have to tell her sometime.’
Ivor took from his coat pocket a package of sandwiches, which he handed to his father. The old man stared at them as though he didn’t recognize what they were. ‘Eat them, damn you,’ Ivor shouted, and with a jerk of alarm the man began to eat. Sometimes he spat a piece of crust into his hand and was about to drop it on to the floor, but each time he glanced at Ivor and put it back in his mouth.
Leaning against the window sill, from which they had removed several dozen milk bottles, their contents mildewed, Ivor looked at Geoff as though trying to come to a decision.
‘I won’t tell her, if that’s what you’re wondering. This has to come from you,’ Geoff said.
His mind made up, Ivor began to explain, his voice a low monotone. ‘I ran away from my parents when I was twelve. I’d tried to get away several times before, but people knew me, they could smell me a mile off! I was always taken back home. I always knew I didn’t belong with them. I wanted cleanliness. I wanted smart clothes and a decent place to live.
‘I lied about my age and got a job in a garage, but I didn’t like the dirt. I wanted clean hands. I wanted to work in a place where I could dress in smart clothes, not a pair of greasy, ill-fitting overalls that had been worn by God knows how many people before me.’
‘Where did you live?’ Geoff couldn’t imagine how such a young boy could cope all alone.
‘Rough for a while, then I shared a room with two others. I hated it. They were lazy and put up with any mess if the alternative meant doing some cleaning, but I put up with it knowing that I was managing to save a little and I wouldn’t be there for ever. Then I found a position in a hotel and for the first time I found a place where my skills were valued. I was quickly promoted and was soon given the post of manager, and I found a woman who understood what I was trying to do, to work as housekeeper and together we made the place shine. It became the cleanest, most smoothly run hotel you’ve ever seen. I made sure the staff polished and scrubbed, cleaned windows and made the brass fittings glow. I learned everything the business could teach me and left there a changed man.
‘I married Marie after meeting her family and seeing how mannerly and particular they were. She gave me all I’d ever dreamed of, a clean, well-run home, and children to nurture as they should be. Time passed and although I had moments of conscience when I thought I should find out how my parents were, I never did. I tried to pretend the first twelve years of my life hadn’t existed. They’d happened to someone else.’
Almost afraid to interrupt, Geoff asked quietly. ‘So how did you meet up with you parents again?’
‘That was the worst imaginable luck. I met someone from my school days.’
‘Jenkin Jenkins?’ Geoff said.
‘He bullied me when we were at school, made those years a misery, and now he’s turned up to ruin my life again. Do you believe that some people are bringers of bad luck? I do, and Jinks Jenkins is one of those for me. From a chance encounter with that cursed man, I learned that my mother was dead and my father was living only a few miles from me. I found him living like this.’
‘So it was conscience that brought you here?’
‘Morbid curiosity to begin with. A short walk intended only to allow me a peep through a window, but that moment destroyed everything I’ve achieved.’
‘It needn’t. I think Marie will be relieved. She believes you are seeing another woman.’
‘She believes I’m a gambler who puts his needs before hers and the children’s. She’s right on both counts. I’ve gambled in the stupid belief that it would give me the money to see my father right and allow me to leave him again without having to tell Marie. Because of the guilt that old man revived, I’ve made us homeless. And in my desperation for the boys to love me, I’ve tried too hard to be their friend. We covered up their foolishness. In an attempt to earn and keep their love we made excuses for them when what they did was inexcusable.
‘I was always on their side whatever they did, and even admired their worst behaviour, pretending it was normal for boys to behave in that foolhardy way. I’ve ruined everything by trying to be as unlike my parents as it’s possible to be. I don’t deserve Marie. She’d be better off without me.’ He turned to look at Geoff and said, almost cheerfully, ‘She said that once, you know, that they’d manage better without me.’
‘Tell her,’ Geoff urged. ‘If you think there’s nothing to lose, tell her, take the one chance of surviving all this.’
‘I can’t.’
Marie was in her parents’ house. The twins and Violet were with her and she was doing what her sister asked.
‘Mam, why don’t you ask Jennie to come home? I think she’d come if you explained how difficult it is for you with your arm weak and Dad not as fit as he was.’
‘I can’t ask her to give up the flat. She and Lucy are enjoying their freedom.’
‘You don’t stop her doing anything she wants to do. Ask her, tell her you really need her. I think she’ll come.’
‘You’re finding it a bit much are you? Coming here at lunchtimes as well as in the evenings?’
The criticism was there as always. It didn’t matter that she had a family to care for and worked at two jobs most of the time. Jennie was always the important one. Holding back a sigh, Marie said calmly, ‘Mam, I’m not asking this to help me, I think you need her here.’
‘But better for you, too, Marie.’
‘All right, Mam, better for me too. Although, apart from the relief of knowing you and Dad have someone here at night, I don’t quite see how. She’s out practically every evening and at work all day, I’ll still have to come, won’t I? Or will you manage without me?’
‘I’ll leave it to your conscience, Marie,’ her mother said.
Marie was watching the clock. Perhaps Ivor was home and perhaps Geoff had learned something about where he went when he returned so late. She felt a shiver of fear as she tried to imagine how she’d cope if her suspicions were true and Ivor had been meeting another woman.
‘You’d better go,’ her mother said. ‘You’ve been watching the clock since you arrived.’
‘I have a husband due home, wanting to be fed,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘I’ll just do these dishes before I go.’
Without being able to explain why, she dawdled on the way home. Darkness was throwing shadows into corners, and, apart from an occasional bicycle passing, the roads were empty. The twins played hide and seek as they strolled along, Violet hiding in alleyways and behind trees and the boys pretending not to find her so she could jump out and frighten them. They always allowed her to find them and, although she knew they were cheating, she loved it. Marie forced herself to laugh at their antics and prided herself on her acting skills as she joined in and hid in her turn, shrieking with laughter as she was found.
As they approached Hill Crescent she saw that their house was in darkness. Ivor was not yet home, and there was no sign of Geoff’s car. It was more than an hour after Ivor’s usual time to return from work and she knew she was facing another evening of wondering.
The boys dealt with the fire as she began to prepare a meal. No meat today, just bubble and squeak, potatoes and a few vegetables boiled, mashed then fried until they were crispy. She had three eggs, so the children and she would have half each and Ivor – if he came home – would have a whole one.
They had just finished eating when she heard the kitchen door opening. Ivor appeared, neatly dressed, his hair combed and his skin glowing. She felt a yearning of love for him, startling in its intensity. His handsome face made her forget all their problems as she looked at him, and saw the real Ivor returned, come home to solve all their problems. She wanted to run to him, feel his arms around her, hear him saying he loved her and only her.
‘Hello, Marie,’ he said, and then as Geoff appeared behind him and echoed the words she felt her spirits drop and a painful disappointment overwhelm her. ‘What’s happened?’ she asked in dread.
‘Boys,’ Ivor said, ‘take Violet in the living room and play a game of Ludo, will you? Your Mam and I have something private to discuss.’
Marie sank into a chair as Ivor began. Behind the door, the boys listened.
‘I’ve been lying to you, from the moment we first met.’ Ivor began. ‘I wasn’t brought up in a children’s home and I’m not an orphan.’
‘I don’t understand—’
‘Let him tell it his way,’ Geoff said, touching her arm, gripping it to show her she had his support.
‘I ran away from a disgusting home and made my own way, and I’d almost convinced myself the life I’d invented was the true one.’
With a few encouraging words from Geoff he told her everything.
‘So the gambling was to try and help your father? Why didn’t you tell me?’ Marie couldn’t take in all he was telling her, the strongest reaction was his being unable to confide in her.
‘There’s nothing to be done about this house, but I wondered whether we could move in with my father,’ he said.
Geoff gasped. ‘You’re crazy to imagine living there!’
‘I have to get help, I know that. I should have done something sooner. But I kept hoping I’d be able to get him straight then walk away. That isn’t going to happen.’
‘I want to see him,’ Marie said.
‘I don’t want you to,’ he said quickly. ‘That’s why I couldn’t tell you any of this. Why I’ve been trying to sort it without you knowing.’
Breaking off to get the children to bed, they then continued to talk until the early hours of the morning. Marie was frustrated by her lack of knowledge. Until she had met Ivor’s father and saw for herself how he was living, she couldn’t marshal any plan, form any ideas of how to proceed.
‘Tomorrow I’ll phone the shop and tell them I’m sick. I’m going to visit your father and if you won’t come with me I’ll go alone,’ was Marie’s final word as Geoff stood to leave.
‘Geoff, wait for me,’ Ivor called and, grabbing his overcoat and hastily discarding slippers in favour of slip-on shoes, he hurried after him. If he heard Marie pleading for him not to go, he ignored her.
An hour later he still hadn’t returned and Marie sat at the kitchen table, wide awake, convinced that the fault lay with her. She must be unapproachable, too difficult for Ivor to talk to when he met trouble. Had her sister been right when she said a man didn’t want a capable woman, but someone who made him feel needed? Would she have been better to leave it to him and hope that he would miraculously find a solution? Even with her new knowledge she found that hard to believe.
Geoff and Ivor returned to the house, and while the old man slept they carried away as much as the van would hold and took it to the council tip. They threw the rubbish out and went back for more. As dawn broke they were returning from their fifth load, and a solitary figure was already walking across the chaotic wasteland to see what they had left, perhaps hoping for some wood to mend a fence and maybe a half-full tin of paint to decorate it.
At the lonely house, Ivor’s father still slept. Geoff left Ivor there washing the slate floor with water and a brush he kept in the van and went to find some food. They wanted the place to look as clean as possible before Marie saw it. The saddest thing was that once the rubbish had gone and the floor washed with water, bucket after bucket swishing away the dirt and smells, there was nothing there apart from the mattress on which the old man was sleeping, and one greasy, food-stained armchair.
‘At least there’s plenty of room for your furniture,’ Geoff said. It was seven o’clock when he came back holding a paper carrier filled with food.
The kitchen was empty apart from an oven range that was red with rust and a large sink. Making do with the carrier bag as a tray, they set out the vacuum flask of hot tea and bread rolls, still warm, from the bakers. Geoff had brought his cheese ration and a scraping of margarine and when the old man woke they set it before him.
Looking at Geoff, he rolled his eyes and shook his head, pushing away the food. ‘Eat it!’ Ivor snapped, and, giving that jerk of fear, the man began to eat.
Now it was light enough to see clearly, Geoff went upstairs to bring down the first of the rubbish from the bedroom, while Ivor stood over his father in a threatening pose as the food disappeared.
The wide blue eyes, so like his own, watched him, and then he seemed to notice the empty room for the first time and the eyes showed dismay, tears filling them. ‘Where’s it gone, boy? Now I’ll have to start all over again. I can’t stand it empty, see. I can’t stand the loneliness of an empty room.’
‘Where did the furniture go?’ Ivor asked.
‘Sold it.’
‘You shouldn’t have done that.’
‘Had to, didn’t I? How else was I to pay for medicine for your Mam, eh? Tell me that.’
At seven thirty Ivor left his father, after threatening him with ‘trouble’, unspecified, if he so much as moved, and went in the van with Geoff to fetch Marie.
Geoff dropped them off then left them, promising to come at lunchtime with some chips and another flask. They needed time together to deal with this and he needed to open the shop.
Marie, having heard such a disjointed explanation of Ivor’s behaviour, expected to be afraid when she entered the house, but she wasn’t.
It had a smell reminiscent of the stink Ivor had brought home with him when things had gone wrong, but there was also a smell of dampness, clean water and fresh air. All the doors and windows were open and the empty kitchen and living room contained nothing sinister.
There was no sign of his father, and Ivor told Marie to wait there while he ran upstairs to find him. Most of the rubbish had now been moved from the bedrooms, and he found his father sitting on his mattress in the back room.
He knew from his limited experience that the only way to persuade his father to do what he asked was to shout.
‘Downstairs. Now,’ he said, and he pulled at both of his hands, heaved him up off the mattress and guided him down the stairs, alarmed at how little weight there was in that frail body.
‘Marie,’ he called, softly. ‘Come and meet your father-in-law.’
Marie stood frozen with shock at the sight of the old man. Emaciated and shivering with fear as he was, she couldn’t face touching him, even though her heart went out to him.
‘How do you do’ seemed a ridiculous thing to say and ‘pleased to meet you’ was even worse. Compassion for the frightened old man went hand in hand with curiosity, and the knowledge that this dirty creature had all but ruined their lives. She acknowledged the introduction with a slight nod, and went to stand closer to Ivor.
‘I’ll go back and get some cleaning things, shall I?’ she said finally, when the silence became oppressive.
‘No, that’s my job,’ Ivor said.
She touched his arm and said softly, ‘The responsibility is for us both.’
‘You should get to work. They’ll be wondering.’
‘Not today. Today is for you and your father.’
‘Where’s our Marie?’ Jennie called as she ran into her parents’ house. ‘She’s not at the shop and old Harries said she’s ill. I went to the house but she isn’t there. What on earth has happened, our Mam?’
‘I don’t know.’ Belle complained. ‘I managed to make a sandwich for our lunch, but I don’t know what to do about dinner if she doesn’t come this evening.’ She touched her injured arm. ‘I can’t even peel a potato, this is still so painful, and your father’s worse than useless. Where is she? She knows I need help.’
‘Could something have happened to her?’ Jennie asked. ‘She’s always here at lunchtime.’
‘What are you doing home?’ her mother asked. ‘You usually eat at the flat, don’t you?’
‘We’ve run out of everything. There’s no time to shop, working all day like we do, and the shops closed at the same times as ours.’
‘Make yourself a piece of toast. I’ve saved a bit of butter in case you called, and there’s some jam after that if you’re still hungry.’ With only two ounces of butter to last a person for a week, it was unheard of to waste it by smothering it with jam. Belle looked at her daughter and wondered whether Marie had been right and she would be willing to come home. The house was so quiet without her. She made a pot of tea and carried the china and the teapot in separately, her arm still causing a little discomfort. As she poured, she watched as Jennie finished the second slice of buttered toast and began to spread jam on a third.
‘That was good,’ Jennie mumbled as she finished the crust.
‘I don’t think you’re getting enough to eat, dear.’
‘Of course I am, we manage all right. Neither of us is as good a cook as you are, mind. We fill up on bread and scrape. Stale bread toasted mostly. It’s the rationing, it’s so miserable, a couple of ounces of this, that and the other, not enough of anything to make a meal. I don’t know how you’ve managed all these years. I really don’t.’
‘Why don’t you come home?’
‘I couldn’t let Lucy down, Mam.’
‘Isn’t she getting married soon?’
‘Well, yes. But I’ll cope until I can find someone else to share with.’
‘Of course you will, dear, but you don’t have to. And we miss you, Dad and I. We’d love it if you came home. Think about it, will you?’
Hiding her relief, Jennie agreed that she would.
Hurrying from the house, Jennie was heading back to the hairdresser’s shop but she met Bill at the corner and he asked why she was rushing.
‘It’s almost a quarter past two, we have an appointment for a perm. We have to get those started early or we don’t leave on time.’
‘Going somewhere special?’
‘I might be.’ She couldn’t resist mentioning his father. ‘Mr James has taken an interest in dancing and we sometimes go together. I’ll let him know that there’s a dance on at the church hall and he might come.’
‘The church hall? That’s a bit lowly for the old man.’
‘Don’t call him that.’
‘Isn’t that how you think of him?’
‘No, it isn’t. He’s kind and very interesting and I enjoy his company very much.’
‘You wouldn’t prefer someone your own age?’ He was walking beside her and he caught hold of her arm and pulled her round to face him. ‘Like me for instance?’
‘I doubt whether you can give me a better time.’
‘Try me. Forget the twopenny hop in the church hall and come out with me.’
‘Where?’
‘I don’t know. Meet me at seven and we’ll decide. Better still, I’ll meet you at your place. You’ve got a flat haven’t you? Sophisticated woman, with a place of her own.’
She didn’t say no. But she didn’t say yes either, as she explained to Lucy when they had a chance to talk. ‘I can choose to be there when he calls or you and I can be “not at home”. What d’you think I should do?’
‘He’s rather nice looking, but I don’t think he’ll be as gentlemanly as his father.’
‘You think he’ll try it on? Rubbish. I can look after myself.’
‘Don’t ask him into the flat, then. He might take that as an invitation. The doorstep is as far as he should go.’
Jennie laughed at her. ‘Really, Lucy, sophisticated women of the world we are, with a flat of our own. We can’t act like scared kids.’
‘Kids is what we are in spite of being twenty-eight. A few weeks of independence and we’re running back to Mam.’ Lucy smiled to take the edge of disappointment from her words.
After talking to her father-in-law for a few hours, Marie said she thought he wasn’t suffering from a serious mental illness, he was just grieving. ‘Grief shows itself in many ways,’ she told Ivor, ‘and with care, the right kind of help, he’ll recover, I’m sure of it.’
She wasn’t sure. In fact, she had no experience of such distraught behaviour, but this wasn’t the time to admit that. Both Ivor and his father needed reassurance, strength, the belief that all would be well.
Ivor nodded agreement but knew her opinion was far from the truth. His childhood had taught him this wasn’t evidence of grief. The obsession with filling the house with other people’s rubbish was only a part of it. Barricading himself in was another of his father’s delightful habits. The reason they had lost their home on several occasions, though, was far more worrying. At least the other – far more devastating – problems had been with his mother, and she was dead. He felt no shame at his lack of grief. With his father it was possible for there to be a happy outcome, with his mother there would have been no chance at all.
Within two days the old man, who insisted Geoff and Marie call him Rhodri, was in hospital, and after a few examinations the hospital decided to keep him there for a few weeks, to feed him up and allow him to get to know his son and daughter-in-law. They had been told an edited version of the truth. Ivor had made the excuse of the war separating them. His story was easily believed as the bombing and moving from one place to another had caused many hundreds of families to lose touch with one another.
Marie and Ivor went every day to see his father and the doctors told them that Rhodri was confused, his mind sometimes going back to a situation about which he refused to talk. ‘Can you think of any traumatic event that might account for it? Did he serve in the first war?’ Ivor shook his head. How could he admit that since he’d been old enough to think his only interest in his father was how soon he could get away from him? ‘Until we can persuade him to talk, we must presume his mental state, his confusion, has been exacerbated by malnutrition, grief, loneliness and an understandable inability to cope. He’s a sad old man and he needs loving care.’
Marie promised he would have all the care and love he needed. Glancing at Ivor expecting agreement she saw disappointment. Realizing how the embarrassment at his lies must have affected him, she squeezed his hand and whispered, ‘We’ll cope.’ There was no returning pressure and when she let go of his hand it fell into his lap like a dead thing.
When the doctor suggested that a home might be the answer Marie and Ivor spoke at the same time, but Marie shook her head in protest, Ivor nodded agreement. The doctor noted the difference of opinion but Marie said, ‘I could never allow my parents to be cared for by strangers and I feel the same about Ivor’s father.’ Aware of the silence from Ivor, who had hoped this would be the end of a miserable time, she couldn’t condone him abandoning the poor sick old man.
The house that had been so filthy surprisingly needed very little to make it liveable. It had been Marie’s idea, and Ivor and a willing Geoff painted the walls and scrubbed and varnished the floorboards upstairs, papered the walls and scoured the slate floors downstairs. They refused to allow Marie to help, insisting that her job was packing in preparation for the move. From time to time she went to check on their progress, taking measurements to ensure that the curtains they had would fit.
When Geoff cleaned the small back bedroom, he noticed signs of burning on the floorboards. He said nothing; it was possible the confused old man had brought something burning up there in the hope of keeping warm. When the floor was painted, the stain was hardly visible and there was only a shallow depression in the floorboards to show where it had been.
A second-hand shop provided a few rugs and some thick curtains for the living room, their only expenditure apart from fuel. The coal man delivered their allotment of coal into the coal house outside and they bought two loads of logs from a farmer. Unhappily, but with no alternative, Marie paid for them with the money she had earned decorating the flats to pay off their arrears and handed to Geoff for safe keeping. Their debts would have to wait.
She handed the papers relating to the arrears to Ivor.
‘I will pay this,’ he promised.
‘We will,’ she emphasized.
He just looked at her with huge, sad blue eyes and said. ‘Thank you.’
His thanks gave her an uneasy feeling. Spoken like a stranger. All their conversations were like that now, formal, polite, with no indication of the love they had shared.
On the day of their move, Roger and Royston, with a willing and very excited Violet as their assistant, shovelled the coal left at the old house and wheelbarrowed it to the new. They got dirtier and dirtier and even Ivor made no comment. They would be cleaned up at bed time and there was no way to get this day over without getting in a mess.
Neighbours stood in doorways and watched as load after load of their possessions was taken to the new address, Ivor and Marie turning away in embarrassment when something fell from the hastily packed vehicles. At the new address there were other people doing the same outside the few cottages dotted along the lane, watching with undisguised curiosity.
Marie hated that more than anything else, the disapproval and the gossip, people whom she had thought of as friends staring at the items that made up her home as they were dragged out of the house to which they no longer had any right. As Violet rode on top of the last load on the fruit and veg seller’s pony and cart, singing happily, Marie, unpacking as the goods arrived, met her first problem.
There was no bathroom – which she had expected – and there was cold water from the solitary tap in the kitchen, but apart from the fire there was no facility for heating it. So far they had used cold, with a kettle boiled on the fire being sufficient for their needs. How was she going to keep them all clean?
Geoff solved the problem by finding a neglected but usable boiler in an outhouse that had not been cleared of the seemingly endless rubbish collected by Rhodri Masters. Marie had brought the long galvanized bath, so, with the boys organized into gathering wood for the fire underneath the boiler, the hot water supply was another difficulty sorted. Geoff also managed to find them a gas cooker, which he had fitted into the large kitchen.
Their belongings looked pathetic, boxed and packed or thrown into untidy piles. The removal had shown up the tattiness of many of their possessions. The six years of war and the years of austerity that followed had meant never replacing things that had worn out. Carpets with a hole worn in the middle had been given extra life by an oval of linoleum placed over the weak spot. Curtains had pieces added to the bottom to disguise the frayed ends. Chair and settee cushions had been covered with oddments of material to hide their worn state. Taking it out and putting it on to the removal van and the farmer’s cart had revealed everything in all its shabbiness. Only the few decent items of furniture she had bought when she had married Kenneth stood out. And these she had carefully wrapped with blankets to protect them, so the best pieces weren’t on view.
Jennie seemed unaware of her sister’s situation, or at least the thought of offering help had not occurred to her. When seven o’clock Saturday evening came, she was in the flat waiting for Bill to call. Since that first date, when he had taken her to a dance in a rather grand hotel in a nearby town, they had met twice more, each time going far away from Cwm Derw. Nothing was said to Mr James, and if he was aware of his son’s friendship with Jennie he chose to ignore it. With Bill’s flattering attentions and his generosity regarding small gifts and endless treats, Jennie began to feel confident in the relationship developing into something more exciting.
‘Why is it a secret?’ Lucy wanted to know. ‘If he really likes you then why does he hide you away?’
‘It’s not like that. He comes to the flat to pick me up and once I’m living back home it’ll be different. He’ll hardly expect me to wait for him out on a street corner, will he? He’ll have to come in then, won’t he? Meet Mam and Dad, and it will all be out in the open.’
Lucy had her doubts but Jennie put them down to jealousy. Lucy’s boyfriend was due to leave the RAF soon and so far he hadn’t mentioned a thing about their getting married. ‘I might be walking up the aisle before you,’ she said, unaware of Lucy’s hurt reaction. ‘Or we could have a double wedding. Wouldn’t that be fun?’
‘Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched!’
This Saturday evening she had dressed with care. Perhaps Lucy was right and she ought to make their courtship public. His kisses were becoming more demanding, and although she had never given in to a man she knew that it wouldn’t be easy to resist him for much longer, especially if he was offering a ring. Perhaps a few gentle hints might do the trick. Lucy was right, it wasn’t usual to be wary about meeting friends.
To her surprise, instead of calling with his father’s car, tooting the horn and waiting for her to run out, he knocked the door and at once caught hold of her and kissed her, pushing her back into the living room. Flattered at first, Jennie began to be a little nervous. Lucy was out visiting her future parents-in-law and wouldn’t be back for hours. Bill was strong and she knew that if he tried to force himself on her she stood no chance.
She wriggled out of his embrace and headed for the door but he grabbed her and began kissing her again. This time the kisses were not pleasant, they didn’t do delicious things to her body, they created panic. Afraid now, she pushed him away and shouted loudly for him to leave. At least Mrs Roberts upstairs might come down and complain, giving her the chance to get away.
He was persistent and she felt herself weakening, she couldn’t fight him off much longer. She felt increasingly vulnerable, so when an opportunity offered she bit him, her teeth pressing into his chin until he shouted with pain and pushed her away. She ran to the door and fled into the night.
Tearfully she ran to the bus stop. She had to get home to Mam and Dad. She wouldn’t be able to tell them what had happened, but explaining that she wasn’t well would be enough to have them fussing over her.
Before the bus came, she heard Bill shouting after her.
‘There are names for women like you. Flirting, teasing, giving the come-on then backing away like an innocent. I don’t know why I wasted my time on you.’
What had she done that he could treat her like this? A bit of flirting, that’s all, a bit of fun. It crossed her mind that he might be dangerous. One fiancée had vanished without a word and two others had ended up dead. She began to imagine him pushing her in front of the bus when it came, and she began to scream. When the bus moved into view and he moved away from her she cried out in relief. He disappeared into the shadows and she climbed on to the platform like a woman saved from drowning.
Over the weeks since the discovery of his father living in such poverty, Marie was increasingly aware of another change in Ivor. The man she had married, the confident, loving and caring family man, had disappeared a few months before. He had changed into an inconsiderate stranger. Now he had changed again.
He spoke to the children lovingly, but to her he addressed hardly a word. He answered politely when a reply was necessary but added nothing to reveal his thoughts or opinions. He went to work and came home, did what was needed without complaint, but seemed lost in his own thoughts. He seemed unwilling to participate in family life or the rebuilding of their home. Nothing she said could persuade him back.
Once they were in and they had all settled into the routine of coming and going from their new address, and life seemed to show hope of a return to normal, Geoff no longer came. He was aware of the difficulties Ivor faced now his secret life had been discovered and understood they needed time together to adjust.
News of the discovery of the old man living in the filthy house got out, as the deepest secrets always will. It spread from previous neighbours only too willing to talk about their shameful exodus from their home and the re-emergence of the forgotten old man.
Gossip about Marie and Ivor hummed in every tea shop in the town, the children at Violet’s school jeered at her for having a potty grandfather, as children will, and the twins faced both humorous and unkind remarks as they served customers in the chip shop and the wholesale fruit and vegetable store. The pain of it ate at Ivor and he seemed to shrink from the shame.
Meanwhile, helped by a caring nursing staff, visited regularly by his son and daughter-in-law, Rhodri Masters made spasmodic progress. Often he seemed unaware of where he was and who the people visiting him were, but other days he was lucid and pleased to see them. Marie hoped that once he had fully recovered then Ivor too would be able to hold up his head and, instead of being tortured by guilt, would accept praise for rescuing the old man whom everyone else had forgotten.
The weather became a serious problem as Christmas approached. Snow settled in great drifts and ice caused accidents and held up deliveries. Fuel was scarce and in many places factories closed for the lack of it.
The snow showed no signs of stopping. Every morning people were woken by the sound of scraping shovels as workmen and householders struggled to clear the overnight falls. Marie found it impossible to get home at lunchtime, so they took sandwiches and hoped for a quick thaw.
The court case was held in January and the twins were given a fine and time to pay. The light sentence was down to two reasons. Firstly a plea by the record shop owner from whom they had stolen, who insisted that with their family trouble, they had been temporarily distraught but had learned their lesson and were unlikely to re-offend. Everyone in the town had heard various versions of the neglect of the old man and his subsequent rescue, and the murmurs of both approval and derision echoed around the court. The second point in their favour that day was the contentment of the magistrate, whose wife had recently returned from a long visit to her mother and who was therefore in a mood to be lenient.
As they left the court, with the forms signed and promises made, Marie was relieved. She turned to Ivor to tell him that this was their fresh start, a new and happy beginning, but he wasn’t there. He was hurrying towards the railway station heading for Swansea in South Wales, where they had once spent a happy holiday.
The realization that he had left them there came slowly to Marie. Seeing the children on to a bus to take them home, she waited until the small crowd around the court had dispersed and, when there was no sign of him, walked around the area, rushing as she came to each corner, convinced she would see him there. After an hour she went home.
All evening she waited, opening the door from time to time and standing in the cold darkness, listening, hoping for the sound of his quick footsteps. Frost glistened on the trees cementing the remnants of the most recent snow fall to their branches. Violet slept, grasping a book she had hoped Ivor would read to her; the twins went to bed, disappointed not to be able to talk to him about the events of the day. Still Marie waited, determined to be there when he came in, to offer food and a loving welcome. With all their worries behind them, surely it was time for each other they needed now?
It wasn’t until she went upstairs to turn down the bedcovers that she found a note, telling her he was going away for a while, to think things out. He assured her that he loved her and the children, but at the moment couldn’t face what he had put them through.
‘Ivor,’ she said aloud, ‘why can’t you talk to me?’
She told her parents what had happened, and they offered sympathy tempered with the usual hint of criticism. ‘Are you sure some of the fault isn’t with you, Marie? Ivor’s always seemed such a decent man and he did what he could for his father when he found him. A less honourable man would have walked away.’
Jennie was upset and wouldn’t explain why. Safely ensconced in her parents’ care she seemed unwilling to go out apart from to work and even then she called for Lucy to walk with her. She went into the hairdresser’s shop with her friend, afraid of coming face to face with Bill when she was alone.
‘Whatever her problem was, it can’t be as desperate as mine,’ Marie said to her father one day.
‘I know that, Marie, and so does your mother, but Jennie is such a butterfly. She can’t cope like you.’
Not for the first time. Marie wished she had been the helpless kind, it got you out of doing a great many things you didn’t want to do.
Jennie went to Mr James a few days after her last date with Bill. Having refused his most recent invitations she had to make up an excuse. She needed to know he was still a friend. ‘It’s Mam, Mr James,’ she began. ‘Since she broke her arm she’s afraid for me to go out at night. It’s why I’ve decided to leave the flat,’ she lied. ‘I know Dad’s there, but he can’t look after her like I can. And our Marie’s got a lot on her plate. That’s why I refused your kind invitations. I didn’t want you to think I didn’t enjoy our little outings because I did, very much.’ She gave him her practised ‘shy’ look. ‘You’re very good company, Mr James, really you are.’
‘All right.’ Mr James said, ‘we’ll go out on Wednesday afternoon. Alter any appointments that will make you late and we’ll go for a drive and have dinner somewhere.’
She looked prettily hesitant. ‘But Mam—’
‘We’ll be back before evening so your mother won’t be worried,’ he promised, patting her hand.
The afternoon was a success. He drove her to Swansea and to the small village of Mumbles where they walked along the cliff path and visited a castle that she learned was called Oystermouth. They ate in Swansea and she told Ernie about the mysterious events in the life of her sister.
‘Any man fortunate enough to marry you would never want to leave,’ he said, and there was a seriousness about the way the words were spoken that made her wonder whether a life with Bill’s father might not be a good way of paying Bill back for humiliating her. Besides insisting that she call him Ernest, he kissed her gently when they parted. She managed to look coy and even felt a faint blush rise in her cheeks. She hoped Bill would be upset when his father told him where they had been. He had hurt her badly but it wouldn’t happen again and she might have the last laugh.
One morning Marie received some money with a brief note from Ivor promising to send more when he could. She examined the envelope, with a South Wales postmark across the stamp. What was be playing at? Why didn’t he just come home?
She discussed it with Geoff, wondering where he was and who he was with, and Marie asked herself time and again why he didn’t come home. She blamed herself for his inability to talk to her, she believed she had failed him and it was eating her up with guilt.
Through the wintry weeks that followed, the one-sided contact continued, other gifts of money arrived without a regular pattern, without an address and no clue apart from the South Wales postmark. Marie put the money into a bank account and determined that one day she would go to Swansea and find him, bring him back to where he belonged.
The harsh weather dragged on and people were unrecognizable even to their best friends as they wrapped themselves up in extra clothing, wore wellingtons or put old socks over their shoes to stop them from slipping. Marie still couldn’t get home to get lunch for the twins and Violet and instead they met in the basement of the dress shop – a concession by Mr Harries that he sternly reminded them wouldn’t continue once the weather eased, and ate sandwiches and drank metallic-tasting tea from a flask.
The children didn’t mind the snow. Eating a sort of picnic in the basement of the dress shop was a novelty, something to boast about to their friends, and the walk home, all together, made a pleasant ending to the day.
Rhodri’s health continued to improve and he was allowed home to the now neat and comfortable house for several days each week. With plenty of kindling in the woods close by he had a fire roaring a welcome for them each evening and the house was cosy and warm. He enjoyed the fun provided by the snow, cheering as other children began to include the twins in their games.
He mimed throwing from inside the house as one or other of the boys pelted snowballs, laughing when they reached their target, booing soundlessly from behind the window pane when they did not.
During these raw days when it was agony to be out in the cold for long, the house was a welcoming refuge.
They moved the couch and chairs close to the fire and ate their meal from trays, the rest of the house being so cold. Going to bed was a mad dash from the embers of the fire up the icy staircase and a jump into bed to hug a hot water bottle, feet snug in bed-socks. Coats were thrown over the top of the beds for extra warmth, and Violet learned to put her clean underclothes under the covers with her so they would be warm to put on. Every morning ice decorated the inside of the bedroom windows with frond-like patterns that were beautiful but which few paused to admire.
In March the hospital decided that Rhodri was well enough to leave permanently, and Marie made a room ready for him. He was pale but otherwise he looked well for his sixty-six years. Conversations were sometimes vague but as he grew stronger he began to take an interest in the garden and took great pleasure, when the weather allowed, in untangling the muddle of old, dead bushes, trying to turn soil too ice-bound to succumb to the fork, and murmuring about his plans for the spring.
It was as he worked near the front fence, now fallen and overgrown, that he found the house sign. He called for Marie, who went running, thinking he might be hurt, and showed her the name. ‘It’s called Badgers Brook. I’d forgotten, but that’s its name. We live in Badgers Brook!’
Marie helped Rhodri to drag the sign into the shed and found paint to restore it. Finding the name opened a door in Rhodri’s mind and he took her and the children into the wood and showed them the huge mound of earth that was a badger sett. He followed a narrow path and pointed out the coarse hairs caught in the barbed wire that revealed the presence of the shy animals and told them of times when he and Ivor’s mother used to sit watching a family of them leaving on their evening search for food. Marie felt a contentment that seemed to spring from the walls of the house, enveloping them. If she could have word to tell her where Ivor was, life would be perfect.
Rhodri was still odd at times, lost in a world of his own. Twice she had found him throwing so much wood on the fire that it was falling out and on the verge of setting fire to the rug. On another occasion she found him struggling to haul large branches through the garden to pile up on the lawn.
‘Thank you, Rhodri. If we can saw and chop that lot, we’ll have fuel for the rest of the winter.’ It was piled very high and much of it was useless, thin and brittle, and wouldn’t give more than a short bright blaze. ‘What about finding some good thick pieces? I’m sure Roger and Royston would saw it into logs for us.’
Thinking that by suggesting wood gathering she had given him something to do during the hours they were all out of the house, she was startled to come home to find the whole lot burned, and neighbours throwing water on to the wooden shed that housed the boiler.
‘Don’t blame Roger and Royston, Marie,’ he said anxiously. ‘They love a bit of a blaze. We must remember they’re no more than boys still.’ He pointed a blackened finger towards Violet. ‘And she loved it, just look at her face.’
‘Why would I blame the boys?’ Marie asked. ‘They’ve just come home, with me and Violet. We’ve been out all day. How could I think they did this?’
‘I’m not saying,’ Rhodri said, touching his nose as though holding back a secret.
‘This mustn’t happen again,’ she warned. ‘If you have a bonfire it has to be when we’re all here so we can make sure it’s safe. If the doctor found out he might not let you stay with us.’
Again Rhodri put a finger to his nose, implying it was their secret.
As spring approached the house and garden were slowly being cleared of neglect. With her skill at decorating, Marie painted walls and woodwork and Geoff repaired a couple of windows that were worn where the paint had fallen away. Neighbours called with small gifts, sometimes a few offerings from their winter gardens, or a few eggs. Some called just for a chat and a cup of tea, friends visited to see the children.
‘The house is friendly and seemed to want to be filled with people,’ Marie told Geoff one day. ‘I know that sounds foolish, but that’s how I feel. There’s a pleasant atmosphere there. People love to call and sit for a while. Old and young find it peaceful.’
Geoff thought the peaceful atmosphere came from her but declined to say so. She was a natural homemaker and wherever she had settled the home she built would have been welcoming and warm with love. He was tempted to wish he could share it but knew the time was not right, perhaps it never would be.
‘And Rhodri?’
‘He’s a bit odd at times but he’s very happy. And he loves the children.’ She didn’t mention the dangerous fire he had created.
‘I see you’ve made a start on the garden,’ he said one day, when he called with some chopped firewood for them. The worst of the neglected plants had been cut down and around the windows, rich earth was showing in semicircles that Marie planned to fill with geraniums with a border of lobelia and alyssum.
‘Like the parks,’ she said disparagingly. ‘I can’t think of how else to fill the beds and give a display all summer. I wish I knew more.’
‘It will be perfect,’ he said, thinking of starting to grow a collection of annuals for her to assure her of a good display. He wasn’t a gardener, but he could see that an interest in growing things would be beneficial to Marie, helping to take her mind away from wondering where Ivor had gone.
She had lost weight, and although she no longer filled her evenings with painting and decorating she was still under a lot of pressure. Taking responsibility for Rhodri was not an easy task. Beside the constant worry about Ivor, there was her job as well as running the home and looking after four other people. It was all taking its toll.
‘Do you fancy coming out one evening?’ Geoff asked at the end of March. ‘There are a few good films on and we could have tea first, or supper afterwards if you like. The boys and Violet will be there to look after Rhodri.’
‘Rhodri can look after himself,’ a voice called, and her father-in-law came into the kitchen smiling. ‘You go, Marie. It’s time you had a little treat. We’ll be fine here.’
Straight from the shop at five thirty Geoff met her and took her to a café for tea. It was as he was helping her on with her coat when they stood up to leave that his fingers touched her neck as he eased her hair from her collar, and she felt a moment of guilty pleasure that ruined the evening.
She sat as far away from him as possible, stretching once or twice to accept one of the sweets he had brought, and when the film ended she stood up quickly and pushed her way out, putting several people between them, creating a distance as though imagining Ivor standing there watching her.
‘Did you enjoy it?’ Geoff asked anxiously. ‘I hope so. I thought we might do it again some time.’
‘Sorry. Geoff, but I feel like a traitor enjoying myself, not knowing how Ivor is living. Does that make any sense?’
‘Of course it does. Next time we’ll take Violet as well, shall we?’
He was so kind and understanding and she wanted to hug him and tell him so, but that would have been worse than sitting close to share his sweets and enjoying the experience. She knew that given different circumstances she would have enjoyed the evening, cuddling up to Geoff, glorying in his devotion and strength. The tantalizing promise of his love was there, but she was bound to Ivor, who had left her to cope alone. Why was her life such a mess, while Jennie sailed through smiling, enjoying herself, being forgiven for any stupidity or unkindness?
Jennie had confided in her and described the distressing date with Bill, although she didn’t tell her sister of his accusations. She had told her about the revival of her friendship with his father, which seemed to offer Jennie a life of wealth, comfort, position and even more pampering. We must have been born under different stars, Marie thought as she climbed the stairs to her lonely bed.