The snows and frosts of the winter had caused chaos and now, as the thaw began, other disasters were revealed. Expanded pipes burst, and once the ice melted water gushed out and plumbers were racing around the town dealing with flooded houses. There had been no hint of a problem at Badgers Brook until Marie awoke one morning to see an ominous damp patch on the ceiling, which seemed to grow as she watched.
Slipping on a dressing gown she went outside to see that a large piece of guttering had become detached; the barge board behind it had rotted and most of it had fallen. The ageing wood could no longer support the metal gutters and as she walked around the building she could see that in other places, too, it was in need of replacement. Several slates had shifted and it was this that had caused the water to creep in.
Warning the others not to venture around the house, she wrote to their landlord and explained the need for workmen to come at once, before there was a serious accident. The piece hanging was outside her bedroom window and she pushed at it until it fell. She didn’t want it crashing down on someone’s head.
Effie was curious about where Ivor had lived before coming to the lodging house, but determined not to discourage him from talking to her, she tried not to ask any questions, allowing him to talk when he wanted or needed to and not intruding between confidences. She noticed that he avoided using the names of the people he told her about, and she accepted that he wanted to keep away from the subject of his marriage.
Excited by the coincidence of him coming from Cwm Derw, she knew it was an omen and she was very careful. A wrong word here or there could have a devastating effect on their burgeoning friendship.
He was a very private person and sometimes, when temptation was too strong and a few questions were asked during a meal, he would avoid the dining room for a few days, presumably eating at one of the cafes in the town. She was the only person he spoke to about anything except the weather, which continued to be a serious problem in many areas, with floods blocking roads and isolating villages.
She knew he wrote a letter to Cwm Derw once in a while and knew that occasionally coincidences came for a purpose.
If Ivor lived in Cwm Derw, Valley of Oaks, he would know the man who had ruined her life. But would any good come of raking up the past? It was over, the episode was left behind now, and reviving it once again would bring only pain and misery. Yet fate had a way of making you face things.
Having read the address on Ivor’s letter, she decided to be honest and tell him she’d seen it and knew the town and a few of the people who lived there. Telling him might encourage him to talk, but she knew there was a risk of it having the opposite effect.
When they were sitting at the supper table and the other boarders had gone, she decided to broach the subject.
‘I couldn’t help seeing that one of your letters was addressed to someone in Cwm Derw,’ she said. She watched his face for signs of alarm or disapproval.
‘You know the place?’ he asked and his voice was calm.
‘I once knew someone who lived there.’ From his expression and lack of curiosity she knew there was no point in elaborating. He knew, and if he wanted to talk he would, and if not no harm was done. She smiled at him, thankful that he had not taken offence, and with nothing more said they finished the toast and marmite with a few cubes of cheese that was their supper.
Ivor might have shown no curiosity about her connection with Cwm Derw but she was unable to let the matter drop in her own mind. She wanted to go there and just see how the family she had known was getting on and whether they had all forgotten her.
‘Do you remember hearing of a family called Masters?’ Ivor surprised her by asking the following day.
‘Your family d’you mean? No, I have no recollection of anyone called Masters, except the woman—’ she stopped, regretting speaking without thinking. ‘No, I don’t know that name from Cwm Derw.’
‘You were about to say the woman who set fire to the school, weren’t you?’
‘Well, yes, I do remember being told something about that. A long time ago, mind.’
‘She was my mother. The school criticized something I did and she “repaid” them by burning the building down.’
‘That was your mother? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have read the address on your private letter and I regret mentioning Cwm Derw.’
‘She also tried to burn down a neighbour’s house when they’d had a quarrel.’ It was as though he hadn’t heard her speak. ‘That’s something else I haven’t told my wife.’
‘I’m sorry. But it isn’t too late, is it?’ Ivor shook his head. ‘If she loves you, she’ll understand why you couldn’t tell her before. After all, it isn’t as though you’re like your mother.’
‘She’s better off without me.’ He spoke emphatically. The subject was clearly closed.
Why had he mentioned his family? Those few words spoken by Effie had reminded him painfully of why he was here and not at home with the people he loved. He couldn’t sleep and slipped out to walk along the sands, where the edge of the waves and a misty moon gave some light, and passed the night hours listing his regrets and dreaming of what might have been.
In Cwm Derw, everyone was surprised at the speed with which Ernie James was replacing his wife. It was less than a year since her death. There was disapproval, too, that he was marrying someone more than twenty years his junior. Particularly after the even more recent death of Bill’s fiancée. Congratulations were offered, but behind every smile was a query, an unspoken question.
‘Marie, they all think I’m expecting!’ Jennie told her sister one evening when they were spreading out the skin of a second-hand wedding dress to cut it into a style to fit Jennie’s slim figure. ‘Make sure that dress fits as tight as tight, mind, so there’s no room for gossip – or a baby!’ she said. ‘Gossip about the age difference, and remarks like Thelma not being cold in her grave I can take, because they’re true, but to hint that I’ve done – you know – before we’re churched, well it isn’t true and I don’t want anyone to think so. It’s funny,’ she mused, ‘Mam and Dad don’t seem worried about the age difference, or the fact of my having a stepson I went out on dates with. Or even the brief time that’s passed since Mrs James’s death. But they’d think it would prove that I wasn’t properly brought up if I was expecting. They’d be shamed by that. Daft, isn’t it?’
‘And you’re not?’
‘No, our Marie, I’m not!’ She pushed a cushion under her skirt and paraded around the room humming the bridal march until Belle came in. Her shocked expression made them collapse into laughter.
Belle and Howard Jones had been dismayed when Jennie had told them about her engagement to Ernie James. Hiding their disappointment they had smiled and congratulated her but later they had discussed it long into the night. They both agreed that Jennie needed someone to look after her, that was what they wanted for her, she wasn’t capable like Marie. Marrying a ‘sugar daddy’ was in many ways degrading, but at least it would ensure she was cared for and spoiled. Ernie, being older and reasonably wealthy, would be able to do that.
Marie wondered how her lively sister would cope with the dullness of living with an older man. Jennie had always liked the company of men a lot younger than herself, and not dancing, and flirting and having fun might subdue her until she lost the vitality and joie de vivre that made her who she was. Her personal fear was that after a few months Jennie would break out, look for some excitement that didn’t include her staid husband. She said nothing to her mother, who would only accuse her of lacking understanding, or of jealousy, or some other negative emotion, when in fact her concerns for her sister were genuine.
During the weeks before the wedding Jennie didn’t work. She spent her time preparing, leaving Lucy and a new assistant to cope in the shop, going each evening to cash up and hand the appointments book and takings to her betrothed, as she jokingly called him.
An hotel was booked for the wedding breakfast and arrangements made to cater for thirty guests. The plans to marry in St Mary’s Church were in hand. Having decided to marry on April 12th it was a rush to get everything organized. The hasty arrangements adding to speculation about a baby.
Lucy’s doubts remained unspoken. She hoped that either Jennie would come to her senses or Ernie would admit to making a mistake. Bill repeated his warnings to Jennie, threatening to tell his father about her reputation.
‘But what people say about me isn’t true. I’ve had fun but it never went further than a kiss and cuddle,’ she protested. He made her feel nervous even though she told herself he was simply warning her off marrying his father for reasons of his own.
‘My inheriting money that should be his must surely be his main concern,’ she told Lucy. Lucy agreed and crossed her fingers, hoping that the wedding would go off without any trouble.
Although she wanted to arrange for the redecoration of a couple of the rooms before moving into the house where Ernie had lived with Thelma, Jennie stayed away except when Ernie was with her.
Marie helped her sister to decide on colours and wallpaper patterns, but she was adamant about not taking on the whole job, even though Ernie had promised to pay her. ‘I can’t take money for helping my sister,’ she told them both with an edge of anger in her voice. ‘I really can’t find the time.’ It was insulting for Ernie to ask her to work for him when he was marrying her sister, but for Jennie’s sake she agreed to oversee. She found them a decorator willing to do the job quickly, and one afternoon, when she had called in to see how he was getting on, she found the man struggling on top of a ladder, trying to paper the ceiling. She stayed to helped him, putting a plank between two ladders, and showing him how to fold the paper and unfold it as he worked across the room. When she rushed guiltily into the gown shop ten minutes late Mr Harries was waiting for her. He handed her her cards and told her she was no longer needed.
‘But I’m never late,’ she gasped in disbelief. ‘You know I work more than my hours and I don’t watch the clock and leave the moment we close. I apologize, I’ll work my half-day to make up.’ He waggled her cards as though impatient for her to take them. To lose her regular wages would be an absolute disaster. ‘I’m responsible for three children and a sick old man,’ she reminded him in a voice that shook with emotion.
‘Your mind hasn’t been on your work for weeks, Mrs Masters. In fact, I think we are boring you.’ He stretched out his arm and forced her to take the envelope containing her wages and the stamped insurance card and employment details.
In utter disbelief she found a letter waiting for her from the owner of the house, telling her to vacate. It explained that when they received her letter asking for repairs to be made, it had become clear she wasn’t entitled to the tenancy. It was not transferable and the agreement had been with Ivor’s mother, who was dead. The letter went on to say he intended to sell, and vacant possession would be a condition of the sale. The difficulty of removing tenants from rented properties was the subject of much discussion at that time, but she knew that as she wasn’t officially the tenant, she had no rights.
She went to see him to plead her case, pointing out the improvements they had made, and threatened court action knowing she hadn’t a chance of winning.
‘Mrs Masters might be dead but Mr Masters isn’t, and surely it was he who signed the agreement?’
‘I thought that he too was – I’m sorry, Mrs Masters, I had no idea he was still there.’
‘So?’ she demanded, glaring at him, hands on his desk, leaning towards him like an angry terrier. ‘He’s a sick man and as such can no longer be acceptable as a tenant?’
‘All right, Mrs Masters, I’ll continue to rent the property to you.’ Relief made her legs weaken but she knew there was something more from the tight smile on his face. Anxiety rising to a pitch, she stared at him, waiting for the blow to fall. ‘But with the improvements,’ he went on, ‘I’ll have to increase the rental by another three shillings and sixpence a week. And only until I can find a buyer, then you will have to leave. The law is on my side, Mrs Masters.’
It was an effective way of getting her out, as there was no way she could afford to buy the place. No home, no job and she could hardly blame Ivor this time. She should have checked, made sure the house had been transferred to herself and Ivor. She was responsible for five of them and the future looked bleak. How could she keep them together?
Jennie left most of the wedding plans to Ernie and her sister. The guests at the top table would include Lucy, and an invitation was sent to Gerald, who replied immediately explaining he couldn’t get leave. Bill said he’d be there in the hope of something going wrong. The sister of Thelma, Ernie’s first wife, would be there, and when she and her husband came to meet the bride their disapproval was in no doubt. Jennie was unfazed by the whole thing; concentrated on looking her best, trying various hairstyles and make-up with Lucy, amidst much hilarity.
Effie had not yet visited Cwm Derw, and she heard about the wedding by chance. She was on a bus heading towards Cardiff one afternoon, going to collect some forms from the printers, when she overheard a conversation between two women sitting in front of her. ‘Fancy that James fellow getting married. Next week it is, and the girl is half his age.’ She listened intently but apart from learning that the church was St Mary’s and the date was April 12th, she couldn’t find out more before the two women, still criticizing Mr James for his inappropriate choice of bride, left the bus.
It was him. It had to be. She arranged for the day off and on April 12th set off for Cwm Derw very early, not waiting for breakfast. Food would make her sick on a day like this.
She went to St Mary’s Church and after trying and failing to find someone to tell her the time of the wedding, she sat on a cold slab, leaning against a tombstone, and waited. There was still snow hanging about, although its beauty had long gone. Earth and dead leaves had gathered on its surface, which was pitted with raindrops, and it hid its dirty self in hollows and shady corners.
She wrapped the swagger coat she had worn tightly around her and sat on the extra woollen scarf she had brought but the chill crept through her until she thought she would have to give up and find a café to warm herself. It was only the thought of why she was there that forced her to stay.
She would wait for the right time in the solemn service then wake them all up. She’d shout an objection, she’d scream and tell the congregation what he had done to her. No one had believed her before, but this time she’d make sure he didn’t marry and live happily ever after. He hadn’t the right, not after what he’d done to her.
Revealing her hatred of the man had its risks, she knew that, but once she had heard about his wedding she had been unable to deny herself this pleasurable moment.
People began to arrive and she didn’t know any of them. But perhaps she did. She didn’t know them well and might not recognize them in their smart clothes, they all looked so different, particularly the women, who usually spent their days wearing crossover aprons and slippers. Even their figures were altered, improved by the well-fitted and carefully chosen outfits. She rose to her feet stiffly, rubbed her cold bottom and stamped her feet a few times. She had to find someone she knew, a member of his family, to assure herself she was at the right place and time. She spread the second scarf, now damp and unpleasant, around her shoulders, lifting the edge a little to conceal her face and wandered around looking under the smart but ancient hats. But she still failed to see anyone she recognized. Had she got it wrong?
At ten thirty on April 12th 1947, Jennie walked up the aisle and became Mrs Ernest James. Lucy was the solitary bridesmaid in a dress made of muslin washed and tinted a pale green, decorated with a belt of white ribbon. She wore wild flowers in her hair and carried a sheaf of dog daisies picked in the fields that morning.
Marie had been there to help Jennie get ready. ‘All right?’ she had asked when her sister was dressed and ready to leave. Jennie said, ‘No, sis, I’m all of a doodah thinking about what’s to happen tonight.’
‘If you love him and he loves you everything will be wonderful,’ Marie said.
‘What if we don’t – love each other – what then?’
‘It will still be fine. Be happy, Jennie,’ she said hugging her, trying to ignore the implication of her sister’s words.
Belle and Howard Jones were tearful, belatedly regretting they had done nothing to stop their beautiful daughter from giving herself to an older man. To stop their anxiety transferring itself to Jennie, Marie packed her mother off to wait for the car with friends and told their tearful father to go upstairs out of the way while the beautifying processes were completed.
Ernie was dressed formally and he looked older than usual, his face pale, straight grey hair sticking out in a small fringe from beneath his top hat. He was a colourless contrast to the heavily made-up Jennie with her flowing dress and veil. Her blond hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders. She carried a huge bouquet of spring flowers, which showered down in a display that descended almost to the ground, especially made by the local florists to Jennie’s own design. Hopeful young women in the congregation wondered how she would manage to throw it and whether they’d be lucky enough to catch it without being knocked to the ground unconscious.
The church was well attended; more than thirty relatives and friends had been invited and few had declined. They all wanted to see the wedding that had been the source of gossip ever since news of it had first been whispered just weeks ago. The churchyard was scattered with groups of onlookers come to see for themselves the ‘spring and autumn’ wedding of two well-known families.
Watching everyone walking into the church and hearing the organ music swell, Effie realized to her chagrin that due to her wanderings she had missed the arrival of the groom. As the last of the guests found their seats and the doors were being guarded by attendants watching for the bridal car, Effie made her way into the dimly lit building.
The pews were full and the back of the church was crowded but she moved forward to have a view of the place where he and his bride would stand. She waited for her eyes to become accustomed to the dull light and looked for the man she had come to see. He was seated and out her of sight but would stand when his bride arrived.
As long as she was in time to stop the wedding, it didn’t matter where she stood. All she had to do was shout. There was no chance of not being heard at the moment that everyone superstitiously dreaded.
She didn’t have much room to move, squashed against the back of the last pew in the church with those who had not been invited but had pushed in as soon as the guests had been seated by the attendants. Like so many of the crowd, she was wearing a large hat that shadowed her face and acted as disguise, although she attracted little attention. Everyone’s eyes were watching the door for the arrival of the bride. A few of the congregation gave her mildly curious glances, wondering about her connection with the families, a question half formed then quickly forgotten.
The organist stopped the melody and struck up ‘Here Comes The Bride’. Effie didn’t look towards the back of the church; she waited for the groom to stand so she would get her first sight of the man she had come to see. She stared in disbelief when the man on the right-hand side of the front pew rose to greet his bride. It wasn’t Bill James. The groom was his father and his bride, coming down the aisle with a demure smile, was a girl no older than herself.
Behind the bride and her still tearful father walked someone she did know. Bill had been sitting beside his father and was standing to take his part in the ceremony.
In stunned disbelief, she left the church before the bride and groom left the service to sign the register, and hurried to the bus stop. As she waited for it to arrive she tried to think of other things to hide her disappointment at failing to embarrass and hurt Bill James.
She concentrated on Ivor and wondered if she should stay and learn something that would enable her to help him. She forced herself to think through everything Ivor had told her, but she had learned nothing that would help her recognize his family. She had no idea what his wife looked like and no names had been mentioned in the whispered conversations going on around her.
She wondered whether to tell him about her visit and the wedding she had witnessed, but as she would be unable to tell him who was there it seemed pointless. He’d hardly be interested in Ernie James and his stupid bride. Perhaps she would buy a newspaper in which the wedding was reported and leave it out for him, just in case he wanted news of his home.
A few days later she placed the newspaper report on the wedding in front of him. ‘I don’t know whether you know anyone there, but as it’s an apparently important occasion in a town you know, I though you might like to see it,’ she said. ‘I was looking at some of the churches in the area and happened to see this wedding,’ she added as she walked away.
He looked at the grainy photograph then ran after her and wanted to know everything she had witnessed.
‘I can’t tell you anything because I didn’t know any of the guests, I’m sorry,’ she said, avoiding mention of Bill James and his father, the reason for her going there.
He pointed to a group at the side of the photograph. ‘That man is my father. What was he doing there?’
‘Why shouldn’t he be there? It seems half the town was out that day.’
‘I thought he was in hospital,’ he said, half to himself. Effie waited for him to tell her more.
‘I wanted the house for them. I spent days cleaning it up, for them. I wanted him to stay in hospital. He’s unwell, you see, unwell and I didn’t want him near the boys and little Violet. She mustn’t be near him.’ He stared at her as though she might answer his question and asked. ‘What shall I do?’
‘You’ll have to go there. You won’t find any answers standing here staring at a photograph.’
Marie had to find a way to pay the extra rent. She didn’t want to uproot the family again, and, besides, she had to stay in case Ivor came to find them. They’d been told they had to vacate the house temporarily, to allow more work to be done, and an unbelievable few weeks since moving in they packed what they needed and left.
Geoff had insisted on them staying with him.
They squashed into three rooms, with Rhodri confused and shaking uncontrollably. Marie took him to the doctor, but whatever happened in the privacy of the doctor’s room, there was no suggestion of him going back to hospital. He had to sleep on a bed-chair in a small room cleared of brushes and mops and buckets and bowls, next to the store where Geoff kept paint, white spirit, paraffin and candles.
When Jennie returned from honeymoon she was smiling and telling everyone who asked that it had been wonderful, but a glance at her face told Marie that she was far from happy.
‘What happened?’ she asked when they managed to find a few moments alone.
Jennie blustered for a while, insisting everything was perfect, but as her sister waited patiently for her to stop repeating the automatic responses, she admitted that it was ‘Hell.’
‘In what way?’ Marie coaxed, handing her a cup of tea she had made in Geoff’s kitchen.
‘He treated me like a child, and apart from a chaste kiss before turning over and going to sleep, he might have been my brother.’
Marie didn’t want to listen to details of the private side of the marriage but her sister was in such a state that she encouraged her to talk. ‘Better to tell me and be sure it won’t go any further,’ she said, taking Jennie in her arms. The story was a simple one. There had been no loving embraces, and the days were spent sightseeing, the nights in lonely isolation, Jennie on one side of the bed and Ernest on the other.
‘He seemed perfectly happy.’
‘It may be that he wanted to wait until you were home. I’ve heard of some men who are afraid to show their love in someone else’s bed,’ she went on, inventing the story but convinced that nothing was impossible.
‘We’ve been home two nights and nothing has changed,’ Jennie sobbed. ‘He must think I’m ugly.’
Marie laughed. ‘Come on, Jennie, leave the dramatics to film stars, it will only make you feel worse.’ She tried to comfort her sister but in her heart she wondered whether Ernest had intended the marriage to be unconsummated. He might have thought the relationship, which had not involved sexual desire before the wedding, would be all Jennie needed. Jennie had behaved in an exaggeratedly coy manner towards him, avoiding declarations of passion, of a longing for his loving, afraid that he would readily believe any story of her previous behaviour that Bill might tell him.
Marie sadly thought that this was one time when things hadn’t turned out for the best for her lively sister and regretted the brief moments of jealousy she had felt towards her. Neither of them had been blessed with happiness, or at least it had been short-lived, she mused. Was there a plan all mapped out for life that was immutable? Did parents sow the seeds of their children’s future? Was there no such thing as self-will? She shook defeatist musings aside and went back to Geoff’s shop determined not to surrender to such cowardly thoughts. Opportunities were there, they cropped up in every life she was sure of that, and it was only the weak who ignored them.
She went to the Labour Exchange determined to take any job she was offered, no matter what. Her parents would look after Violet if she worked beyond the school day so there was no excuse for turning anything down. ‘Apart from decorating.’ she said to Geoff. ‘I don’t think I want to do any more of that, not since working on those flats.’
A small dress shop was opening on a corner of the main street opposite Geoff’s hardware store and the owner needed a manageress. Nerys Bowen seemed seriously lacking in interest when she went for an interview, saying she had others to see, but the following day Marie received a letter offering her the job. The wage was less than she had earned at the gown shop, but it would be sufficient to get them back on their feet.
‘I am grateful to you, Geoff,’ she said when she told him the news. ‘We’ll be out of your way next week.’
‘Stay here as long as you wish,’ Geoff said after congratulating her. ‘I’ll be sorry to see you all go but when you’re ready to move out I’ll help you to get settled in, even though I’ll miss you.’ He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek.
‘Geoff, I’ll never be able to thank you for what you’ve done for me. For us.’
‘Be happy, that’s all the thanks I need.’
With Ivor far away and having lost the home they had loved and thought was theirs for ever; taking on the responsibility for his father; finding Badgers Brook and losing Ivor… she wondered how happiness could ever be achieved. ‘I’ll try,’ she said.
Ivor was increasingly afraid. He visualized Rhodri sitting in that rubbish-filled room and feared for Marie and the children living with the crazy old man who was his father. In his confused state he was capable of anything. The only consolation was that he wasn’t a fire-raiser. That had been his mother’s entertainment. He covered his face with his hands. He’d had to lie. How could he have told Marie about the bad blood he had inherited and maybe passed on to his darling child?
After what the wedding photograph had revealed he had to go to Cwm Derw, at least to reassure himself. Perhaps Rhodri had been allowed out just for the day. Or had run away and been taken in by Marie until he could be returned to the hospital. He couldn’t be free, he told himself. He was seriously sick. He borrowed a car from one of the other insurance agents and drove to a spot some distance away from the house where he had left all his happiness.
Badgers Brook looked different. The garden had been neatly dug, the grass mown and flowerbeds carefully cut out in an orderly arrangement that pleased his eye. The windows shone in the sun that had finally melted the last of the snow, and everything glistened with the freshness of spring. Trees wore mantles of new leaves and birdsong filled woodland. Hawthorn blossom perfumed the air with its sweet scent.
He was surprised to see the name on the gate. Badgers Brook. He wondered whether Marie or the boys had found it or had made it. On closer inspection it looked shabby compared to the rest of the place now the mess had all been cleared.
Taking a deep breath, wondering whether Marie would greet him with relief he didn’t deserve or whether he would be sent away, an unwelcome and unwanted intrusion, he walked towards the door with a racing heart and shaking legs. The path had been cleared of the overgrown grasses and wild flowers that had infiltrated around the paving. They had worked hard and he felt shame like a shower of icy water slide down his back. If he had been honest he might be still here, working alongside Marie, surrounded by a loving family. Why had fate led Jenkin Jenkins to him that day? Why of all the people had he been the one man who could tell him where his father was living; as soon as he and his father met his life had been ruined.
He reached the front door and knocked, tentatively at first, then louder, but there was no response. A man walking along the lane called to him, ‘If you want Mrs Masters she’s gone,’ he called.
Ivor looked through the window and saw that the place was clean and orderly, the fire set ready in the grate, the old pine table scrubbed and put where they had found it covered in filth. He was too late. He called to ask the man where he could find them but the man shrugged. ‘Couldn’t pay their rent was what I heard. The landlord increased it, see, and it was too much, with her husband running off like he did. The swine.’
They were gone and he had no idea where to find them.
Ivor turned away, afraid that the man would recognize him as ‘the swine’ who had abandoned his family. He drove back to the town and went to see Marie’s parents. Surely they would know where he could find them? But once again he was denied.
He found Howard to be a very angry man. ‘My daughters deserve better than they’re getting,’ he ranted. ‘Jennie married to an old man and YOU, walking out and leaving our Marie and the children without a home. Get out, go on, clear off! Useless you are, promising to look after her and the children, and what did you do? Steal from them, lose them their home then run away. Get from my sight, you useless apology for a man.’
Stricken with shock and shame, Ivor heard Belle call from in the house, ‘Who is it, Howard?’
‘No one, dear. Only some beggar who should be ashamed to look an honest man in the eye.’
‘Please, tell me where I can find them. I need to see her.’ As Howard was closing the door, he asked, ‘At least tell me where my father is.’
‘Wherever they are they’re best without you,’ he shouted. ‘Get away from here, you don’t belong here any more.’
He went next to find Geoff, although he knew the man was hardly likely to be on his side. He went into the shop, which was dark after the bright sun outside, and for a moment he couldn’t make out who was standing behind the counter. Geoff had seen him before he had opened the door and had called to Marie to stay out of sight, unless she wanted to see him. That decision was hers and something with which he would not interfere.
‘Ivor?’ he said questioningly.
‘Where are they?’
‘It isn’t for me to tell. But if you want to see them leave me your address and I’ll pass it on.’ As Ivor hesitated as though to argue, he went on, ‘I think the decision must be hers, don’t you?’
There was a note pad on the counter, and on it Ivor wrote the address of the lodging house where he lived.
‘Is there any message?’ Geoff asked coldly, offering the pad and pencil once again.
‘I’m afraid that my father might be bothering them. He’s – well, you saw how he was living and I don’t want them upset. Was he the reason they had to leave the house?’
Geoff shook his head. ‘None of your father’s doing.’
‘He is still in hospital, then, isn’t he?’
‘Under their care, yes,’ was Geoff’s evasive answer.
‘I gather Jennie is married. Strange her marrying a man of that age,’ Ivor said, trying to delay his departure.
Geoff came around the counter and opened the door. It was clearly a dismissal and without another word Ivor left.
A tearful Marie took the piece of paper on which Ivor had written his address and tore it up, dropping the pieces into the waste paper bin. ‘Why should I want to find him? He has to find me,’ she sobbed. ‘Search with determination and face me, talk to me, not leave addresses and wait for me to find him!’
Ivor drove around for a while, passing the school and the shop where he presumed Marie still worked, but there was no sign of her or the children. Unable to take more disappointment, dissatisfied with his attempt to find them, feeling hated and despised by everyone, he drove back to the lodgings to find Effie waiting in the dining room.
It was only five o’clock and supper wasn’t until nine thirty so she suggested a walk. She went with him to return the car to its owner and pay for its use, then they caught a bus to the seaside village of Mumbles and walked along the from, following the road and paths to Langland Bay and then Caswell, while he talked.
He told her about his miserable childhood. About the bullying at school, where, as a badly dressed only child with a mother who had been in prison for setting fire to a school and attempting to burn a house, he was a gift to those who teased. A mother who had also burned a barn and a stack of hay, although neither had been proved, when the man had accused Ivor of poaching. As if his crazy mother weren’t enough there was his father, who wandered around, staring at people, often unaware of his surroundings. He was a farm labourer, who had been unable to work since his return from the great war in 1918, but with no wound about which a son could boast to explain his confused state.
Effie listened and swore to comfort him and help him to forget the woman who had cared so little for him she had allowed him to walk away once she found out about his family. She didn’t deserve him.
It was again Jennie who was the next to see Ivor. Ernie had invited her to visit the town, promising her a walk along the beach and tea in a smart hotel. Jennie wanted to scream. What she needed was a night out with Lucy. A dance with wild music in a hot, overcrowded hall, with plenty of make-up, her hair loosened from Ernie’s favourite tightly controlled style, with lots of young men admiring her and telling her how wonderful she was, not a sedate walk and tea in a nice hotel!
They parked the car beside the railway line, following the route of the famous, overcrowded Mumbles train to ride around the wide sandy bay towards the village of the same name. It was later, as they were driving past the Swansea shops as they closed for the evening, that Jennie again recognized her brother-in-law. He was going into the picture house with a young woman on his arm. Ernie slowed the car and stopped outside and they watched as Ivor put an arm around his companion to guide her through the entrance, where a small queue was already forming. The girl stood aside, opening her coat and easing off her gloves as he bought their tickets.
‘It’s the girl he was with before. What shall we do? We can’t tell Marie he’s seeing another woman, it would break her heart.’
‘I think she’d prefer to know,’ Ernie said, shaking his head as he held his hand out of the window to signal before easing the car back into the line of traffic. ‘I would.’
‘Perhaps later, but not now, her unhappiness is still raw.’
‘I think we should go straight to Geoff’s hardware shop and tell him what we saw.’
‘Good news about her new job. I might like to go back to work myself one day, Ernie.’
‘No need for you to think of doing that, my dear. We’re perfectly happy as we are, pleasing ourselves, going out for nice afternoons whenever the fancy takes us.’
Hoping she had successfully distracted him from what he saw as his duty, she said, ‘You’re right. Why don’t we eat out this evening, instead of my struggling to make a meal from some corned beef and a few potatoes?’
He agreed. ‘And we could call on Geoff to tell Marie about seeing Ivor.’
The following morning she went to see Geoff and, finding him alone, told him what they had seen. It was up to him whether or not to tell Marie.
Geoff thought about the information for a long time. He came to the conclusion that he needed to find out more before telling Marie anything. It could be perfectly innocent; they might have met by accident. They could have been part of a group of people out for the evening.
He thought of the many people he knew who went out regularly, the same evening every week, and, hoping this was true of Ivor, on the same day the following week Geoff went to the cinema where he had been seen, and watched. There were several other cinemas in the town but he pinned his hopes on them being persuaded back by the previous week’s trailer. He was lucky and, sitting in a café and then a public house until the programme finished, he was there waiting as they came out, and he followed them back to the lodging house.
She was holding his arm, and laughter rang out occasionally as they discussed their evening. Geoff felt anger rising with every step he took. Ivor shouldn’t be laughing. He had no right to be happy. He went back to where he’d parked the car and drove home, trying to work out what he should say to Marie. Was this woman the cause of it all? Had Ivor tried to see Marie to tell her he’d found someone else? Marie was in bed when he went in and he sighed with relief. At least he had a reprieve; he needn’t make up his mind what to say to her until tomorrow.