Zena Martin stepped off the local bus and turned to Maberly Avenue where, in the neat little flat left to her by her grandmother, she had lived for three years. Tonight she was going to start painting the walls of the kitchen. Jake was away for a couple of days, so she would use the opportunity to get on while she had no distractions.
He was in London visiting a friend, Stanley, who was to be best man at their wedding and they were probably making plans, even though the wedding was at least a year away.
She was preparing for their engagement party, arranged for the following Sunday. There were plenty of things to do and she was determined to get the kitchen painted before party-planning took over completely. As she reached the corner of the road she saw Jake just ahead of her. He was home sooner than she’d expected. She sighed when she saw he was carrying several shopping bags. Surely he hadn’t been buying presents. They were saving for a deposit on the house which they planned to run as a bed and breakfast business. Their home near the sea in South Wales was an ideal place for such an undertaking, but it would need every penny they could save. The bags he carried were from expensive stores. She ran to catch him up and he looked startled.
‘Zena, my lovely girl! What a surprise. I had some shopping to do and left London earlier than planned.’
‘What’s all this?’ she asked, pointing to the bulging bags he carried. ‘I thought we were saving?’
‘Well, love, something’s happened, see. I should have told you as soon as I’d talked to Stanley but I – anyway, we’re so close to the flat that I might as well come and talk about it now.’
‘What is it?’ Zena stared at Jake in alarm, afraid he had changed his mind about marrying her. What else could it be to make him look so serious?
‘I’ve got a marvellous new job, see, and, well, it’s in London and I have to go in three days’ time. That’s what all this shopping is for. This new job, it’s as a rep for a firm selling industrial clothing. Stanley arranged the interview and it sounded so wonderful I just had to give it a try.’
‘Industrial clothing? But, Jake, what do you know about selling? You’ve always worked in a factory making copper and brass fittings.’
‘You know I wouldn’t be satisfied with that for ever. I’ve always wanted a job where I’d have clean hands.’
‘But you’ve no experience.’
‘None at all, love, but they’ll train me, and, if I’m successful, I’ll be earning a lot more than I do here in Cold Brook Vale.’
‘Where will you stay? And what about me? Us?’
‘You’ll join me as soon as I get us a place to live. Imagine, Zena love: I might be travelling abroad selling and making contacts with firms who make the stuff. What d’you think of that, then? Marvellous? Such good luck to have heard of it. We’ll be rich in a few years. The wages are unbelievable. And I’ve been offered a room in Stanley’s flat, so you needn’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.’
‘You are going to work in London? Leaving Cold Brook Vale? But how could this happen so suddenly? We spent the day together on Monday discussing our engagement party and today you tell me you have a new job and a room in Stanley’s flat in London!’
‘Sorry to spring it on you like this, love, but it happened so fast and I had to make a decision there and then after the interview. It’s such a wonderful opportunity and I had no time to discuss it with you.’
‘You had plenty of time! You went to London to see a friend and without any hesitation you were offered a job? Come on, Jake, I’m not stupid. You knew about the job before you went, didn’t you?’
‘Well, yes. But nothing was certain, and I thought it best to wait and tell you once it was all arranged.’
Zena felt physically sick. This wasn’t the first time Jake had acted on impulse, careless of her opinion. ‘The first thing I’ll do is cancel our engagement party. How can I consider marrying someone who can make such life-changing decisions without discussing it with me?’
It took some time and the kitchen didn’t get its coat of paint, but Zena eventually accepted his explanations, but the party was cancelled. Zena made him understand that a wedding would depend on what happened during the next few months. She felt the pain of doubt clouding her mind – not for the first time.
Marrying Jake had been her life plan since they were at school together and she just couldn’t imagine a life without him. Unreliable he definitely was, but she believed that his love for her was the one believable fact amid his vague attitude towards the truth.
The plan to buy a house large enough to run as a bed and breakfast had long been their dream. Her parents’ garage and one of the spare rooms were already filled with items they had bought or had been given.
They intended to attract summer visitors, then perhaps students during the winter. Jake was very capable at simple building maintenance and gardening. He would grow their own food, and keep chickens and she would do the cooking and the housekeeping and— She stopped the dream right there. If Jake settled in London it would never happen. They would grow apart, the simple certainty of his love and the plans for their life together would be gone.
The prospect of them separating, being alone facing an empty future was frightening. Everything had changed: she was no longer a young woman planning to marry the man she loved, and who loved her, a woman with a dream: she was on her own.
Zena said little as they went to his lodgings to deposit his shopping. She was thinking of how to tell her parents and her friends, but not yet. She had to accept it herself before she could allow the opinions of others to intrude. They went on to the house above the lake where her parents lived, but didn’t go in. Zena needed to sort out what she would say to them first. A rough, steep path led down from the house, called Llyn Hir – long lake – and they walked down to stand on the narrow shore and look across the calm water. A raft moved gently, attached to a double loop of rope creating a pulley system by which the raft could be pulled across the lake. It had made a safe place for them to play as children and was still used occasionally for bringing shopping across. More difficult, as there was the path to climb, but used from a sense of nostalgia by her parents.
Lottie and Ronald Martin listened in silence as their daughter told them of Jake’s new life. After Jake had gone, Ronald held Lottie’s hand and said, ‘It’s painful, I can understand that, darling, but it’s better for this to have happened now, while you have time to decide whether you want to share the life Jake’s chosen so suddenly. Mam and I would hate it if you moved so far away from us, but London must be an exciting place to experience. Don’t you think so, Kay?’ Ronald said, using an affectionate nickname for Lottie. ‘All those historical buildings to explore, so many places to see, theatres and exhibitions. I think it will be an adventure.’ He hoped he was saying what his daughter wanted to hear, but wasn’t sure.
Her brother Greg said much the same thing and it was when she spoke to Aunty Mabs that she had a more common-sense reaction. ‘London’s a place for you to go on holiday,’ she said emphatically, her rosy cheeks surrounded by her unruly hair that defied a comb and made her look aggressive. ‘Think about what you’ll lose as well as what you would gain.’ She was a short, slim lady and, as though to make up for her lack of stature, she always shouted and was emphatic in her comments. ‘You know Jake well enough to realize he isn’t the most reliable fish on the slab. To leave all you know and trust to him to look after you, well, it’s your decision, but please, please, don’t decide anything for a while. Right?’
On the following day, Zena received a phone call from her mother at the office where she worked and, to the disapproval of her boss, she ignored the customer she was advising and said. ‘I have to go. My father’s been taken to hospital!’
‘It’s only half an hour before we close for lunch, Miss Martin. You can go then, but don’t be late back.’ Zena ignored him, grabbed her bag and coat and ran out.
Through the ward doorway she saw Ronald in a bed with a doctor and nurse attending to him. His face was almost as white as the three pillows that supported him. Zena’s brother Greg came with a tearful Aunty Mabs and they waited until the doctor had left. Then Lottie came out and told them he had suffered a heart attack and would be in hospital for a while. Lottie waited until the nurse told her she must go and Greg and Mabs popped in for a few words with Ronald before they all left the hospital to sit and wait anxiously until the evening visiting hour. Mabs was worried. Ronald’s brother, her husband, Frank, had died of a heart attack at forty-eight and it seemed that Ronald, who was fifty-four, had the same weakness.
The shock of her father’s illness made Zena’s decision about her future with Jake seem less important and life went on with regular visits to Ronald whose recovery was slow. Everything else settled back into an uneasy rhythm.
Zena had been threatened with dismissal if she ignored an instruction again and she almost wished she had been. Nothing was right in her life. She hated working in the boring office with the boring staff arranging flat and house rentals for boring people. She knew that was a temporary mood and that once her father had recovered and Jake had come to his senses, she would be back to enjoying helping people to make the right decision on where they would live.
During the weeks after Jake had gone to London, Zena’s days were filled with concern about Ronald and frustration about Jake, who phoned occasionally, usually running out of coins in a matter of minutes. He had written only twice; letters almost as brief as his phone calls, asking her when she would join him, and notes about the places he’d visited and the plays he had seen. In the latest call he asked her to send letters to the office where he worked as the house where he now lived was multi-tenanted and letters were often lost. ‘Madeleine will give them to me,’ he’d said.
‘Who is Madeleine?’
‘The office secretary. She’s been very kind, showing me around and recommending places to see.’ Zena knew she wouldn’t like Madeleine.
A few says later she was leaving the rental office, closing the door behind her with a sigh of relief. It was Friday lunchtime, only a few more hours before the weekend. She stood for a moment or two. She had a serious decision to make. With Jake working in London and spending so much time alone in her flat, she had to make a decision on how she wanted to live her life.
Marriage to Jake was still more or less a certainty, however unreliably he behaved. He’d come back home soon and things would settle down. She would not, could not accept that he would stay so far away from home. They had been together since school and his sudden move to London had unsettled her. She had considered moving to London, but leaving the small town where she was happy and the family and friends she loved was impossible. She needed to talk to Jake but that was impossible too. There was no one with whom she could discuss it. Her mother and father refused to utter a decisive comment either way; her brother Greg liked Jake and thought him great fun; Aunty Mabs had always been very outspoken and critical about her choice of husband and gave her opinion that if Zena married the unreliable Jake Williams, she would be making a big mistake.
She tried to push the problem out of her mind and picked up a daily paper, the Radio Times and some sweets, her weekly treat for Aunty Mabs. As she turned the corner to where her aunt lived in a small block of flats, she saw the twitch of the curtains revealing her aunt’s regular watch for her to appear. She smiled, knowing her Aunty would then dash to the kitchen and turn on the kettle. Ever since her uncle Frank had died so suddenly, she went to her aunt’s every Friday for lunch.
‘It’s only me,’ she called, as she used her key and stepped inside. ‘I’ve brought the papers and some chocolate eclairs.’
‘Thank you, darling, I love bein’ spoilt, I do.’ Small, thin and with hair that refused to behave, she held out her arms and Zena went over and hugged her. Mabs then went to the oven and brought out two plates of cottage pie and vegetables.
‘Come on, gel, eat it while it’s hot. There’s a wicked cold wind today and you need something to keep you from getting a chill.’ Fussing, making sure everything was in its place she sat opposite Zena and smiled. ‘How’s old misery today?’ Zena laughed, knowing her aunt referred to her boss Graham Broughton, a man who strutted rather than walked and considered his role as manager was to criticize at every opportunity.
‘I have to leave that place but I can’t decide what I want to do next.’
‘Going up to London to join Jake? That’s what you’re thinking about, is it?’
‘I should be with him.’
‘When you decided to marry him he was working here. Then he got a job that meant being away for weeks at a time. International rep he calls himself. Makes him sound more important, and him never before going further than Bristol! Did he discuss it with you before taking the job? No, he did not! And London! It isn’t even in Wales!’ she ended in disgust.
‘All right, he should have discussed it, but he thought that if the decision had already been made then I’d have to agree.’
‘Bullying, that’s what that is, love. Making it impossible for you to disagree.’
Zena laughed. ‘Jake, a bully?’
Mabs tightened her lips but only said, ‘There’s more cottage pie if you’d like some.’
‘I’m thinking of staying with Mam and Greg until Dad’s on the mend. He’s been back in hospital, but the doctors think he’ll be home in a few days and Mam would be glad of my help.’
‘Keep a low heat on in your flat, darling, there’s some bitter cold weather coming.’
‘Thanks for the reminder; I will. The last thing I need is a burst pipe.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘Best I get back or I’ll be in trouble.’
‘Give your notice why don’t you? A girl of your age shouldn’t be unhappy.’
‘And join Jake in London?’
‘Perish the thought!’
Zena laughed at Mabs’s outspoken comment but she was serious as she strolled slowly back to the office. She had only said what Zena herself had been thinking for some time. Jake and London was one decision; the job where she was unhappy was another. She stood at the kerb and waited for the traffic to allow her to cross and saw a bus coming. She stood back and waited, in case her brother Greg was driving. A horn sounded and she saw his hand wave as he drove past slowly and stopped at the nearby bus stop.
‘See you at the hospital at seven,’ he called, before driving off.
She sighed. Why couldn’t Jake have been content to stay in this small town where they had been born and had lived all their lives? Greg was a bus driver, like Uncle Frank, and he never seemed restless. Why did Jake want them to live so far away from everyone they loved?
Starting again among strangers didn’t appeal, although, she admitted to herself, she should be grabbing an opportunity to see something of the world with both hands, and besides, shouldn’t she be supporting Jake, not trying to hold him back?
Greg looked back as he waited for the bus to fill. He could see she was frowning and guessed it was Jake causing the worry. ‘Jake would be a great brother-in-law,’ he told his conductress. ‘He’s fun and quite unpredictable, like the time he gave a wonderful party to celebrate my twenty-first birthday then admitted he had spent money intended to buy a new bike for Zena after giving away hers to the new local nurse who needed one to get to her patients.’
Jake was always doing things for other people, often at the expense of someone else. He’d heard recently that he had sent a parcel of groceries to a mother who was unable to work because her daughter was ill. There was no insistence on a repayment. And he’d dug a back garden for someone called Roy Roberts when he couldn’t manage it himself. Greg had given him a torch for use during the dark winter months but that was now in the pocket of the street cleaner who often started before the sun was up.
Now he cheerfully announced that he had a new job and they would be moving to London. Yes, Jake would be a great brother-in-law but, Greg realized, that didn’t make him an ideal husband. Perhaps he should call on the way home from work, get Zena talking, try to help her to think out loud, as Aunty Mabs would put it. But perhaps he’d talk to Aunty Mabs first, she would know how best to approach the subject. As he finished his shift, the idea fizzled out like a dead firework and days passed.
He did call on Mabs but said nothing about his sister. Mabs glanced at the clock anxiously. Her bus was due at 9.45 and she didn’t want to miss it. Greg began to reminisce about her husband, his Uncle Frank, who had given him the idea of becoming a bus driver like himself with his stories about life on the road, as he called it.
‘My Frank would still be here, driving his bus, if it hadn’t been for that big huge win on the football pools,’ she said sadly. ‘Biggest regret of my life that I didn’t throw the coupon in the ash bin instead of posting it.’
‘You don’t really think that, do you?’
‘It was too much. He spent ages thinking about how we’d spend it. Travel? A better flat? Fancy furniture and clothes? Such nonsense kept him awake at night. We didn’t need any of it.’
‘You could spend it on moving nearer to Mam and Dad, or closer to the shops?’
‘I won’t spend it; I’d feel wicked and uncaring to use the money that killed him. I did buy a fridge – we’d never had one of those, and I used some to do something your uncle would have approved of. But that’s all. I won’t touch the rest. I don’t need it.’
Greg was curious about how the money had been spent, but didn’t ask.
She ushered him out then, insisting she was ready for her bed. As soon as he was out of sight, she grabbed her old hat and coat and hurried to the bus stop.
Ronald was still in hospital, his improvement hadn’t lasted and his planned return home had been delayed, then postponed until he showed a lasting improvement. Zena and Greg were at the hospital during evening visiting, when their mother Lottie arrived with Mabs. Two visitors at a time to a patient was the firm rule so Greg and Zena sat in the corridor while the sisters-in-law went to talk to Ronald.
‘Heard from Jake?’ Greg asked. It was always a difficult subject. He knew his sister rarely heard from Jake apart from a brief call from a phone box where he usually told her how wonderful his life was and asked when was she coming to join him, then ran out of pennies.
‘He’s hopeless at writing letters; you know what Jake’s like. He means to and might even start to write one, but there’s always something happening to distract him. I bet he already has a group of friends. I write often to tell him about life in Cold Brook Vale and hope to persuade him to give up and come home.’
‘Will it work?’
She shrugged. ‘I can only hope.’ She frowned. ‘He’s stopped asking me to go there on a visit to see whether I can live in London. Are we both hoping for opposite things?’
‘He’ll be missing you and I bet he’ll be home before Christmas.’
‘Christmas 1953. Can you believe it’s eight years since war ended? And food still rationed. Surely his enthusiasm for this new job and living so far away will have faded before then?’
‘It isn’t far off. But his enthusiasm for this job and living in London might last longer than that.’
Greg dreamed about Christmas. He imagined the house all decorated with the ancient trimmings they used year after year. He would invite his secret love, Rose, and introduce her to his parents. Dad would be out of hospital; Mam would fill the house with food; Aunty Mabs would be there, and Uncle Sam from the farm with his father, Neville. The house would be groaning at the seams as always. He knew Rose would like his sister and surely Jake would be there too. He wouldn’t stay away for Christmas. It would be a perfect opportunity for Zena and Jake to talk and for Rose and himself to come to an understanding. A few visits and she would forget her shyness and her insistence on secrecy. Christmas was going to be perfect.
Jake was walking along a London street where many of the houses were derelict, doors and windows missing, holes where slates had fallen from the roofs into front gardens that were already filled with abandoned rubbish and remnants of earlier attempts to repair the once elegant properties. A few squatters found the place from time to time and were regularly chased out, often late at night. He could imagine Zena’s reaction if she could see the awful place he called home.
There were many things he didn’t tell Zena. It was a painful disappointment when he reached London to be told he would not be offered the job about which he had boasted to everyone. He had been exaggerating as he usually did. He’d been invited to attend an interview only, but had been sure that the job would be his. Instead, he had been offered a menial post as a caretaker and messenger for the firm, called Cover All. They bought and supplied industrial clothing – at least that part of his story had been true. He delivered local papers and sometimes collected payments.
He had given Zena the address of the friend Stanley, who had heard of the vacancy and persuaded him to apply, but there was no room for him to stay there. He lived in a decrepit multi-tenanted house and the post was often thrown away before the owner picked it up.
Madeleine, one of the secretaries at Cover All, had agreed that Zena should write care of the office when she heard about his difficulty, promising to pass them on to him. Not before I open them and read them, she thought with a smile. Finding out about other people’s lives was a great interest to Madeleine Jones. She quickly learned that what he told his fiancé was totally untrue. That made her smile even wider.
She had befriended Jake; they had been on walks around the city and she pointed out places of interest which he stored in his memory for the time when he would be showing Zena her new home. He even made notes of things to tell her when they met at Christmas time.
Madeleine was amused by his small-town mentality, at the way he stopped and stared at everything, and admitted his ignorance of so much of what he was seeing. She couldn’t resist having a little fun. Two of Zena’s silly letters were read then thrown away. How stupid she sounded. Why didn’t she realize what was so obvious to anyone with a brain, that Jake had outgrown her and was enjoying the freedom of a new exciting life far away from her? Given one of Jake’s letters to Zena to post, she opened it intending to put it in a fresh envelope and post it on, but she was surprised at the contents. Jake was asking Zena again to marry him and come to live with him in London. She threw that one away too. She had no interest in Jake herself; he was small fry from a small pool and she looked higher than that, but it was fun to interfere in other lives and be entertained by the results.
One night as Greg and a friend were leaving the cinema he thought he saw Aunty Mabs in the main road and, as it was late evening, he was surprised. He couldn’t stop, if he missed the last bus it was a long walk. He’d probably been mistaken, Aunty Mabs didn’t like going out at night, yet he was certain it was her. She was covered up with a long coat, a scarf and woolly hat, but she was recognizable by her walk, a sort of rolling gait, like a drunken sailor he always teased. She so rarely went out in the evening and tonight was cold with an icy wind blowing and she should be safe indoors. He decided to visit the following day and ask where she had been going and use the opportunity to talk about Zena, but, as before, he let the idea drift. Tomorrow he was meeting Rose Conelly and everything else faded from his mind.
He was very attracted to the quiet, secretive girl. She was older than himself and seemed self-contained, but he nevertheless felt protective towards her. Although they had been going out for a couple of months she had told him nothing about her family or about her past. He stopped asking questions, aware that she became upset. She would tell him in her own time, he thought. Once he had broken through the shell of her reserve she would talk to him. He tried not to ask awkward questions, but if he did she was adept at changing the subject or answering without giving anything away. She brushed away compliments as though they were insults. He hoped a day would come when she would accept him as a man she could trust.
Zena spent her lunch break doing some shopping and reluctantly stepped back into the rental agency where she had been unhappy for so long. The manager confronted her, looking at his watch, aware of the five minutes she was late so, before he could begin his lecture, she gave her notice. She typed it to confirm her decision. He blustered and threatened, warning about the poor chances of getting a better job with her minimal skills, then, seeing she had made up her mind, insisted she needn’t work out her notice but leave that day. ‘Call on Monday for the monies owed to you,’ was all he said.
There were several letters on her desk. He pointed to them and she typed them as he watched, and left them on his desk ready for signature, then, with a muttered goodbye to which he didn’t reply, she left.
She wasn’t ready to go home. She felt tearful, ashamed, as though she had been sacked for some misdemeanour. Graham Broughton was obviously glad of the chance to be rid of her. She had expected to be asked to at least wait until someone could be found to take her place, not dismissed with immediate effect.
She walked aimlessly along the main road, looking in windows and seeing nothing. Then began to wonder what she would do next and, for a brief moment, she wondered whether this was the moment to join Jake in London. She glanced at the phone box but instead, she went to the library and began idly searching the jobs vacant columns. With her father ill she was needed at home for a while. The excuse was a relief. There was still a chance that Jake would decide to come back home.
Browsing through the list of jobs on offer, a list of households needing a cleaner caught her eye and she wondered if doing housework for strangers might be a convenient way of filling time while she considered her options. She didn’t want anything permanent, just a way of earning some money while she decided what to do about London. She took out her notebook and wrote down names and numbers.
Picking up the post as she went into the flat, she searched through it for a letter from Jake but there wasn’t one. Jake wasn’t very good at keeping in touch. But in a few weeks’ time he’d be home and seeing him, loving him like she did, that would be the time to decide about London; when he was close, telling her how much he needed her. She threw the rest of the post onto the kitchen table and went to her parents’ house to begin making phone calls. Within a very short time she had arranged three interviews for the following day and two for that evening. A few hours later she had arranged another two interviews and had written to two others. The interviews went well and she had found two clients.
She rang her mother at the stationers where she worked, and then went to tell Aunty Mabs. Mabs almost screamed her approval. ‘Good on you, gel. Some sense at last, just when I was beginning to give up on you.’ Only then did she go to the phone box to leave a message for Jake.
She felt ridiculously excited. It was like being let out of a cage, she thought and wondered why it had taken her so long to make the move. The job had made her unhappy for a long time. The office phone of Cover All rang for a long time but no one answered. Then she realized that it was past 5.30 and the office would be closed. She tried the flat he shared but was told the number was incorrect. She was deflated at not being able to tell him. There was one more number to try. Jake often went out with his friend, Stanley, where he’d stayed when he first went to London and he might possibly be there.
‘Hello, are you Stanley? It’s Zena, Jake’s fiancé. You don’t know where Jake might be, by any chance, do you?’
‘His fiancé?’ the voice queried.
‘Yes, Zena Martin, Jake’s fiancé. You must have heard of me!’
‘Oh, Zena, yes, I had someone else on my mind and—Sorry but I don’t know where he is, he wasn’t at the office today. Have you tried the house?’
‘It doesn’t matter, he’s sure to phone me at Mam’s as he’s coming home in about a week, but if you see him, will you ask him to call me?’
Still sounding a bit bemused, Stanley promised to pass the message on if he saw Jake. Mildly puzzled by Stanley’s vagueness Zena thanked him and rang off.
Packing a suitcase she prepared to go to her parents’ house where she had arranged to stay the weekend. About to leave, she was dismayed when there was a loud, imperious banging on the door. At once she thought it was bad news about her father and, serious-faced, she opened it and, to her delight and relief it was Jake.
‘Jake!’ she gasped, dropping the suitcase, raising her arms to hold him.
‘That’s me.’ he said, laughing. ‘How’s my girl?’ He lifted her up in a bear hug. ‘I was sitting alone in the flat, feeling so lonely and suddenly I had to see you, so I dashed to the station, caught a train, and here I am.’ Then he saw the small suitcase standing near the door. ‘What’s this? Not going away, are you? Why didn’t you tell me, love?’
‘I was going to stay the weekend with Mam and Greg, but that was before I opened the door and saw you standing there.’ She didn’t tell him she had been trying to get in touch to tell him and Stanley hadn’t known where he was. That was explained by his arrival although it was strange that Stanley seemed not to know of his whereabouts. She pushed the thought aside; this unexpected weekend was not going to include a moment of criticism. He was here because he couldn’t wait to see her.
The weekend was wonderful, being so unexpected they had no plans made and everything they did was on impulse. They walked into the theatre without looking first to see what was playing; going into town and catching the next bus to arrive uncaring of where it would take them. Eating at expensive restaurants or at a market stall, everything was fun.
Seeing him leaving on the Sunday evening was emotional. They clung to each other as the train puffed importantly into the station.
‘Please come to London, darling girl. Every weekend will be as good as this one’s been,’ he whispered, as his train stopped at the platform. She was tempted to say yes and go back to the flat and start packing. Her mind raced during those few minutes with the fact that she had no job to worry about, there was nothing to hold her, apart from letting a few prospective clients down. Then thoughts of her family intervened and she didn’t say the words that Jake wanted to hear.
‘I’ll see you next weekend,’ she said, but he shook his head.
‘Sorry, love. I can’t promise to get home for a while. I have to go to Belgium, not sure where after that, see. I’ve gone international remember! I’m visiting the factories where the garments are made to negotiate on price and delivery dates. It’s wonderful and something I’m very good at. Zena, love, we’ll be rich one day, just believe me. And London is the place to enjoy being rich.’
The first thing Zena had to do before starting work as a domestic cleaner was to buy a bicycle. It wasn’t as smart or as road-worthy as the new Raleigh sports bike Jake had given away. Zena remembered she had asked why he had given her property away and he’d hugged her and said he knew she would understand. The bike was in the shed getting more and more in need of care and there was Jennie Morris needing one, desperate to be able to get to work visiting patients in their homes. Zena knew Jennie Morris, she was one of the team now helping her father. She had admitted she had rarely used it but now, because of Jake’s generosity with her property, she had to buy another she thought with mild exasperation.
A few days later, with a second-hand bicycle, much more ancient that her previous machine, she began work in four of the five houses at which she’d had an interview. One she wasn’t sure of; there was a hint at being treated like a servant and, cleaner she might be, she wasn’t prepared to accept the woman’s low opinion of her intelligence and abilities and being treated accordingly.
Roy Roberts was a retired delivery driver, in pain with arthritis and struggling to be independent, insisting he could cope with many of the tasks she offered to do for him He was considerate, and struggled to make her a cup of tea, apologizing for not having any cake to offer her. Zena warmed to him at once and decided to bring him a cake on subsequent visits. She found extra jobs that needed doing and left happy that she had helped.
She met his neighbour, who called him a ‘cantankerous old devil.’ ‘He refuses all my offers of help. Perhaps, as he’s paying you, he’ll agree to accept help,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid he’ll fall when he’s trying to do things he shouldn’t. On the shed roof he was last week, would you believe!’
Zena looked back to where Mr Roberts was stretching up to close a window. Zena was about to offer help but Doris shook her head and she smiled and went on her way.
Nelda Grey was divorced with two children and was the manageress of a craft shop and café in part of the large property called Ilex House. Her home was full of beautiful things and, as they were muddled together with half-finished craft projects and boxes of materials for making them, three large dogs and two cats that came to her at once hoping for food, it was a household she thought of as completely scatty.
In the middle of the chaos, Nelda was knitting the handle of a child’s bag decorated with glittering buttons and embroidery in a flower decoration. She put it down and spread her arms in a light hearted way. ‘Can you do anything for us, Miss Martin?’
‘I hope so, and please, call me Zena.’
‘Then you’ll consider working here?’
‘I’d like to give it a try and, if you’re satisfied, we’ll make it a regular. What about twice a week for a few weeks then we can settle for a weekly call.’
‘I doubt that,’ Nelda said. ‘But twice a week for a while sounds good to me.’
‘You have two children?’
‘I promised them a trip to the pictures if they stayed upstairs until you’re gone. If you met them first you’d change your mind about coming!’
Zena thought she’d better get it over with and Nelda called, ‘Bobbie? Georgie? Come on down and say hello to Miss ... Zena. Politely mind,’ she warned.
Unexpectedly it was two girls who appeared. ‘Hello, which one is Bobbie and which is Georgie?
‘I’m Bobbie so you can work out who she is,’ the nine-year-old said cheekily, pointing a thumb at her four-year-old sister. They solemnly shook her hand and sat on a pile of clutter on the floor and stared at her in silence. Zena decided it was time for a diplomatic retreat.
Her third call was on Mrs Janey Day. The comparison between this and the previous house made her smile. The house was large, the rooms expensively furnished and immaculate. Mrs Day also employed a gardener and a nanny for the children. Zena learned that she was a dedicated charity worker and her husband was very wealthy. Arrangements were swiftly made for a day and time and Zena was on her way. She rode back to Llyn Hir thinking about the various people and their very different attitudes to life.
She hadn’t told Jake about leaving the lettings agency, determined for there not to be even a slight disagreement during their wonderful weekend. She decided to phone him and tell him as soon as possible, but, as usual, he was difficult to reach. She had made another decision too. She moved back to live permanently with her parents and her brother. Aunty Mabs found her a short-let tenant for the flat and, when that was settled, she tried again to contact Jake to let him know.
Eventually a message reached him and he phoned her mother’s house. She explained first about her change of occupation.
‘Zena, lovely girl, that’s marvellous! Give me time to find us somewhere decent to live then we can marry quickly and quietly, without any fuss and—’
‘Stop, Jake,’ she protested with a laugh. ‘I haven’t said I’m coming to join you! In fact, I’ve got a new job, cleaning for three families and I’ve moved back in with Mam and Greg. And Dad, when he comes home.’
‘Cleaning? Don’t you do enough housework, what with your flat and helping out at home? Surely you want something better, more interesting than cleaning?’
‘I won’t be earning much, but with the rent from the flat, there’ll be enough to put something in the savings each week. Have you managed to put away the usual amount?’
‘No, love, but I’ve bought a car.’ He spoke quickly to cover her protests. ‘It’s because I enjoyed that last weekend so much, lovely girl. I love you and I want to see you more often, try to persuade you to come to London.’
‘But we need every penny to buy a property, why waste money on a car?’
‘Don’t be upset, it isn’t anything grand, I’ll be down again soon and you can see for yourself that it didn’t break the bank.’
‘Living in London I wouldn’t have thought you’d need a car; the buses and the underground trains are so efficient. Anyway, why didn’t you discuss it with me? You make decisions with our money as though I don’t exist.’
‘You’re never here. That’s why. When I try to ring Llyn Hir you’re never there. You haven’t replied to the last two letters and, oh it’s hopeless being so far apart. Darling, you make me feel so unimportant. Come to London. Sell the flat and come.’
‘Sell the flat? You know I can’t do that. Gran left the flat to me and the cottage to Greg with stipulations. We can’t sell for a very long time.’
‘There has to be a let-out clause. I spoke to a solicitor and—Not a proper consultation, just a friend,’ he added quickly, as she began to protest.
She moved in to Llyn Hir with Greg’s help and left the flat neat and tidy for her tenants. Jake phoned several times during the following weeks, but there was a strain in their conversations. Zena knew the edginess came from her. She and Jake had both made important decisions without discussing them and that was not how it should be.
It was pleasantly relaxing to be back home. She fitted into the routine with ease. The local farmer, Uncle Sam – honorary uncle – or his father Neville, called often, sometimes bringing eggs or a rabbit, or just to sit and talk about things. Mabs was a regular visitor. Neighbours sometimes called and the evenings were a great improvement on sitting in her flat on her own and she knew she had made the right decision. She’d decided not tell Aunty Mabs or her parents about Jake’s car – more secrets. She’d wait until he came home and pretend she had shared the decision to buy one. She had been defending Jake for so long it was an automatic thing to do.
She did tell her brother about the car and that she hadn’t known before the purchase. ‘I can’t really complain, Greg,’ she admitted, ‘I left my job without telling him and decided to rent the flat and move back here. But my excuse is that he never seems to get my letters and I can never reach him at the office.’
‘Tell Mam and Dad,’ he advised. ‘Don’t complicate things.’
At the hospital, her parents sat holding hands, reminiscing affectionately. She told her parents about the car as though it was the most exciting thing. They were not convinced that Zena had known beforehand of the purchase, but said nothing.
Mabs wasn’t about to hold her tongue.
‘So he’s bought a car, then,’ she said one Friday, as she set out sausages and mash for them both.
‘Yes.’ Zena concentrated on cutting a piece of sausage and didn’t look at her aunt. ‘Isn’t it exciting? We can have some lovely days out once summer comes. We decided that coming home would be a lot easier for Jake with a car. The journey is so tedious, underground trains with two changes and all the rest.’
‘Better sense if he’d bought it for you, gel. There’s you going around on a bike with winter coming. Snow, ice and bitter winds ahead of you. You need a car, not him.’
‘It’ll be lovely to have transport when he’s home.’
‘So he’ll be home every weekend, then?’
‘He’d love to, but he often works at weekends and he travels abroad as well, remember.’ The defensive lies came out, when would they ever stop?
Greg borrowed a car and took Rose out for the day. They drove through the pretty, beautifully cared-for Pembrokeshire villages, stood on a beach for a while but were driven back to the car by a cold strong wind with raindrops at its edge. After lunch at an hotel and a leisurely drive back, they were happy and relaxed as they approached the village of Cold Brook Vale.
‘Come back and meet Mam and Zena,’ he suggested, but she shook her head.
‘Another day. I’m tired and I want to go home and sit and dream about the lovely day we’ve had.’
‘One day soon?’ he coaxed.
She kissed him lightly as she stepped out of the car and stood while he drove away. Then she walked to a house several streets away and let herself in, the smile gone, regret creating a sad frown.
Ronald’s health had improved enough for him to be given a new date to leave hospital and although everything had been done, Zena and Lottie set to, dusting, rearranging things with unnecessary care. Greg helped move the furniture and clean the windows and with a fire laid ready to light, they were satisfied.
Her mother was at the hospital and Greg was out with friends and Zena was alone in the house. The day was ending early in a glowering darkness, the clouds were low and threatening and it was very still and cold. She placed the vegetables in the casserole and put it into the oven. She wasn’t sure what time her mother and brother would be home, but guessed they wouldn’t be very late. Mam was visiting the hospital after the stationers closed and visiting at the hospital ended at eight. It was only an hour’s journey to get home.
She appreciated the warmth of the house, glad she had chosen to come back to Llyn Hir. It had been a retrograde step, she admitted that, but it would give her the chance to think about what she really wanted from life. Her greatest disappointment was the lost dream of running a bed and breakfast with Jake. His impulsive move to London had changed everything.
She looked around the room she had known all her life: the couches and chairs where they had flopped each evening, bringing friends and filling the place with their arguments and laughter; the rather battered table where they had eaten so many meals and shared so many secrets. Perhaps she simply hadn’t grown up? Maybe she hadn’t been ready to consider marrying Jake who wanted a life in the big city? A grown-up woman would have supported her future husband and followed him wherever he went, wouldn’t she?
She had been so sure of what they both wanted but they were drifting apart, probably because they saw so little of each other. These last few weeks his travels had taken him further and further away. He rang sometimes to tell her he had been to Spain or Germany and other countries about which he seemed very reluctant to talk. He was out of contact for days at a time and the weekends had no importance in the decisions to send him. She decided that next week she would go to London and talk to Jake and see whether she could clarify her thoughts and maybe make him understand.
On impulse she phoned his office, crossing her fingers as she dialled the number, doubting he would be there, but very much hoping he would be. A young girl answered and told her, ‘No, Miss Martin, Jake isn’t in the office, he’s probably at the warehouse. Shall I tell him you called?’
‘No need, I’ll get him at the flat later.’ She thanked the girl and replaced the receiver. That was another problem, the difficulty of reaching him when she needed to talk. Thank goodness her parents had a phone and she didn’t have to go out in the cold to find a phone box.
She looked through the curtains as evening closed in and shivered at the thought of the winter months still to come. A fresh pile of logs stood near the gate where Sam Edwards had delivered them. The garden looked drab and neglected. Her mother usually made sure it was ‘tidied away for its winter sleep’, as she put it, but this year, with her father ill and Lottie spending so much time in hospital the grass and flowers had been left to slowly decay.
There was nothing to do until her mother and Greg were back from visiting her father, although, she thought with a smile, that might be only Mam; Greg would probably decide to stay in town and meet friends. At twenty-one, two years younger than Zena, his social life was very lively. She settled down to write to Jake.
She thought about Jake in London and wondered what he was doing; something more interesting than cooking a meal and an evening listening to the wireless with her mother. But London didn’t tempt her. She had no intention of moving.
The truth was she was contented with her life here in the small Welsh village of Cold Brook Vale and couldn’t imagine ever making such a move. London was a foreign country so far as she was concerned. Jake said he understood and was prepared to wait until she decided to join him but lately he was never willing to discuss it. ‘Just tell me when you are ready to join me,’ were the last words he had spoken to her on his brief visit.
Feeling guilty at the way she was neglecting him, she wrote a loving letter filled with enthusiasm with ideas of where they would live, and how she was looking forward to all the pleasure they would have discovering the joys and excitements of living in the capital city. She felt even more guilty when she finished it as none of it was true. She didn’t want to move away, she was a small town girl at heart and didn’t think she would ever change. She hoped that Jake would change his mind and come back to the village filled with friends. She tore up the letter and threw it on the fire. Adding lies and dishonest promises wasn’t the answer.
She went to pull the curtains across and was surprised to see that it was snowing. It was only early December but large flakes were already settling on the garden and partly blocking the outside light. She hoped her mother was already on the way and would arrive safely. She pulled the curtains tight and, as she did so, the lights in the house went out and the oven fell silent.
‘Oh, no!’ she said aloud. The outside light had failed too and the darkness was almost complete, just the flakes softly falling catching the ambient light of the day’s ending. She stared in the direction of the light for a few seconds. Surely it was just a blip and it would come on again? After a disbelieving few moments she felt her way through the house to the kitchen to where her mother kept emergency candles, torches and matches. She lit candles in the kitchen and the living room and carried the torch in her pocket.
The first thing to do was contact a neighbour. Although neighbour was a misnomer, the nearest houses were on the small estate at one end of the lane; in the other direction along the narrow lane shadowed by overgrown trees on both sides, was an empty property with a large overgrown garden, that everyone called the haunted house and beyond that, a bluebell wood and Uncle Sam’s farm.
But first she’d ring the hospital to warn her mother to stay with Aunty Mabs instead of trying to drive up the lane. Then she’d ring her to make sure she was safe, but she was shocked to find that the telephone was dead.
Seriously alarmed, she opened the door to look out hoping to see or hear her mother’s car but the silence was absolute. So far from another house and with that strange hush created by snow, she could have been the only person on the planet. She hoped her mother and Greg would have the sense to stay in town, but she stood a candle inside a jar on the shelf near the front door to help guide them if they managed to walk.
Greg came out of the cinema and was surprised at the suddenness of the snow storm. Seeing the thick covering of snow and aware of the rising wind that was threatening to build drifts, he wondered how he would get home. The possibility was that the lane would be blocked and he didn’t fancy burrowing through snow drifts. He and Rose had been for a meal, but she had refused to go with him to the pictures and had gone home earlier, preferring, she told him, to have an early night.
If he could reach the hospital and meet his mother there, maybe they could work out the best way of getting back to the house. The only alternative was to stay with Aunty Mabs and perhaps, he decided, as he looked up at the large flakes, that might be the wisest decision.
Then his thoughts turned to Rose and her reluctance to progress to a different level with their friendship. He had never met her parents; she had been very reticent when he’d suggested it, but in an emergency like this she might be more easily persuaded. As he walked towards the hospital he wondered why Rose had been unwilling for their families to meet. Shyness was hardly an acceptable reason; after all they had known each other for a long time and had been dating steadily for six months, with neither his family nor hers aware of their growing attraction.
His mother was in the phone box outside the hospital and came out when she saw him. After discussions about Ronald’s progress, Lottie said, ‘Thank goodness you came here. We won’t be able to get home in this. No buses, cars are slithering all over the place, and when I tried to phone Zena to tell her we’ll be staying with Mabs, the phone is down too.’
‘With Mabs? If she’s in!’
‘Don’t be silly, of course she’s in.’
‘Mam, I saw her a few nights ago in the main street, dressed in about four layers of coats and that huge old hat of hers.’
‘She’ll be back home at this late hour for sure. She doesn’t go far in the evenings.’
‘I’ve seen her a few times late evening and I didn’t know how to ask where she’d been going. She’d probably tell me to mind my own business!’
‘Layers of clothes and a big hat? You were obviously mistaken. She doesn’t go out at night, hasn’t for years.’
‘It was Aunty Mabs, Mam. There’s no mistaking her swaying walk.’
His mother dismissed it with a ‘Nonsense, dear’, and Greg decided that tonight wasn’t the time to argue. ‘The flat is quite small, what if I stay with a friend of mine? Rose lives not far away, I could take you there, then go on to stay with Rose. I’m sure her family will take in a stray out of the storm,’
‘Who is Rose?’
‘Rose Conelly. She works in Davy’s shoe shop. We’ve been seeing each other often these past weeks.’
‘Someone special, is she? So when will we meet her?’ Lottie turned her head to look at her son, preparing to tease but at that moment her foot slipped and they continued the journey laughing, with her hanging on to fences and being supported by Greg.
Mabs was in and welcomed them with a sigh of relief, thankful it wasn’t one of her evenings for her night-time activities. ‘Come in, I’ve put some blankets to warm in case you turned up. Kettle won’t be long and I’ve got some soup ready to heat. You’ll have to sleep on the couch, Greg.’
‘It’s all right, Aunty, I won’t stay. I’m going to stay with a friend.’ He darted off before the questions could begin. He had walked Rose home on many occasions so he didn’t hesitate to push open the gate and knock on the door. When the door was opened an elderly woman stood there. He offered a hand. ‘Hello. Mrs Conelly? Is Rose in, please? I’m Greg, Gregory Martin.’
‘Who?’ the woman questioned. ‘Who’s Rose? No one of that name here.’ She closed the door and he heard bolts pushed home. Puzzled, he stood for a few moments staring at the door. He looked around. He hadn’t made a mistake, this was the right house. There was the tree behind which they kissed goodnight. Slowly he walked back to Mabs’s flat through swirling snow which had settled to an alarming depth and was almost obliterating abandoned cars. He had to think of an explanation that would be far from the truth. Then he had a better idea. Staying with a friend would avoid a lengthy list of questions to which he had no answer.
The wind was rising, the still falling snow finding ways to sneak around his collar and slide down his neck. He pulled his already wet coat tighter around him and walked on past Mabs’s flat. A few people were walking purposefully along the road, under the street lights but unrecognizable, huddled as they were in thick coats and hats and scarves. His friend welcomed him and they made supper companionably then Greg settled on the couch and lay awake all night trying to fathom what Rose’s true story might be.