When his mother collapsed on seeing the photographs, Peter didn’t know what to do. It was Jennie who bent her head forward and eventually got her up the stairs and into bed.
“Shall I call the doctor?” Peter asked anxiously.
“No,” Mrs Francis said, “I don’t want a doctor, I just want this woman out of my house.”
“But Mam—”
“Best that you go, Jennie love,” Peter’s father whispered. “She’s that upset.”
“Go now, this minute, and never come back.” Recovering quickly, Mrs Francis went on, “Raking up muck about us, causing trouble and getting pleasure from it. Taking revenge were you? For my son coming to his senses and leaving you? No wonder he doesn’t want anything more to do with you. Spiteful revenge, that’s what this is and you can’t deny it! Wicked you are. Wicked.”
“But I don’t understand.” Jennie stood in front of the woman who was glaring at her with such hatred that it was frightening. “Peter?” she pleaded. “Tell me what I’ve done.”
“What is it, Mam?”
“Get her away from me! Coming here, determined to cause trouble. I warned you she was trouble. Didn’t I warn you? Get her out of my sight!”
Seeing a distressed Jennie to the door she had entered so recently, Peter said, “Sorry about this. I’ll come and explain as soon as I can.”
As the door closed behind her, hardly giving her time to remove herself from the step, Jennie burst into tears. What had she done to make Peter’s mother hate her so? And what harm could there be in bringing a couple of old photographs for her to see? Most people would be pleased, interested at the memories evoked by some unexpected news of the past.
She couldn’t face going home. She walked the streets aimlessly for more than an hour, breaking out into sobs at intervals and stiffening her resolve to forget Peter and his unpleasant mother at others. She became aware that besides being upset, she was hungry. She bought fish and chips and tore open the package and ate them walking along the road.
When she eventually reached the Firs she suddenly made up her mind to go back and demand an explanation. How dare Mrs Francis treat her so badly and call her a spiteful avenging daughter-in-law? How dare she talk to her in such a way? And why, above all, why didn’t she even have the decency to explain what she had done?
Her knock on the door was loud and insistent and it was Peter’s father who answered.
“I’m coming in and I’m not leaving until I have an apology and an explanation,” she said loudly, as she pushed past him and walking into the living room. “Where is she? Still being pathetic in bed? I want her down here, now, this minute or I’ll go up and fetch her down.”
“Jennie, what’s got into you?” Peter said, as he ran down the stairs.
“A bit of your mother’s awkwardness, that’s what! Tell her to get herself down here or I’ll make so much noise the neighbours will hear me.”
Mrs Francis appeared at the top of the stairs and at once, both Peter and his father ran to help her down. Jennie felt sick. Why has Peter never been so attentive to me, she wondered, as he talked soothingly to his mother and held her arm as she came down, step by slow step. Then a voice in her own head answered her, because you’re too independent, Jennie Francis. A man like Peter needs to think he’s the strong one, that you depend on him.
She shrugged the thought aside. This was not a moment to suggest weakness. She stood in front of her mother-in-law and asked, firmly, “Who is Molly Bondo?” There was no response. She looked at Peter for support but he shook his head. “All right, I can easily find out. By tomorrow I’ll know why you won’t talk about it. Who I tell, is up to you.” The implied threat succeeded.
“Tell them, my dear,” Peter’s father said.
“I can’t. Not after all this time.” Mrs Francis’s face was stricken.
For the first time, Jennie felt sympathy for the woman who had ruined her marriage, and probably spoilt any chance of her son being secure in a relationship, by insisting on being his priority. The moment of compassion passed as swiftly as it was recognised. “They’ll hear me in the next street, mind,” Jenny warned. This had to be settled now, or it might never be sorted.
“Best that we do,” Peter’s father insisted gently. “Whether you like it or not, Jennie is family and she has a right to know. It will help Peter if she’s here.”
“Peter doesn’t need someone like her!” For a moment the dislike returned, then Mrs Francis held out a hand to her son. “Peter, have you had a good life so far? Have we treated you well?”
“You’ve been wonderful parents,” Peter was frowning, exchanging glances with his father and with Jennie. He looked almost as pale as his mother. Was she going to tell them she was dying? “Mam, you aren’t ill are you? Please don’t tell me that.” Getting up from her chair, Mrs Francis opened a cupboard and took out some birth and marriage certificates. “You’d better look at these,” she said. Peter took them and went to sit beside Jennie while they examined them.
“But, Mam, what does all this mean?” He turned to his father.
“Dad? Will you explain?”
“I think it means you were adopted, Peter. Molly Bondo is your mother’s sister and she is also your real mother,” Jennie said softly. He reached out for her hand and they sat waiting for further explanations.
“She was always no good, our Molly. Expecting when she was no more than sixteen. That one died and we all thought she’d be chastened by the experience, but she was still only eighteen when you were born, Peter. Your father and I were married, so we gave you a home with us.”
“Thank you,” he said foolishly.
“Your mother was afraid for us to have any children of our own,” Peter’s father said. “I’d have loved a daughter, but it was a daughter she dreaded.”
“There’s always been a bad one in the Bondo family. All through the generations there was one girl who went, you know, wrong. Sometimes more than one. I couldn’t face it. We had you, Peter, so we were happy.”
Jennie suddenly realised the wider implications of this sad story. “That’s why you were so against Peter marrying, wasn’t it?” she said. “You were afraid that we’d have a wayward daughter?”
‘“You’re very strong willed and that’s what my mother used to say about our poor Molly. Strong willed and determined to go her own way.”
Jennie stood up and picked up the photographs that had been left on the table. “I’ll return these to the Lewises and tell them you don’t recognise anyone. I think we can tear up the photograph with you and Father-in-law on it, don’t you, Peter?”
“Thank you,” Peter said again.
He was in shock and Jennie wondered whether he would remember clearly what had been said, or whether he was simply unable to think further than the knowledge that he’d been adopted, and had a prostitute for a mother. Those two pieces of information were more than enough to cope with. Jennie wondered with a burst of optimism, whether he would come to her to talk it out and make sense of it all. Seeing him sitting there, pale and bewildered, she hoped he would.
“I don’t understand why we didn’t learn of all this when we were married,” she said into the silence.
“I dealt with the paperwork, remember? I presented them for you and the adoption papers never left my hands,” Peter’s mother said softly. “It was touch and go there, but I managed to keep our dreadful secret.” She glared at Jennie, such hatred in her eyes that she frightened the girl. “Everything was all right, until you came along. Peter wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t persuaded him to get married and spoil it all!”
“I didn’t take much persuading, Mam,” Peter said, reaching out and taking Jennie’s hand. “It was I who did the persuading.”
Jennie smiled at him. For the first time she felt a glimmer of hope.
It was a time for revelations. Mair sought Frank out and suggested a walk. As they wandered through the wood on that late July evening, the air was warm but a slight drizzle was falling. They were more or less sheltered by the thick leaves of the trees but occasionally, the water would come pouring off the leaves like tiny rivers when it became too much for them to hold.
“Frank, I have to tell you something.”
“You’re calling off the wedding. I knew it was too good to be true.” He tried to keep his face straight but the solemn expression showed her a sadness that would not be hidden. He would be so hurt by what she was about to say that for a moment she relented and thought she would say nothing. But she knew Megan was right. If their marriage was to stand any chance, she had to begin it without secrets.
“I want to marry you, Frank. Please believe that. I – I love you, but I didn’t realise it until lately. You make me feel safe but it’s more than that. I have a great longing deep inside me to make you happy, I want your love and I want us to be together for always. I want to make you a good and honest wife. But there’s something you have to know, and after I’ve told you, I won’t hold you to your promise. D’you understand me?”
“Of course I understand, Mair. I’m not as thick as all that.”
He tried to smile but his face was stiff, his mouth wouldn’t do what he wanted it to do. He knew what was coming and wished he could help her.
“This baby, it isn’t yours. I’m sorry. Tried to cheat, I did. Tried to make out it was yours. But it isn’t. I was seeing Carl Rees and the baby is his.” She waited for him to speak, imagining him trying to work out how to be kind, as he told her he couldn’t marry her.
“I know,” he said finally, and she gasped.
“You knew?”
“I keep telling people – but they don’t believe me – that I’m not such an idiot as I make out. Of course I knew. But, if you still want to marry me, and you can promise that you and Carl are finished, then I still want to marry you, Mair. Oh, by the way, Mam and Dad have guessed, too, so I suppose a few others will as well. Are you all right about that?”
“Oh Frank. I don’t deserve you.”
“I bet a few will agree with that, too.” He laughed. “Marrying a Griffiths is what most fathers dread for their daughters!”
Frank was offered another night’s work by Carl and although he was uneasy, knowing he was marrying the mother of Carl’s child, he agreed. The extra money would be welcome now he was going to have a wife to keep. He insisted on having the money first though, just in case Carl felt any animosity towards him.
“I want you to do some fly-posting, for me,” Carl told him.
“That’s illegal! I’ll want an extra couple of bob for that!”
“A few hours work, that’s all. A hundred posters spread around the town and, on another night – if you fancy it – you can help me cover the outlying villages.”
Frank didn’t ask what they notices were about, he just took them from Carl and mixed up a couple of large pots of paste and went off, slapping the notices on every convenient wall or shop window. He worked fast and hoped Carl wouldn’t come and check his work. He had done exactly what he’d been asked, but didn’t think Carl would be pleased with the result. He got back to the cottage about four a.m. and, as the night was warm, he slept in the porch, where Janet found him when she went to open up the goats and chickens in the early morning. She wondered why he was smiling.
Jennie arrived in Sophie Street early that morning and, as it was not time to open Temptations, she walked back to look again at her shop, curious to know what it would sell when it reopened. She didn’t look very hard at the posters that had sprouted overnight, simply noting that they were red in colour and impossible to read. She saw the shop window as she reached the corner and as she drew closer she gasped in dismay. It was a gift shop, just like she had imagined opening! Her first thought was disappointment, closely followed by the second, which was anger that Peter and his family had ruined her hopes of owning such a shop, pushing her into a paint and paper store. Even that had been taken from her by Peter’s mother’s demand for her loan to be repaid.
She went to the shop door and peered in and saw Carl inside.
“Carl? Are you fixing shelves for the new owner?” she shouted. “Who is it? Someone I know?”
Unlocking the door, Carl smiled hesitantly. “You know him all right. It’s me.”
She stared in disbelief at the shelves packed with glass and china ornaments of every size. There were wooden items too, made, she guessed as revelation dawned, by Carl. She saw toys and ornaments hand crafted and beautiful. The shelves had been painted in patterns of flowers and fruits, the walls and ceilings used for ornamentation and displays. The whole effect was so magical, so attractive that she felt disappointment swelling inside her: a balloon of misery. “But you stole my idea! You should have at least told me!”
“What would be the point? You weren’t going to do it, so I did.”
Forgetting Temptations, she ran to Peter’s office. He stood up in surprise and asked at once what was wrong.
“It isn’t your mother so don’t worry!” she snapped.
“Which mother would that be?” he asked with a shrug. Her expression softened and she touched his arm in silent sympathy.
She told him that Carl had stolen her idea and had opened a gift shop. “I gave him addresses of stockists that offered the best variety and best prices. Everything he needed to start him off. He’s added some of his own work: wooden toys, ornaments, small kitchen items. It will be a success, Peter, and it should have been mine. Whatever problems your mother had, she didn’t have to ruin my efforts.” She was close to tears.
Peter wanted to help and he sensed that this was a rare time when she wouldn’t brush his concern aside. Arranging for the day off, he walked home with her and they sat side by side on the worn couch, in the dark living-room of his mother’s house.
“We won’t be disturbed,” he said soothingly. “You can shout, scream, cry, hit me, anything. Mam and Dad are out shopping and won’t be back for at least an hour.”
“I don’t want to do any of those things. I just want to sit and let everything simmer down. Then I’ll make my apologies to Barry for being late, and go to work.”
Peter put a cushion under her head and coaxed her to lie back. “This brings back memories,” he said. “We did a lot of our courting here.”
“Yes, with your mother listening from the landing!” she said, then the anger faded and they smiled.
His arms wrapped her against him and they kissed; a sweet, gentle kiss that left them both shaking. A second kiss offered hope and they held each other close, each afraid to speak and spoil the moment. Until the voice from the landing called, “I’ll have a cup of tea if you’re making one. I didn’t feel well enough to go with Dad this morning.”
Helpless with laughter, Jennie and Peter hugged each other once more, before getting up and creeping from the house.
Later that morning Carl stormed into Temptations and demanded of Jennie, “Did you do this? Did you persuade Frank to mess up my posters?”
“What are you talking about?” she asked, frowning. Then she remembered seeing some posters that morning as she had wandered back to look at her old shop. “Oh, are those red ones yours? The ones that are hard to read?”
“I paid good money for Frank to distribute them. So why did he paste them back to front?”
“I don’t suppose it’s any surprise to you, Carl, but you aren’t the only person in Pendragon Island to cheat occasionally!” The revelation lightened her mood and when Peter came to meet her at five thirty, she was quite cheerful. She was even happier when Peter suggested going back with her to The Firs to share a meal.
When Frank and Mair went to the register office to exchange their vows, there was a crowd of people outside. Among the mass of excited onlookers Frank recognised Jack and his wife, Victoria; Viv Lewis, dressed in a smart suit and sporting a rose buttonhole, with his wife Joan, and a group of children and young people gathered around Jack and Victoria who he realised were Victoria’s brothers and sisters. Why had they all come? He was pleased though. “Better than no one at all,” he confided in Basil, who was to be his witness.
“They aren’t here for you, you fat-head.” Basil laughed. “Look who’s coming.” A car stopped and a shy Mrs Glory Collins stepped out to be greeted by her family. Stepping forward from where he had been waiting, was Sam Lilly, with his sister beside him. “You aren’t the only one getting wed this morning,” Basil said. “And I told you we were too early!”
The wedding party went inside amid fluttering hands and shouted good wishes. Then Frank saw the rest of his family and friends gathering. By the time Glory and Sam Lilly had come out with their small party and stood with the new arrivals, the pavement was packed solid.
The crowd parted when Mair arrived, dressed in a blue, mid calf-length dress with flowers in her hair, accompanied by her father. For once, Bernard Gregory was not in uniform as he approached Frank Griffiths. Instead of the usual glowering disapproval, he smiled and offered his hand before following him through the doors. The cheering crowd of well-wishers, many unknown to either of them, settled to wait. Some ran to buy boxes of confetti, happy to be able to celebrate the joyful occasion.
Sam and Glory Lilly went to the small house in Goldings Street for their celebration meal. “Fancy having to stand there and hear the registrar say my name for everyone to hear, ‘will you, Gloriana Fleur Collins.’” Glory laughed.
“Even your children were surprised. I think you’re in for some teasing, don’t you?”
Outside, fixed to the window frame, there was a ‘house for sale or rent’ notice. As soon as they were able, the couple, plus Glory’s children, would make their home together in the house on Chestnut Avenue, with Sam’s sister sharing the house until she could find a place of her own.
For Frank and Mair there was the certainty of an all-night party in the Griffiths’s small cottage. Who would come no one knew, but they did know that the house would groan with the size of the party and that the food would last until the cockerel declared a new day had begun.
Barry watched as people crossed the fields and headed for the cottage, laughing as they hurried towards the welcome they knew would be there for them. There was regret in his heart. He would love to have been a part of that unconventional and contented family, but he knew that he lacked that special undefinable something, that was needed to make him belong. Time to look away and search further afield for whatever life had in store for him. Two marriages today, and on Monday he would see the solicitor and tell him to get on with breaking up what was left of his.
Rhiannon and Charlie had planned a day out for the Sunday after the weddings. Mr Windsor from the garage had offered to lend Charlie a firm’s van to take his family out for a drive and to buy tea somewhere.
“It will probably be the last outing before the baby arrives,” Charlie coaxed as Rhiannon showed slight hesitation.
“Then I think we should,” she said but there was still doubt revealed by the slight frown. “Gwyn would love to go somewhere different. We don’t get out nearly often enough, do we?”
“We’ll get a saddle for my crossbar just as soon as the baby’s old enough and we’ll go off on our bikes again. We all enjoyed that, didn’t we?”
As she packed the picnic, Rhiannon was thinking that with only three or four weeks to go before the birth, she didn’t want to be too far from home. “Perhaps we could go to Dinas Powys and walk on the common. I love wandering down the green lane,” she suggested.
“I’ve got something better in mind,” Charlie said. “But don’t ask, because it’s a secret. Right?”
“Not too far, though, Mam and Dad have invited us for dinner, remember,” was all the doubt she showed. How could she spoil Charlie’s surprise?
Dora and Lewis’s day had been planned. A morning making sure the rooms were all ready for Eleri and Basil and the boys to move in. Then, after a snack lunch, the van bringing their new lodgers’ belongings would arrive, followed by the family. “I expect the whole Griffiths clan will be here as well,” Dora sighed. “Lucky I made plenty of cakes.”
“They won’t be here for ages yet and the place is so clean you’re wearing it out,” Lewis said as he put the last bed precisely into its allotted place. “We’ve got time to go and see Mair and Frank, give them that gift you bought.”
After a cup of coffee, and having made sure everything was as ready as they could make it, they left the house at eleven o’clock to call on Frank and his new wife.
Basil brought the Griffiths’s old van to a halt outside the flat in Trellis Street and waited for Eleri and the boys to get in. They were going to leave the children with Hywel and Janet, while they used the van for the removal to 7 Sophie Street.
“Not sad, are you, love? Leaving our home like this?” Basil asked, as he pressed down the clutch and put the old van into first.
“I wish we could have stayed,” Eleri replied. “But if we have to move, I can’t think of anywhere better than sharing with Mam and Dad Lewis. They were so kind to me when I was married to Lewis-boy and they’ve never changed since. I love your parents, Basil, you know that, but I love the Lewises too. They’ll always be a part of our family.”
“We’re pretty lucky all round, aren’t we, love?”
“I should say we are.” She touched the heads of their two small boys as she spoke, then looked at her tall, boyish-looking, loveable husband. “I love you, Basil Griffiths. More than I can tell you.” She stretched up and tried to kiss his cheek.
“Hang on,” he warned with a laugh. “We’ll be causing an accident and where would our luck be then? If I damage this ol’ van, our dad’ll kill me!”
Sam had suggested taking the children for a run as the weather was fine. They were surprised when four of them refused. Albert and George wanted to explore the area around their new home in Chestnut Road. Elizabeth and Margaret had been invited to a nearby house to play with some new friends, so it was with only the two youngest, Winston and Montgomery that the couple finally set out that Sunday morning.
“What about calling for Victoria and Jack?” Sam suggested. “We’ll be back for lunch, but they might like an hour and a pint somewhere.”
“Shall I drive?” Glory asked, and when Sam nodded agreement, she slipped into the driving seat, a cushion at her back, and fiddled with the seat adjustment to be able to reach the pedals comfortably, and they were off.
After they had picked up Jack and Victoria, they decided instead of going for a drive into the country, that they would take them back to Chestnut Road to see the changes taking place there.
“But we could go through the lanes instead of the road, make a bit of an outing of it,” Sam suggested. “If you don’t mind driving through the lanes, dear?”
“Of course I don’t mind. It’s no different from driving through the busy streets after all. In fact it can be easier as no one tries to overtake, and people drive more slowly.”
“So, back to Chestnut Road, but by the scenic route.”
On that Sunday morning, Jennie was sitting in her small bedsit wondering where she would be a year hence. So much had happened in the past six or seven months that it was impossible to guess. Would she and Peter be together, or would they go ahead and divorce? To be back with him was what she wanted, but with conditions, she mused. She wanted Peter without his parents too near, or at least without his interfering, over-possessive mother. His father she thought she could manage without much difficulty. He was one of the ‘anything for peace’ type and wouldn’t try to run Peter’s life for him.
She understood a lot of her mother-in-law’s behaviour now she knew about Peter’s parentage, but she still couldn’t face living a life with her clinging to them and insisting that everything was done to suit her. No, if she and Peter remained married, it would have to be a long way away from Pendragon Island.
A knock at the door surprised her. She hadn’t had a single visitor until last night, when Peter had walked her home. She remembered how he had stared with some discomfort at the single iron bedstead, situated so close to the small sink and scarred old cooker in the room she now called home. She thought it might be Peter now, braving a second look, and hurriedly smoothed back her hair and checked her face in the mirror, adding a touch more lipstick before calling, “All right, I’m coming.”
It was Peter, but his words were not cheering. “I’ve got the car outside, with Mam and Dad in it. We thought you’d like to go out for lunch,” he said.
“To lunch? Me? With your mother?” She regretted the sarcastic response as soon as it was uttered, but was unable to take it back.
“Please,” Peter said. “Mam wants to try and make amends for – for – well, you know,” he finished lamely.
Putting on her summer jacket Jennie regretted not washing her hair. She went into the bathroom she had to share with four others and cleansed her face and neck, and reapplied her makeup. She looked at her thick hair, dull and with a hint of greasiness. She was ashamed of her neglect that morning. She combed it through with cotton wool in the comb to which she had added a few drops of cologne. Not perfect but it would have to suffice.
Peter insisted she sat beside him, which she did, in spite of a few complaints from his mother, and he drove in an uneasy silence along Sophie Street up to the main road and on towards the quiet lanes that eventually would take them westward.
“I thought Tenby would be nice,” he said cheerfully. Jennie agreed, wondering how she was going to cope with this awful journey and wishing she hadn’t answered the door. Peter’s father was pleased. He loved Tenby and hadn’t been there for years. Mrs Francis said nothing. She sat looking out of the window, stiff-lipped as though hating every moment. So much for making amends for her behaviour, Jennie thought grimly. What a dull boring day this was going to be, she silently sighed, as they passed the end of Chestnut Road.
Chestnut Road was on Lewis’s mind as he drove towards the Gregorys’ cottage tucked into the edge of the wood. Perhaps it had been the talk of Frank and Mair’s wedding that had begun the train of thought. He had married Dora when they were very young and, like Mair, she had been expecting a child, a baby they had lost. For years he had thought he was happy. Although there had been a few lapses on his part and many quarrels, he had believed he and Dora would spend their lives together. For most people, even now in 1956, when the number of divorces was increasing, that was still the expected thing.
Meeting Nia Martin had changed all that. For many years he had wanted to leave Dora and go to her, but Nia wouldn’t agree. Their loving relationship had lasted undetected for many years. They had had a child, Joseph, who had been brought up by Nia as Barry’s brother. When Joseph had been killed in the same accident as Lewis-boy, their affair had been revealed. Then he had left Dora and gone to-live in Chestnut Road with Nia. When Nia had died in a stupid accident in her garden, he had not imagined anything more unlikely than his present happiness with Dora.
Dora had changed, he had changed and together they had found a contentment he had once thought impossible. It wasn’t the strong passionate love he had known with Nia, nothing would ever replace that. He was thinking then of the moments he had shared with the quiet, softly-spoken Nia, the woman who had been the real love of his life, when a car hurtled out from a side lane right across his path.
“Lewis!” He heard the warning, and it was Nia’s voice he heard. But he heard it too late.
In Sam’s car, Glory’s reflexes were not fast enough to stop the car as the van Barry was driving crossed in front of Lewis and Dora. Sam grabbed the wheel and pulled in towards the side where a ditch was hidden by ferns and grasses that grew there in profusion. Barry was wide-eyed with shock as he ran straight into Sam’s car, at the same time being shunted sideways towards the edge of the lane by Lewis’s car.
Charlie heard rather than saw the accident and his foot was already on the brake as they turned a corner and came upon the three vehicles. Even though his speed was not great he found himself moving inexorably towards them. A protective arm across Rhiannon, he waited for the bump that would certainly come.
Basil, in the Griffithses’ van coming up behind him, was unaware of the crash. Charlie and Rhiannon were bewildered and frightened when the bump they expected came, not in front of them, but from behind. When the van came to a stop and they had recovered from being thrown forwards and backwards, Basil and Eleri sat stunned as both children began to cry.
The sound of the tormented metal which filled the air finally ceased, and there was only the sound of crying, accompanied by the slow regular drip of escaping petrol and an unidentified clicking.
It was Charlie who reacted first. Carefully opening the passenger door he helped Rhiannon out and made her sit on the grass near a gate set back from the road, away from the cars.
When he turned back, people were emerging slowly, stiffly as if dancing in some strange ballet. Their movements were accompanied by low moaning and wails and the occasional shrill cry of a child. He recognised Lewis and Dora who were standing staring as though bemused by what had happened. He couldn’t know that Lewis was looking around him, expecting to see Nia. Basil carried the two boys, while a tearful Eleri held his arm and walked beside him to sit with Rhiannon. He exchanged a few words of reassurance before running to see why no one was getting out of one of the other cars.
Peter was sitting in the driving seat and beside him, Jennie was frantically trying to open her door, but her side of the car was too close to the bank and Charlie opened the driver’s door and dragged Peter out. With Jennie out and helping, he half carried Peter, and left him with the women. He saw to his relief that her mother was with her, and went back to Peter’s car. Peter’s parents were in the back, Mrs Francis wailing softly, a shivering kind of moan that chilled him.
“Don’t worry, Missus, we’ll soon have you out of there. Just get you all away from the cars, then we’ll go for help.”
“It’s my husband,” she whispered. She looked bewildered. Her voice was trembly and weak. “Help him, will you?”
Charlie leant into the car and looked at Peter’s father. His head was at an awkward angle and there was absolutely no movement. He checked that Peter had turned off the engine, and holding back his panic, concentrated on opening the back door.
“Come on, Missus. Let’s get you out of there, shall we? Give your husband a bit more room, is it?” He was no expert, but he didn’t think the man had survived the crash.
He helped Mrs Francis out, groaning as she leant on her dead husband to do so, wanting to scream with the horror of it, wanting to get back to Rhiannon, filled with some atavistic dread of being so close to a dead body. He wanted to run back to the gateway, hug his wife, make sure she was safe and unharmed, longing for the live, healthy warmth of her. At the same time ashamed of his abhorrence, of his lack of pity for this man, and, for what the woman would have to face.
When he was sure that apart from Mr Francis, no one was left in any of the vehicles he ran back to the gate and hugged Rhiannon. “Are you all right, my darling girl? I’m sorry I had to leave you but we had to get everyone out. You do understand, don’t you? You don’t think I should have stayed with you?”
“Charlie, you did all the right things and I’m so proud of you,” she said tearfully.
Dora nodded, watching her daughter for any sign of distress. After a few seconds allowing relief to spread through them, Rhiannon asked for details of what had happened. He avoided mentioning Mr Francis, but told her the rest.
“Will you help me up now, please, Charlie? I want to make sure Jennie is all right.”
“Basil has gone for help and Jennie is with Peter and his mam,” Charlie told her. “They’re all right. Don’t worry, help will be here soon.”
Dora left them then and walked back to the crossroads looking for Lewis. When she realised he wasn’t there, shock took away her composure and she began crying and talking to herself. Rhiannon was talking to Eleri but seeing her mother was upset, hurried as fast as her ungainly body would allow and hugged her. “Where’s Dad?” she asked.
“He was here a minute ago, all wide-eyed and upset, then he vanished. I don’t know what’s happened to him.”
“Gone for a pee for sure,” Charlie whispered, “most of the men have done that, mind.”
“Some of the women too,” Rhiannon confided, trying to help Charlie cheer her mother. Sam took out the picnic basket and shared the contents while they waited for the police and ambulances to arrive. “Carbohydrate is good for shock,” he told them as he offered cakes and pasties to them all, coaxing them to eat. “I’ll see that your husband has some,” Charlie said quickly, when he saw Mrs Francis going towards her car. “You just sit and wait quiet. Leave it to me.”
“Where is Mr Francis?” Rhiannon asked.
“He looks in a bad way and I’m afraid to move him,” he said. Best not to say more than that. He might be wrong and either way there was no point upsetting her any more than necessary. He held out his arms. “Come here my lovely girl and give me a hug.”
Dora became frantic as Lewis did not reappear and the rest of the victims were taken by ambulance to the hospital for checkups. Jennie held Mrs Francis as the body of her husband was removed from the car and taken away separately from the rest. Peter watched as the vehicle drove away, staring after it in disbelief. “How could such a thing happen?” he kept asking Jennie, who tried to hush him, pointing at the distraught figure of his mother. Mrs Francis pulled away from Jennie’s arms and stood up, her body trembling as though her legs could no longer take her weight.
“I should have gone with him,” she said. “Why did you stop me? I should be with him. He’ll wonder where I am. You shouldn’t have stopped me, you wicked girl.”
“Mam,” Peter said soothingly. “You heard what the ambulance men said, he’s past our help, all we can do is let him rest in peace.”
“He isn’t dead! Don’t talk as though he’s dead! D’you hear me?” Mrs Francis said angrily.
Dora and Rhiannon were refusing to go to the hospital until they had found Lewis. When Charlie pleaded with Dora to help him persuade Rhiannon to go, she seemed unaware of the situation.
“Where’s Lewis? I can’t lose him now. Where is he, Charlie?”
It wasn’t until Charlie held her by the shoulders and spoke sharply to her, and reminded her that Rhiannon was eight months pregnant, that she came out of the confusion of the accident and the loss of Lewis and grasped what he was telling her. She knew that her daughter might need help.
She managed to tell her daughter, in brief moments of clarity, that she owed it to Charlie and Gwyn to go and have a check-up with the rest.
“Come on, Mam, come with us, please.”
“I can’t, love. Not yet I can’t. Where’s your dad gone?” She looked around at the slowly changing scene: cars being pulled out of the way to allow approaching traffic to pass, people sitting, limbs still shaking, waiting for their turn to be taken to hospital, and from all directions, men, women and children gathering from the nearby houses, coming across the fields and down the lanes to see what had happened.
Several times Dora thought she recognised Lewis, and she would begin to run, only to slow down and stop, disappointment painful as she realised her mistake.
When everyone else had gone, the ambulance men insisted on her going with them.
“Most probably find your husband there, Mrs Lewis. Taken there by a passer-by maybe. Let’s go and have a look-see, shall we?”
After an examination, Dora went home, taken there by a concerned Basil and Eleri and the children, who had all been declared unharmed, apart from a few bruises. An hour passed and another and at five o’clock, Dora refused their entreaties to stay and wait for Lewis to return, and announced she was going out to look for him.
“Where will you go?” Eleri asked. “If Lewis comes back we don’t want him going out to search for you, do we?”
“I’ll come with you,” Basil insisted.
“No, I’ll go up to the cemetery, I think he might be at Lewis-boy’s grave. If you need me that’s where I’ll be. You wait here and we’ll have a cup of tea when I get back.” She pulled a face. “Sick of tea I am, that’s all we seem to have done today is drink tea, but I’ll have one when I get back.”
They let her go and Basil watched as she set off along the road, running a few steps and then slowing again to a walk. “I’ll soon find her if Lewis gets back first,” he told Eleri. “Go on the bike I will.”
“It’s in the van,” she reminded him, “and the van’s in the ditch.”
“Our Dad’ll kill me,” he said.
Dora was hurrying as she went up the hill towards the cemetery. There were several figures there, bending over graves, attending to flowers, and she felt guilty, remembering that she hadn’t been to change the flowers for poor dear Lewis-boy for several weeks, not since Easter Sunday in fact. Then the cemetery had been so busy it looked like a picnic outing, children in best clothes, flowery dresses besides the flowery bouquets for the dead.
There was no one beside her son’s plot and she walked over to stare down at the bedraggled blooms and the dead foliage of her most recent offering. Death was so final. Sobbing for Lewis-boy and his father, she removed the debris and tidied the area, pulling out a few determined clumps of grass and one or two daisies that were able to root, sprout, flourish and flower in such a short time. Then she just sat and thought about Lewis. Where would he have gone? Then she knew.
She went to the bus stop, thankful she had remembered to pick up a purse, and caught the bus up to Chestnut Road, where Lewis had lived with his other love, Nia. That was where he would have gone, she was sure of it. The realisation didn’t anger her, she felt a deep sadness, but not for herself. Her sadness was for Lewis, and for Nia who had died. Death was so final.
Glory and Sam were allowed out of hospital and they left with Jack and Victoria. They went by taxi, first to Jack and Victoria’s house in Philips Street, not far from Sophie Street, then on to Chestnut Road.
Sam’s sister Martha was surprised to see them back so soon. The plan had been an evening with Victoria and Jack. “What happened? You surely didn’t run out of food!” she joked. Then they told her about the accident.
“Oh, then that might explain him,” Martha said, pointing a thumb towards the big tree in the garden.
Sitting on the ground, his back against the thick trunk of the oak, was Lewis. Beside him was a tray of tea but it was untouched.
“He hasn’t moved an inch in the hours he’s been there,” Martha told them. “I tried talking to him but he seems lost in a dream. Asked about someone called Nia. I thought I’d call a doctor if he doesn’t move soon. D’you think we should call one now?”
“I think a doctor might be a good idea,” Victoria said. “When the accident happened, he was in a car with his wife and he disappeared. It’s obvious he’s in shock.”
Sam agreed and as Martha went towards the telephone, there was a knock at the door. She opened it and Dora stood there, her bright-blue eyes wild with anxiety.
“It’s all right, Mrs Lewis, your husband is here and he’s safe.”
Dora didn’t refer to the incident once Lewis was home and had been examined by a doctor. He had slept the clock around and a couple more hours besides and Dora sat with him, dozing a little herself, watching him and hoping that when he woke he wouldn’t tell her he couldn’t stay with her, that he still loved Nia, that living with her in 7 Sophie Street made him feel disloyal.
When he did wake it was nine o’clock at night. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, peered sleepily at the clock and demanded to know what was he doing in bed at such a time.
“There was an accident, love, don’t you remember?”
He frowned as he concentrated on her explanation. Then he gasped, “Hells bells, I do remember. Is everyone all right? What about Rhiannon?”
“We’re all fine.” She’d tell him about Mr Francis later, she decided. He didn’t mention Nia or going to Chestnut Road and she hoped the memory would remain hidden for ever.
Once he was up, bathed and fed, she went across the road to tell Rhiannon that her father was all right, but there was no reply to her knock. At once panic set in. Rhiannon had been harmed, she was going to lose a baby again! She opened the door with the key given for emergencies and went in. The house was empty. Something dreadful must have happened. Then the back door opened and young Gwyn walked in.
“Congratulations, Gran,” he said, with a wide grin. “You’ve got a granddaughter and I’ve got a sister!”
Jennie and Peter worked together to deal with the Peter’s father’s funeral and all the time they wondered how they would deal with the bigger problem of Peter’s mother.
“Will you reconsider, Jennie, and come and live with Mam and me? We could be happy. Mam has changed, hasn’t she? She’s talking to you normal, now. No complaining at everything you do. Please, Jennie, let’s give it another try?”
“If I thought for one moment that you wanted to try again because you loved me, and wanted me, over and above your need to look after your mother, I’d say yes,” she said, calmly and quietly. “But all you want is someone to make sure the household runs smoothly. Well, your mother didn’t want me to have you and now she’s got you back. So let’s leave it at that, shall we?”
Peter told his mother that he had tried, but Jennie refused to come back.
Mrs Francis replied that he hadn’t tried hard enough. The following day she went to see Jennie in the sweetshop. It was just before lunchtime and she persuaded her to go with her to the Bluebird Café in town.
“I’m not here to persuade you, Jennie,” she began, when they had ordered their meal. “I don’t think I’m the person to do that. But what I want to tell you, is that now my dear husband is no longer with me, I can choose how live the rest of my life. I can go downhill and be utterly dependent on Peter, or I can start a new life. I’m free of most of my commitments, I have a house I can afford to stay in which I can manage easily on my own. I can go out and shut the door behind me and not worry about what time I get back. That’s exciting. I’ll probably visit some friends I haven’t seen for years, and I’ve always wanted to learn to play bridge and now, with no one else to consider, I can.”
“Peter thinks you still need him.”
“Then it’s up to you to tell him different, isn’t it?”
That evening, Jennie decided she would go and see Peter. His mother had explained that he would be on his own, that she was going out with a friend to see whether she could join a bridge club. Today might be a new beginning for them all.
She passed 7 Sophie Street as she left Temptations and heard laughter and shouts coming from the open front window.
Inside, Dora and Lewis were trying to feed Basil and Elerie’s family while entertaining Rhiannon and Charlie and Gwyn with the new baby, who was to be called, Mary Jane Bevan. The house was so full, Dora had to bend down and burrow her way through bodies to reach the kitchen where she had food cooking, enough for them all.
Lewis was happy. When he had woken on the day of the accident and found himself in Nia’s garden, he had expected Dora to be upset, but she had said nothing, presuming perhaps that he was unaware of what had happened to him. He was grateful for the happiness he had been able to recapture.
Filling the house had been a good idea. By the time Basil and Eleri were ready to leave, the new grandchild would be enough to keep Dora busy. Busy with family and friends was what kept Dora happy and it worked for him too. The baby began to whimper and at once Gwyn jumped up to see to her, to help Rhiannon by picking up Mary Jane to be fed. To make room for Rhiannon to leave the table, everyone moved like a party game, carrying their plates with them. Ronnie asked why the baby didn’t have a cup like he and his brother Thomas, and every one laughed. Dora and Lewis smiled at each other above the chaos and nodded. This was what 7 Sophie Street was built for. Loving families having fun.