Through the days and nights that followed, Dora and Lewis wandered around like sleepwalkers. Rhiannon doubted if her mother ever went to bed. What ever time of the night she woke, she would hear the sound of crying, or the rattle of teacups. Her father disappeared to The Firs very late each evening and returned long before first light. The saddest thing was they grieved separately, never exchanging a word.
Everyone was edgy, waiting for the funeral to be over and life begin to settle, and wondering if it ever would.
Eleri was subdued and went about the few necessary tasks in the house with hardly a word. She was unable to grieve, her emotions still locked in the double shock of Lewis-boy’s death and the circumstances in which he died. He had been having a lark with two girls, and the Weston girls at that. How could she grieve properly for a man who had treated her with such contempt?
She had ignored all the stories, about Lewis-boy taking girls out for tea, flirting with customers, the rumours about him and Molly Bondo. Now, it all flooded over her, her imagination filling in what she didn’t know. What a fool she had been to trust him. Telling herself it was only his innocent vanity had just been an excuse to avoid facing up to things.
Although both were stunned with the grief of losing a brother and a friend, it had been Viv and Barry who went to tell Caroline Griffiths that Joseph was dead. They went very early on the morning following the accident to be sure that the whole family were there. Caroline and Joseph had only recently announced their wedding plans and Caroline would need all the support she could get.
They made the announcement quickly, baldly stating the facts. There didn’t seem any point in gibbering and giving her time to work out what they were about to say. She stared at them, her dark eyes widened, as if expecting them to correct the statement and explain it away as some joke of Joseph’s, but this was no joke, there was nothing more to add.
They gave her as many details as they could and left her sitting beside her mother still wide-eyed and numb.
“I wonder if she’ll ever get over the shock,” Viv said.
“I doubt it,” Barry sighed. “We’ve both lost a brother, but she’s lost her future. To have found the man she loved at thirty, only to lose him again in a stupid accident, it’s tragic beyond.”
Barry paused to look back at the Griffithses’ shabby home and prayed silently that Caroline would be given the strength to leave it. If she didn’t he could see her settling into middle age and drifting through the rest of her years in a shadowy half-life.
Barry offered to drive Viv home but Viv told him he preferred to walk.
Viv didn’t intend to go to work that day. He didn’t bother to let them know either. If they complained he’d chuck the job in. He felt like doing that anyway. The death of his brother was a reminder to Viv that life ended in death and no one knew when the end would come. Dwelling on these sombre thoughts he walked back towards a house the atmosphere of which was more sombre still.
He passed the corner shop and saw Rhiannon adjusting colourful ribbons to her window display and anger swelled in him. To worry about such things with her brother dead! It was obscene. He pushed open the door and only then did he see she was crying.
“It’s Christmas. You can’t expect others to share our pain,” she explained.
Barry came out of the back room and said, “Rhiannon’s right. I have three parties booked. I’m expected to photograph people having a merry time and didn’t feel that I could, or should. I was about to cancel, but I didn’t. Rhiannon reminded me that I’m a professional and shouldn’t allow my grief to spoil other people’s fun.”
Viv nodded, hugged his sister and admitted they were right.
“But come home now, Rhiannon,” Viv advised. “You shouldn’t be forcing yourself to do this and, with Mam and Dad separated even after all this, we need you there.”
“When I’ve finished here,” she said softly. “I’m going to stack the new stock then I’ll put a notice in the window to tell people why we’ll be closed today.”
After Viv had left the shop, Barry took both Rhiannon’s hands in his and pulled her towards him. Enfolding her in his arms he held her until her crying ceased.
“It’ll be all right, the world goes on,” he whispered against her hair. “I’ll never forget Joseph and you’ll never forget Lewis-boy. They’ll live in our hearts and never grow old.”
She looked up at him, seeing the sadness in his eyes and almost without realising it was happening, they kissed. When he released her both were shaken.
“I’m sorry,” Barry muttered. “I didn’t mean – you can go home if you like, I’ll close the shop.”
He stepped back, turned away from her in a gesture she took as cruel rejection. Grabbing her coat, she ran. At her doorway he caught up with her and holding her hand as it reached for the latch he said, “No, I’m not sorry. I’ve wanted to do that for a long, long time.” Hesitantly, trying to gauge her emotions, he kissed her again and asked, “Will you come back to the shop? We need to talk.”
“Tomorrow. I have to go now,” she said.
“It’s wrong at this time, Barry. Wrong.” She was trembling and afterwards wondered how her legs managed to support her long enough to reach her room. Was it the shock and grief he was suffering, or did he really care, she wondered, and hated herself for thinking of such things so soon after losing Lewis-boy.
Barry didn’t appear the following day and she was relieved and disappointed in equal measures.
On the day of the funeral, two weeks from Christmas Day, Caroline Griffiths stood in her small bedroom and looked around her with a critical eye. She was thirty and her only chance of marrying had gone. This was going to be home for the rest of her life. Joseph was dead so she wouldn’t have the fun of building a home with him. She picked at the faded wallpaper. Perhaps she’d change it and make herself a more comfortable place. She certainly had to make more room. The table could go, she decided, and the wardrobe was too big. Basil would find her something smaller as well as the other things she’d need.
Her mother came in, wearing a black coat that was too tight even for her skinny frame and a borrowed hat that was so large it all but hid her face.
“Ready, love?”
“I was thinking, Mam, I’ll make a few changes here. D’you think Basil could find me a smaller wardrobe, it’s a bit cramped, isn’t it?”
“Not a bad room, mind, if we get rid of this heavy old furniture. I brought it from the farm when Mam and Dad died. Don’t know why we’ve kept it, do you? Best we get rid of it. Make room for other things, eh?”
Caroline turned and stared at her mother, seeing only the lips smiling beneath the stupid black hat. “You know, don’t you?”
“I guessed, love. I’ve seen the signs. You’ve got a baby on the way. When is he due?”
“You aren’t horrified?”
“After all the things your brothers get up to? No, love, I can’t think of a baby as a crime. Welcome he’ll be. There’s always room for one more.”
“What will I do?”
“I have a feeling that you’ll get some help from Joseph’s mother. And if you don’t, we’ll manage.”
She hugged her daughter, throwing the hat even further out of position. “I know it isn’t the right thing for a mother to say, but I’m pleased really. I’d hate to think of you growing up and getting old without experiencing a man’s love and the joy of bearing a child. Loving someone outside of marriage isn’t a criminal offence, now is it? If it is, half the town would be in prison!” She was rewarded with a wan smile. She pushed her hat back into place and guided her daughter out of the house.
“You’d better tell Joseph’s mother. Just a whisper. It might help her through the day. No one else need know for a while. One thing at a time, eh, love?”
Viv took Eleri’s arm as they walked into the church. But he left her momentarily to greet Caroline when she arrived, walking slowly between her parents. Torn between supporting her and standing with his family, he was relieved to see that all the Lewises and the Griffiths were gathering together. Basil, Frank and Ernie were grieving for their two friends.
Basil went first to whisper condolences to Eleri, who sat pale and calm throughout the ordeal. She was unable to clear her mind of the knowledge that Lewis-boy had died while out on a spree with the two Weston girls. The humiliation prevented her grieving.
Viv watched as Nia came into the dark porch, her hand on Barry’s arm. A murmur rose as people shared rumours about her and he felt the woman’s isolation. A combined funeral was not a wise choice but it was what Nia and Lewis had wanted. Dora had retreated into a twilight existence, vague and confused, and willing to leave the arrangements to others.
Viv left his seat again and guided Nia and Barry to sit near his father. Dora sat between Eleri and Rhiannon and if she noticed Nia beside her husband she chose not to react.
Viv heard the whisper between Janet Griffiths and Nia Martin and felt a lurch of sadness at learning about the baby who would never know its father. He told Rhiannon and before the congregation left the church, the Lewis family all knew. Barry was too locked in his own grieving to hear.
Nia spoke to no one apart from the whispered words with Caroline and her mother. She was the first to leave after the service and she almost ran through the churchyard to where a taxi was waiting for her. She drove off without an explanation to anyone.
“Mam’s going away,” Barry told them all. “I don’t know when she’ll be back.”
When the mourners returned to number seven Sophie street, Barry attended to Rhiannon. It was he who found her a chair when she had a momentary rest from serving the others, and he who brought her a cup of tea. She was aware of him watching, smiling reassuringly when she felt tears welling up.
“Like a replacement older brother you are,” she told him.
He looked at her enigmatically and said softly, “Not a brother, Rhiannon. My feelings for you are not those of a big brother.”
Hope lightened the dark corners of her mind and helped her through the difficult hours.
The Griffiths were there, and Basil was asking people if they wanted to buy a chest of drawers.
“Sold it to Eleri I did but she doesn’t want it now she isn’t having the flat behind Cut Price Ken’s. Bought it off of old Daniel Sharp I did. I said I’d try to sell it on for her,” he explained, when Viv threatened to throttle him.
“Stop talking about the damned flat, will you? Can’t you see Eleri’s got enough to be upset about?”
“I’ll give her the money back and sell it later, shall I?” Basil said, guiltily.
“Do what the hell you like with it, just don’t worry her now.”
Eleri had had to abandon the flat in which she and Lewis-boy had planned to live. The accommodation went with the job and a new applicant would soon be taking possession. She explained this to Dora and Lewis, having heard some of Viv’s complaint.
“Basil’s only trying to help. I can’t think straight, or decide what to do.”
“Stay here with us, love,” Lewis said, and he looked at Dora for agreement.
“I wish you would, Eleri. At least for a while. There’s plenty of room and I would be glad of your company. If you go I’ll be losing three people instead of two.”
“What d’you mean, Mam, three people?”
“Lewis-boy gone, and his father won’t be staying. Please, love, don’t make it three.”
“I thought – since the accident – Dad’s been here most of the time and I thought—”
“Now the funeral’s over and finished, that’s finished too.” She turned to where Lewis was idly looking at some Christmas cards. “There’s some post for you over by there.” She told him pointing at the corner of the table.
Lewis picked up the few envelopes, sifting through, guessing what they contained. Christmas cards from customers mostly. When he came to the last one he frowned and opened it. It was papers from a solicitor stating that Dora was filing for divorce.
Viv was simmering with anger. He couldn’t accept the death of his brother without blaming someone. The Weston girls were an easy choice. From the moment he’d heard of Lewis-boy dying in that van while going on that stupid errand, an errand he had refused to consider, he had felt a ball of fury deep inside him. When none of the Weston family appeared at the funeral he felt it explode.
It was Tuesday, just two weeks from Christmas Day. The day was cold and dark with the threat of rain. Leaving the family still attending to the needs of the stragglers who had come back to the house after the service, he went to the Fowler’s home. There was no one in and he felt his anger mounted. They’re avoiding me, was his illogical thought.
He went to Arfon and Gladys Weston’s imposing home and knocked loudly on the front door. It was opened by the timid-faced Victoria, hastily tying her ‘answering-the-front door’ apron.
“Viv! Why are you knocking the front?”
“Because I want to see Joan and Megan. They’re here aren’t they?”
“Trying on them clothes they bought in France they are, up in Mrs Weston’s bedroom. The police returned them yesterday. Giggling like idiots the lot of them,” she added in a disapproving whisper.
“Who is it, Victoria?” a voice called and Arfon came out of his study.
“It’s – er, Mr Viv Lewis,” she stuttered.
“Come in, boy, don’t let all the heat out. Now, if you’ve come to apologise for not coming into work this week then there’s no need. But I hope you’ll be back before the weekend, mind. No point in dragging things on. Life must go on and all that.”
“I came to ask why you didn’t show the respect of coming to my brother’s funeral.”
“What?”
“On an errand he was. Persuaded by those spoilt granddaughters of yours. My brother and my best friend are dead. And all because of your granddaughters and their stupid frocks.”
“Now, just a minute.”
“No, I won’t wait a minute. I want to tell Joan and Megan what I think of their behaviour.”
“If it’s any consolation, I’ve already done that.”
“Oh, so that’s why they’re laughing and giggling as they try those clothes on, is it? Laughing and giggling while Lewis-boy and Joseph were being buried. You should be ashamed, Mr Weston.”
“I am.” He glanced towards the stairs, hoping the girls wouldn’t appear. “I have written to your parents and to Mrs Martin. I’m sorry Viv, but it’s too late to change my mind about the funeral. I was persuaded that it would be kinder to the girls not to dwell on it, you see, and my girls are more important to me than your brother, sad as I am. You understand?”
“No I don’t!”
“They were hurt too. Megan has a cut on her face that might leave a scar. You can imagine how that must feel to someone like her.”
“Someone like her? You think they feel things differently because they’re the precious Weston girls?”
“Of course they’re different. A working girl wouldn’t see it as such a disaster. You must surely see that? We’ve been doing everything we can to jolly them out of their depression.”
“Jolly them out of it?” Viv muttered in disbelief.
“My granddaughters can’t cope with some thing like this as easily as those without a social status to uphold could. They have a special position in the town, involved as they are with the better families. You must see that?”
Viv wanted to hit him, so he turned to leave. He went out past a scared-looking Victoria and stood in the garden. He didn’t understand. His brother and Joseph were dead and old man Weston thought those selfish girls needed ‘jollying’ out of the worry of a mark on their face! It was unbelievable. He’d wait here until Joan and Megan appeared. He’d make them see what they’d done.
When the girls came out, wrapped in coats against the heavy rain of which Viv was hardly aware, a snatch of conversation came across to him and he changed his mind about confronting them.
“But I must go down, Joan,” Megan was saying. “I have to let Viv know how sorry we are. It wasn’t our fault that Joseph was driving, that was Lewis-boy’s idea, but we were the reason they were there. I have to go and see him.”
“Grandfather should have gone to the funeral, then we wouldn’t have to do this.”
“I’d have wanted to go anyway,” Megan said.
Viv hurried home across the fields in time to answer the door to the twins.
“We want to see your parents, and tell them how sorry we are,” Megan said.
“Not our fault, mind,” Joan added.
“You would have to add that, wouldn’t you?” Viv glared. But he opened the door and they went to where Dora and Lewis were standing. They were arguing and Lewis was waving a piece of paper about.
“But she’s gone, Dora. Nia’s gone. It’s all over.”
“Her choice. Not yours!”
“That doesn’t alter the fact.”
“You didn’t choose to end it! She did!”
“Er, Mam, Dad, we have visitors.”
“What’s it all about?” Viv asked, when the Weston girls had gone.
“Mam is divorcing our dad,” Rhiannon told him.
“Because of Nia Martin?”
“You don’t know the half!” She led him into the kitchen, where Barry was making yet more tea and tidying the last of the food onto smaller plates. White-faced, Rhiannon explained.
“Apparently, Mam was going to have a baby before they were married and Dad made her give it up.”
“You mean we have another brother or sister somewhere and Mam’s never told us?”
“Yes. It’s weird, isn’t it? Mam says she was heartbroken over it but Dad insisted. His job was one with good prospects but if the scandal of a baby before the wedding had come out he’d have lost it. Always ambitious, our Dad,” she added bitterly.
“So why does she decide to divorce him now because of that?” Viv looked at Barry, who stood silent and obviously distressed.
“Because he was carrying on with Nia even then and she was expecting too but she was allowed to keep her child Joseph.”
“Joseph was your half-brother?” Barry stared at them in utter disbelief. “Your father’s child? But that can’t be true.”
“It’s true.”
“And this affair with my mother has been going on all this time? More than twenty-four years? I don’t believe it.”
They were all silent for a while, allowing Barry to digest this latest shock; then Barry spoke as if thinking aloud.
“I remember Lewis being there when Joseph and I were small. Things come back to me that at the time didn’t seem strange. Kids accept life how it is without question. But now it begins to make a different sort of sense. Uncle Lew, we called him.”
“I’ll ‘Uncle Lew’ him. I want to kill him,” Viv muttered. “He could at least have had the decency to keep away from her.”
“She had the shop on the corner,” Barry said. “It was too easy. He only had to slip down the lane. No one would have seen him.”
“What do we do now?” Rhiannon asked.
“Support Mam, and stay away from the Martins.” He glared at Barry. “You were just going, weren’t you, Barry?”
“Don’t blame me for this mess. I knew nothing about it until now. I’m just as shocked as you to learn that my mother’s double life began before I was born.”
“Just get out before I kick you out.”
Barry moved towards the door. “I’ll open the shop for you tomorrow, Rhiannon, but will you come and see me and let me know when you think you’ll be back?”
“She’s not coming back!” Viv growled.
“Viv! Don’t start making decisions for me. I’ll come and see you tomorrow morning,” she said and, as Viv clenched and unclenched his fist, she gestured for Barry to leave.
“I know you’re angry, Viv,” she said as the door closed behind Barry. “But I feel sorry for him. His brother dead, his mother’s gone away and hasn’t told him where. He’s got no one. At least we still have each other, and Eleri, and Mam and Dad.”
“Not Dad. I don’t want to see him ever again. It’s our Mam we have to look out for now.”
Rhiannon didn’t argue further. Viv would think differently about Barry when he had calmed down.
At Christmas the mood was far from cheerful at the Lewises’ house. Rhiannon used the few days off to do some of the jobs around the house she had been forced to neglect. Dora was subdued, brightening up briefly now and then as if making an effort for the others, but the flame quickly died.
Viv went out with Jack Weston and occasionally called at the Griffithses’ to see how Caroline was coping. Twice he had met Barry there, but neither spoke. Barry had become the innocent focus for his pain.
When the holiday was over everyone was relieved to return to work and normality. In the evenings now, Dora found herself alone again. The thoughts of the baby she had lost came flooding into her mind. Since the death of Lewis-boy she hadn’t the time or the courage to think about the revelation that Lewis had allowed his ‘bit on the side’ to keep her child and made her give up hers. The fresh tragedy of Lewis-boy had shut it out of her troubled mind but now the day of her first child’s birth returned in a rush of deep anguish.
How could he have done it to me? Dora kept repeating to herself. She tried to conjure up a picture of the tiny face she had never seen even for an instant. Her arms ached to hold the long gone child. Then she charted her daughter’s imaginary course through all the childhood stages, crawling, walking, climbing, and laughing. Always laughing. Through school and work, she saw the little girl as a replica of herself. But perhaps it hadn’t been a girl? It might have been a boy and grown up like Lewis-boy. To Dora, it seemed the final insult that she didn’t even know whether she’d had a boy or a girl.
Dora rarely drank. But unable to bear her own company a moment longer, she put on her furry boots and a heavy coat and walked to The Railwayman’s. As the party mood of Christmas gave its final fling, she joined in the singing, and after several port and lemons and a few sips of someone’s gin, she climbed onto the table and did a dance. It was Barry Martin who took her home.
“I feel so sad about that poor little baby, you see, Barry,” she sobbed on the walk home. “Caroline will understand because I don’t suppose them Griffithses will let the poor girl keep her child either.”
“What child?”
“She’s going to have a baby, your Joseph’s baby, and with its father dead they won’t let her keep it. Poor Caroline, how she’ll suffer when she’s my age and has no one of her own.”
Barry was stunned. He’d had no idea. The mutterings in the church hadn’t yet reached him. Another shock to deal with!
“Wish I was dead,” Dora muttered. Barry was too lost in his thoughts to console her further.
The following morning, Barry called at the wool shop and waited until Caroline had attended to the customers who were browsing through the various leaflets and skeins of wool.
“Barry. This is a surprise. Is there something wrong?” Her voice was low, spiritless.
“Everything is fine. I just called to see how you are.” He could see that grief for her loss of Joseph was eating into her. Shadows darkened her eyes and the pallor on her once rosy cheeks was startling.
“I’m all right.” Again, he was struck by the change in her voice. Flat, lifeless as if she had been beaten by life.
“Nothing you need?” He couldn’t bring himself to ask if what Dora had told him was true.
He just waited and hoped she would confide in him. But all she said, was, “Life goes on, Barry. Mam and Dad and my brothers are good to me. I’ll be all right.” He left, promising to call again.
Barry had reverted to using the flat above Temptations again to store some of his stock, telling Rhiannon there was not enough space at his new premises. It was an excuse, really, to call on Rhiannon. Since the sympathetic hug followed by the disturbing kiss she had been very cool with him. Shyness might have been the reason and he hoped that by seeing each other every day she might overcome this and relax into the easy friendship of before. In the middle of January she agreed to come out and help him photographing a family with small children. Once there, she was soon busily involved in playing with the children, relaxing them and making the occasion fun. Walking home, Barry asked her to go to the pictures with him on the following weekend.
“Saturday night, so it won’t matter if we’re a bit late,” he said.
She agreed but made him promise not to tell her mother. “Mam is so distressed about finding out Joseph was Dad’s child I daren’t even mention your name,” she explained.
“Is that why you’ve been so distant with me?” he asked in some relief. “Why didn’t you say? I’ve wanted so much to spend time with you. I thought you disliked me.”
“Hardly that,” she said shyly.
“I’m fond of you, Rhiannon, and I feel we might have a future together. Does that idea please you?”
“It’s mam, I don’t know how she’d take it if we saw too much of each other.”
“Sins of the fathers,” he quoted. “Can we be expected to suffer because of your father’s behaviour?”
“And your mother’s!” she retorted.
“And Mam,” he agreed smiling at her. “What a mess they’ve landed us with. But we can’t let it ruin our chance of a good life, can we?”
“Give Mama a bit more time. She’s very low at the moment.”
“All right. We’ll wait until the end of the month, then I’m going to tell her I want to marry you.”
“Barry!”
“Come on, Rhiannon, is it that much of a surprise? You must know how I feel.”
“I feel the same,” she said, sliding into his arms, “but I didn’t dare hope.” The kiss was no tentative affair this time, both showed in the embrace the true depth of the feelings they had for each other and it left them breathless.
Telling her mother was not going to be easy but the more Rhiannon thought about it the less sense there seemed in delaying. The shocks were coming thick and fast in the Lewis household; better to get it all over at once. That evening she told Dora she and Barry were thinking of getting married. What ever response she expected it was not this.
Dora leapt out of her chair and glared at her daughter, her eyes wide with fury. “Marry Nia Martin’s son? No, No, No! Never, while I’m alive. You can’t!”
Rhiannon thought it was distress causing the outburst and she tried to sooth her mother. “Mam, it isn’t anything to do with us, what Dad and Nia have done.”
“Isn’t it? And what makes you so sure Barry isn’t your half-brother too!”
The shock had Rhiannon reeling. She phoned Barry and told him in a voice of steel that she could never marry him, under any circumstances. She didn’t explain, she couldn’t bring herself to speak aloud the dreadful words. She only made it clear that nothing he could say or do would ever change her mind.
“I’ll work in Temptations for a week to allow you to find my replacement but don’t come near. I don’t want to speak to you ever again.”
“But why? What’s happened?”
“Your mam and my dad. That’s what’s happened. I’ll never marry you. Now please leave me alone.”
“Stay, please. At least stay at the shop. I promise I won’t come near unless you ask me to. Please, Rhiannon. My world has fallen apart. Help me by staying on at the shop.”
“Only if you take everything of yours out of the flat. I don’t want you to have any excuse to come near me.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“It is,” she insisted in her new harsh voice. It wasn’t until the receiver was replaced that her voice broke. How ironic that he had told her he didn’t want to be a big brother to her, yet that was exactly what he was. A half-brother, someone she had no right to love.
The evening was clear, the sky a high dark blue dome and stars glittered like a thousand bright promises. Barry couldn’t sleep. Looking out of his bedroom window in the empty house his mind was snarled up with dreams about Rhiannon, sadness at the loss of his brother and worries about his mother’s disappearance. At three a.m. he decided a walk on the sands might settle his mind.
A moon had risen and its eerie light made the rocks into fantastic shapes from which his mind conjured pictures. The waves rose and fell sluggishly, lazily making their way back down the sand. He sat on a ledge oblivious to the chill air, his hands grasped around his knees until anyone looking would have thought him a part of the formation of rocks.
A shadow emerged from the top of the beach and he watched idly as a figure glided towards the edge of the waves. Another insomniac like himself, he wondered. Perhaps this was a regular meeting place for those unable to make better use of the dark hours.
He was surprised to see that the figure was wading into the shallow waves. It took a moment for him to realise that the person was not going to turn back. He ran then, half climbing, half falling down the rocks to the sand, then he ran straight into the icy water as the beach shelved and the water reached higher and higher. If he didn’t catch up with the person soon he’d have to swim. Then the figure vanished; he called wildly for him to come back.
By sheer luck he saw what he thought was a head. Striking out, Barry quickly covered the distance between them. Grabbing at clothing, he struggled until he had his arm under the man’s chin and with relief he felt him relax and accept his ministrations. Slowly he hauled him back to the shallows. Making the man stand, he said, “All right, you’ll be all right. Everything will be better tomorrow. It always is.”
He guided the dripping, huddled figure up the beach, talking reassuringly. “I’ve had a bad time of it and believe me I can understand your need to get away from troubles, but I know it will be sorted if I only face up to things. Come on, now, I’ve got a van over here. Where shall I take you?”
The bedraggled heap straightened and turned to face him and he gasped in disbelief. “Caroline!”
They drove back to his mother’s house. Barry ran a bath and found some clothes belonging to his mother. Between turning on an electric fire and preparing some food, he kept going to the bathroom door and checking that she was all right. He had removed the door key. When he thought she had been in the water long enough, he pulled her unceremoniously out, wrapping a thick towel around her.
“Now, will you dress yourself or will I do it?” he said firmly. She pushed the bathroom door closed and began to dress.
“Why, Caroline?” he asked, when they were sitting drinking tea and eating hot toast buttered with the whole of his week’s ration.
“Your family are supportive, aren’t they? Basil’s thrilled with the idea of becoming an uncle.”
“This baby should have been a Martin. Now he won’t have his father’s name. It suddenly seemed all wrong. I couldn’t bring him into the world without a proper name.”
Two weeks later, Barry proposed to Caroline and she accepted.
“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “It will be a marriage in name only. Just to give the baby his rightful name.”
Viv heard the news in The Railwayman’s. Basil and Frank and Ernie came in with Barry and celebrated the engagement, which was to be followed by a quiet wedding by special licence at the end of the month. It was Basil who went to collect Eleri from work and walk her home, something he was more and more willing to do. Eleri at once told Rhiannon.
“He can’t be in love with her,” Rhiannon said, deeply hurt.
“No, I think it’s because of the baby. It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t refused him.”
“He wasn’t in love with me either, Mam,” she told Dora later. “With Joseph dead and Nia gone away he wanted someone to fill the house and make him a home.”
“Lucky escape you’ve had my girl,” Dora said.
Then why am I so miserable? Rhiannon asked herself.