The den in the woods near Nelly’s cottage had not been a success. Margaret had imagined it would be a place where she and Oliver could meet, share books, enjoy an occasional picnic and a place that was their own. Dawn had spoilt it for her. She seemed to appear the moment she and Oliver pulled down the rope-ladder Billie had made for them. One evening, on their way out of school, she asked Oliver if he would go there with her.
‘But it’s dark soon,’ he said. ‘Mother wouldn’t let me.’
‘Tell her you’re coming to my house. We won’t stay long. I’ll tell Mam I’m coming to see you.’
Their plans made, they walked up the lane separately and passed Nelly’s cottage, where the door stood open as always, her oil lamp already shedding a fan of light across the path. They saw the vague shapes of the two dogs at the door, staring into the evening gloom. The dogs did not bark as the children passed the gate, the only sign of their being aware of them the gentle thump of their long tails on the cinders. The children ran on undetected by Nelly or George.
In the tree house it was chilly and Margaret took off her coat and wrapped it cloak-like around her to increase its warmth. There was a blanket there but it was damp and smelt of mildew, a symbol of the failure of the place. Oliver looked in the tins they had brought earlier that summer and found a few hard and inedible biscuits.
‘Why don’t you like coming here any more, Margaret?’ Oliver asked.
‘That Dawn! She always comes and spoils our games.’ As she spoke they heard rustling in the trees near by and they held their breath. Dawn was entering the clearing, the thin beam of a torch slanting ahead of her feet as she trod with care around the encroaching branches of bramble; painful prickly traps for the unwary.
Margaret gripped Oliver’s hand, silently pleading to him not to call out. They sat, hardly daring to move as the girl walked to the foot of the tree on which they were perched, before departing the way she had come.
‘We should have called to her,’ Oliver whispered when the trees had swallowed up Dawn in their darkness. ‘She is a friend and Gran says we should be nice to her.’
‘She doesn’t have to do everything we do!’ Margaret grumbled. ‘I don’t want you to take her to meet the gypsies when they come back for the winter. And I don’t want her to go to Uncle Billie’s farm either.’
‘Why?’ Oliver asked in exasperation. ‘You might be living there if your mam marries Uncle Billie and you’ll be glad of friends calling. It’s a long way from the village.’
‘Mind your own business about my mam.’
‘Well, she is going to marry him, isn’t she?’
‘Nothing to do with you. Or that Dawn!’
‘Gran says we have to be kind to her because she hasn’t got a mother.’
‘Well, I haven’t got a father, have I? So what?’
‘It’s worse without a mother. Everybody knows that.’
‘You’d still have your Gran, and George.’
‘You’d still have Mrs French!’
‘She wants me to go away to a school where I’d live in and not come home every night. Just come back for holidays.’
‘Your mam would never let her take you away!’ Oliver was so shocked his eyes were suddenly clear in the semidarkness, the whites glistening like pale lanterns.
‘Mam would be glad I think. There would be more time without me to look after.’
‘More time for what?’
Margaret frowned, then answered irritably, ‘Just more time, silly!’
Delina was leaving the bus at the bottom of Sheepy Lane on her way home from school when the books she held across her arm slipped and fell to the ground. Sheila, who had been on the same bus, stopped and looked around. There was a groan of sympathy but no offer of assistance came from her pursed lips.
‘What a shame. You should have used a bag, much simpler,’ she said as Delina picked up the last of the books and settled them once again on her arm.
‘If I’d had a bag I’d have used it. If I had known I would have all this marking to do, I would have taken one.’ Delina spoke quietly but with an edge of irritation. Really, it wouldn’t have hurt the girl to offer some help.
‘Yes, we don’t always plan what happens, do we?’ Sheila said, waiting for Delina to catch up with her. ‘I wouldn’t have expected the rain to stop or I wouldn’t have brought my umbrella. Life is full of surprises, isn’t it? And shocks!’
‘Isn’t it.’ Delina wondered how Sheila could have had an affair with Maurice and not expect it to end in disaster.
‘I didn’t dream you’d steal Maurice from me,’ Sheila went on. ‘Now that was something unexpected.’
‘Steal him?’ Delina stopped and the books began to slide once again. ‘How can you think I stole him? He wasn’t yours, so how could I have stolen him?’
‘I loved him and we had a baby on the way. What’s that if it isn’t belonging?’
‘It wasn’t as simple as that. He treated you badly, but I don’t think he loved you, Sheila. Even you must realise that.’
‘You think he loved you?’
‘Of course. We were going to be married.’ Delina began to walk faster, wanting to get away from this stupid conversation.
‘Don’t talk daft! Love him? If you really loved him you wouldn’t be here on your own, you’d be in Australia! You’d have fought to keep him. I would have. I’d have done anything to keep him. You only thought of yourself and what people would think! Come on, admit it. It was a fair-weather love that floundered as soon as there was a storm.’ Sheila was pleased with that analogy. Quite poetic.
‘You’re very rude, Sheila. You ruined my wedding plans and now you accuse me of not loving the man I intended to marry!’
‘Intended. Now there’s a word. Intended to marry him as long as he was as perfect as you think you are! Why didn’t you go on with the wedding? Why didn’t you defy Ethel and all the old biddies of the village and tell Maurice that whatever happened he was your man? Tell me that, Miss Prim-and-Proper Honeyman. Tell me that!’
Sheila ran on, in a hurry now to get away from the woman who had ruined her life. She heard a squeal of rage and turned briefly to see the pile of books once more falling in an untidy heap on the lane.
Her eyes were full of unshed tears, her chest heaved with pent up unhappiness. She had not intended to speak to Delina in such a manner and had, in fact, been polite to her on the previous occasions when they had met. But today had been a bad day. She could see a future that held nothing but the ordinary and Sheila hated the ordinary.
She had failed to sell to the first customer and her manageress was very superstitious about that, taking it as an augury for the day. Then Sheila had laddered her stockings and because of the manageress’s insistence had to spend her last shillings on a new pair. But it was none of these things that had caused the outburst.
It had surprised her with its fury and she admitted that it had taught her the truth. Something she had tried not to admit to herself even in the darkest hour of the sleepless nights, when dreams of the future flitted through her mind in a stream of adventures and handsome men. The truth was, she still loved Maurice. Of all her dreams, the one in which he returned, or sent for her, was the one she spent the most time imagining. She felt a childish impulse to run back and kick Delina’s books all over the lane.
Delina picked up the books and, shaking with anger at Sheila’s outburst, did not hear the footsteps approaching. She had just succeeded in balancing the now disordered books on her arm when they slithered uncontrollably down. Tad knelt and gathered them into a neat pile and, placing them on his own arm, proceeded to take a bag containing the rest from her. ‘Please, let me help you home with these.’
‘Thank you, but I can manage.’
‘You clearly can’t, Miss Honeyman. I saw them fall twice and once you get angry with inanimate objects the chances of managing them decreases dramatically,’ he smiled. ‘I know all about anger and what it does to you.’
‘There’s no need—’
‘No need, but I would be happy to help you.’ He walked on, leaving her no alternative but to follow.
‘The truth is,’ he said, when she was close enough to talk, ‘I envy you these books. Just carrying them gives me pleasure.’
‘You envy me the hours of marking I have to do once I have eaten? When most people will be sitting down enjoying the wireless or the television?’
‘I would give a lot to be carrying books home, to study and do what I wanted to do before war interrupted everything. I – I suppose that’s partly why I’m so ill-mannered at times, for which I am very sorry.’
‘Oh, really, Mr Simmons. I can’t accept that! Your behaviour can’t be blamed on the fact you didn’t recommence your studies once war finished. It’s been over nine years, you know!’
‘Dawn is ten. I had married in haste – a desire for the ordinary in a frightening world. I thought I would be happy in a completely different sort of life from the one I had planned as soon as I was relieved of my uniform, wanting nothing more than a peaceful and quiet life with my wife and little girl. I thought, during those dreadful days, that it would be enough. When my wife died it all seemed such a waste. Dawn was the only good thing to come out of it and even with her I have had more disasters than successes.’
‘Do you resent Dawn for being the reason you didn’t go back to your studies?’
‘No!’ For a moment the flare of anger threatened to stop the conversation. Then his blue eyes softened and the thin jaw relaxed. ‘No, I have never, for a single moment regretted Dawn. I just wish there was some way I could look after her properly and go back to university.’
‘There isn’t, unless you find foster parents for her and I’m sure you’ve already considered that idea.’
‘Yes. So I will continue working part time in a factory, brushing floors and clearing up mess made by other men. Men doing the sort of work I expected to be overseeing one day.’
‘Bitterness is a disease and if you don’t treat it, it will kill you,’ Delina spoke firmly, and held out her arm for her books. ‘Forget it, or do something about it.’
‘What can I do?’ He continued to walk beside her, still carrying the books, past his house and up the hill to the gate of Delina’s house. There, he handed her the books and put the bag on her doorstep, before turning away, calling back, ‘Thank you for listening, Miss Honeyman.’
Delina watched him go, a wave of sadness weighing on her shoulders more than the books had done. She wanted to help once her initial anger had gone. He really did need someone to talk to, someone sympathetic who would make him consider the options and come to some decision about his future before it was too late. For Dawn’s sake, she told herself firmly, for Dawn’s sake, she might start making enquiries and let him know if she discovered any way out of his situation.
Once Griff had been arrested for the burglaries, people in Hen Carw Parc relaxed. Archie no longer felt unease every time he returned home. Women began to be less fussy about locking doors when they went out for a few moments’ gossip with a neighbour, and there was an air of relief that things could return to normal. Then food began to disappear.
Amy delivered orders from her shop by means of a boy on a carrier bike. Since Freddie had gone, the messenger boy had been Gerry Williams’s younger brother, Merfyn. He came after school twice a week and took boxes packed with groceries, two at a time, on the carrier bike, walking up the hill and coasting back down. Amy had never missed a single biscuit since Merfyn started delivering for her and was surprised when a customer insisted that a full half pound had been missing from her order.
She replaced the biscuits and searched to see if the bag had been placed in another order by mistake, but they were never found. A few days later, apples were reported missing then a whole list of sweets from half a dozen orders. Amy told Victor, who promised to take an hour or two off and watch the boy on his rounds.
It was almost five-thirty one September evening when he saw a figure ease out of the shadows and run down the path of Nelly’s house to take something Merfyn had just left at her door. He decided to watch the thief a while longer. There was always the chance that Nelly had told her to help yourself to something. It was Dawn Simmons, he had no doubt of that, although she wore an over-long grey plastic mac and ran at a crouch that succeeded in disguising her effectively from a casual glance. Victor had expected it to be her so he saw through the half-hearted disguise immediately.
He followed her to two more places where, as soon as Merfyn had deposited the box, rung the bell or knocked on the door, she would run to take something from it and disappear into the shadows once again. At the fourth place the order was a small one; only a few items in a small cardboard box. Dawn picked up the whole thing and ran with it, just as the door was opened, melting into the darkness as the woman came out of the lighted room, but clearly visible to Victor. He had seen enough.
Shouting for her to stop he headed after her, calling her name as he ran. She threw the box of groceries behind her as she turned a corner and, as Victor leapt aside to avoid it, off balance, he could not avoid running into the man coming towards him. It was Tad.
‘Stop that daughter of yours!’ Victor shouted as the girl darted away from them.
‘What are you doing?’ Tad demanded. ‘Leave her alone!’
‘Catch her, she’s a thief!’ Victor managed to avoid Tad’s outstretched arm and grab Dawn. ‘Come here you little pest!’
‘Leave her alone.’ Tad’s fist shot out and caught the side of Victor’s face. For a moment Tad’s fist seemed to hover in the air, then suddenly Victor stood dazed by the blow, watching a stream of chocolate and biscuits fall from under Dawn’s mac. Then he pointed and in a nasal voice distorted by the pain in his face, he said, ‘See, man? Bloody little thief, she is, and all you can do is pretend it isn’t true!’
‘Dawn?’ Tad questioned, and as the girl began to sob, he asked, ‘Dawn, why have you done this?’
‘I didn’t do anything, Dad. Nelly gave me the sweets and he frightened me, chasing me in the dark and…’ she dissolved into a tearful, shaking child.
Tad’s impulse was to hug her, tell her it didn’t matter, that he would sort it all out. But he knew that this time he couldn’t presume she was telling the truth. This time he had to find out exactly what had happened. If Dawn was not lying, then he would make sure Victor Honeyman remembered this night for a long time. His fist pulled back ready for another fierce jabbing blow. But the thought that this was Delina’s father made him hold back.
Nelly had heard the knock on the door which, having given up the effort of trying to close it over the uneven stone-flagged floor, she’d left ajar. She put down the fish she was preparing to bake for the following day in time to see Dawn push through the gateway. She glanced down at the order at her feet and checked the most likely items and saw at once that the chocolate she had ordered was missing. She called the dogs and gave chase. Dawn had obviously knocked to check if the house was empty and, receiving no response, presumed it was and helped herself to the chocolate.
Fear for the girl was uppermost in her mind as she lifted the long apron she wore over her dress and ran up the path and out into the lane. The dogs, thinking it was a game, raced round and round her, threatening to trip her up and she stopped and pretended to throw a stick to send them chasing back the way they had come. She puffed up through the council houses, heading for Dawn’s house, and was in time to see Tad hit Victor.
‘’Ere, you! Less of that!’ she shouted and the dogs, who had been searching for some invisible stick, swooped, barking on the trio.
‘What you ’itting ’im for?’ Nelly demanded between gulping breaths. ‘It’s ’er what wants a smacked arse if you ask me!’ Still panting, she held her hand out to Dawn. ‘Come on, ’and it over. Me an’ George an’ Oliver was goin’ to enjoy that chocolate while we listened to the wireless tonight.’
In the light of the street lamp she saw the pile of chocolate, sweets and biscuits on the ground at Dawn’s feet. She pointed to it and glared at Tad.
‘Well? What you goin’ ter do about it then? First off you ought to apologise to Victor.’
‘He can keep his apology, Nelly. All I want is for him to stop his daughter being a bloody nuisance before she gets into real trouble.’ He turned away and Nelly stared at Dawn, her face threatening with the lamplight twisting her features into mask-like shadows.
‘Dawn?’ she asked, in a growling voice. ‘What ’ave you got to say?’
‘Nothing,’ the girl muttered, her head bent low.
‘I think you ’ave. And fer a start off, I think you ’ave to tell your dad a few truths. Like what really ’appened when you asked Delina for a lift ’ome from town.’
‘I have only raised a hand to you once in all your life, Dawn,’ Tad said quietly, ‘but I swear that if you don’t start telling the truth now, I’ll make you so sore you won’t sit down for a week. Now, as Nelly suggests, we’ll start with when you say Delina refused to lend you money to get the bus home from town, shall we?’
‘I don’t want you to marry Delina and have me sent away to school like Mrs Prichard is sending Margaret!’ Dawn sobbed.
Nelly pricked up her ears. ‘What’s this about Margaret goin’ away to school? What’s that got to do with pinchin’ things?’
‘Let me, please, Nelly,’ Tad asked.
‘Margaret’s mother is sending her away so she can marry Billie Brown the farmer. She told me.’
‘I see, so you think that by stealing, you will stand a better chance of not being sent away? This is ridiculous, Dawn.’
‘Not the stealing. That was a dare. I make myself do three dares every day. Sometimes I spit on the floor in front of Mr Chartridge’s house, sometimes I spread mud on someone’s car and once I let down the tyres of Pete Evans’s motor bike. I – I take things – for a dare,’ she finished lamely.
They all stood huddled around the lamp-post, the stolen items still at Dawn’s feet, no one making the decision to move somewhere more private.
‘Stealing could get you sent away from me. I’ve already told you that, Dawn. They’ll say I’m not bringing you up properly and take you away to someone who will keep a sharper eye on you.’
Tad turned to Nelly and Victor. ‘Will you please leave this to me? I’ll try to get the sweets back to where they belong. I’m sure Mrs Prichard will help. I know the police should be involved, but if you will let me try to deal with it, I promise you that if I fail I’ll go to the authorities myself.’
‘I don’t want the kid to grow up with a police record,’ Victor said gruffly. ‘I blame you, not her!’ he added angrily.
‘I agree,’ Tad replied. ‘Thank you, both of you.’ He picked up the collection of sweets, biscuits and chocolate and hesitantly handed them to Nelly. ‘Do you think you could – Perhaps if Amy got them all back she wouldn’t…’
Nelly lifted the edges of her apron and Tad dropped the items in.
‘She’s an understanding sort, Amy. I reckon she’ll give you a bit of time to sort things out. Only a little while though, she ain’t soft!’ said Nelly grimly. She walked away and Victor followed her, the dogs dancing around them; they could smell the chocolate and were hoping for a share. They strolled past the trees and when they reached Nelly’s cottage, she asked, ‘Come in fer a cuppa why don’t yer?’
‘Thanks, I’d enjoy that. Then I’ll go and tell Amy that her thief is caught.’
‘I’ll come with yer. I think she’d like to know about Margaret’s worries, don’t you?’
‘The thought of Amy marrying Billie Brown is worrying me too, Nelly,’ Victor admitted quietly. ‘She’d be marrying for all the wrong reasons.’
Billie had been a regular suitor since the embarrassment of falling asleep in the cinema. He had avoided such places since, preferring to invite her and Margaret to the farm or for rides out in the Land Rover to places of interest and beauty. Mary would occasionally go with them and she would always pack a fine luncheon basket so all Amy had to do was dress herself and the two children and go.
Amy found she looked forward to the outings more and more. The freedom of not having to plan for the whole of Sunday from the moment that Margaret came home from church was a joy, the baby seemed to like the movement of the car and the fresh air made them all sleep contentedly. Only Margaret seemed less than content.
Even when Oliver came to keep her company, the day seemed long for her. She would sit quietly and look at the waterfalls or the mountains or wander along the beaches, deserted now the summer visitors had left, and pick desultorily at the food Mary had supplied and was obviously relieved when it became time to return home.
As soon as they were inside and the roar of the Land Rover had faded away, she would go in to her piano and play for as long as it took Amy to get the baby settled and put Margaret’s night-clothes to warm by the fire. Then she would climb on her mother’s lap while Amy tried to discuss the day before seeing her tucked into bed.
When Nelly and Victor came that evening to tell her that Dawn had been caught and her father informed, Nelly stayed on after Victor had left. She told Amy about Dawn’s fears, fears that had come from Margaret. For Amy it explained much.
‘I knew there was something, Nelly. I’ve tried to persuade her to talk but she insisted nothing was wrong. I really thought we had settled the worries about school. All the time she’s been thinking I wanted to send her away!’ She looked towards the stairs, wanting to run up and reassure the child straight away. ‘Thank you, Nelly. Now I know what’s troubling her I’ll make sure she understands how I feel about losing her.’
‘You going to marry Billie, then?’ Nelly asked in her forthright way. ‘Think that’s fer the best, do yer?’
‘I’d be cheating on him if I did, Nelly,’ Amy admitted. ‘He knows this and still wants to marry me. I’ve been completely honest with him about how I feel about Victor.’
‘So?’
‘So, I still don’t know. It would be goodbye, Victor. I wouldn’t cheat on him that way. But I don’t know if I could accept not seeing him again.’ She sighed and her long diamante earrings sparkled as she shook her blonde head. ‘Why do I always fall for the wrong one, Nelly? Can you tell me that?’
‘P’r’aps it’s the right one but only the wrong time. Could you wait? You’re ’eading fer forty. It’s sometimes ’ard fer people to deliberately change their lives and take another into it when you’re gettin’ on an’ stuck in yer ways.’
‘You managed!’ Amy laughed. ‘And you said goodbye to forty a long time ago!’
‘Ah, but me an’ George is different. Like a pair of kids we are, Amy, and none of that sex nonsense to upset things. No, like an egg without salt I am, when George ain’t there an’ that’s a fact.’
Nelly left soon after that and Amy crept upstairs to see if Margaret was sleeping. She found her daughter propped up in bed with an Enid Blyton adventure story against her raised knees.
‘Can’t you sleep, love?’ Amy asked. ‘Something bothering you?’
‘No, Mam. I just want to finish this story.’
‘Have you thought any more about the school idea?’ Again Amy knew she was choosing the wrong time, just before Margaret slept, but urgency made her refuse to wait.
‘I’ll go if you want me to.’
‘Oh.’
‘Aren’t you pleased?’
‘Well, no, I’m not. Margaret, love, I think it’s time for honesty. I hoped you would say you prefer to stay here with me. I won’t stand in your way if you are really keen to go, but I’d be devastated to lose you. There would be holidays, I know that, and the terms aren’t very long.’
‘You mean you don’t want me to go? I thought you wanted more time, like with Uncle Victor, or if you married Uncle Billie.’
‘No love. I don’t want you to go away. And as for Billie, there’s nothing decided about that. He wants us to be his family and go and live with him at the farm. Would you like that?’
‘Yes, I think so, but we’d still have this house, wouldn’t we? And we could come back sometimes. Freddie would like the farm I think, as long as you let him plan a garden for you. There’s no flowers there at the moment and he’d want us to have flowers.’
‘Let’s say that if, and only if, mind, if I should consider marrying Uncle Billie and taking us to live at the farm, we’d all discuss it, you and Freddie and me, before anything was decided. It’s like everything, Margaret, love. We are a family and we do what’s best for us all, not just me, or even you, much as I love you. Right?’
She bent to kiss Margaret and tuck her in. The book lay forgotten on the counterpane and as the beautiful brown eyes closed, Amy placed it on the bedside table and snapped off the light. She looked back at the dark shadow of her daughter’s long red hair spread across the pillow and hoped her words had helped and not muddled her more than ever.
It was ten o’clock when there was a knock at the door. She opened it to Tad, and a neatly dressed Dawn, standing hand in hand at the door. Tad carried a torch with which he had been lighting their way. He flicked it off and asked politely if they might come in.
‘Dawn has something to say to you, Mrs Prichard.’ He turned to Dawn, who stared boldly at Amy and said briefly, ‘Sorry.’
‘That, Dawn,’ Amy said firmly, ‘is not enough!’ The girl looked surprised and looked at her father.
‘I think you should explain to Mrs Prichard what you did and promise never to touch anything that doesn’t belong to you again,’ Tad coaxed.
Amy led them from the hall into the living room where the fire was dying and the lights were low.
‘I’m tired, it’s late. If you haven’t thought about what you did sufficiently to be able to tell me you really regret what you did, Dawn Simmons, then I would rather wait until you have.’ She glared at the little girl. ‘You have caused me a lot of trouble beside making my delivery boy believe he was suspected of dishonesty. Now, what have you to say to that?’
‘I’m sorry.’
This time the girl’s lips quivered slightly and Amy went on, ‘Sorry isn’t enough, Dawn. Do you know how badly you have let your father down?’
‘Yes, and I won’t do it again, I promise.’ Dawn’s face began to crumple and Amy forced herself to ignore the tears brimming and beginning to course down the thin cheeks.
‘I think you should do something to make up to me for all the inconvenience, don’t you? I’ve lost customers over this.’
The tears stopped, the eyes became bright with curiosity. This was something unexpected.
‘I want you to come tomorrow after school and sweep my yard for me. You’ll have to do it properly, mind, and move all the boxes that get thrown out during the day. I want to see it cleaner than it’s ever been before. Right?’
Tad began to protest but Amy silenced him with a glare.
‘All right, Dawn? Tomorrow, or I’ll inform the police.’
‘Can I go home first to change my clothes?’
‘Yes, but I’ll be timing you so don’t go wandering off. I mean what I say.’
Tad hesitated as if wanting to protest but afraid of something worse than the punishment Amy had chosen. Amy saw them out and, in a better mood, prepared herself for bed.
Margaret seemed more relaxed the following morning and talked happily of staying put and only visiting the farm for occasional treats. Amy was relieved that she was free from the fear of being ‘sent away’ but felt that life was closing in on her again. The option of marrying Billie seemed to be fading. There were her own doubts and now the relief clearly felt by Margaret at not having to leave their home.
Philosophically, she decided to let life continue for a few weeks and see if something happened to alter things without her assistance. Life was never static, and perhaps Margaret would come to think of living on a farm an exciting idea. She would discuss it all with Freddie on his next leave, if she could get him away from Sheila for long enough!
Children weren’t your own for long, she thought sadly. When they were babies the future seemed to stretch endlessly ahead with teething, and napkins, then going to school, joining the Brownies or the Cubs, plus the thousand and one everyday things to deal with besides. Before you realised it they were young adults making their own decisions and leaving you behind like a discarded fashion. She dressed the baby and, tucking her cosily into her pram, set off for the shop, with Margaret skipping happily beside her.
It was pleasant walking in the crisp, clean early morning air. Around them the distant hills were still green and with the sheep dotted on the sides of them a pleasing sight. Margaret trod on the crisp brown leaves and laughed at the crackling they made. Amy looked at the rather bedraggled remnants of the summer flowers in the gardens they passed and made a mental note of some she would like Freddie to add to hers.
Margaret stopped skipping and jumping about and came to walk by her side. ‘Mam, if we did go to live with Uncle Billie, we wouldn’t see Uncle Victor, would we? I like him better than Uncle Billie really.’
So do I love, Amy wanted to say, so do I! She busied herself tucking in Sian’s blankets and did not trust herself to reply.
Phil-the-Post called cheerfully from the shop door. ‘Letter here from your Freddie. Shall I leave it or deliver it at the house?’
‘Give it to me and quick about it!’ Amy laughed. She stuffed it into her apron pocket and continued serving. ‘And if you’re hoping for a cup of tea you’re unlucky this morning,’ she added.
‘Right then. Two next time, is it?’
Amy laughingly agreed.
‘She’s got one as well, mind,’ Phil added, poking a thumb in the direction of the council houses. Then, seeing Mavis behind the counter, he added, ‘Your daughter, Mrs Powell, she’s got a letter from him as well.’ He shuffled out past the waiting customers.
It spoilt the pleasure of the letter slightly but when she found a moment free and opened it, she forgot about being one of two and read it aloud.
‘Freddie’s coming for the weekend.’ That at least meant he was staying with her and not Sheila, she thought with relief. ‘He’s got leave before he goes to Devon, and asks me to invite Sheila to tea on Sunday.’
‘If she’s free, that is,’ Mavis said, a hint of satisfaction on her face. ‘Found herself a nice boyfriend, she has. Knows all about what happened too, so there’s nothing underhand.’
‘Good. I’m glad she’s getting out and about.’ She had heard that the romance with the young man from town was off, but declined to mention it.
‘He’s an accountant,’ Mavis went on. This was news to Amy but she was lost in Freddie’s letter and hardly acknowledged the remark.
When Victor came to the house a few days later he found her polishing and arranging the few late flowers she had found in the garden and rearranging the furniture. Her face was flushed and glowing with her efforts and, as she opened the door to him, her fair hair slightly fuller than usual, the earrings she wore sparkling like her smile of welcome. Victor could not hold back words of admiration.
‘Amy, love, you are lovely.’ He stepped inside and took her into his arms and held her close. She was warm and smelt of perfume and polish. He trembled with longing as she reached up and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
‘Freddie’s coming home,’ she said. ‘I’ve been cleaning and I must look a mess.’
‘If this is a mess,’ he laughed, holding her away from him and gazing at her, ‘I’d love to see you when you’re dressed up smart!’
He went into the living room and sat on a chair, pulling her to sit on his lap.
‘Prue is coming too,’ Amy said. ‘And I suppose I’ll have Sheila for most of the time. I’d better start some cooking.’
‘I’ll help.’
Together they made a pile of bake stones and a Teisen Lap, a delicious fruit cake that was just out of the oven when Margaret came home. Victor brushed the flour from his clothes and smiled at Margaret.
‘And there’s no starting them till tomorrow,’ he threatened. ‘For your brother, they are.’
‘Just one, Mam?’ Margaret pleaded. ‘And Uncle Victor, can you stay and talk for a moment? I want to tell you about the quiz show.’
‘I’ve seen notices about it. But what’s it in aid of, do you know?’ He knew but didn’t want to spoil the telling for her.
‘Well,’ Margaret began in her precise way, ‘they’re having a Quiz Show in The Drovers, which means I can’t go, of course. And it will be two teams, the Farmers and the Village.’
‘Who’s running it?’ Amy asked. ‘If it’s Bert Roberts, I’m going somewhere else that night!’
Her groan was echoed by Victor when Margaret said, ‘Mr Roberts.’ She laughed at the faces they pulled. ‘He’s in one of the teams too. There’s Mr Roberts, our headmaster and Uncle Johnny Cartwright. Then on the other side there’s Mr Sidney Davies, Nelly’s husband, George, and – guess who?’
‘Not Uncle Billie?’ Amy said.
‘Yes, Uncle Billie too. I wish I could go. Will you go, Mam?’
Amy looked at Victor. ‘I might, love, if I can find someone who isn’t going to mind you and Sian.’
Victor had intended to do some painting for Amy on Sunday morning, but now he thought it best he did not. With Freddie there, Amy would prefer he stayed away. He explained this as she saw him out.
‘But I’ll call in,’ he said. ‘It won’t seem odd to call and say hello to Freddie, will it?’
‘Of course, come,’ Amy said. ‘He’d like to see you, I’m sure. And so would I, love.’ she whispered.
Victor called goodbye to Margaret then went slowly home to a wife who never spoke to him and sons who seemed indifferent to his unhappiness. There was only Delina who, while not supporting him, at least showed some understanding of his miserable situation.
Remembering how uneasy Prue felt in Freddie’s presence, although not understanding why, Amy telephoned to the hospital and asked that Prue be informed that Freddie would be there at the weekend. Half an hour later, she was told that her sister would not be coming home as planned. She felt a bit mean, spoiling Prue’s break from the hospital, but could not deny a sense of relief that there would be one fewer to worry about. It was Freddie she wanted to spend the time with, not her sister, who was becoming increasingly difficult as she regained her health.