From the gate of her Aunt Stella’s cottage, Lydia looked up at the ruined castle, impressively large from where she stood. It had been there, looking out over the sweep of the bay, for more than seven centuries and looked solid enough to last another seven. Behind her she could hear her mother and aunt arguing. Auntie Stella pleading, her mother tearful and determined.
‘But Annie,’ Stella said patiently. ‘I have to do my shopping. And I always meet my friends for a chat on a Wednesday, you know this, so why are you so difficult? And what about your Lydia? This is her half day and she’s got things to do. Working all the hours she does, you should consider her time if not mine!’
‘I don’t feel well enough to travel home without Billy. I’ll wait here until Billy comes and fetches me.’
‘You’ll have to sit on your own then. I’m off to the shops. Lydia, if she has any sense, will go home without you!’
Annie Jones smiled. She knew Lydia wouldn’t leave her alone.
Lydia’s mother was what many secretly called a ‘willing invalid’. There wasn’t an apparent reason why she was unable to walk far, or why she had to spend so much of the year in bed, but since Lydia, her only child, was born, she had been ‘indisposed’.
Lydia listened to the exchange and sighed, her deep blue eyes lacking their usual cheerfulness, her long, light brown hair screening her dismay from her aunt. Dad would be disappointed not to see her when he got home from work. He’d have to change – because Mam didn’t like him to come in his working clothes – and come to fetch her, when he had hoped to go straight to the allotment for an hour or two. It seemed that even her father’s brief Wednesday respites were to be lost.
All winter, Annie stayed in her bed, with her sister, Stella calling in each day to check all was well and spending most of the day with her. During the all too brief summer, she was taken by taxi from her home overlooking the bay, to the home of her sister Stella, to stay there until Billy went by taxi to collect her. Auntie Stella, Lydia thought, was a saint!
Without the assistance of that patient lady, Lydia would have been unable to work. She had stayed at home looking after her mother since leaving school until one day, when she had reached the age of eighteen, her father had insisted they found a different way of dealing with their problem. Stella willingly agreed to help them and during the winter months taxied to their home and stayed with Annie until Billy returned from work.
Every day during the summer, apart from weekends, Annie was taken by taxi to Stella to stay until Billy arrived by taxi to take her home again. She refused to go with anyone but Billy except on Wednesdays, when she allowed her daughter to escort her. Now Wednesdays were no longer a break in routine, for either Stella or Billy.
Because it was easier for Stella, the summer regime continued as long as they could persuade Annie it was still summer. It was already October and they all knew that it wouldn’t be many more weeks before Annie refused to leave her bed, and Stella would have the extra work involved in coming to stay with her.
‘At least I can get on with my own work while she stays with me,’ she had confided to Lydia. ‘Having to come to you means so much of my time spent out of the house.’
‘Luckily it’s a mild Autumn, we should manage for a while longer.’
Lydia sighed as she watched her aunt set off to do her shopping. They both knew that the stubborness of Wednesday was the beginning of the end of their summer arrangement and any day now, Annie would settle herself into her winter hibernation.
‘Lydia, can you fetch a drink? A glass of water will do if you haven’t time to make a cup of tea,’ Annie called. Lydia made the tea and returned to stare out over the road to the castle. She didn’t often become irritable with her mother but today she had planned to do so much. With Glyn coming home soon, she wanted to catch up with her work so she was free to be with him. Or as free as her mother’s ‘illness’ would allow.
Glyn Howe was the brother of Tomos who, with his father Gimlet Howe ran the local taxi service. Her family and theirs had always been close. Her father, Billy Jones, had been friends with Gimlet Howe since they were children and all her life, Gimlet’s sons, Tomos, who ran the taxi service, and Glyn, who was in the navy, had been an important part of her life. The romance between herself and Glyn had evolved out of a contented childhood in which the brothers were her protectors. She loved the Howes dearly but Glyn was the dearest of all and tomorrow he would be coming home to marry her. She was irritated at the change in her plans for the afternoon. She had intended washing her hair and generally preparing for his return.
From her pocket she took Glyn’s most recent letter. Received more than a month ago, it had been read and re-read so often she could have recited the four pages without unfolding them, but she read it again, trying to see if there was something she had missed, some reason for his failing to write. His words were less loving and there was none of the usual talk about their future.
Lydia was a small, slim twenty-two-year-old with masses of light brown curling hair and large blue eyes which showed latent humour, and the innocence of youth. She had no experience of flirting and no long list of boyfriends. For as long as she could remember she had loved Glyn Howe.
She heard voices and walked to the middle of the road to look up at the castle gate. A group of workmen were walking along the top of the high wall, looking through the battlements, pointing, discussing something which she guessed were repairs. The local paper had reported that the place was to be closed for several months while the structure was reinforced and railings added. Fears had been expressed over the safety to the public and work was due to begin the following Easter.
The men came down towards the gate near her aunt’s house as a council lorry arrived and one of the men removed a roll of wire netting. As she watched, they fixed the wire netting over the top of the gate which they then locked with a pair of padlocks, before climbing onto the back of the lorry and being driven off. When Stella returned from her brief shopping trip, Lydia told her what had happened.
‘So, the castle ground is no longer a place for people to kiss and cuddle, walk their dogs or to sit and eat lunch.’
‘Nor a place where children can play,’ Lydia said.
‘Oh, you’re wrong about that, love. Look up by there.’ Stella pointed to the towering outer wall of the castle below which were allotments. Walking along the narrow path outside the castle and a little above the neat allotments, pressing themselves against the walls was a group of children armed with home-made bows and arrows, and long, pointed sticks. ‘Neville Nolan and his gang for sure,’ Stella laughed. ‘Take more than a few workmen and a couple of padlocks to keep that lot out!’
‘Is there any chance of us going home d’you think?’ Lydia asked.
Stella shook her greying head. ‘I tried again to persuade her but she’s insisting on waiting for your dad. Billy hoped to spend a couple of hours on the allotments didn’t he? Fat chance he’ll have by the time she’s home and sorted. I’m just off to see my friend for an hour, you’ll be all right, love? Promised her I did.’
‘Mr Howe is working there already. Clearing a plot for planting his broad beans no doubt. I’d better go and tell him Dad won’t be coming. Mam won’t miss me for a minute or two.’
Stella slipped on her coat again and chuckled. ‘I wouldn’t bet on that, love.’
Gilbert Howe, or Gimlet, as he was usually called, had an allotment next to Billy’s and they were friendly rivals for the first and best produce. It was exciting to think of Gimlet Howe being her father-in-law in a few months time. Glyn, who was his youngest son, was leaving the navy for good and the young couple planned to marry within the year.
Lydia walked up the lane to the smaller gate which opened onto the allotments, and walked towards Gimlet, who was shouting at the group of boys led by Neville Nolan.
‘Clear off the lot of you! I won’t tell you again, mind!’ he was shouting. Jeering, blowing raspberries and making thumb-to-nose gestures the boys of Neville’s gang were defying him.
‘Over the fence they came, traipsing right across your dad’s allotment and kicking at his winter cabbage. They walk through the place as if they own it and them just been told to stay away from the castle by the men from the council,’ Gimlet said angrily. ‘Fat lot of good putting locks on the gates, it’s them boys they ought to padlock, mind!’
‘I don’t think Dad will have time to join you today, Mr Howe,’ Lydia said. ‘Mam’s playing up again. Won’t go home with me, insists on waiting for Dad.’
‘Poor old Billy. His weeds will be hiding those leeks completely if he doesn’t get here soon.’ He handed her a hoe. ‘Come on, girl, there’s no point in you standing around too. That chickweed is growing as we watch! If she shouts for you she can’t be heard from here.’
Lydia tied back her long hair with a scarf and for a while they worked together, exchanging the latest news of Glyn, who was most lax with his letter-writing of late.
‘Coming home soon he is,’ Gimlet explained, ‘so there’s less need to write when he’ll be able to tell us himself.’
‘I can’t wait,’ Lydia smiled. ‘This is the longest he’s been away. Seven months is a long time.’
‘The longest and the last, love. A few weeks and he’ll be settled in his job with Howes’ taxis and home every day so you’re sick of his ugly face.’
‘Never. I’ll never be anything but glad he’s back home.’
It was six o’clock before Lydia, Billy and Annie were back home and almost eight before Annie was settled for the evening. They ate a scratch meal, as Lydia hadn’t been home in time to prepare properly and at nine, Billy said, ‘Will you be all right if I slip out for a pint with Gimlet?’
‘Go quiet so Mam doesn’t hear or she’ll be on all the time you’re out,’ she said. She smiled as he tip-toed down the stairs to the kitchen and down the steps to the seafront. From the bay window she waved as he hurried to The Pirate to join Gimlet Howe and their friends.
Woodland skirted the castle on two sides, broken in places by paths and opening out where the allotments had encroached. On the side that faced the sea, a tall man climbed up through the thickly overgrown trees and brambles. He moved slowly and with hardly a sound, following a path regularly used by walkers and children. The fencing was new, placed with the intention of keeping people out, but it was already sagging where people had climbed over, and he vaulted it with ease.
The tall, well-built man was almost invisible in the darkness. His face, half hidden by a raised collar, was camouflaged by shadows. His feet made hardly a sound. He walked without showing a light; his eyes catlike, observing the bumps and irregularities so he moved without stumbling. He skirted the castle field using the bushes and the low walls for cover.
On reaching the Chapel block he climbed up and moved close to the wall and worked his way right around the great stone building. Then he stopped and stared upwards, frowning. He had to get inside. If workmen were going to start disturbing the ground he had to get there first and move something that had lain there for years.
He wondered if he would remember the place. The trees had grown making the exterior of the castle look different, so perhaps the inside had changed too? Would he know the actual spot where he had buried his secret? He had to. If it was found by the workmen there would be an enquiry which would lead unerringly to him. A police investigation was something he could well do without.
The night was utterly dark, low clouds obliterating the sky and the dampness creating a fog which made hazy puffballs of the street lights. He moved down to the gate opposite Stella’s cottage, abandoned an attempt to climb it because of the freshly fixed netting, and returned the way he had come. Something would have to be done to discourage those boys whom he had seen earlier. Something effective and soon.
Lydia Jones loved the scene from the front window of the bay-fronted cottage high above the sea shore. She could see the whole of the great curved bay, looking over the houses and hotels along the seafront, the boats lying alongside the footpath and beyond, the sea and the steel town opposite. Further still the hills showed; range after range, into the distance where they finally disappeared into the blue haze. She knew she would never tire of it and that was one reason she wanted to live with her parents after she and Glyn married. The bedroom which would be theirs was above this room, with the same view.
The day was dying, the colours fading. Already, as she watched, the hills were slowly melding into each other and taking the colour of the evening mists. Lights around the pier were beginning to prick the scene, artificially bright in the approaching darkness. She felt no sadness at the departing light and the disappearance of the view. This would be the last day without Glyn. Tomorrow, he was coming home.
She saw her friend, Molly Powell, running past, back to the house she shared with Mr and Mrs Frank. Molly didn’t hear her knocking on the window and Lydia smiled. Her friend had been off meeting her mysterious boyfriend no doubt. She wondered vaguely why Molly refused to tell her who he was. Molly Powell and she had been friends since their first day at school and had shared each other’s most confidential secrets. This was the first time Molly had held a secret from her. Her mystery man must be very special.
Closing the curtains with regret, she turned away from the view and glanced at the old brass-bound box in the corner behind the piano. It had been her grandfather’s sea-going chest now doing duty as her ‘bottom drawer’. Inside was a collection of household linen; tablecloths, sheets, pillowcases and towels; all gathered ready for her wedding day. There was also a set of underwear, carefully wrapped in blue tissue. Pure silk and brought for her from Hong Kong by one of her father’s sailor friends. She shivered with excitement at the prospect of wearing it for Glyn.
After running down to the kitchen to check that the cawl she was making for supper was simmering nicely on the stove, she glanced once more out of the window, pulling the curtains around her face and peering into the now artificially lit street. The lights made it possible to recognise the familiar figure of Tomos Howe, Glyn’s brother who ran the taxi service, walking past. He would be on his way to collect his father, Gimlet, from The Pirate. Dad would be walking back with them. Time to set the table.
The smile faded from her face as a plaintive voice from upstairs called, ‘Your father not home yet, Lydia? Time he was home.’
How did she always know when Dad was out? Lydia marvelled. Crept down the stairs like a breath of air he had. ‘Not yet, Mam. I saw Tomos going to fetch Mr Howe, so I expect Dad’ll come now soon. Supper’s ready,’ she added.
‘I couldn’t eat a thing. I feel so tired today, love. I didn’t sleep last night. Will you fetch one of my tablets?’
‘Mam, you can’t have a tablet. The doctor says you can only have three and you’ll want one at bedtime.’
‘I can’t hear you, you’ll have to come up. It wears me out, shouting down the stairs all the time.’
‘In a minute, Mam,’ Lydia shouted back. ‘I’m just stirring the cawl.’ Ignoring the request, Lydia went once more to look out of the window. Since coming home from work two hours ago she had been up to her mother seven times and every time it was unnecessary. Thank goodness Dad would soon be home. Mam would settle then.
She saw Gimlet Howe and her father approaching and besides them, Tomos. But, she realised with a great lurch of shock and delight, it wasn’t Tomos, but Glyn! How could she not have recognised him before? He no longer wore naval uniform, of course, and in her mind’s eye she still had him dressed as a sailor. How stupid of her not to know at once it was him. A day early and him not giving word, so he could surprise her.
She felt flustered now he was actually here and she rushed to touch up her lips and add a little colour to her cheeks, and there was time for a swift comb through her hair. She fluffed her curls out a little, stood on tiptoe to check briefly in the mirror over the fireplace, then ran down the stairs through the small kitchen on the ground floor. She realised she was holding her breath, listening to the group approaching. Feet ringing on the stone steps, men’s voices, laughter, the door opening and he was there, smiling and looking so handsome she forgot to breathe again.
She wanted to run into his arms and feel his lips on her own, but her father was bustling them all in.
‘Is there enough supper for a couple more, love?’ Billy asked.
‘Plenty, Dad. Welcome, Mr Howe.’ Then she saw that Tomos was with them. ‘Come in, Tomos, unless your wife is expecting you back?’
‘Off visiting her mam, as usual,’ Tomos said, glancing at his father, exchanging disapproval.
Lydia hardly heard what was said, she was looking at Glyn, waiting for his smile that was hers alone, but he seemed to be ignoring her. He looked everywhere except at her eager face, going up the stairs to the living room and standing against the velvet curtains like a stranger.
‘Try and persuade your Mam to come down, Lydia,’ Billy said. ‘We’ll make it a party.’
‘I’ll get some beer, shall I?’ Glyn suggested. Lydia’s spirits fell. Only now he was come and already he was making excuses to get out.
‘What about I call for Molly, she’d be glad to come and join the party, eh?’ Billy added.
‘I’ll go,’ Tomos said and within a minute of them arriving, feet clattered down the stairs, through the kitchen and out, boots ringing on the stone steps, their voices raised to reach Lydia as she stood by the window.
What was the matter? Why hadn’t Glyn rushed and hugged her and smothered her with kisses? Surely the presence of the others hadn’t stopped him? It never had before. She stood there, the excitement draining from her like a leaking balloon.
Detenninedly concealing her disappointment, she went down to the kitchen and cut more bread. Four extra to feed, she forced her mind to deal with practicalities. Thank goodness she’d bought an extra loaf. There was a sponge cake, a tin of fruit, ice-cream, that would have to do.
She was still in the kitchen when the brothers returned with Molly. She was tense, waiting while Tomos and Molly went straight up to find a seat around the table. Now, at last she’d be alone with Glyn. She turned to look at him, her arms already raising to hug him, but he backed away. She failed to hold back a gasp of dismay as, without more than a half-smile, he followed them.
Carrying the extra plateful of bread, Lydia went up, finding every step was agony, wondering how she would sit through this meal with Glyn treating her so distantly. Seven months was a long time to be parted, but it surely didn’t explain this?
Annie was helped down the stairs and sat for a while, playing with her food before complaining of backache and returning to her bedroom. The awful evening continued, Lydia afraid to look at Glyn, knowing something was wrong, listening to Billy and Gimlet reminiscing and coaxing stories from the others, trying to join in the laughter.
She dealt with the food like an automaton, hardly aware of what was being said. Every time she went downstairs to the kitchen for further supplies she expected Glyn to offer to help, to follow her down, embrace her, kiss her, tell her how glad he was to be home. But she alone dealt with the meal, like a paid servant, she thought bitterly. The others seemed apart, enjoying the unexpected party and seemingly unaware of her distress.
Billy went to fetch a couple more flagons and it was after eleven before Molly, Gimlet, Tomos and Glyn all stood to leave. At the door, Glyn avoided her attempt to take his hand and only whispered, ‘Tomorrow we must talk,’ before following the others down the wide stone steps that would take them down to the seafront.
What had happened? Why had loving letters become ordinary and ceased altogether? What had changed in the seven months he was away? Had he found someone else? No, he would have been honest enough to tell her. She looked at her father dozing in the armchair. She knew that he had cheated on her mother, people talk in a small village and everyone knew Billy Jones had been with other women. And she and Glyn weren’t even married, so there was less dishonour in him finding someone more attractive.
‘Did you notice how quiet Glyn was, Dad?’ Lydia asked when Billy was outing the fire before going to bed. ‘I have the feeling something is wrong.’
‘Never. Just a bit shy that’s all. You and he haven’t met for months and only letters to keep you in touch. It’s natural he’s a bit quiet, and with all of us here – damn me, girl, I didn’t think! Bringing them all back here when you and Glyn wanted to be alone.’ He didn’t tell her it was Gimlet and Glyn’s persuading that had made him invite them. ‘What a thoughtless old fool I am!’
Lydia wanted to believe him.
‘Billy?’ Annie’s wavering voice called. ‘When you coming up? You know I won’t sleep till you do.’
‘Now in a minute, Annie,’ Billy called back patiently.
‘Tell Lydia not to make a noise. I won’t sleep a wink if she disturbs me when I’m off, mind.’
When Billy had gone to bed, Lydia sat for a long time in the living room. She wondered if her father still found solace for his lack of a marriage in other women, and thought not. He was hardly out of her sight. He only went to The Pirate with Gimlet or sat with herself and Annie and, on occasions, Auntie Stella.
She crouched closer to the comforting warmth of the dying fire. She had dreamed about Glyn’s homecoming for so long and now it had happened and had been nothing like she had imagined. They hadn’t even kissed. After seven months apart it was such an anticlimax she wanted to cry. She was too wide awake to think of sleeping, so, careful not to disturb her mother, she made herself a cup of tea and sat, imagining tomorrow’s meeting as a series of wonderful, romantic moments. As dawn crept across the sea around the sides of the curtains and invaded the room, she slept.
Both Lydia and Molly worked on a market stall in the centre of town. Molly sold soaps and toilet requisites and Lydia sold knitted garments, some of which she made herself. All that following day, Lydia watched the kaleidoscopic crowds wandering through the varied stalls, expecting to see Glyn making his way towards her. At five o’clock he still hadn’t come.
The last half hour dragged by and even when she left Molly keeping an eye on her stall to go and buy vegetables and meat for the evening meal, there was still a lot of time left to stand watching, waiting for Glyn. So many people asked her about Glyn, forcing her to invent reasons and excuses that she was more relieved than disappointed when it was at last time to fix the canvas around the stall and go home.
Getting the bus home was the usual crush and she and Molly had to stand, separated by several people. Speaking in hissing whispers as the bus trundled its way around the curve of the bay from town, out to the village nestling against the sea, they discussed Glyn’s non-appearance. Molly suggested he was so upset about the lack of privacy the previous evening he was home, planning a surprise evening out.
‘I hope you’ve got something quick to cook for supper,’ Molly grinned as they alighted at the bus stop below Lydia’s house into the face of a rising wind. ‘You won’t want to waste too much time cooking if Glyn’s waiting, eh?’
But Glyn wasn’t there and her father hadn’t seen him either. Determined to speak to him, Lydia went to the Howes’ terraced cottage facing the sea and with its back to the castle, but the house was deserted. Gimlet appeared later in the evening to walk to The Pirate with Billy but he shrugged when asked and insisted he knew nothing of Glyn’s movements.
It was two more days before Glyn finally appeared, late one evening, when Lydia was settled listening to the radio and sewing up a newly completed cardigan.
The knock at the door was unexpected. Billy was already in bed. Prepared to see Molly, she gasped with surprise to see Glyn filling the doorway. He wasn’t smiling and he made no attempt to kiss her, he just said, ‘Hello,’ and walked in through the kitchen and up the stairs to the living room. Flustered at his casual greeting, Lydia made a cup of tea in the downstairs kitchen before going up to join him. Putting down the tray she attempted a joke.
‘So long since I saw you, do you still take sugar?’
‘Lydia, I don’t want to work on the taxis with Tomos and Dad.’
‘Oh, I thought you had arranged it all?’
‘It can be un-arranged, can’t it?’
She sat down, tense and frightened. Was he going to tell her he was not leaving the navy after all? That she would face months of separation, time and again in the years ahead? ‘Well, so what?’ she said. ‘There are plenty of other things you can do.’
‘And I don’t want to come here and live with your mam and dad,’ he added as if she hadn’t spoken.
‘Then we needn’t. I’ll have to live somewhere close, mind. Dad and Auntie Stella will still need my help with Mam after we’re married.’
‘Lydia, there’s no easy way to say this. I want to cancel our plans to marry next year.’
‘Well, there’s no hurry. Give yourself time to settle into civvy street first, is it?’
‘I mean cancel for good. I – I don’t want to marry you.’
‘Glyn!’
‘There’s someone else, see. Cath is a girl I met six months ago and she and I – well. I know I can make her happy and – she needs me and… Sorry, I know I should have told you before this, but it isn’t something I could put in a letter. I had to face you and try to explain.’
‘No need to explain anything. It isn’t as if we’re even officially engaged, is it? You and me, we’ve known each other since we were babies and—’ Her attempt at being matter-of-fact failed. In a choking voice she added, ‘I think you’d better go now. We’ll talk again but for now I—’ she ran from the room, her hands over her ears shutting out his plea for her to listen to his explanations.
‘Oh, Lydia, why do you have to make such a row?’ Annie wailed. ‘Woken me up proper you have and what a night that’ll mean.’ Lydia thought that her mother wouldn’t be the only one to suffer a sleepless night.
Although it was late, she put on a coat and went back down stairs. Glyn had gone and she waited for a few moments to make sure he was out of sight then slipped out of the door, down the steps and onto the seafront.
The wind which had been gaining strength for days was rattling anything that was loose, prising weakened fabric from the older properties, beating a rhythm with a piece of broken shop blind and accompanying it with percussion from chinking metal and ropes slapping masts on the boats along the front.
There were few people about, as it was past midnight but she walked, staggering occasionally as an unexpectedly powerful gust hit her, and made her way to Auntie Stella’s house. If, by any good fortune a light showed, she would knock and talk to her about Glyn’s change of heart.
The house was in darkness. The bow window, which revealed its previous use as a shop, was black, not even a chink of light slipped through. She stood for a moment at the gate, wondering if her aunt was still awake and would respond to a gentle knock. She decided not and turned to look up at the castle. Such a pity it was closed. She forced her mind away from Glyn and considered trivialities.
The old castle was a popular place for people in the summer and even in winter, when there was a weak sun, they would come and sit to eat their lunchtime sandwiches, sheltered by its great walls. The children would miss it too. Ignoring warning notices and ‘Keep Out’ signs, they had climbed in via a window or by trusting the blanket of ivy, to play inside the shell; robots, aliens and other villains filling the air, the television heroes forming the basis for exciting games. She wished stupidly that she was a child again, free from the disappointments of growing up.
Now, as she stared up at the ancient building, her unhappiness created a less cheerful image. The ruin looked frightening, a storehouse of a thousand dark secrets, and she shivered. Trees were bending in the strong wind, groaning in their agony and their shadows danced behind street lights. It was a night when stories about ghosts haunting the place could be willingly believed.
She was hidden from view tucked in the shadow of the gate and seeing the figures staggering down the slope leading down from the castle entrance made her press herself closer into the wall. Ghosts! They must be, her foolish mind insisted. These weren’t shadows of trees. The figures were distinct and making their way purposefully to the gate across the narrow road from where she stood. Afraid to breathe, she watched with rising fear as the shadowlike figures became recognisable as two people. But they couldn’t be real, flesh and blood people, some atavistic hysteria insisted.
Her feet refused to obey her when she felt the need to run, and she pressed more tightly against the ivy-covered garden wall. Then laughter rang out; a man’s laughter. And someone said, ‘Hush you daft ’aporth, you’ll wake the neighbours,’ and she knew the voice.
‘Molly?’ she called.
Perched on top of the castle gate, now without its recently placed wire-netting, one of the figures stopped. The other, close behind, turned and ran back up the slope towards the castle. ‘Molly?’ Lydia called again.
‘Hush, Lydia! Want to wake your Auntie Stella do you?’
‘What are you doing in there? And at this time of night!’
‘Don’t be soft, girl. What d’you think we’ve been doing, making daisy chains?’
‘That man,’ Lydia said as Molly came to join her, ‘your new boyfriend, is he?’
‘Been following us, then?’
‘Of course not! I couldn’t sleep and came hoping to find Auntie Stella still up.’
‘Seen Glyn then, have you?’ Molly asked with sympathy in her voice. ‘Spoken to you about – things? There’s sorry I am, Lydia.’
‘He’s told me we’re finished but, how did you know?’
‘I-I saw, who was it now?’ she frowned. ‘Oh, yes, your dad and Gimlet were talking. They said Glyn was coming to find you and tell you it’s all over between you. Sorry I am, but if he isn’t sure, then it’s best for you to find out now rather than when you are married. There’s a mess that would be for sure. Being married to someone you don’t love is no joke, believe me.’
Lydia knew that Molly’s parents had separated and, after living with an aunt for a few years, Molly had lived in a succession of rooms before settling down with Mr and Mrs Frank.
‘You walking home?’ The two friends linked arms against the still ferocious storm and walked down the hill past silent shops to the seafront.
‘Who is he?’ Lydia asked, when she had exhausted the subject of her disappointment. ‘Why are you keeping him such a secret?’
‘You won’t let on if I say?’
‘Tell me.’
‘Married he is and stuck with a wife he’s never loved. That’s why you should be glad for Glyn being honest and not getting you and himself into a mess that’s hard to escape from.’
‘I can’t believe Glyn doesn’t love me. We’ve been together since we were children.’
‘Perhaps that’s why. You’ve just drifted into expectations of marriage. Believe me, Lydia, an unhappy marriage is a terrible trap.’ A gust of wind sent them staggering into a shop doorway and laughing, Molly added, ‘Best to have some fun like I do and avoid the ties that can strangle happiness.’
‘Is that where you meet? Up at the castle?’
‘It was difficult for a while, with the gate being locked and the great stretch of wire over the top increasing the height. But since Neville Nolan stole the wire to mend his father’s chicken coop, we’ve managed all right.’
‘Aren’t you frightened?’
‘That’s part of the fun, creeping around the old walls, walking through the woods, imagining ghosts and clinging to each other in pretended fear. It’s a damn sight more fun than being home watching telly and washing his socks!’
Lydia didn’t dare admit that caring for Glyn with small tasks like washing his socks had been a part of her now shattered dream.
The days that followed Glyn’s visit were difficult for Lydia. She had told so many people about his homecoming and the imminent engagement that it was a constant nightmare having to explain to everyone who remarked on the lack of a ring, that the romance had ended. Seeing Glyn when he walked past the house with his father caused stabs of pain which she thought would never ease.
Her father never mentioned it, being of the opinion that it was better to say too little than too much. Her mother thought differently. Every time she spoke to her daughter it was to tell her how fortunate she was, and how thankful she should feel to have escaped from a man who obviously did not deserve her. Annie tried to speak with sympathy for her daughter but in her heart she was relieved that the wedding was off.
When Lydia had been born, Annie had not been prepared for the pain. The agony was so unexpected she had screamed and screamed and insisted she was dying. Then, when it was all over and she was told she could get out of bed, she had collapsed. It was quickly discovered that it was nothing more than temporary weakness after the birth, exacerbated perhaps by nervousness and fear, but Annie had been so shocked by the whole affair that she lacked confidence to stand on her feet except when Billy was there to support her. The fear had never left her and since then her life had been that of a semi-invalid.
Now she felt relief at the ending of Lydia’s plans to marry. She knew that Billy wouldn’t be able to cope alone and fear of what that might mean made it difficult to hide her joy at the worry being removed.
A few weeks after the ending of her wedding hopes, as October was ending in frosts and misty mornings and brief periods of glaringly bright sun, Lydia opened the door expecting to see Tomos come with his taxi to take her mother to Auntie Stella’s and was startled to see Glyn standing there with that half smile which revealed his nervousness.
‘What d’you want?’ she asked casually. ‘Off to work I am, as soon as your brother comes for Mam.’
‘I’m taking her,’ he explained. ‘Tomos is off for the day.’ He stepped past her and went up to help Annie down. ‘It’ll be me bringing her back tonight. About half five isn’t it?’ he said, not looking at her, but walking swiftly down the steps to the seafront.
Lydia was trembling from the unexpected encounter. ‘He couldn’t even bear to look at me,’ she told Molly when they were on the bus winding its way around the bay heading into town.
‘More fool him! I bet this Cath of his is a real man-eater.’
‘She’s welcome to him,’ Lydia lied. ‘I wouldn’t have him back if he begged me!’
‘Good on you. Have some fun like I do.’
Glyn drove back to his parents’ home after depositing Annie with Stella but he didn’t go inside. He sat in the taxi and stared out across the houses and up onto the hill. He had to go away, and it was killing him. To leave this friendly place and start again among strangers, was a nightmare. He’d done all the travelling he wanted for a long time. Now, to have to find a new place and build a life, without Lydia, was something he didn’t want to do, but there was no choice. He couldn’t stay and see her every day without telling her he loved her and asking her to wait. He didn’t need even to close his eyes to see the lovely face of Lydia, with her large gentle eyes full of reproach, wondering why he had stopped loving her and why he was going away.
Tomos appeared in the market soon after they opened.
‘Glyn is giving me the day off as he probably told you,’ he explained. ‘Don’t worry about your Mam, he won’t forget to take your dad and fetch her.’
‘Where are you going?’ she asked. ‘Have you and Melanie got something special planned then?’
‘No, Melanie’s off to Cardiff to see her Mam. I’m off to do a bit of fishing, get some fresh air.’
‘Lucky you,’ she smiled.
Molly closed her stall before lunchtime. She came to explain to Lydia that she was feeling very sick and needed to go home before she collapsed. ‘A bilious attack, I suppose. I’ll be all right if I can rest. Probably sleep the clock round.’
Lydia promised to let the owner of the stall know and helped her friend to fix the canvas around the stall before watching her walk out of the market and head for the bus home. She was puzzled. Coming in that morning Molly had seemed perfectly well. But then, a bilious attack did come with very little warning.
Lydia went home alone, missing the lively chatter of her friend. She hurried from the bus to the house, rushing up the steps and into the house, then hesitated in the kitchen before calling to her parents that she was home. Tomos sometimes stayed and drank a cup of tea after bringing Annie back. All day she had been hoping Glyn wouldn’t do the same. She couldn’t face talking to him in her parents’ presence as if nothing had happened. She dreaded meeting him, afraid of how she would react. Please, don’t let him be here, she prayed silently. Then she was disappointed when he was not.