The five boys still went out secretly at night whenever the weather and circumstances allowed. With winter making the prospect less attractive, Joanne’s boys would sometimes wait in vain for the call to let them know the Sewell boys were there.
With growing confidence, they began to go out on their own. If Rupert explained that they were unable to get out, Jeremy and Justin waited until they were certain their mother was asleep, and took the car for a few turns around the lanes. They didn’t go far and they were never tempted to drive fast.
Justin was now tall enough to reach the pedals and see enough through the windscreen to avoid trouble but he only took over when they were in a place safe from being observed. They learned that the gates of the sports club were broken and one night they went in and drove around the field, leaving tyre marks to mystify the groundsman. They practiced manoeuvring the car around corners, both forward and in reverse and they would creep back to bed unable to sleep after the excitement, coming down for breakfast bleary-eyed and weary.
Joanne gave up checking the mileage on her car during the cold, dark weeks following Christmas. There were no other incidents to make her suspicious on the occasions that she did check and gradually her curiosity faded. The boys settled down to their school work and apart from occasional arguments about the amount of time spent on home projects, and constant requests for extra money from John, life had no serious problems.
She did take the boys to the doctors to ask if there was a physical reason for their unusual tiredness, but the doctor found nothing wrong.
Before she had married, Joanne had worked as an assistant cook. She was not fully qualified but she had real flair for sugar-work. She began to specialize in desserts and, as a side—line, she had on occasions decorated wedding and other celebration cakes. In recent years she did this very skilled work only rarely for friends but she still enjoyed it, so when John asked if she would make a wedding cake for one of his colleagues she was pleased.
‘It’s a man who supplies me with bacon and sausages and all that, at a very reasonable rate,’ he told Joanne. ‘Divorced he is and marrying a woman who worked for me for a time, in the OK Cafe I sold a month ago.’
The wedding was arranged for Easter and Joanne rang the prospective bride and made an arrangement to meet to discuss what was required. The result of the initial phone call was to promise to make the desserts and the starters as well as the cake and Joanne was quite excited.
‘I’ve been idle so long, what with having the boys and being involved in their upbringing, now this request to do the cake and the rest, well, it’s made me suddenly realize that I have time for myself at last,’ she told Cynthia and Meriel and Vivienne one morning when they met in Churchill’s Garden. ‘I’m going to meet her later this morning to discuss the style of cake she requires and I’ve bought a few magazines to help her decide.’
‘I’m so pleased,’ Cynthia said. ‘You’re very talented and it’s a sin to waste a talent, isn’t it, Meriel?’
‘Yes. I’ve wasted mine, such as it is, for too long.’ She smiled at Joanne saying innocently, ‘Some extra money for you too and we can all do with that.‘
‘There’s that too,’ Joanne said as though it wasn’t important. ‘I’ve no idea what to charge!’
They decided to visit the local bakery and get a few prices and phone others in town before Joanne left for her appointment. The result cheered her enormously. If she could develop a reputation for this, she would soon have her finances under control.
An hour later she stood near the counter in Boots cafe looking around for the woman who was to marry Carl Davies, John’s colleague. A young girl stood near by and they exchanged comments about friends who were late, before realizing that they were in fact waiting for each other.
‘I’m Dolly Richard. I didn’t realize you were John’s wife.’ Dolly said. ‘I expected someone — er — different. Long hair and…’ she thought ‘younger’ but decided it was wiser not to say so.
Joanne smiled. She couldn’t admit that on seeing this girl who could hardly be older than seventeen, she too had been expecting someone, er, different! Carl was John’s age, at least forty!
Disapproval faded as she talked to the girl, who was obviously very much in love with Carl. What she began to feel was sympathy. What was this young woman thinking of, tying herself to a man more than twice her age? Then came the second shock.
‘It’s so kind of you to make the cake for me and do the desserts and starters. I haven’t any parents see, and I can’t afford anything very grand. If it wasn’t for your offer to do this as a wedding gift, I would probably have to make do with a Marks and Spencer’s celebration cake,’ she said.
‘Isn’t Carl paying for your wedding?’ she asked, her spirits sinking. ‘I mean, in the circumstances he’s better able to afford it than you.’
‘It’s the divorce you see. His wife has been very bitter, and she’s taken so much, that Carl hasn’t recovered. Unless we do everything on the cheap, we’d have to wait years and,’ she blushed prettily, lowering her eyes, ‘Now, with the baby an’ all…’
Joanne waited for John that evening, her fury making it impossible to sit still. She opened the front door the moment his car stopped and demanded, ‘What are you thinking of, telling this Carl Davies that I’d do his wedding cake for nothing? And the starters and the gateaux! I don’t care how you get out of it, but I’m not doing it! You refuse to give me the money to buy the boys what they need for school and yet offer to pay - with money we can ill afford and with my efforts — for this man’s wedding to that poor innocent child. It’s not on.’
John walked past her into the house and turned angrily.
‘Don’t shout out my business for all the world to hear! If you have to act like a shrew at least wait until I’ve closed the door!’
The two boys stood at the kitchen door, curious to know what had happened to make their mother so angry. She had been walking up and down like a caged tiger ever since they had come home from school and had snapped at them for no reason.
‘Go to your rooms.’ John said.
‘No! Stay and listen to this. You aren’t children. You’re old enough to understand why I am angry.’
‘Your rooms,’ John said threateningly, and they hung around the newel post unable to decide who it was most politic to obey. John gave a growl that made them shoot up the stairs, but at the top they stopped and leaned over the banister rail, hoping to hear enough to understand what had happened.
‘D’you think it’s another woman?’ Justin whispered.
‘It won’t be another man, she’s too old,’ Jeremy replied sadly. ‘Pity mind, I wouldn’t mind a stepfather, your real dad spoils you rotten then.’
‘John,’ they heard their mother say, ‘I would willingly make this wedding cake, even though I think it’s an embarrassment to be associated with such a travesty. I would make the cake and do what I could to make that poor child’s day as successful as possible. But I won’t do it as a favour.’
‘Why not?’ John said in exasperation. ‘It’s something Dolly couldn’t manage but it would be nothing to you.’
‘Nothing? I do have an idea of what my skills are worth and I want my fee. Surprising as it might seem, I do have some self-esteem left!’
‘It’s a favour for a business associate, who’s in a position to do me several favours in return.’
‘None of which will reach me or the boys!’
‘What are you talking about? You live in this house and you and the boys have what you need. It’s my business that keeps us here and for once, instead of always moaning and complaining, you can help!’
‘Not with this.’
Joanne wondered afterwards what had given her the strength, but she adamantly refused to do what he asked. It was as though her training, her experiences as a cook had been all she had left and John was stripping her of that, reducing it to a casually requested favour, like minding someone’s dog.
John slammed the door and the boys heard the car drive away. Creeping down the stairs they went into the living-room. peering around the door, preparing to retreat if their mother was crying. She was not.
‘Come in, Jeremy and you, Justin. Sorry you had to hear that. but what your father was asking me to do was unreasonable.’
‘To make a wedding cake for nothing?’ Justin tentatively asked.
‘To reduce my skills to something worth nothing, a very different thing.’
‘Is he really marrying a girl?’ Jeremy asked. ‘How could she marry an old man?’
‘Money and security,’ Joanne said bitterly. She looked at her sons and decided it was an opportunity not to waste. ‘You see, this girl, she is going to have a baby. And that is something you two have to be wary of.’
‘Mum!’ Jeremy gasped. Justin, his face reddening, looked at his brother for guidance.
‘Sex is so pleasurable,’ Joanne warned. ‘Be prepared for how urgently you’ll want to succumb. Pleasurable, desirable and so very easy,’ Joanne went on, oblivious to their embarrassment, ‘But the results of it are not.’
‘Is succumb the same as seduce?’ Justin wanted to know as they crept back up the stairs, lecture over.
‘Oh yes,’ Jeremy said airily. He was thoughtful as they gathered their books and began to settle to their homework once again.
‘D’you think it’s serious and we’ll have to move out of this house?’
‘No, but Dad might have to leave.’ He grinned then. ‘Sex education from Mum. Weird.’
In Churchill’s Garden the following morning, Joanne tried to explain to Meriel how she felt.
‘I can understand,’ Meriel told her. ‘After all, I had a small business. Art teachers sent their students to me, knowing I was reasonably priced and reliably stocked, and it was really successful. But I sold it to start Evan in business. It wasn’t even mentioned when we divorced. Yet, for me, it was a big commitment in our marriage. It was enough to pay Evan’s fare to Thailand to make contacts with the makers of the furniture and fancy goods he wanted to sell. It paid for the first two consignments. We lived in a small flat above the shop I had once owned and I worked in a supermarket for a year to keep us while he got the business off the ground. All that has been forgotten. It’s no longer important. So, yes, I do know how you feel when John regards your skills as something to casually give away as a favour from him to one of his business friends.’
‘And you don’t think I was wrong to refuse?’
‘I certainly do not.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Joanne, why don’t you pick up that business again? You won’t need premises to start, just to decorate a few cakes, make gateaux and lovely stuff like that. I’ll bet that once you start, the requests will come rolling in.’
‘I couldn’t. The boys take so much of my time.’ Joanne waved a hand brushing the idea away. But something had happened when John had shown such disregard for her abilities, and the idea of earning money, for herself, from something she had once enjoyed, was already beginning to grow.
It was a few days before John spoke to her civilly and then it was only to tell her that another arrangement had been made regarding the cake and that, in spite of her churlishness, she was invited to the wedding. ‘And,’ he said firmly, ‘We are going and no excuse will be acceptable. Right?’
‘I’ll need money for a decent dress,’ she said defiantly. ‘And suits for the boys of course.’
‘The boys aren’t invited. It’s a small affair, only a dozen guests. You’ll have to ask one of your friends to have them for the day.’
‘And the money for my clothes?’ she insisted.
He took out his wallet and handed her eighty pounds. ‘That will have to do, there’s no more so don’t ask for a handbag or matching shoes. That is it.’
‘Do I have to buy you a shirt and tie out of this too?’ she asked sweetly.
Cynthia was careless with her handbag and she often left it on the table while she went to the ladies, or to order more coffee. There was a fold of ten pound notes just inside it one morning and as Joanne was the only one there besides Cynthia, and Meriel, who went with Cynthia to choose cakes for them all, she slipped a note off the roll and into her own bag. She was looking at a magazine for brides with a special feature on cakes when they returned.
Later that day, Cynthia called the bank and asked if there had been a discrepancy in one of the tills. ‘I cashed a cheque for fifty pounds when I came to pay in some money for my husband,’ she explained, ‘But when I got home, I only had forty.’
The bank assured her they would be in touch if they found a mistake had been made, but when they telephoned it was to say that none had been found.
Cynthia was thoughtful. Only Joanne had the opportunity to take that money. It was at Joanne’s house that a previous twenty pounds had gone missing. The wallet containing fifty pounds had been taken from Churchill’s Garden and again, Joanne had been there.
She knew Joanne lied about having a cleaner and had boasted about arranged holidays that never materialized, so were her money difficulties so serious that she had resorted to stealing from friends? How could she ask Meriel or Helen or Vivienne? And how could she accuse Joanne without experiencing terrible embarrassment if she were wrong?
Buying an outfit for the wedding of Dolly Richard and Carl Davies was not something Joanne was looking forward to. The eighty pounds John had given her wouldn’t buy anything like she would have chosen. Shoes alone would cost at least forty. She wondered wickedly whether she might get away with finding something in a charity shop, and announcing the provenance of her purchases, loudly, at the wedding ceremony. It would serve John right, but she knew she couldn’t embarrass him in front of his business acquaintances. But, if she could find a second-hand outfit at a ‘Nearly New’ place, the rest of the money could go towards the pocket money for Jeremy’s school trip.
Cynthia spoilt it by asking, a few days later, when she was intending to go to town and choose her clothes.
‘Oh, I thought I might go this afternoon,’ Joanne said airily, convinced she was safe as it was Thursday, one of the days on which Cynthia ‘did lunch’ with a friend.
‘I’ll come with you!’ Cynthia announced, much to her dismay. ‘I’m free as my friend is in Gstaad for a couple of weeks. Walking on an Alp or something,’ she said with a smile. ‘So? Shall we go straight from here?’
‘I did intend to go back home first.’ Joanne tried desperately to think of a reason why she should, but one was supplied by Cynthia.
‘Your cleaning lady is there?’
‘Yes, I have to check she has done all I ask and, of course, to pay her.’
‘Phone her.’ Cynthia handed her her mobile. ‘Tell her you’ll call in with the money later.’
Joanne picked up the phone and walked outside into the small courtyard and dialled her own number. She smiled back at Cynthia and pretended to speak into the mouthpiece. ‘She’s managed to get the bed stuck awkwardly, I’ll have to go back,’ she reported.
‘I’ll come with you and wait!’ Cynthia smiled. Joanne recognized the determined challenge glowing in her green eyes.
‘Oh, it’s all right, I won’t bother. She said she would try and sort it out herself,’ she said. ‘Your car or mine?’
It was difficult to find reasons not to buy some of the beautiful clothes Cynthia urged her to try. But confessing that she was tired and undecided, they at last drove home.
Cynthia had been looking at her oddly all afternoon and Joanne knew she had guessed that her finances were not as rosy as she tried to pretend. Should she carry on with her pretence? Or should she take Cynthia, a friend from whom she had stolen money, into her confidence? Once again Cynthia took the initiative.
‘You’re having money worries, aren’t you?’ she said as she pulled up beside Joanne’s car in the car park. ‘Is John’s business in trouble? You can tell me and I promise it will go no further.’
‘Of course John’s business isn’t in trouble.’ Joanne’s voice was harsh and Cynthia thought for a moment that she had been wrong to ask. But Joanne went on, ‘John’s business is fine, but he keeps me short of money. Increasing his businesses at the expense of the boys and me. There. Now you have it. I haven’t had a cleaning lady for months and months. I simply can’t afford to pay her. I’m at my wit’s end wondering how I can buy the clothes Jeremy needs for this damned school trip and then John gives me eighty pounds so we can go to this wedding.’
‘Borrow something of mine. He’ll never know, and use the money for something you’d really like.’
Joanne stared at her, a muttered ‘thanks’ drowned by choking sobs.
‘There’s something else,’ Cynthia said, ignoring the tears, which she suspected were tears of remorse, flowing down Joanne’s cheeks. ‘You can use our chalet in Tenby if you wish. no charge of course, give the boys a couple of days away?’
‘I couldn’t.‘
‘Regarding the wedding outfit, I don’t think you have a choice. Not unless you want to wear M and S! No one else will know. There are a few dresses I took to Paris and never used. People don’t dress up like they used to, more’s the pity, so you can try them and take which ever you like best.’
‘Thank you,’ Joanne tried to hold back the sobs that were filling her throat.
‘Friends aren’t only for the good times,’ Cynthia said. ‘And think about the chalet, you haven’t had a holiday for almost two years, have you? It’s yours whenever you want it. I know it’s early, but with a bit of luck with the weather you’ll enjoy a change of scene. Now, we’d better get home and see our children, hadn’t we? And Joanne, dear, think also about Meriel’s suggestion about starting your cake making and decorating service.’
Getting back into her own car, Joanne felt stiff and aching as though heading for a dose of flu. She sat there for a long time afier Cynthia had driven off, guilt and humiliation towards herself, anger and bitter disappointment towards John, and affection for Cynthia, all changing places like a crazy nightmare in her head. Her one thought as she went into her neat and orderly house was, it was time to stop the pretence. Time to stop covering up for John’s meanness.
‘Jeremy, Justin,’ she called, waving the eighty pounds in the air. ‘I have a surprise for you. I’m going to book a weekend in a chalet down in Pembroke. What d’you think of that?’
‘Cool,’ was the reply.
‘It probably will be,’ she laughed.
The boys quirked eybrows in surprise. Sex talk and now jokes?
‘Good one Mum,’ Justin said approvingly.
At Churchill’s Garden, the next time Joanne met Cynthia, she waited until Helen and Cath and Vivienne had arrived, then said loudly, ‘Cynthia has kindly offered to lend me one of her gorgeous dresses to wear at this wedding. Isn’t that kind?’
Cynthia stared at her, then smiled, fully understanding what Joanne was doing.
Meriel saw nothing odd in the arrangement, but was puzzled that Joanne, who was normally so boastful about her husband’s wealth, was admitting to it. She was even more surprised when Joanne went on, ‘I can’t really afford the kind of clothes I’d like to wear, what with the skiing trip and one thing and another, so Cynthia generously offered to lend me something of hers.’
‘With a business continually expanding the money is ofien tight,’ Meriel said. ‘There are times when even the most well run firms have to be extra careful.’
‘I don’t think it’s that,’ Joanne said, ‘I think John is simply too mean to enjoy giving money to his family. Now, any cakes this morning? My treat.’ She tip-tapped in her fussy way to the counter to replenish their supplies.
‘I don’t want to go to this wedding,’ she said later as they demolished the fresh cream doughnuts, ‘But as I have to, I intend, with Cynthia’s help, to knock-’em-dead!’
The wedding of Dolly to Carl Davies was indeed a small affair, with no one on the bride’s side except for a girl who looked about fifteen, who was introduced as Dolly’s friend, Marlene. Dolly wore a white dress that strained slightly across the front, with a short veil and a flowered head-dress. The dress was supported by a hoop that was clearly visible under the thin material of the dress. But in spite of the inferior quality of the clothes, Dolly looked happy and it was this that people would notice and remember long after they could recall what was worn. She had been made-up by an expert and had the look of a shy, fresh-faced young girl that was very appealing. Joanne told her she looked lovely and meant it.
Marlene wore a soft pink dress and carried a posy that matched Dolly’s. They both wore their hair loosely curled and falling wildly down their backs.
Not knowing anyone except her husband, whom she coolly ignored, Joanne was relieved when it was time to leave the brief wedding breakfast in an hotel room near the register office. Carl shook her hand and told her he quite understood about the cake, ‘John explained that you’re out of practice and afraid of not doing a good job,’ he said. The stiff smile on Joanne’s face threatened to crack it.
‘You’re coming to the do tonight, though,’ John said as they prepared to leave.
Aware that they would have a serious quarrel if she argued further, still seething about Carl’s condescending remarks, Joanne could only agree.
The party was in the basement room of a public house and there was a small band which was too loud and too large for the size of the room. She knew no one there and, apart from a smiling welcome from Dolly and a brief nod from her new husband Carl, she spent most of the time on her own.
She stood in a corner wearing shoes that had cost two pounds in a second-hand shop and were too high and too tight, longing to ecape. She didn’t see John after they had left their coats in a small room leading off the dance floor. He was smoking cigars, drinking whisky and introducing himself to those who might be useful. Business contacts. It was obviously the reason they had come.
Seeing people getting more incapable and unable to join in the foolish laughter that increased in ratio to the amount of alcohol swallowed, Joanne felt utterly miserable and lonely and realized she had felt that way for a very long time.
A man appeared beside her and asked if she would like a drink. ‘Something long and cool? It’s uncomfortably hot in here isn’t it?’ he smiled. In the depth of her loneliness, his smile was warming. He was taller than her by almost twelve inches and he touched her shoulder lightly as he bent down to hear her reply.
She hesitated and he went on, ‘To be honest, you look as bored with the whole thing as I feel.’ He led her to the crowded bar, a hand on her elbow. ‘A wedding should be a celebration of the new life beginning for Dolly and Carl, not an excuse to talk business and do a few deals.’
‘It’s certainly an unusual party,’ Joanne agreed. ‘I don’t think the happy couple have spoken a word to each other,’ She looked around while the man bought drinks: at John who was laughing and talking with a group of men, his face red with the heat of the room and the drinks he had consumed. At Carl who was writing down something in a notebook. Some useful telephone number she guessed. At all the strangers gathered in groups which formed and reformed as people drifted around, seeing a face they recognized, stopping to exchange a greeting. Joanne wondered just how many of these people were Dolly’s friends. Voices called, raucous, trying to make themselves heard over the music to which no one was dancing, and which Joanne decided was nothing more than a damned nuisance.
Dolly had a group of her own in a corner. Young girls dressed in skimpy dresses and heavy make-up. Dolly was still wearing her wedding dress and Joanne noticed it was torn at the hem, as though someone had carelessly trodden on it. There was a shriek of laughter as someone else did the same thing and a large tear appeared. Joanne tutted in disapproval at the lack of concern.
‘What does it matter?’ her companion said, having followed her gaze. ‘It has done its work and can go out with the rubbish tomorrow.’
Joanne laughed. ‘You sound more cynical than me!’
They talked with difficulty, standing close to hear each other to reduce the need to shout. He smelled clean and fresh in spite of the overheated room. They exchanged names and their connection to the wedding-party and Joanne learned that the man was Dai Collins who owned a chain of cafes called Gingham.
‘I know them, repro early thirties, wooden tables and chairs. waitress service, aiming at comfort and style and good traditional food,’ she said.
‘No plastic, no freezer-to-microwave, and, no music!’
‘Wonderful,’ she breathed.
John called to her after a while and she followed him to where he wanted to introduce her to one of Carl Davies’s associates. When she was once more left on her own. Dai Collins said, ‘If you wish, I could run you home. It’s obvious that, like me, you’re only waiting until it’s polite to leave.’
Thanking him, she found John and explained. He waved a “thank you” to Dai, promising to ‘give him a bell’, and turned back to his friends. It was only ten o’clock but her feet felt as though they were welded into her shoes. Her strongest need was to get home and kick them off. She had difficulty walking to Dai Collin’s car. She didn’t invite him in for coffee and he didn’t seem to expect it. Unlocking the door, she kicked her shoes off and stood in utter bliss on the cold floor tiles in the porch, allowing her coat and handbag to fall beside her.
Cynthia told her husband that she had lent Joanne a dress and offered her the use of the chalet in Tenby.
‘I didn’t think you were that close?’ he frowned.
'I’m not. Not really, but I have a feeling that things are not well with John’s business and she is short of cash. She actually admitted it today and was relieved. Keeping it to herself was destroying her.’
Christian looked at his wife’s face, seeing an expression he knew well. ‘There’s something else?‘ he coaxed.
‘Darling, I’m almost certain she has been stealing from me.’
‘And you want to help her?’
‘I can’t prove it, but three times I’ve lost some money and on each occasion she was the only one who could have taken it.’
‘So why help? I’d have thought it better to avoid the woman after giving a hint that you know what she’s been doing.’
‘She’s trying so hard to cover up her difficulties. She’s talked about her cleaning lady, and I guessed she was imaginary weeks ago. And then there was the holiday that they cancelled. It had never been booked. Clothes that appear but aren’t new. Once I became suspicious, other things fitted too. I don’t know why, but I had to offer help. If she tried stealing from someone else, or from a shop, can you imagine what the shame of it would do to her?’
‘She isn’t your responsibility, Cyn.’
‘I know, but she is a friend, of sorts. And we had help when things were desperate. Ken’s mother saved us from a life of utter misery. Poor dear lady. If I’ve made Joanne admit to being short of money it was worth letting her use a dress and the chalet, don’t you think?’
‘I’ll ask around, see if I can find out if John is in difficulties or overreaching himself, or just being mean with his family.’
‘Thank you, I would like to know.’
‘Don’t get involved in family arguments, mind. If you get between man and wife, you always end up as the villain!’
‘Thank you, darling.’ She paused. ‘There’s been no more talk about subsidence?’
‘No, but two of the houses are up for sale, dammit. To be honest, Ken and I are a bit worried about these stories. This contract we’re trying for, which would give the workforce security for two years, maybe more, is needed badly. If someone has started the rumour to make sure I lose it, I’ll find out who if it’s the last thing I do.’
‘Do you know who else is tendering?’
‘Ken’s trying to find out. There aren’t that many firms big enough to cope with it. He’s going to see someone this evening, trying to get some information.’
Ken left the pub where he had been playing in a darts match and walked towards home. He hadn’t brought his car having decided he would enjoy a few drinks. It was late and the roads were quiet. When he reached the corner of his street he was surprised to see lights on in the house. His mother was usually in bed by this time. He groaned. One of the neighbours must have called for what he called tea and sympathy. His Mam was good at that.
Without expecting anything more, he stepped through the door and called to his mother.
‘There you are at last. Come in Ken, there’s some friends waiting to see you.’
He went in to see the two men who were theatening him, and his Mam making them tea! The scene was so incongruous he laughed. His luck just never seemed to change, just like when that lad at work never placed that winning bet for him. You have to laugh, or else you’d cry.
‘Time you came to a decision, Ken, old lad,’ one of them said.
‘Yes, time you sorted it all out,’ the other replied. There was a serious threat implied as they smiled and looked from Ken to his mother and back again.
Meriel and Cath attended several Collector’s Fairs and Antique Fairs during the early months of the year and towards the end of April, they booked a table and prepared to sell some of their stock. They had taken tables at some of the smaller events, getting rid of unwanted items and to practise their selling skills, but this was a big one.
‘Even if we lose money, we have to start somewhere,’ Meriel said as Cath showed nervousness at the expenses they had incurred. ‘This is a practice run and whatever trade you are in, you have to pay for experience.’
Although not officially antiques, Meriel took some of her fiflies pieces and to her surprise, had sold most of them before lunch on the first day.
They took turns to go to the cafe and when Cath was due back after lunch, Meriel saw her standing at a stall selling children’s toys. She saw her pick up a teddy bear and then watch a toy train that whistled and sent smoke through its funnel. There were several dolls, many of which were not intended to be played with by small hands. Cath ignored these and handled the soft, cuddly ones, a faraway look in her dark eyes. Meriel turned away, not wanting Cath to know she had seen her.
Had she lost children of her own? Or been close to children who had moved away? Or perhaps she was unable to have them. Something important had happened to make Cath such a sad person and whatever it had been, children were central to it, that much was certain. Perhaps, she thought again, with less hope, she still might trust me enough to tell me one day.
They were getting very tired by four o’clock on that first day, the preparations and the worries about whether they should be doing it had kept them both awake and besides, the actual setting up of the stall, carrying their goods from the van they had borrowed had been physically exhausting.
‘Will I be glad to get home and flop into a bath and dressing-gown!’ Meriel said. A woman was looking at a cup and saucer in the black and white Home-makers china, black sketches depicting all the things needed for the home, like vacuum cleaner, tables, lamps etc. Smiling as she wrapped it while Cath took the money, she was startled when Cath suddenly said, ‘Look, isn’t that Toby?’
A girl no older than fourteen was strolling through the aisles, looking at one or two items, and vaguely keeping an eye on the youngster who constantly wandered off.
Cath handed the change to Meriel to finish serving and watched the child. The girl was making an offer for a heavy glass milk jug and after looking around and not seeing the child, Cath heard her say, ‘Can you hurry please? The little boy I’m looking after has wandered off again. Little devil he is, mind.’
Cath ran to where Toby was half hidden between the toy stall and a large chest of drawers from the next display and took his hand. She waited until the girl completed her transaction and began looking for him.
‘Are you supposed to be looking after this child?’ she demanded angrily.
‘Oh, thanks, I wondered where he’d got to,’ the girl smiled, apparently unaware of Cath’s anger.
‘Who are you? What are you doing with Toby?’
‘My auntie usually looks after him but she had to go to town so she asked me to. What business is it of yours?’ The girl at last awoke to the realization that Cath was not pleased.
‘Your aunt is—?’
‘Millie Rees, she works for Mrs Sewell, if it’s any of your business! Any other questions, or can I go?’ She stared at Cath her head tilted, one hip forward as though preparing for a row.
‘Just make sure he’s safe. Don’t let him wander around in this crowd. He’d be frightened if he got lost.’
‘I am looking after him, not that it’s any business of yours!’ She turned to Toby who was looking from one to the other with great interest. ‘Come on Toby, love, let’s get you that burger I promised you.’ With a glare of disapproval she pulled Toby through the dwindling crowd towards the exit.
‘Vivienne is so careless with her baby.’ Cath said sadly when she returned to the stall. ‘If I had a child I’d never let him go off with anyone who’ll have him, like she does, would you?’
‘I can’t imagine doing so, no. But I don’t have this craving for crowds and dances and music that Vivienne does.’
John told Joanne that he wanted her to organize a dinner party for the week following the wedding of Dolly and Carl. ‘Eight people and here’s twenty pounds to get the extra food,’ he said, handing her the notes.
She was tempted to refuse, but didn’t want any more confrontations. Things had not yet settled since the wedding. so she simply nodded agreement.
Jeremy and Justin were to spend the evening and night with Cynthia, as John had insisted it was a very important occasion. Even with John hardly being civil to her, she was looking forward to demonstrating her skills and the prospect of some small talk while the men talked business.
The first guest to arrive was Dai Collins and for a moment she failed to recognize him.
‘That isn’t very flattering!’ he teased as she took his coat and hung it in the cloakroom. ‘I’d have known you from miles away, even though you’re smaller than I remembered, now you’ve taken off those ridiculous heels.’
‘They’re in the rubbish bin,’ she confided.
‘Joanne, your guests need you.’ John called, and she hurried forward to greet Carl and three other men she did not recognize.
‘Where’s Dolly?’ she asked, looking through the door expecting to see her.
‘Men only tonight,’ John said, and her spirits fell. So this wasn’t going to be a social occasion. She was to act as hostess through the meal then disappear.
It was as she was in the kitchen preparing the tray of coffee that Dai found her.
He had ‘accidentally’ spilt cream on his coat sleeve and made the excuse of finding a cloth to clean it.
‘Will you come and see my latest acquisition?’ he asked her, handing her a small card. ‘Bring a friend and the typical Welsh tea is on me. Wednesday?’
She thanked him, hardly taking in the address of the cafe advertised on the card. The way she felt at the moment she’d have accepted an invitation to fly to the north pole!
It was Cynthia she invited to go with her to the Gingham Cafe the following week and Dai was there, looking very different wearing, instead of a smart suit, a white apron and a gingham hat. The tables were immaculate with white cloths covered with a square of gingham. There were fresh flowers on every table. Gingham framed studies of Victorian children covered the walls and dried flower arrangements filled the corners. No harsh lights but far from gloomy, the place offered a quiet peace that fell over them like a mantle.
They were greeted like VIPs and offered a generous choice. Sandwiches (various), toast or scones with jams (various), cakes (various) and a large china pot of tea. The cups and saucers were delicate floral china matching the teapot. They settled for what Dai called Lady’s Selection and it came on a huge oval tray, the contents of which filled the table.
As they left, thanking Dai and promising to recommend the place to friends, he took Joanne on one side and whispered, ‘If you ever need a friend, I’ll be here. Please remember that, will you?’
‘What can he mean?’ Joanne asked, repeating his words as they walked towards the car.
‘Nothing,’ Cynthia reassured her. ‘He was just trying to be friendly. Probably fancies you. What’s the matter, is that so unlikely?’ she demanded as Joanne laughingly protested.
‘Fancies me!’ Joanne smiled. ‘As if he would.’
Cynthia was thoughtful as they got into the car to drive home. Something Christian had told her made her think that the concern Dai had shown was not misplaced.