Coming back from ‘doing’ for Mrs Dorothy Williams a few days later, Nelly called in for some fish and chips. Sitting outside her door on the old wooden chair, she shared the meal between herself and the two dogs. She patted the dogs from time to time, taking comfort from their friendliness and warmth. Although she mmm’d contentedly as she ate, her brown eyes showed worry.
She did not hear anyone coming until the gate creaked and she looked up as the dogs barked and wagged their tails in welcome.
‘Johnny! ’ello dearie. I ain’t seen you fer ages. Stop an’ ’ave a cuppa why don’t yer?’ She hugged him then went inside to turn the kettle back over the fire. Taking out another chair, she sat, grinning with pleasure at his visit.
‘Tell me ’ow you’re gettin’ on. Like bein’ married, do yer? That Fay spoilin’ yer is she?’
‘It’s great! Spoiling me rotten. Nelly, I’m so lucky to have a wife like Fay. Far smarter than me she is. Don’t know how I managed to get her and that’s a fact.’
‘Go on, you daft ’aporth! Lucky girl is Fay. Good catch you was, young Johnny.’ She waited as he sipped his tea, guessing there was something he wanted to talk about. She had known him well, ever since she had first come to live in Hen Carw Parc and could read his every mood. His thin, boyish face was unusually serious. The moustache he grew to make him look more mature, looked out of place on the almost child-like features. His straight hair fell across his eyes but did not hide the sadness in them.
Johnny was a small man and today, he seemed to have shrunk, gone inside himself, had become more of a boy without confidence, whereas, during his engagement to Fay, he had looked older, more buoyant. Now something had sapped his pride. Nelly thought of the watch left by Fay in the hope of it being found by Alan. Surely she hadn’t allowed love for a ghost to spoil things? Not with Johnny alive, well and loving her so much?
‘Nothin’ wrong is there, young Johnny?’ she asked hesitantly.
‘No. It’s just – well, I want a baby see, and Fay, she wants to go on working. Loves her job she does, and she’s good at it. Thinks she’ll climb the ladder where her job’s concerned. Not like me. I love driving that old bus, and I don’t want anything more. Fay’s different. Won’t stop working and have babies.’
‘Don’t blame ’er, not for a while anyway!’ Nelly spoke firmly. ‘You don’t want to spend years an’ years livin’ in yer Mum’s place, do yer? Not fair to you, Fay nor yer Mum that ain’t. Fay’s got ambition, Johnny. Not only fer ’erself. She wants a nice ’ouse like what she was brought up in. Give ’er time to get somewhere nice to live, then whisper in ’er ear, gentle like one night.’ She gave him a broad wink. Johnny laughed. ‘Nelly, you’re a real romantic!’
‘Yes an’ who’d ’ave thought it, eh? Don’t think I’ve always bin Dirty Nelly, livin’ alone. It’s all right, I knows what they calls me. Too well I do.’
‘Has anyone been rude to you? Tell me if they have.’
‘Only me own daughter. Not much you can do about ’er. Someone told my Evie that I was drunk and incapable on the bus an’ in The Drovers. Someone, an’ I’ve a good idea who, told my Evie and Evie asked Mrs French not to employ me no more. There, what d’you think of that, Johnny? Me own daughter gettin’ me the sack. Very upset Mrs French was, but I suppose Evie was convincing. But what do I do? Got to earn a bit of money.
‘I can’t manage without. I’ve cut down all I can. Live on a knife edge now. I’ve stopped ’avin’ a paper, although I’d love to ’ave the paperboy comin’ every mornin’. Cheerful lad ’e is. I do buy a few stamps now an’ then. I sends off for things from the paper, so as Phil Davies the postman ’as an excuse to call.’
Johnny put an arm on her shoulders. ‘Don’t worry, Nelly, I’ll have a word with Mrs French. No. Better still. I’ll ask Fay to talk to your Evie and Mrs French. Better with words and arguments, Fay is. You should hear her in shops. And terrifying she is with waiters.’ He smiled proudly. ‘Yes, Fay’s the one to sort this out.’
‘Thanks, Johnny. If I could get me two mornins back I’d manage fine. Tell yer what, if I don’t, I’ll try fer a job on yer buses. Bleedin’ bumper cars that’d be!’
Her loud laugh rang out and Johnny’s joined it. The dogs looked up briefly then settled down again at their feet.
‘I’ll get Fay to talk to Mrs French, and I’ll keep an eye on that nosy Prue Beynon!’ Johnny said. ‘I’ll get her proper one day, see if I don’t.’
Prue always got up to cook Harry’s breakfast, even when he was working a long way from Hen Cawr Parc and needed to leave very early. This morning she rose at five-thirty as Harry was leaving at six to go to a meeting in Newport. A firm had gone bankrupt owing him several hundred pounds and a meeting had been called to discuss the percentage of his claim.
She sat with him, drinking a cup of tea and watching him eat. He ate fast; enthusiastic in that as in everything, she thought. He looked at her a few times and smiled, the electric light gleaming on his rimless glasses.
‘Prue, I’ve been thinking. Don’t you think we should give your sister a hand with that shop? I’ve been telling her for ages that it’s too small. She ought to extend into the back room.’
‘The bank will arrange it. She’s perfectly capable of sorting out her own problems, Harry. Always lands on her feet, that one.’
‘But I can do it so much cheaper. She could have the materials at cost, find her some slightly damaged stock, you know the sort of thing.’
‘And will she give you a share of her profits?’
‘Prue, she’s your sister.’
‘I know, and she’s had a hard time bringing up two children without a husband. But it’s her life. She chose it.’
‘I’ve got two weeks coming up with nothing much on. It would be useful for me too,’ he said. ‘I have to keep the men busy, so it would be in my interests to get them some work, even if it didn’t pay much. Better that than pay the men for doing bugger all.
‘I’ll be back from Newport early this afternoon, so what d’you say we go over and talk about it? I’ll get some measuring done and start making estimates. You ring Amy and tell her, will you? Best she thinks it’s your idea. Tell her you persuaded me, let her know you care, because you do. Old softy you are, Prue Beynon.’
He kissed her lightly on the cheek before leaving and she stifled the smile of pleasure. Unwilling, unable to show how much she cared for him. Afraid always of being made to look foolish. She watched him walk to the car; a jaunty step, a smartly dressed, handsome man, whistling happily as he set off to call for his accountant and drive to Newport.
His mind is free from worries, and that is thanks to me, she thought proudly. I deal with all the trivia and liberate him from unnecessary stress. I’m a good wife, and he knows it.
It was barely six-thirty but she did not go back to bed. There was washing to do, it being Monday, then she would give the kitchen floor a good scrub. Best to wait until lunchtime to ring Amy and tell her of Harry’s generous offer.
She still felt a tinge of resentment at the way Harry was so willing to help Amy, but she smiled as she recalled his words. ‘Old softy’, am I? She would do as he had suggested and tell Amy it was her persuading that had made Harry agree to help her.
Harry returned from Newport early as promised and Prue and he went to the shop to talk to Amy. Margaret was playing with a toy piano, and Freddy was reading a fishing magazine. Both children leapt up to greet Harry, Margaret climbing onto his lap, Freddy showing him some ideas for the garden in a library book he had borrowed.
Amy kept an eye on the shop while Prue made tea in the inconvenient kitchen, and Harry talked to the children.
‘Have you decided what you’re going to do when you leave school?’ he asked Freddy.
‘I’ve made a few enquiries about working in gardens,’ Freddy said. ‘I don’t like the idea of being indoors all day. A job working with flowers and trees and shrubs, that would suit me fine, Uncle Harry.’
‘Nothing settled yet, then?’
‘No.’
‘How would you like to work for me? One of my boys is leaving and I need someone to help me, both in the office and outside. Outside mostly for a start, as you’ll need to know what’s what if you’re to tell people what you want them to do.’ He watched the boy struggling with the idea, guessing that it was the work with growing plants that appealed, not just being outside. ‘You could still study gardening. Perhaps one day garden design and building will come together. Anyway, think about it. The job is yours if you want it.’
Amy showed surprise and great delight when Prue explained about Harry helping her with the extension of the shop.
‘Harry! That’s good of you!’
‘Harry’s willing to let you have the materials at cost, you being my sister,’ Prue said magnanimously.
‘Oh, what a relief. I’ll see the bank manager on Monday, but I’m sure he’ll agree.’
‘I’d better get some measuring done,’ Harry said, ‘then I’ll give you some figures to show him.’
‘Anytime. Anytime. Oh Prue, I’m so grateful.’
‘The shop’s busy now,’ Harry said. ‘So what if I come on Wednesday afternoon? All right?’ He looked at Amy, a silent question in his laughing eyes.
She nodded. ‘Lovely. I’ll have some coffee and that for you.’
‘Can’t wait for the “and that”’ he whispered as he followed Prue out through the tiny shop. He winked widely and waved goodbye.
Johnny Cartwright was one of those waiting for Amy to serve them, and he overheard enough to guess what Amy was planning. He bought the few items he wanted, then asked, ‘Will you be wanting someone to help empty the shop ready for the builders starting?’
‘I suppose I will,’ Amy said, ‘although I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Why, Johnny, are you offering?’ she asked with a pert look.
‘No, not me. But Nelly’s looking for some work now—’ he almost said ‘your sister’ but stopped in time ‘—now someone has told Evie about her getting drunk the night you met her. Stopped her working for Mrs French she has. Damned cheek I call it. Interfering with her mother’s life because of some nosy old gossip!’
‘What happened?’ Amy asked, taking the money for a packet of soap powder from Milly Toogood’s granddaughter.
‘Someone told Evie her mother was drunk and suggested that Nelly would be better off if she earned less. So Evie told Mrs French not to employ her any longer.’
‘Who told Evie?’
‘Got an idea, but I’m not saying.’
‘I’ll go and have a word with Evie! I’ll remind her of a few things she might prefer I’d forgotten!’ Amy’s earrings jangled angrily. ‘As soon as the shop closes! I haven’t forgotten what she was like before she left home!’
‘Ta.’ Johnny went out, pleased that someone besides himself cared enough about Nelly to do something. He had already spoken to Fay, who promised to do what she could.
He crossed the road and went into the house, and called his wife’s name. There was no reply. He went into the room where he and Fay lived, finding it neat, shining clean, and empty. Where could she be? Aimlessly, he went out again and wandered down past the church, past Evie and Timothy’s house, and stood at the edge of the field looking up towards the wood at the top.
Towards evening he often saw rabbits come out to feed. There were none in sight today. Too early perhaps. He continued to watch, then saw a figure appear at the edge of the trees. Johnny stared until recognition came. The solitary walker was Fay. He jumped over the gate and walked to meet her.
‘Been for a walk?’ he asked, taking her arm. ‘Wondered where you’d got to.’
‘I’ve only been out for half an hour,’ she snapped.
‘All right, girl. I’m not checking up on you, or expecting you to be at my beck and call. Wish I’d known so I could have come with you, that’s all.’
‘Sorry, Johnny. I’m so restless. I can’t stay in that room. I miss having a house to see to, I suppose. There isn’t anything for me to do.’
‘Fay, love. I think you’re right. We shouldn’t worry about babies just yet. Best get a house first. I’ll take every bit of over-time I’m offered. Do a bit of gardening in my spare time. We’ll both concentrate on getting a good bit saved. Best for us, isn’t it? Both be happy then, you with a nice house and me with a bit of garden.’
‘Johnny!’ Fay’s eyes shone and she impulsively kissed him, ignoring for once the risk of them being seen. ‘You are a wonderful man.’
‘No I’m not. I love you, that’s all.’
They walked slowly down the field and as they passed Fay’s old home, they waved to Evie and Timothy in the garden.
‘Hello,’ Evie called. ‘Would you like to come in and see what we’ve done to your house?’
Johnny glanced at Fay, who shook her head.
‘Another time,’ she said. ‘Johnny and I have things to discuss.’ They walked home, arm in arm, heads together, already planning how to tackle their intensive savings plan.
Nelly returned from a private visit to the woods and collected the dogs. ‘Come on, boys; time for a nice walk before tea.’ She reached the gate, dragging it protestingly open across the cinder path, when the dogs began to bark, not warningly, but in excitement. Someone they knew was coming up the lane. Nelly waited, hoping for someone to chat to. Lucky she’d made that bit of cake yesterday. Chopped prunes instead of sultanas, but it went down well. Then her grandson came around the corner.
‘Oliver! I’m just goin’ fer a walk with Bobby an’ Spotty. Want to come?’
‘I’ve brought my library book to show you, Gran,’ he said, waving the book for her to see.
‘Leave it ’ere, we’ll look at it later.’
‘Can we go to the castle again, Gran?’
‘’Course we can, dearie. Glad to see you ain’t got a suit on today. Shorts an’ a shirt’s much better for an adventurous boy. Gettin’ on all right at school, are yer?’
‘Yes, thanks. I went to tea with Margaret yesterday.’ He ran on ahead, the dogs jumping about beside him waiting for a game with a stick.
Nelly sat in the sunshine and watched as he clambered in and out of the castle ruin. It was much tidier now the ground had been prepared for the Coronation party. She went to look in the kitchen. The food she had left was gone, but the tattered remains of the wrapping suggested it had been found by a fox rather than a man.
When her eyes had become accustomed to the shadows, she looked for the watch. It too had gone, but in its place was a dried posy. She guessed it had once been red roses, blue cornflowers and white carnations. The colours had all but faded, leaving only a yellowing, decayed hint of their former beauty. She picked it up and shuddered. It smelt only of death.
For a moment she stood, thinking about the watch and the flowers that had replaced it, then she dropped the posy into a dark corner. Best it was never found. A guilty feeling settled on her shoulders as she walked away, but her mouth was set. ‘Best it was never found,’ she repeated aloud.
Oliver and the dogs were hot and tired when their games were finished.
‘Home now, fer some of Grannie Luke’s ’ome made pop,’ Nelly announced. ‘Then we’ll look at your library book, shall we, Ollie? – I mean Oliver.’ She shared a smile with him and they went back to the cottage.
When Nelly saw the library book he had brought, she was angry. A rare emotion for Nelly, but anger made her want to go at once to Evie and tell her how stupid she was to force a child who could hardly manage a word, to struggle with such an advanced story.
‘That’s a lovely story, Oliver,’ she said, when he had explained how his mother had chosen it for him. ‘But it ain’t right fer you. Not yet it ain’t. What say I read it to yer, then we do some practice with somethin’ a bit easier, eh?’ Oliver looked doubtful. ‘I need to be able to read some of it,’ he said hesitatingly, ‘perhaps just a page?’
‘When I’ve read you a story,’ Nelly said firmly.
She scrabbled about under the pile of newspapers and magazines Netta Cartwright had given her and found the two library books she had borrowed from the travelling library. ‘Look,’ she said, showing him the colourful pages, ‘these is much more fun.’
Patiently, she coaxed him through the first few pages, and then said, ‘Readin’s a magic door, Ollie. Once you’ve opened it, there’s nothing in the whole wild world what you can’t find out about. Think of that.’
‘Some words are easy. But some don’t make any sense.’ He pointed to the word ‘know’. ‘How do I learn those?’ His thin face looked so serious, Nelly hugged him and laughed.
‘You got a boy in your class what’s always awkward, Ollie? Always doin’ the opposite of what ’e’s told?’
‘Yes. Arthur Toogood is like that. How did you know?’
‘There’s always one. Well, some words is like that. Bein’ awkward. Not doin’ what the rest does. You’ve only got to recognise the awkward ones, that’s all.’
He reached out for the library book again and they read together for a while. It was a funny story about the misadventures of an absentminded clown. Nelly believed in laughter.
Nelly had another visitor that day. Amy Prichard came to tell her that Mrs French would like her to go to work the following day as usual.
‘Thank Gawd fer that!’ Nelly laughed. ‘Stay fer a cuppa tea, why don’t yer?