Meriel watched with amusement as her father showed a prospective buyer around a newly offered property. The young couple seemed ill at ease, trying to appear knowledgeable and in control and her darling Dadda was flattering them on their perspicacity, appearing surprised at some of their comments as though none of their observations had occurred to him before.
She smiled as he described the very small kitchen as bijou and remembered asking him once what the word meant. ‘I’m not really sure,’ he had replied with a twinkling grin. ‘But it sounds good. If I’m pushed I say it’s like a small and perfect jewel. And,’ he added, ‘I always remind them that the kitchen, where all the caring is done, is the heart of the home. Although really, the heart of the home is love.’
With his well-practised charm and his genuine desire to help, he had the young couple sitting down discussing the way they would furnish the house within half an hour. He had even planned the garden for them. Walter John Evans, Estate Agent and Auctioneer, was a clever man who was definitely in the right job.
Meriel watched with some regret as the couple set off to discuss their choice with their families. She was twenty-two and so far there had been no sign of that special man with whom she could settle and make a home of her own. She was just too comfortable at home, working for her father in a job she loved. She hoped that the plan she was incubating, to move away and make a fresh start, would open up her life before it was too late.
She had lived all her life in the town of Barry on the South Wales coast. It had been a Mecca for holidaymakers for many years and was a perfect place to grow up. There were so many attractions beside one of the finest sandy beaches; she knew she would find it a wrench to leave but if one of the two interviews she had arranged ended with the offer of a job she would go. Although, she admitted, she was already reminding herself that she could always return. The door would always be open and her job there to come back to whenever she needed it.
A couple of days later she walked along a road on which large buildings rose high on one side, blocking out the weak November sun. She was looking for an hotel but from the neglected facades along the row she wasn’t very hopeful of it being a thing of beauty. There were one or two where some attempt had been made to brighten the property; fresh paint, windows open to the afternoon air and fresh net waving in the slight breeze from the sea. She guessed, from the indications on the front doors, that these had been converted into flats. When she saw Golden Acres, with its peeling gaudy-blue paint, the rotting wood on the windows, the fallen fences, her heart sank. This was not going to be easy to sell.
She had an appointment with the owner but as she was early she walked around to the back lane and examined the property by peering through the space that had once held a gate. As was often the case, it looked worse than the front, she thought with fading hope. As she turned to walk back, she heard voices interspersed with a woman’s tinkling laughter. A couple came out of the next gateway, arm in arm, and stopped to kiss passionately. Embarrassed, Meriel slipped into the garden of the property she was about to visit.
She heard the couple walk away, peeped out once and saw them embrace and kiss again. When she guessed they had reached the end of the lane she stepped out and almost knocked the woman off her feet. She wore no shoes, her tiny feet with their red varnished toenails looked incongruous, like those of a child. She hadn’t made a sound as she returned. The woman appeared to be in her thirties, very small but with a generous figure. Blonde hair fell in wild waves around her pretty face, her make-up was heavily applied and she carried her shoes by their three-inch heels.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Meriel said.
‘Had a good ol’ look, did you?’ the woman retorted, tapping the side of her nose, her bright red lips clammed tight with disapproval. ‘Hiding behind fences, listening to other people’s conversations, there’s a name for people like you! You should be ashamed.’
Taken aback, Meriel could only begin to protest. ‘I wasn’t—’
Without another word the woman walked up the path of the next door building and Meriel heard her slam the door.
Meriel composed herself with difficulty, angry at being unfairly accused of nosiness, or even voyeurism, and went around to the front where she was to meet the vendor. He turned out to be a very young man who looked hardly more than sixteen. He explained that he had inherited the house from his grandmother and wanted to raise as much money as he could from its sale, for when he was ready to buy a home of his own. ‘I don’t want the responsibility of it,’ he explained. ‘I rent two rooms in a house and someone to deal with the washing and all that, so I don’t want a place of my own yet. Certainly not a place this big!’
‘There are one or two nice pieces of furniture,’ Meriel noted as they walked through the sad rooms. ‘If you wish, we could add them to our next general sale.’
The boy nodded. ‘I don’t really care,’ he said. ‘I hardly knew her and I don’t feel the need to keep any mementoes.’
Meriel felt a pang of pity for the old lady, the grandmother he had hardly known. It made her all the more grateful for her parents and the happiness she had enjoyed. After giving an assessment of the price they might reasonably expect to achieve, she went into a phone box and reported back to her father.
‘Dadda, it’s a mess,’ she said. ‘But if someone was prepared to spend money and get the work done it would make three good flats.’ She told him what her valuation had been and asked him to come and confirm her estimate.
She decided she would go and sit in the car and fill in the rest of the details in her notebook while it was fresh in her mind, but as she left the phone box she bumped into the blonde woman again. She now wore a hooded coat over her suit and the high heels had been changed for some flat, brown wedge-heeled shoes but it was definitely the same woman.
‘Has someone sent you to spy on me?’ she demanded.
‘No, of course not. I’m an estate agent and valuer and I—’
‘Don’t talk rot. Whoever heard of a woman doing a job like that? You must think I’m stupid. Just clear off and mind your own business.’
Meriel opened her bag and handed her a card. ‘W J Evans is my father,’ she said, thankful she had been allowed to complete a sentence.
A man approached them and called, ‘Is anything wrong?’ He too had added an overcoat to his apparel but she recognized him as the man from the lane.
‘No. Go away you fool,’ the woman hissed.
Thankful to leave them behind, Meriel got into the car and drove away. What they had been doing that made them so aggressive she daren’t think. It was clearly something they didn’t want others to know.
The following day she went with her father to discuss selling the run-down property. They took a builder with them and met the owner there. Walter managed to arrange a sale between the two of them to the delight of the builder and the obvious relief of the owner. Meriel looked around anxiously as she passed the neighbouring house which appeared to be in a worse state than the one they had just sold, but was relieved to see no sign of the irate blonde or her boyfriend.
Meriel had a lot on her mind that day. She had arranged an interview for a job with an estate agent in a small town called Cwm Derw. Telling her parents she was intending to leave home was not going to be easy, she had tried to prepare them but they seemed unconvinced that she would actually go. She knew how hard it was for them to face but she knew she had to go before it was too late.
Walter watched her, aware of her dilemma but saying nothing. He loved working with his only child and he’d miss her dreadfully, but he knew he had to let her go without any arguments, so she knew she was loved but had her freedom. Love could so easily be used as a key with which to lock a door.
The following morning, Meriel said her piece then glanced at her father, saddened by his attempt to hide his disappointment. ‘But Dadda, it isn’t as though I’m going to the other side of the world,’ she said, touching his arm affectionately. ‘I just need to spread my wings for a while, get some fresh experience.’ Her parents still looked doubtful as she continued, ‘You and Mam have done a good job. You’ve prepared me, given me the confidence to move on, stand on my own feet. I’m so grateful for the wonderful start you’ve given me. No one could have had better parents than I’ve had.’
‘Yet you want to leave us,’ her mother said. ‘Why do you have to go? Isn’t the work with Dadda interesting enough for you?’
‘I don’t want to be stuck in a rut, Mam.’ Meriel turned to her father. ‘I’m not going far, Dadda. I’ve applied for a job not far away. It’s in a small town, and you and Mam can easily visit in a day. The few miles will be nothing in your smart new car,’ she said with a smile. They asked her where she was going but she refused to say. ‘I expect this will be the first of several interviews so I won’t tell you until I have the offer of a job. Right?’
She picked up her gloves and reached for her handbag. ‘Time I was leaving. I don’t want to be late for my interview or I won’t be leaving after all.’
‘Just don’t go too far or stay away too long. Promise?’ Walter handed her the keys of his Hillman Minx. ‘Take my car, it will get you there quicker.’
‘Your new car? Thanks, Dadda! That’s wonderful!’ she said in surprise, staring at the keys on her palm. She kissed them both, hugged her mother and hurried from the house. If her father were any kinder she’d burst into tears and cancel the whole idea of leaving.
‘Don’t forget, love,’ her father called, ‘this interview is for you to make up your mind about the job, as well as for them to decide whether or not you will suit them.’
She drove away from Barry, through the pretty villages in the Vale of Glamorgan without haste, passing Aberthaw, Boverton, St Donat’s, Southemdown, before she turned northward to Cwm Derw. She had allowed herself plenty of time, even without the newer, more powerful car. She drove through lanes that, even in the early winter of 1949, had a sort of beauty; soothing and restful. The colours were sombre, the autumn leaves now fallen and soggy on the ground, but she never found the wintertime melancholy, she looked upon it as the unwinding after a hectic summer, nature slumbering, a world at rest.
She was making a real change in her life; leaving the sales, auctions and estate management agency in which she had worked alongside her father since she had left school and going to a new position among strangers. In moments of panic she wondered why she was doing it, why she had felt the need for such a drastic change. But she knew that if she didn’t, she might stay there for too long, until it was impossible to get out of the rut, interesting though the rut might be.
She felt the need to add to her experiences before it was too late for her to leave. There weren’t many who would accept her. This interview was one of only two she had been offered and the other had made it clear she would remain in the office while men did the real work. Most estate agents still believed that the public looked with more confidence towards a man in the business of selling and auctioning property.
The first agency at which she had arranged an interview was in the High Street of Cwm Derw – Valley of Oaks, and she parked the car outside the post office and walked across. The name of the agency was Ace Estate Agency. The outside looked rather run-down, with chipped paint and shabby, ill-fitting blinds. Inside, a young man stood behind the counter, apparently staring through the window at nothing at all. Dreaming of home time, she thought with a cynical smile; like some of the people her father had interviewed to take her place over the past weeks.
The bell rang cheerfully as she opened the door and at once the young man came out of his daydream and smiled at her.
‘My name is Meriel Evans, I have an appointment to see Mr Dexter.’ She spoke sharply, and hoped her interview wasn’t with this uninteresting and obviously bored young man.
‘That will be my father, George Dexter,’ the young man said. ‘I’m Teifion Dexter. I’ll go and fetch him.’
Meriel sat down near the counter and looked around the walls – where photographs of farms and houses were interspersed with a few posters, old and new, giving details of properties offered for sale. From what she could see the office wasn’t a busy one. What would she do all day? She couldn’t imagine standing staring into space waiting for the doorbell to ring as Teifion Dexter had been doing. She reminded herself of her father’s last words. ‘Remember this is for you to make up your mind about the job, as well as for them to decide whether or not you will suit them.’
George Dexter came in and stared at her for a long time. Meriel stared boldly back. He was rather heavily built and he wore an expensive suit and shirt, both of which seemed a little too small. His greying hair was slicked back with Brylcreem and a thin moustache decorated his upper lip. There were several rings on his hands and a gold watch was just visible on his wrist. She immediately had visions of him standing in the street, with an open suitcase in front of him, selling illegal items while looking out for a policeman. A spiv, no doubt about it, her mam would say.
She was ushered into a back room and when she had eased off her coat, George Dexter asked her a few questions which he had written on a piece of paper.
‘So,’ he said when the list of questions was finished, ‘you know the business well, having worked with your father since school.’
‘Before that really. Every Saturday and during school holidays I helped out with filing and typing letters and so on. I also attended many farm and house auctions, and my valuations are almost always in line with his.’
‘And you’re sure you’ll be happy living away from home?’
‘I am twenty-two,’ she said mildly.
‘Have you arranged accommodation?’
‘No point until I know if I have the job, whether I suit you – and the position you offer suits me.’ She looked at him wryly. ‘It has to be what we both want, doesn’t it?’
George stared at her. She sounded as though she might be a bit ‘chopsy’, this one.
‘I don’t imagine it will be difficult to find a temporary place while I look around for something permanent,’ she told him. ‘Should we decide we suit each other.’
‘Evans,’ he mused. ‘It’s not an uncommon name, would I know your father?’
‘Walter Evans,’ she said, ‘we live in Barry.’ She was surprised at the odd smile that creased his face and the sharpened light in his dark eyes.
‘Does he know where you have applied for work?’
‘Not yet. Until I have something permanent it seems pointless to discuss it.’
‘I would like to offer you the position,’ he said, offering his hand across the desk.
‘Thank you, as long as we understand I’m not a filing clerk without a thought in my head we’ll get along fine. And from the look of the over-stuffed shelves, I would want to rearrange some of the files and remove some of the oldest to somewhere less visible. It doesn’t give a good impression to a client, seeing untidiness, does it?’
Definitely chopsy, he thought. This could be fun.
‘Would you like me to help find a room?’ he asked.
‘I’d prefer to do that myself, but thank you.’
That sharpness was there: so far but no further, over-confident without a doubt. She was better by far than the others he had interviewed and if she did her job well and was polite with clients, he didn’t think an occasional sharp remark would bother him. He pictured Walter Evans’s face when his daughter told him who was to be her new boss. This was really too good an opportunity to miss. His dark eyes glittered with amusement but also with malice. For a while at least, a reliable assistant would give him more time to enjoy himself with Frieda; his son Teifion sadly lacked the necessary flair. Who knows, someone as stroppy as Meriel Evans might even defy her father’s inevitable protests, and stay.
After the details were discussed, and he had agreed to pay her a pound more than he had intended, she left the office, and returned to where Teifion was writing something in a ledger. She waited until he put down his pen and said, ‘It seems that you have a new assistant.’
‘Good. I’m sure we’ll work together happily.’ He held out his hand and she shook it. He held hers for a fraction longer than necessary, and said, ‘There’s a modest bed and breakfast not far away. It’s run by Elsie and Ed Connors. You might find it suitable while you’re looking for something better.’
So, Meriel thought, he had been listening to what had been said. She thanked him and left.
The bed and breakfast he mentioned was not far from where she had left her father’s Hillman Minx, in a quiet road behind the post office. As she knocked on the front door, she looked around at the neat and well-kept front. Inside was the same. Clean and comfortable. It was Ed Connors who showed her the room and he explained that his wife was unwell and needed a lot of rest. ‘But when you come to stay she’ll be here to meet you, she likes to introduce herself to our guests,’ he told her.
She took the room which looked out onto the quiet street. She didn’t want to get involved in renting something more permanent until she had been at the Dexter’s agency for a month or so. No point settling in before she was sure she wanted to stay in this small town.
When she reached home she called, ‘Mam! Dadda! I was offered the job and I’ve taken it.’
Walter Evans came out of the living room and hugged her. ‘Darling girl, of course they offered you the job. There isn’t anyone better suited. I hope this new boss of yours realizes how lucky he is.’
Her mother, Lynne, was more practical. ‘Have you found somewhere to stay?’
‘Not really. I’ve booked into a small guest house for a month, while I make sure I’ll be happy there.’
Lynne hugged her. ‘I hope you hate it,’ she said, her smile making a joke of the remark. ‘Seriously, I hope you enjoy meeting people and making new friends. But remember, you can always come back here. If you aren’t completely happy, come home to us. Remember, the business will be yours one day.’
As she handed back the keys to her father’s car and thanked him for trusting her with it, he exchanged them for another set. ‘Mam?’ She stared at her mother, surprise on her face. ‘Don’t tell me you have a car. I thought you hated driving.’
‘Look outside,’ Walter said, nodding towards the front window. A small Austin was parked against the kerb and he tapped the keys he held on her open palm. ‘She’s yours, you’ll need transport if you’re to do the valuations.’ As she ran out to examine her exciting gift he turned to Lynne. ‘And she can come home to see us often,’ he added sadly.
‘Tell me the name of the firm,’ Walter asked as she came in filled with excitement at the surprise gift.
‘It’s Ace Estate Agency in Cwm Derw.’ She started as her parents groaned in disbelief.
‘Not George Dexter?’ her father pleaded.
‘Yes, and his son Teifion is there too, a bit useless I suspect, but… what is it? Is there something I should know about this firm?’
Without explaining why, they pleaded with her not to go but she was adamant. If she turned this down, she might not get another opportunity and she badly wanted to leave home and stand on her own efforts. She was puzzled by their reaction particularly as they refused to even hint at the reason for their dismay.
Trying out her new acquisition the next day was an excuse to drive around all her favourite places, and visit friends to say goodbye and give them her temporary address.
The Barry Island sands were empty that November day, the sea sullen and unwelcoming. The headlands at each side of the bay were grey, lacking the bright patches of colour from the small sturdy plants that grew in defiance of the barren rocks and the wild weather. She strolled along the deserted promenade, past shops and entertainments now closed up until the spring. She looked at the line of poplars that indicated the cricket ground, also unused and silent.
She would miss being able to come to the seaside at a moment’s whim, and see the holiday resort in all its moods. But there was no point in getting melancholy, she was stretching her wings and flying the nest. There was more to life than sea and sand. But she stopped and turned back for one more glance before getting into the car and driving off. She called on several friends and promised to write, and then she went to the road on which large houses overlooked the docks.
Leo Hopkins was one person she would sorely miss. He was her father’s assistant and had been for many years. It was Leo, eight years older than her, who had taught her so much about the business. Her father told her what to do but Leo was patient enough to tell her why she was doing it. It was mainly because of his help that she had become expert at valuations, although her father would never allow her to deal with important sales on her own. That was one of the reasons for the move; a new start, giving her employer the clear understanding that she had no intention of being an office clerk.
Mrs Hopkins opened the door and told her Leo was in the garden. She went through the house to where Leo was planting a few bulbs.
‘These were forgotten,’ he told her. ‘Dad left them in the shed, so although it’s a bit late, I thought I’d put them in.’
She watched him for a moment, then said, ‘Leo, I’ve got the job. I start Monday.’
Shock registered briefly, a nerve ticked in his cheek as the words he dreaded to hear were uttered. ‘I’m pleased, if you’re sure it’s what you want. But why so soon? I thought you’d start in the new year. Things are very quiet during the last weeks of the year. Better they paid you when you could be kept busy.’
‘I’ll be busy all right. I’ve had a look at their filing system and the way they keep addresses of enquirers and I’ve promised to revise the way the office is run. I think George Dexter’s wife has been doing the office work and she’s been very slap-dash. Perhaps because they seem to be the only auctioneers in the area, they’ve become complacent.’
‘George Dexter?’ Concern showed in his blue eyes. ‘Does your father know who you’ll be working for?’
‘Yes and they obviously don’t like each other. He won’t tell me why, probably some professional jealousy. He tried to make me change my mind but I won’t.’
‘There must be other firms who would be glad to have someone like you.’
‘Not so many. Most still think it’s a job for men. Even though women did almost everything during the war, often men still think of us as second class and slightly stupid. You wouldn’t believe the attitude of most people who I approached about a vacancy. This is the only offer I’ve had and I have to give it a try, Leo. You can understand that, can’t you?’
Leo didn’t reply. He went on loosening the earth even though the bulbs had all been planted. She rested her hand on his shoulder. ‘Thanks to you, I know how things ought to be done. I appreciate all you taught me.’
‘Pity I did. You wouldn't have wanted to leave if I hadn’t bothered.’
Now it was her turn to remain silent. She was saved from replying by Mrs Hopkins calling to tell her tea was made. Below them the water of the docks was stirred by a rising wind. She was aware of how cold she had become.
‘Don’t forget, Meriel, I’m here if you have any problems,’ Leo said as they walked back into the cosy warmth of the house.
The table was neatly set and the food attractively displayed. Since the death of her husband, Mrs Hopkins had concentrated all her love on her son. Her two daughters had moved far away and Meriel had the somewhat disturbing feeling that his mother depended on Leo far too much. Perhaps he too ought to leave while he still could, she thought sadly.
She was puzzled by the dislike between her parents and George Dexter, and equally so by their refusal to discuss it. Mrs Hopkins insisted she knew nothing about it, although the way she looked away from her when she denied any knowledge of the quarrel made Meriel doubt this. All Leo would tell her was that the two men had argued when they were young and dislike hadn’t faded with time. There was no hint of why.
As she was leaving, he hugged her and kissed her cheek and the warmth and security his closeness engendered made her almost regret her decision to go. She was inexplicably sad as she drove away and headed for home. Saying goodbye to Leo had been harder than she had expected. She had always loved him but only in the way she loved all those close to her. Now there was something more and it was unsettling. Her decision to leave home seemed to have stirred up emotions stronger than anything else had in her whole life.
Meriel’s first days at Dexter’s Ace Estate Agency and Auctioneers were strange. When she had mentioned her father, George had made it clear he didn’t want to discuss their past differences. Her second and greater disappointment was that he didn’t seem to expect her to do anything apart from sit in the office and attend to any enquiries. When she asked to make a start on the untidy files and consider changes to the various forms they used which were seriously out of date, he said he had to wait for his wife to return. ‘Frieda will explain everything to you better than I can, and at present she’s in Brighton with her sister.’
‘But I can’t sit and do nothing,’ she complained. ‘Couldn’t I just look through what you do so your wife and I can discuss any changes when we meet?’
Despite the fact much of their work was with farms and farm stock two people came during her first week and, despite the fact that Christmas was just over a month away, asked for their home to be placed on the market. One family had decided to emigrate to Australia, while the second was selling a house after the death of his mother. It was Teifion who went with his father to decide on the valuation while Meriel sat and waited in the hope of another enquiry. She spent some time looking at the advertising pages of the local papers, noting what was selling and gathering information about prices in the town.
That lunchtime she drove around to look at the first place and made a vague assessment of its value by comparing it with another being sold on the same street. While George and Teifion were looking at the second property, a client came in and she gave him details of the few houses they had on their list and also told him about the property she had seen that day.
By the time George and Teifion came back the man was almost convinced the place was for him; he knew the street and the actual house. They took him to see the house and he agreed straight away to put an offer in. Their valuation had been the same as hers and they were delighted with her success.
By the end of her first week, Meriel was feeling hopeful of the job being suitable. Once she had proved they could trust her they would give her more important and interesting work to do. ‘Maybe I won’t wait a month before finding somewhere to live,’ she told Teifion.
On Sunday, instead of going home as her parents had hoped, she walked around the neighbourhood. There were only two other houses for sale, both were being sold privately, with home-made boards set up in their gardens. Perhaps she would call and try to convince the owners of the advantages of employing the services of professionals.
She drove away from the main roads and down a narrow country lane where ditches and grass verges lined both sides. There were a few houses on one side and woodland on the other. She stopped when she caught sight of a house set back from the rest. Its windows were bare of curtains, its chimney without smoke. At this time of year that must mean it’s empty.
At first she wondered whether the owner might be selling and therefore a prospective client, but then, as she drew near and saw the place something happened. The house seemed to call her, and she almost ran the last few yards to peer through its windows, her heart racing. The floors were huge slabs of Welsh slate. The living room had a fireplace with the fire laid, just waiting for a match, a solitary couch seemed to be the only furniture. Large windows offered a superb view over the surprisingly neat garden at the front and, at the back, facing the lane, was the kitchen with a gas stove and a long, oak table. Standing on the back porch, tall trees hiding the lane from sight, she had the impression that the house and its garden were part of the woodland. There was no For Sale notice, only a house name. She saw it was called Badgers Brook.
She felt stomach-churning excitement. It was too large and the rent would be ridiculously high. There would be the cost of furnishing, and even considering it for a moment was ridiculous. But she knew without doubt that she desperately wanted to live there.
‘Looking for someone, are you?’ a shrill voice called. A woman aged between fifty and sixty stepped out of the hedge and tilted her head questioningly.
‘I just wondered about the house. It’s obviously empty and might be for rent.’
‘I’m Kitty Jennings, me and Bob live in the first house on the lane. It’s Geoff Tanner you want. Him at the ironmongers. He’ll tell you whether or not he wants to rent it.’
‘Thank you, I think I know the place, in Steeple Street, isn’t it? I’ll call on Monday and ask him.’
‘Call now, he and Connie won’t mind. Love visitors they do.’
‘I couldn’t, not on a Sunday.’
‘I’ll come with you if you like. My little Sunday joint won’t take much cooking, no bigger than a couple of conkers! It can wait an hour.’ Without waiting for agreement, she ran off and Meriel heard her calling to her husband. ‘Bob? I’m just popping to see Connie and Geoff, I won’t be long.’ And she was back, dragging on a coat, plonking a hat on her head.
‘I have a car, so we won’t be long,’ Meriel said, taking out her keys.
‘Ooh, there’s a treat!’ Kitty said with a wide smile.
Geoff and Connie were in their kitchen preparing vegetables for their Sunday roast. Connie answered Kitty’s knock and invited them in. ‘Put the kettle on, Geoff, we’ve got visitors,’ she called as she ushered them through the shop and into the warm kitchen.
Introductions completed, Meriel asked them about Badgers Brook.
‘Where did you hear about it being for rent?’ Geoff asked, putting aside the sprouts he had been cleaning. ‘We haven’t advertised it and you say you’re a newcomer to the town?’
‘I work at the Ace Estate Agency on the High Street. Do you know George Dexter? I was just driving past, saw it and felt I had to live there.’ Meriel lowered her eyes, she felt silly making such a remark. She was a business woman and not given to fanciful thoughts.
‘It’s large for one person,’ Connie said.
‘I know and I don’t even know how long I’ll be staying. Dexter’s might not be suitable for me, or I for them. It’s far too early to be sure that I’ll be staying. But even though it’s probably too expensive and definitely too large I just know I’ll be happy there. Silly, isn’t it?’
‘Stay and share our meal and then we’ll take you for a look around,’ Geoff offered.
Meriel looked at once at Connie, unsure whether she would be happy coping with an uninvited guest. Connie was smiling as she held out her hand. ‘Please stay, we’d love to show you Badgers Brook.’
Adding a few more potatoes and extra vegetables, the meal they prepared was generous and tasty. Geoff had given Kitty a lift home in the firm’s van and had returned, having opened the windows and doors of Badgers Brook, to freshen the rooms of the empty house.
Despite being November and with the windows and doors of the house being open for a couple of hours, the place felt warm and welcoming. There were no disappointing aspects, and she felt happy as she wandered through the rooms. She imagined herself living there, longed to show the place to her parents and friends. Before she left, as she thanked Connie and Geoff for their hospitality, she had agreed to move in.
Being auctioneers as well as dealing with the sale of buildings and farm contents, Meriel knew she would have no difficulty buying the pieces of furniture she would need. A week later she had already acquired cupboards, a chest of drawers and six chairs, as well as two large couches.
‘Are you sure you’ll need all those chairs?’ Teifron teased. ‘You must be very restless if you’re going to use them all!’
She looked at him in surprise. She had no idea why she had bought so many chairs. She was going to live there alone, so a couple would surely suffice. She didn’t anticipate hordes of visitors, she didn’t know anyone apart from Connie and Geoff and Kitty Jennings.
As she began to settle into Badgers Brook, one of the first people she met was Lucy Calloway. Lucy worked at the hairdresser’s shop owned by Mr and Mrs Ernest James. Mrs Jennie James had once been Lucy’s closest friend but since her marriage to the owner, the friendship had declined. She was looking for a change of occupation, she whispered to Meriel one day as she set her lovely auburn hair into a long outward roll, but couldn't decide where to go or what to do. ‘I just feel I need a change,’ she explained.
At twenty-nine, she had little hope of marrying and having a family to care for and she didn’t like the idea of a future that saw her staying in exactly the same place as now. She had been engaged to Gerald Cook throughout the war but his lack of enthusiasm for marriage finally persuaded her to end it. Still living with her parents and going to the hairdresser’s every day was becoming so predictable, so utterly boring.
After she had cut and set Meriel’s hair they went to the café for lunch and she described her tedious life. ‘I admire your bravery in leaving home. I did try once, shared a flat with Jennie Jones, who became Jennie James when she married my boss. It was a disaster, but I should have tried again. I might have avoided my present monotony.
‘Every Tuesday, Mrs Richards and Mrs Elsie Maybury sit here trying to outdo each other in swank, Friday late night there’s Mrs Nerys Bowen from the dress shop, and on Fridays and Saturday morning the young girls come to get their hair set ready for dates and the dances.’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘It seems a long time since I enjoyed weekends packed with fun. So it’s a pleasant surprise to see someone new in town. Perhaps we can go out sometime, to the pictures or something?’ She offered to show her the town and introduce her to a few people. Then on discovering there was a film which they both wanted to see, they began meeting often and soon found they had a great deal in common. In less than two weeks they both felt they had found a new and close friend.
A week after moving in Meriel was glad she had bought all those chairs. Curiosity about the new tenant brought several visitors. They went away pleased with her genuine welcome and told others and before she knew it she was on Christian name terms with practically everyone in the vicinity of the lane and the High Street.
Most visitors brought small gifts, and offered overwhelming invitations to spend some of the Christmas period with them, but she and Lucy had their own plans for Christmas and it was at Badgers Brook. Both young women had decided to step away from their traditional family Christmases and start traditions of their own.
Although George still didn’t allow her to deal with ‘out of office’ appointments on her own, he was encouraging and obviously pleased with her expertise. His wife had still not returned from her sister in Brighton, so the files were still in a mess, although Meriel was beginning to work out the best way of updating the chaotic system. She began to fill her quiet moments with assessments of other changes, ways in which the office was run which would improve efficiency.
George listened to her recommendations with growing interest.
‘The trouble is we’ve done things the same way for so long we can’t see how out of date we are. I’m sure you and Frieda will agree on what’s best.’ He laughed and added, ‘She’s not so set in her ways as me.’
‘Countrywide, there’s been an encouraging, although small, growth in the number of people buying their own homes in the past year,’ she said. ‘Soon we’ll be into a new decade. The fifties!’ She pointed to the date on one of the forms they regularly used.
George groaned on seeing the date printed was 1939. ‘I didn’t think anyone would notice, and we ordered so many when we were warned that paper might be scarce during the war, it seemed a pity to waste them,’ he confessed.
Warming to her theme, Meriel went on, ‘The fifties! Imagine that. We’ll be saying goodbye to all the shortages of wartime and look forward to great things. There’s a feeling of excitement in the air, a confidence that the best times are on the way. Perhaps, one day, we’ll see a larger part of the business dealing with house purchase.’
George looked at her, caught up in her excitement, seeing a boom in his business, good profits that enabled him to buy the house near the sea his wife wanted so badly. But when he spoke he said doubtfully, ‘Perhaps you’re right, as long as it doesn’t become “Boom and Bust” as the Americans warn. Anyway, for the moment we’d better get these accounts posted or we’ll never survive to see it!’
The furniture was well used in Badgers Brook. There were very few evenings when no one called. They came with excuses to call at first, telling her of the various activities taking place in the area or bringing something to help feed her endless visitors, but soon gave up the pretence and just walked in and sat around the fire or filled her kitchen making tea, often bringing a tiny share of their food rations to help.
During the first week of December she phoned her parents from the phone box on the lane and insisted they came to Badgers Brook for Christmas instead of her going home.
‘It’s such a magical place, you’ll love it,’ she gushed. ‘And the people are so friendly you won’t want to go back home.‘
So it was decided. The changes she had brought about were making her life just perfect. Spending Christmas in this beautiful house, a promising new job, new friends, and her parents coming to meet them would make it even better. The following morning she finally met George Dexter’s wife, Frieda, and everything fell apart.
Frieda Dexter was George’s second wife and fifteen years his junior. Small, pretty in a china doll kind of way, her makeup was carefully applied to be unobtrusive, and her hands wore soft-pink varnish to match exactly the lipstick and the clothes she wore. She had a demure shyness about her that George adored. How lucky he’d been to win her heart.
She didn’t see Meriel at first, as the taxi driver dropped her suitcase on the front step. After she had walked in and held out her arms for George’s hug, smiled shyly at Teifion, she looked up and recognition, already shown by the paralysing horror on Meriel’s face, was repeated on her own. They had met in the lane behind that dilapidated row of large houses several weeks ago. Her clothes and make-up were completely different but there was no mistaking her.
Unaware of the shock on both faces, George introduced them. They didn’t shake hands and almost immediately Frieda left the front office and disappeared into the back room.
Meriel asked for an early lunch and went to sit in the café, drank tea she didn’t want and ate a sandwich she couldn’t taste. What should she do? Pretend they hadn’t met in the lane behind the hotel, a lane a very long way from Brighton? Or carry on as though nothing had happened between them? That would surely be impossible, but the alternative was to leave the job, leave Cwm Derw and forget she had ever seen Badgers Brook.
When George went into the back office, Frieda was staring at the books and files, noting the changes Meriel had begun.
‘Why have you allowed her to mess up our system?’ she demanded, her voice still soft and almost pleading. ‘She’s muddled everything so only she knows where to find things. Miss Indispensable, that’s what she wants to be, muddling everything so only she knows where to find things.’
‘I don’t think it’s like that, she’s very experienced and I like some of her ideas.’
‘It’s a clever idea, darling, but not one that gets past me.’ When she looked up, she said slowly and carefully, ‘George, darling, she will have to go.’
‘What? How can you make such a decision? You’ve only just met her.’
‘Her reputation comes before her. I recognized her straight away, which is why she suddenly went out for lunch. She’s the daughter of Walter Evans, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, and that’s part of the appeal, him worrying about what I’ll tell her! She’s worked with her father most of her life and has knowledge we can use. Best of all, Frieda, it will mean we can spend more time together. She’s our ticket to better things, so why don’t you want her here?’
‘Because she’s a devious and troublesome liar.’
‘Come on, she can’t be that terrible. We’re in the same business, I’d have heard and I’ve only been told good things about her. We’re very lucky to have her. You must be mistaken, darling.’
‘Why d’you think her father let her go?’
‘She told me she wanted more experience.’
Frieda shook her pretty head. ‘She was told to leave. She really can’t stay. Trust me on this, George, she will bring us nothing but trouble.’
‘But I can’t tell her to leave without explaining why. What has she done? You have to tell me.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Frieda, tell me.’
‘Please, darling,’ Frieda whispered breathlessly, choking on her sobs. ‘Don’t press me on this.’ Tears threatened and George hugged her and backed off the subject.
Teifion had invited Meriel to go with him to the pictures that evening and after taking her back to Badgers Brook, he went home and walked in on a row between his father and stepmother. After George stormed out of the house, Teifion made Frieda a cup of tea and begged to be told what was going on.
‘It’s that girl. I don’t want her here.’
‘Meriel? But she’s marvellous. She knows the job and is full of new ideas to help our business to grow. I’ve learned so much from her already.’ After some cajoling Frieda agreed to tell him what she knew on condition he told no one.
‘There’s no proof you see, so you can’t repeat it, but she stole from one of her father’s friends, and tried to convince everyone that another member of his family was guilty. There was an uproar but no police were involved. I don’t know all the facts, but they were friends of mine and I do know that her father paid to hush it all up.’
As Frieda knew he would, Teifion immediately told his father, and the following day, two weeks before Christmas, George regretfully told Meriel she wasn’t suitable and gave her two weeks’ money in lieu of notice.
Her first reaction was to get in the car and drive to Barry to tell Leo. When her tears had subsided she made him promise not to tell her parents until she had decided what she would do.
‘I can’t come home, not before I try to find something else,’ she explained. ‘My flight into independence has to last longer than a few weeks.’
‘I’ll say nothing as long as you promise to keep me informed. I need to know you’re all right and not so miserable that rather than come home to us you’ll take on a job where you won’t be happy. I want you to be happy, Meriel.’
She knew he wanted her to admit defeat and return home but she was even more determined as she drove back to the haven of Badgers Brook. It soothed her with its calm, peaceful atmosphere, confidence flowing into her as she felt utterly certain it wanted her to stay.
Christmas was no longer the joyous occasion Meriel had hoped for, but her parents still came. Lucy helped her to prepare for their visit and they managed to buy sufficient food. Peter Bevan, who had once sold vegetables from a horse and cart but now owned a shop in the town, managed to get her a pheasant and a couple of rabbits as well as a share of the available fruit and vegetables.
They planned that their neighbours and friends would gather at Badgers Brook for an evening meal on Boxing Day. Rabbit casserole, roasted pheasant, with oddments of off-ration cheese – begged from Haywards, the grocer – were the main ingredients and when the table was set for ten places, it looked like a feast.
They had invited Betty Connors, the sister of Ed Connors at the B & B. She owned the local pub, the Ship and Compass, and was pleased to have company for a while on her rare day off. They had miscounted and two people had to sit on the hearth and use a stool for a table but the inconvenience simply added to the fun.
Meriel tried not to think about her lack of employment, but simply enjoy the occasion. As he left, Geoff thanked her for her hospitality and said, ‘I think an auctioneer at the other side of town is looking for an assistant. Give him a try.’
As soon as Christmas was over she did, but the man looked at her apologetically and turned her down. It seemed that Frieda had passed on stories of her dishonesty. Because of Frieda’s own misbehaviour and lies, she seemed determined to drive Meriel from the town, knowing she had witnessed something she shouldn’t have seen.
Walter and Lynne were worried about their daughter. They had heard the rumours and tried to deny them, but mud always sticks. They presumed it was George who had started them.
‘Typical of the man, having fun humiliating a capable young woman because of her parents. If she hadn’t been our daughter he wouldn’t have employed her. As it is he did so for the childish pleasure of giving her the sack!’ Lynne sighed. ‘Troubles never really go away, do they? They lie dormant, then hover and reappear just when everything seems perfect.‘
So, 1950 will arrive with all its hope and promise and I‘ll be without a job, Meriel thought, and all because I walked around the lane to view that hotel. Why was life so unfair? It would be so easy to give up and go home, but she knew she wouldn’t, she couldn’t. She had made friends here and felt a part of the community, something she hadn’t felt when she had been safe in the cocoon of her sheltered life and her loving parents. There she had continued to live the life of a child, accepting their opinions without question – until recently when restlessness awoke in her. But she had stepped away and with Mr Micawber’s confidence that ‘Something will turn up’, she decided to stay in Cwm Derw and continue to live at Badgers Brook.