The smile on Meriel’s face froze. She had expected George Dexter to greet her with appreciation and thanks for helping him out of a difficulty. Taking over the auction at such short notice was surely a reason to be grateful, so why the anger?
‘How dare you steal business like that? I’ll make sure everyone knows what you’ve done. This town won’t tolerate such underhand behaviour so you might as well close your doors now!’
‘What are you talking about? We did it to help you.’
‘Help yourself you mean!’
‘I expect a small fee for our trouble, yes, but that’s all.’
‘A small fee? Is that what you call taking the profit that should have been mine?’
‘The cheque, and a full statement of what we sold, and for how much, should be on your desk. I don’t understand why you’re not grateful.’
‘And you forgot the dog!’ Then he stopped and asked, ‘Cheque? What cheque?’
‘We pushed it through your door along with the full statement so there wouldn’t be any delay. The suggested fee for our day is up to you. If you don’t think we deserved it then don’t pay!’ Meriel’s voice was rising with her anger.
Lucy came to stand beside her. She said, ‘I suggest you go back and look for it, Mr Dexter, then we’ll expect a full apology.’ She began to guide him towards the door. ‘Your son begged us to help and now I wish we had refused.’
‘What d’you mean? Teifion asked you to help? It was your idea and—’
‘While you’re picking up our cheque, why don’t you ask him what really happened, Mr Dexter?’
‘It might be an idea for you to listen occasionally instead of charging off with half the facts,’ Lucy said angrily.
The man was clearly embarrassed, his face was white with shock. ‘I didn’t think he’d – I’ll go and find out exactly what happened, and—’
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Meriel asked, concerned by the man’s distress and heavy breathing.
But Lucy said, ‘The café’s open if you do!’ She opened the door and George left, walking slowly away as though in a daze.
‘That Teifion is worse than his father. Why did he lie? He knew the truth would come out.’
‘He was convinced his father would either believe him, or pretend to. As Teifion once implied, lies and loyalties can be two sides of the same coin.’
‘Poor Teifion,’ Lucy said, with a smile. ‘His defiance didn’t last long, did it? Leaving home, looking for a job, telling us he was having nothing more to do with his father. I don’t suppose it was easy, mind. He lacks confidence and wants only what is readily available. That’s why he’s so anxious to please his father, afraid it will all be taken from him.’
‘All his life whatever he needed was given to him, he’s never had to work or earn it. It was a lot to give up.’
‘He’s still a coward!’
They settled back to work and after a minute or two, Meriel asked, ‘What did he mean about the dog?’
‘Oh, my goodness! I forgot! There was a puppy in one of the sheds and we were asked to find it a home! The poor thing must still be there!’
Meriel offered to go and she set off for the farm that now had their advertising board on the gate with a SOLD notice across it. The farmer came out when she drove into the yard and offered a hand. ‘I was coming to see you.’ he said. ‘I want to thank you for yesterday. Everything went better than I’d hoped and I achieved more than Mr Dexter expected. Thank you both very much. I’ll recommend your firm whenever I get the chance.’
‘Thank you. I’m glad we pleased you, but I’ve come about the dog. I’m afraid we didn’t sell it and it’s still in the barn.’
‘No she isn’t.’ He gave a piercing whistle and a young collie ran out, dragging a piece of blanket, shaking it furiously. ‘Come here, you young rascal,’ he said, bending forward, and the puppy jumped into his arms.
‘She’d make a lovely pet for you,’ he said coaxingly, offering the squirming furry bundle to her. Meriel took her into her arms and admitted that it was love at first sight.
‘Her name is Rascal,’ she told a surprised Lucy when she carried her into the office.
George went back to the office and shouted for his son. ‘This auction which you told me you had managed without me—’ he began.
‘Sorry, Dad, I thought you’d be angry so I—’
‘So you lied. When I found out that it had been held by Evans and Calloway, you then told me that the business had been stolen by them going to see the farmer and telling him I’d had an accident and he’d be let down unless he accepted their help. More lies. You made me look a complete fool. I went there demanding an apology for their dishonesty but once again, the problem was with you! Tell me what really happened. Now!’
‘I couldn’t make it, I was too far away to drive back in time.’
‘Didn’t try, you mean.’
‘All right, I didn’t try! I contacted everyone I could think of, then I asked Meriel, hinting that it might be a good time to stop feuding.’
‘And the statement and cheque?’ George held out his hand.
‘Oh, yes. It came by second post.’
‘Did it? I was told they pushed it through the door last night.’
Teifion’s shoulders drooped. ‘All right, Dad. I was hoping you wouldn’t find out. I thought if I could put it all through the books quickly you’d have just presumed I dealt with it.’
‘Where you’re concerned, all I can presume is that you’ll mess everything up! What is the matter with you, boy?’
‘You are!’ Teifion retorted. ‘I’ve never been able to please you no matter what I do so why should I try?’
‘Because you’re my son?’ George put both hands on the desk and glared at him.
‘Your hatred of Walter Evans is stronger than any feelings you have for me!’
‘Rubbish!’
‘Why d’you hate him so much?’ he dared to ask. ‘I’m entitled to know that much.’
‘Mind your own business and get those advertisements sent off, or we’ll be giving even more business to Walter’s precious daughter! Now pass me that list of auction prices.’
Teifion looked suitably chastened as his father read the list. Noting the prices they’d made he nodded approval.
‘A poor show, eh, Dad?’ he said, hopefully.
‘On the contrary, they did very well. Probably better than you’d have done. You see, Teifion, your heart isn’t in it and they have the sort of enthusiasm that breeds success. They are straightforward and intelligent and you use stupid tricks. Lucky Walter Evans. I wish she were my daughter!’
‘Dad!’
‘One more trick like this that makes me have to apologize for you and you’re out. You tried once but returned and next time I’ll help you on your way. Right?’ He glared at his son, his face red with fury. Calming slightly he continued, ‘I’ll do what I’ve often dreamed of doing, sell up, retire and take Frieda somewhere far away from you! I’ll spend the money I’ve earned on someone who appreciates it. Any hope you have of inheriting the business is fading fast. Now I have to go and tell Meriel Evans that my son behaved like the imbecile he is!‘
Teifion glared at his father’s departing figure. Of course he wasn’t enthusiastic, he hated his job. Years of being treated like an idiot by the father who promised he was keeping the estate agency for him when he was old enough, yet never giving him a chance to show what he was capable of. He should have stayed away, made more of an effort to make a new life for himself.
He told himself that if Lucy and Meriel had believed him capable of a change of heart, accepted his apology and his promise that he was a changed man, he could have succeeded. But their rejection of him at the same time seeing an opportunity to try one more time to please his father, over the sale of that man’s cottage, had been too great a temptation. He had seen the possibility of making some money from the sale of that barn. A way to impress his father. But once again it had gone wrong. Ironic really that when he tried to change sides neither wanted him.
Now he simply didn’t care. As soon as the business was in his hands he planned to sell up and do something he really enjoyed. By then, if he were lucky, his cheating stepmother would be long gone.
If only he could find out something about Meriel Evans to discredit her. That would make his father sit up. If she continued she would take more business from them and he’d have less to inherit when his father retired. But what? From all he had learned she had lived an exemplary life before coming to Cwm Derw, and neither she nor Lucy behaved in a dishonest way in the search for clients. Perhaps her parents had some secret in their past he might use? There had to be some way of making her leave Cwm Derw.
Making an excuse of appointments, he drove to where Meriel’s parents lived and began asking around, in shops and pubs and even knocking on the door of a house they had just sold to check on their methods. There was nothing untoward. They were just what they seemed; honest business people. Perhaps there was something to be found in the register office. A family secret maybe. It seemed very unlikely he’d discover anything underhand in the way Walter Evans had found the money to start his business. From what he knew about the man he had probably done it the hard and straightforward way; worked and saved. Dragging the dregs of hope, he went into town.
As he looked in the register office to search their past he found a mystery. He was looking for the date of Meriel’s birthday with idle curiosity, thinking he might go back again to where her parents were born, ask a few questions about the family, when he discovered to his disbelief that no birth had been registered in their name.
Leo Hopkins had heard about George’s outburst after Meriel had auctioned the farm and contents and he called to see her. ‘Can I do anything? Talk to him? I hope he has apologized properly.’
‘Not really. He came back and muttered about his son not giving a proper explanation. He thanked us for the cheque and paid the small fee we asked for with hardly another word. I think he was ashamed of his son, but it isn’t easy to admit your son is a fool, is it?’
‘Maybe not, but in his case I imagine George has had plenty of practice!’
‘I don’t think he’s a fool, he’s just in the wrong life,’ Lucy said.
‘What on earth d’you mean?’
‘He doesn’t like living at home with his father and step-mother, he doesn’t enjoy working for George. As I say, he’s in the wrong life.’
‘Then why doesn’t he get out of it and find the right one?’
‘Come on, having George Dexter for a father, how can he possibly have the confidence to leave and make his own way?’
‘You’re right. Although he did try,’ Meriel said. ‘He came to us expecting a pat on the back, like a small boy finally sleeping without a night light.’
Leo was looking at Meriel as he said, ‘His only chance is to find a woman he’d want to please more than pleasing his father.’ He continued to stare at her intently. ‘Love is stronger than hatred, don’t you think?’
Looking away, unsettled by the look in his eyes, she said, ‘Dadda always says love is the heart of the home.’
‘Yes,’ Lucy agreed, still defending him, ‘and Teifion has been deprived of it.’
Leo invited Meriel to lunch and they drove to a small village a few miles away, where they ate at an hotel overlooking the sea. The meal was an excellent serving of fresh trout, followed by home-made custard with delicious apple pie.
As he walked her back to the car they saw Teifion and at the same moment Mr Roberts-Price appeared riding an ancient bicycle. The man stopped and swiftly turned and rode away. Teifion stared after him and with a nod in Meriel’s direction, he too turned aside.
‘I can understand Teifion not stopping to say hello,’ Meriel said with a laugh, ‘his embarrassment is still raw, but I don’t know why that man hurried away as though I threatened danger.’
‘Perhaps he was running away from Teifion. Why should anyone want to avoid you?’
‘But it was me he was looking at before he turned and rode off, not Teifion.’
‘Forget it, I doubt if it was anything to do with either of you, or me for that matter. You don’t know him, do you?’
‘I think I do. Although we only met briefly, I think he’s Mr Roberts-Price. Lucy sold his house and it was she who dealt with him.’
‘Roberts-Price,’ Leo shrugged. ‘I can’t say I’ve heard of him. He looks rather old-fashioned, dressed for church rather than a bicycle ride. He’s probably old-fashioned regarding women too. You are quite beautiful, Meriel, and you dress to remind people you’re a woman. A woman in a man’s world. I bet his wife wears old potato sacks!’
She smiled, shaken by his compliment spoken with sincerity, not his usual jokey manner, the one she was used to. ‘I remember Lucy telling me the family are devout and rather serious,’ she told him.
‘I’ll make enquiries if you wish.’
‘No, I don’t think he’s important. Perhaps he just remembered he’d left the kettle on the gas.’ She increased her speed. ‘Come on, Lucy will wonder where we’ve got to.’
He pulled her arm through his. ‘We’re so late, another five minutes can’t matter.’
She glanced up and was startled to see the way he was looking at her. There was affection and something more in his expression. She was aware of a strange emotion, a kind of swelling inside her, a new kind of happiness. They walked very slowly the rest of the way.
As he drove away she was engulfed in sadness, wishing she’d asked him to stay. I’m being silly, she told herself and walked briskly into the office where Lucy was reading through the local paper looking for prospects.
After the usual greetings Meriel went to the files to remind herself of the Roberts-Prices’ new address. It wasn’t far from where she had seen him, about five or six miles away. The house was called Church Cottage, in the village of Glyndwr, and Lucy told her he and his wife were caretakers in the church.
‘Mr R-P works in a shop selling religious books, and so does his son, Noah,’ Lucy told her. ‘Although as you know he is in the army at present. They have a daughter Martha, who works in Woolworth’s on the record counter. I had a job to get even that much information from his wife, who seems afraid of people knowing too much about them. I wasn’t being nosy, but sitting there I tried to make conversation, talking about people we know, looking for a connection like people usually do. An odd family, but they seem content, don’t they? Loving and close.’ She was about to add that she would have given a lot to be a part of such a family even though they were reserved, but she didn’t. It was time to stop looking back with regret, enjoy the present and look forward to her exciting future.
The sale of the farm had been a breakthrough and although small, there was an increase in the people who came to them when they were looking for a property or wanting to sell or rent. This month looked set to be by far their best so far and they began to feel more confident in the future.
Lucy was talking to a couple who wanted to buy a small property when Gerald called in. Despite trying to look unconcerned, Lucy felt a tug of excitement deep within her. Holding it back she waited until the couple left then looked at him and said, ‘Looking for a property or selling, Mr Cook?’
‘Neither, Miss Calloway, I want to – take you out this evening.’
‘Sorry, we only deal with property.’
‘I wish you were my property,’ he said softly. ‘What a fool I was to let you go.’
Still calmly she said, ‘Yes, Mr Cook, you were. Now, if there’s nothing else, I need to get these invoices paid.’
‘Please, Lucy, just a meal somewhere, or the pictures, you always loved the pictures. Or a dance? D’you still go dancing?’
‘Sorry, we’re far too busy. Office all day and the garden all evening.’
‘Perhaps next week?’
‘I doubt it, next week will be even busier.’ Then she spoilt her act by laughing.
‘Come on, Lucy, a few hours of your company is all I want. To hear all about what you’ve been doing since we last met.’
‘All right, so long as it isn’t a cycle ride. Or one of your father’s motorbikes.’
‘I’ll try to borrow a car.’
‘The bus will do. Monday? It’s our day off.’
‘But it isn’t mine. I don’t think I can take a day off, even for you.’
She knew this perfectly well and was teasing him and enjoying it. ‘Sorry, there isn’t time any other day.’ She stood up, tacitly dismissing him. He left the shop, blowing a kiss, which she didn’t return.
Meriel’s parents came to stay at Badgers Brook the following weekend. Leo agreed to stay in the office with an assistant on Saturday so they could travel down early Friday evening. As usual, Meriel and Lucy were not alone. Betty Connors was visiting before she started work at the Ship and Compass, and Stella called when the post office closed with her husband Colin, to give the two young women some runner bean plants from their allotment.
The puppy was fussing around greeting everyone and bringing toys to play with.
Delightful chaos, was how Lynne described it. ‘I can’t believe how well the girls have settled in and become a part of the community.’
‘It’s the house,’ Stella told her. ‘It welcomes people and calms them, helps them sort out problems like no place I’ve ever known.’
‘Calms them!’ Lynne laughed as she watched the puppy running off with a cake from Bob’s plate and everyone trying to get it off her.
‘It’s true,’ Bob said, having rescued the cake and put it out of the puppy’s reach. ‘Geoff and Connie, who own the place, say it has always attracted people in trouble and helps them to solve their problems with its peaceful atmosphere.’
‘But Meriel isn’t in trouble, is she?’ she asked in alarm.
‘Oh no, Lynne, forget we mentioned it, I’m sure it isn’t always the case,’ Stella said quickly. But she stared at Meriel and wondered if the trouble was yet to come.
Gerald called at the office several times in the days that followed, usually at lunchtime when he tried to persuade Lucy to go with him one evening, to a place out of town where they could talk. Encouraged by Meriel, she finally agreed. It was a long time since she’d had a date and the memories of loving him had not completely faded.
‘It will have to be Thursday,’ she told him, determined not to make things easy for him. ‘Come to the office when we close and we can go straight off, I don’t like being out late,’ she said.
He frowned. ‘I think it might be best if you went by bus into Cardiff and we met there,’ he said.
‘What? If you can’t be bothered to escort me then you can forget it!’ Angrily she turned away.
‘Oh, Lucy, don’t be so difficult. I’ll already be in Cardiff that day attending a conference on the latest motorbikes. Dad insists that I go,’ he added ruefully, ‘he thinks I’ll enjoy it. So it would make sense for you to join me there rather than me coming all this way back then setting off again.’
With some reluctance she agreed. Meriel insisted she left the office early and went home to change and make herself ready. She went by bus to Cardiff and was at the appointed place at a quarter to six but he wasn’t there. She was fifteen minutes early but didn’t fancy wandering around, with the shops already closed it seemed pointless, so she decided to wait. Quarter of an hour would soon pass.
Gerald was in a room not far from where she was waiting, desperately glancing at his watch. The conference on the mechanics of a new range of engine had been boring but as he’d been asked to take the minutes in the absence of the secretary, he’d had to stay. Besides, his father would expect a blow by blow account of the day when he got home.
Aware he was going to be late he tried to leave but was stopped by the owner of a business similar to his father’s and he couldn’t get away. Time passed and he imagined he could hear the vibrations of seconds passing throughout his body.
Lucy was puzzled at his choice of meeting place, a quiet road outside the centre, where there were warehouses and a few abandoned premises. She looked at her watch and decided she would allow him no extra time at all. If he were late then she wouldn’t be there. Tapping her foot irritably, she was beginning to wish she hadn’t succumbed to the temptation of an evening out.
It was going to be a disaster. She was already edgy and ill-tempered. He should have been there, waiting for her, looking anxious. He should have shown relief when she turned the corner – ran to her joyfully – held her close, kissed her and… She pulled away from that foolish dream and glanced around her at the empty street. It wasn’t going to happen.
A few minutes passed then a steady movement of people began to leave the buildings and head for the bus station and with everyone passing her she felt even more alone and foolish. They all seemed to be rushing to get home, some putting on their coats as they ran, impatient to leave their place of work, while she was wishing she was back in hers.
Was he really going to stand her up? She walked to the corner several times, beginning to worry she might be taken for a ‘street walker’. The small rush of people slowed to a trickle, the quiet area seemed to be closing down and it became more silent as minutes passed. Six o’clock came and went and still she waited. She knew she was lowering her own value, admitting she wasn’t worth consideration, by accepting his poor treatment. He had told her six o’clock and it was now exactly five minutes past. Still she waited.
Gerald suffered another delay as he went to collect his coat. Someone had taken his by mistake. It took an age to sort out the mix-up as the man had put his wallet into the wrong coat and Gerald had to wait with the caretaker until he came back to retrieve it.
At fifteen minutes past the hour and with a final glance behind her, Lucy hurried to the corner and began walking briskly to the bus station trying not to run. Now she had decided to leave she didn’t want to meet him and she went by a slightly devious route, heading for the Railway Hotel, cutting through roads where there were more warehouses and fruit wholesalers before reaching the railway station with the buses standing in lines in front of it.
Crowds still gathered around the railway station, reading newspapers, standing beside luggage, looking anxiously for a familiar face. Once she thought she saw him and deviated from her route just in case. Now she really didn’t want to see Gerald, or be seen by him. Too many minutes had passed and she hoped he would never know how long she had waited.
She felt so self-conscious, dreading being seen by Gerald, that she had the foolish sensation someone was about to touch her shoulder even as she stepped onto the bus. Heart racing, it was a relief when she was finally seated down and the bus was moving away.
She looked straight ahead, refusing to give the crowd one last look.
Gerald ran as fast as he could through the home-going crowd and stopped in disappointment as he reached the corner and looked down to where Lucy should have been waiting. His final delay had been caused by a man from the meeting who knew his father well. He had insisted on walking with him, stopping to chat about his boring wife and boring family.
The man was someone with whom he was supposed to discuss a good deal on the newest motorbike, but instead, without telling his father, Gerald had contacted a firm who promised a new deal repairing and selling second-hand cars. Better than motorbikes, he had thought, comfort being more important than style, these days. Family cars, that was the future. Bikes or cars, he hoped he would be far away from his father’s garage one day soon. Lucy was his strongest hope of escape and he was angry with everyone for making him miss her.
Comfort was the main reason for wanting to revive the friendship with Lucy, and perhaps marry her if it meant he would be a part of the business she and her friend owned. Without the promise of an easy life, with no financial worries, she wasn’t exciting enough. But she’s still attracted to me, he told himself gratifyingly. I’ll soon get her back. He felt a surge of superiority as he thought of her pathetic attempts to play hard to get. She was so unsophisticated.
He turned and hurried, without much hope, to the bus stop but there was no sign of Lucy in the queue that waited for the Cwm Derw bus. She’d have been tired of waiting. The fifteen minutes he had been delayed had cost him his first date. Well, he thought philosophically, the deal with the car salesman was underway and the evening was his own. Hazel Proudfoot was usually available.
He changed his mind when he got back to Cwm Derw. Perhaps he ought to try and make his excuses to Lucy. From what his parents had told him, Lucy and Meriel were building a successful business and he really liked the sound of that. It promised a life of leisure and he would be very happy if he could leave his father’s small workshop.
Repairing bicycles and motorbikes, plus the occasional sale, was not the way he wanted to spend the rest of his life. Lucy, boring Lucy, was suddenly his way out, his path to better things. Running an estate agency, having clean hands, wearing smart suits and with people looking up to you, that was better than being an uninspired, uninterested mechanic whose father was still trying to teach him even the simplest procedures.
It would be easy to win Lucy back, there had never been anyone else in her life, certainly not anyone as attractive as himself. Besides, she was at an age when she couldn’t be choosy. His optimism revived, he headed for Badgers Brook.
Teifion had travelled on the same bus and was walking in the same direction as Gerald but he didn’t go as far as Badgers Brook. He stopped at his father’s house having been avoiding him all day. He knew his father was angry with him and he thought he had the means of changing that. He had spent the day making enquiries but had come up with no corroboration to back up his guess that Meriel was not the child of Lynne and George Evans. But the lack of proof was not enough to stop him relating it as a good story and when he and his father were alone, Frieda having gone for a weekend with her sister in Brighton, he told him he suspected Meriel was adopted.
George said very little, his mind was on Frieda and where she might be. But he listened and wondered how he could use the information to make Meriel leave. He decided to keep the story as ammunition for use if there was any trouble between him and George Evans in the future. Meriel and Lucy had affected his sales but he had no justifiable complaints about the way they ran their office. They did search more diligently for clients but he had been doing the same and in fact he hadn’t lost much income since they arrived. Although, there was a slight increase in the number of people now buying homes, rather than renting, and perhaps that was disguising his own lack of progress. After all, every house they sold meant one less for himself.
Teifion went out again. A drink at the Ship and Compass was better than staying in for one of his father’s lectures.
Lucy went home and, hiding her humiliation, laughed as she told Meriel that, as Gerald wasn’t there before the appointed time, she hadn’t waited. She couldn’t admit to the extra fifteen minutes she had stood in that silent, empty street and hoped.
‘Good on you,’ Meriel said, but she guessed her friend had been hurt by the incident. ‘I’m glad you’re back. I made a fatless, eggless concoction which the cookery book had the cheek to call a cake, and I want you to try it.’ She bustled about making tea, talking about the few clients she had seen since Lucy’s departure and giving Lucy time to recover from her disappointment.
Then there was a knock at the door and Lucy went to answer it expecting one of the neighbours, but Gerald stood there, his trilby in his hands and abject misery on his face.
‘Lucy, I’m so sorry, but the meeting went on a bit and as I was one of the people in charge, I couldn’t get away.’
‘In charge?’
‘Well, I was responsible for taking the minutes and helping with the distribution of information, and a few other things besides, you know how they intend to put the pressure on the capable ones. I simply couldn’t leave until everyone else had gone.’
Lucy stood there barring his entrance, unable to decide whether or not to believe him. It was Meriel who called for him to come in. ‘Come and try a piece of this cake, Gerald. It isn’t too bad, is it, Lucy?’ she called as she reached for her coat.
‘Where are you going?’ Lucy asked, as Meriel cut a couple of slices of the soft, rather sticky cake.
‘I promised Kitty and Bob a taste, it was she who gave me the recipe.’ Chewing her last mouthful, she mumbled that she wouldn’t be long and went out.
Gerald stood just inside the door and Lucy sat down at the table and cut a slice of the cake. ‘You’d better sit down as you’re here,’ she said ungraciously.
‘I’m really sorry, Lucy. Shall we try again tomorrow?’
Lucy shook her head, but he pleaded until she agreed to give it another try.
‘Same day next week. But this time I want you to meet me at the office, I don’t want to go on the bus on my own and hang around in the faint hope you’ll turn up.’
‘I’d love to but I don’t think I can. I’m working in Cardiff next week. It’s a course on engines. My father still fondly hopes to make a mechanic of me one day.’
‘That’s all right, call and see me when you’re free,’ she said brightly. She reached for her coat and said, ‘Sorry but I have to go and see Kitty and Bob as well, they’ve been helping us with the garden.’
She ushered him out of the door and he walked to the bus stop, wondering if he was too late to meet Hazel Proudfoot. His tender ego needed some attention. He stopped at the house where George Dexter lived, staring enviously at its elegance, the facade partially lit from uncurtained windows and a lamp outside the porch. It was a beautiful house with an impressive porch, there were five windows at the front, the stone front wall was covered with a creeper, which he didn’t recognize, not being interested in flowers. He felt a surge of longing to own such a place. He was certain he had been meant for better things than a small terraced house and a greasy garage workshop. He would have no chance of living in a place like this if he stayed mending bicycles or even cars, he thought, as he stood, imagining himself with a glamorous wife, stepping into an expensive car parked on the wide, double entrance drive. However hard his father might try to teach him, he simply wasn’t any good at the job. But married to a successful estate agent, this is what he might aspire to. He increased his speed, striding out through the darkening evening and began to think of ways to persuade Lucy they belonged together.
He called at the Ship and Compass and sat there looking around at the assorted customers with dismay. Would he end up just like these men? Sitting talking to men like themselves, convincing themselves they were happy and successful? He ordered a potato and meat pie and, eating without enthusiasm, decided that although Hazel Proudfoot was a pleasant enough companion, his only real hope of achieving the rich life he believed should be his, lay with Lucy Calloway.
Teifion was also in the pub and left at the same time as Gerald but they didn’t speak. Gerald walked slowly, knowing he was on his way home to a dull evening, with his father talking about the conference, the people he’d met, followed by a conversation on engines old and new, and even more boring subjects like paint finishes. As he passed the office of Evans and Calloway in Forge Street he felt a tug of hope. He was good-looking and Lucy had been hard to discourage when he’d first met Hazel Proudfoot, so he was surely capable of winning her back? She was almost thirty, a time when most women needed to feel secure. For women, security meant a man, he thought complacently, confident she’d agree.
Teifion also walked home and was relieved to find that his father wasn’t at home when he went inside. There was a note from his father, resting against the biscuit tin in the kitchen, to tell him there was a meal in the oven that would need about twenty minutes to heat. He looked at it and shuddered. At least Frieda’s food was edible. He reached for the loaf and began cutting it, searching for a remnant of their cheese ration to fill the slices. The fire was low, almost out and the evening had brought a chill to the empty house. How far was this from his dream? Like Gerald, he ate without enthusiasm.
George was about seven miles away staring up at a dilapidated hotel. He knew he shouldn’t have come. Walter’s words had to be untrue; his suspicions, roused by Walter’s unkind words, were no more than anxiety brought on by reminders of their age difference. The rumours that surfaced from time to time were nothing more than that, untruths made up by jealous people, envious of his happiness with a young and beautiful wife. Frieda was in Brighton as she had told him, enjoying a few days with her sister. He’d had a card from her that morning with a loving message on it. Although, a small cynical voice reminded him, that wouldn’t be hard to arrange. He looked up at the building in front of him with its boarded windows and the harshly painted front door, the unwashed steps. He couldn’t imagine Frieda in such a dreadful place! The door opened, its weak hinges causing it to drag noisily against the step. He darted back into the shadows and watched, promising himself he would go home as soon as these people disappeared. He studied them as they headed towards him, a man arm in arm with a woman, her high heels tapping as she hurried to keep up with his long-legged stride. Then he heard laughter and knew without doubt that it was Frieda.
‘Frieda!’ Without giving himself time to think, plan how to deal with the situation, he stepped out and confronted her. He was horrified at the way she was dressed. Short skirts, low-necked blouse, in spite of the cold, late evening weather.
‘George, darling? How did you know I was here?’ She stepped forward as though to kiss him and he backed away. ‘This is my sister’s fiancé, Simon, they were going to give me a lift home but I decided to stay one more night with them. Awful place, but it belongs to a friend of theirs.’ She looked back as though expecting her sister to be following. ‘Teresa will be along in a minute.’
‘You might as well come home with me, hadn’t you?’ George said. His voice had a tremor, shock making his body shake.
‘No, darling, you go on, we’ve arranged to meet a few friends. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, love you,’ she whispered and he turned away.
George drove at dangerous speed to where Walter and Lynne Evans lived and banged furiously on their door. Walter had been the first to confirm what he suspected and he ought to suffer as well. Shoot the messenger? At last he understood what that meant.
‘I know your precious daughter was adopted!’ he shouted as Walter opened the door and began to smile a greeting. ‘There! How d’you like it? Being told some unpleasant gossip about your family? You enjoyed telling me about Frieda and I’m enjoying my revenge.’ At that time he didn’t care whether or not Teifion had been telling the truth, he just needed to hurt someone. He hurried away on legs that seemed to wobble, he was shaking so much he had difficulty unlocking the car door.
Walter turned and stared at Lynne, who had run to the door as the shouted words had reached her. ‘Walter, he knows! What shall we do!’ She was crying, tears falling and he took her in his arms.
‘After all this time, and it had to be George Dexter, of all people, who learned our secret. Oh, Lynne, love, why didn’t we tell her? We should have told her.’
Still sobbing, Lynne said, ‘Now he knows he’ll tell her. He’ll never be able to keep this to himself. He’ll tell our daughter.’
‘I don’t know what to do. I could go down, tell her now in a rush, nothing like how we dreamed of, telling her of our love, and pride. I don’t think I can. Perhaps he won’t tell her.’
More calmly, Lynne said, ‘Oh he’ll tell her, don’t doubt it. Unless you can persuade him not to. Go after him, plead with him to keep quiet. It will ruin everything if she finds out like this. She’d never trust us again. Why didn’t we tell her when she was young enough to cope? I daren’t think what this will do to her – to us.’
Walter sat down, his face like parchment, his eyes bright and feverish. ‘I’ll probably be too late.’
‘Please, Walter, we have to try.’
Like a frail old man, Walter got up, took the coat Lynne was offering and picked up his keys from her trembling hand. ‘I’ll come with you,’ she said.
He didn’t drive as furiously as George had done and when he reached Badgers Brook he saw to his alarm that George’s car was already parked in the lane. He and Lynne ran to the path leading to Badgers Brook but as they passed his car, the door opened and George said, ‘I haven’t told her.’
‘Thank goodness for that. George I’m ashamed of the way I told you my suspicions about your wife. I’m sorry. I was wrong.’
‘No, you were right, I’ve just found out that what you said was true. And that was why I wanted to hurt someone. We’re both capable of childish behaviour, Walter. There’s malice in the best of us when we’re hurt.’
Lynne was trying to subdue her sobs of relief. She got back into the car, waiting for Walter to join her.
‘Thank you. I’ll always be grateful to you for this, George. And I’m very sorry about your wife.’ Both men had calmed down, but Walter said just too many words and ruined it. ‘I suppose it was always a risk, marrying someone as young and attractive as Frieda.’
‘What d’you mean?’ George demanded. ‘The age difference hasn’t been a problem.’
‘Well, she’s bound to be tempted by younger people, having fun, going places. Let’s face it, George, we aren’t as keen on dancing and parties as we once were. She must feel she’s missing out.’
‘Of course she isn’t missing out. I’m not an old man. I can keep her happy. Age isn’t the issue!’
‘Fifteen years? Give over!’
‘She’s content with the life I give her, living in a beautiful home, all the money she wants, plenty of clothes and holidays twice a year, what more could she want?’
Walter shrugged. ‘What we had at her age I imagine.’
George had a vision of how Frieda dressed at home, with subdued colours, neat twinsets and sober skirts, very little make-up, hair held in a netted bun. Then as a sudden shocking reminder, he saw her as she had appeared that evening, with a red, revealing top and a white skirt, ridiculous red shoes and her hair loose around her heavily made-up face.
He leaped out of the car, punched Walter and burned up the path. Without knocking he went in to where Meriel and Lucy were sitting near the fire listening to comedy on the wireless. Meriel jumped up in alarm.
‘Mr Dexter? What on earth is wrong?’ She saw her father following, blood on his face and Lynne behind him pleading with George Dexter to stop.
Walter grabbed George’s arm and pulled him towards the door, shouting, ‘Haven’t you harmed us enough?’ Then the two men were fighting, hitting out at each other wildly and without skill. Sobbing, Lynne was begging him to say nothing. With Walter off balance following a blow, George pushed him aside making him stagger and fall against the wall, and he panted, ‘Wrong, Meriel? Only that you were adopted. Only that Walter and Lynne aren’t your real parents.’
Laughter flooded out from the wireless as Walter sank into a chair. Lynne ran to him, hugging him, his low groans at odds with the merriment of the wireless programme. Without a word, George walked out.
‘Dad? Is this true?’ Meriel whispered, hugging Lucy like a lifeline.
‘I’m sorry, my darling girl, but yes, it’s true.’
Lucy reached over to turn off the cruel canned laughter from the wireless that seemed to be mocking them. In the awful silence they all stared at each other like strangers, none of them knowing what to say. Walter’s heavy breathing, the shifting embers of the fire and the distant sound of George’s car driving off, brakes squealing as though sharing their pain, were the only sounds.