Goodbye to Dreams (11 page)

He gave Danny a lift back into town before returning to the shop, very much later than he’d intended. It was closed. The girls had taken Van, straight after closing, for a bus ride and a walk on the sands. He took his time with the horses, thinking about his meeting with Danny.

They hadn’t arranged to meet again but he knew they would. There was a big difference in their ages, he seventeen and Danny about ten years older, but they seemed to blend well. He felt a surge of happiness as he thought how his luck was changing. With his family gone he had been lonely, but now life was opening up and with good wages, the opportunity to buy his own house and learn to make furniture to fill it, life stretched excitingly before him.

If only he could win Annette his world would be perfect. Perhaps that was too much to hope for. But still, they met often and in recent days he had learned most clearly that nothing stayed the same. Who knew what the coming months would bring?

On the rare occasions when the sisters went out together and joined their friends at the dance, Gareth danced with them both, but on one night, instead of rushing out before the last dance was played, he stayed and danced the last waltz with Cecily – a tacit declaration that he would take her home.

Their friends accepted that Cecily and Gareth were courting, albeit a slow process, and thought it a foregone conclusion the couple would
eventually
marry. The waltz caused heads to turn and people to nod and point fingers as another step was taken towards an announcement.

Ada seemed unaffected but deep down she ached with misery when left to stand among the rest, to watch and wait until the dance ended, then hover while Gareth collected his coat and trilby and joined them at the entrance.

Willie was leaning against his usual lamppost, a cigarette in his cupped hand. It seemed to be the only time he smoked and the sisters wondered if it was more for the slight warmth rather than the need for nicotine. He stood to help them but hesitated when he recognized Gareth.

‘You coming too, Mr Price-Jones?’

‘No. You take Miss Ada, will you? Miss Cecily and I will walk.’

Willie was about to argue; the sisters’ safe return was his duty. Cecily nodded and he shrugged and helped Ada into her seat on the trap.

Back home, Ada went out into the chilly back kitchen and turned up the gas-light which had been left on low. She put the kettle to boil and, as it began to hum, she prepared a tray which Gareth and Cecily might share. Her tasks done, she drooped with melancholy. Why did this have to happen? Life was not far from perfect now she and Cecily ran the shop without interference and she felt heart-aching dismay as Gareth threatened to take not her but Cecily away.

She looked into the ancient, spotted mirror above the sink. What is it
that makes me less attractive than Cecily? We are so similar in many ways, yet it was Cecily who had attracted two such desirable men. First Danny, whose wild and casual air had devastated a number of hearts, whose appearance in the dance hall on New Year’s Eve had caused so many heads to turn, so many faces to light up with interest. Women admired his strong features, his tanned skin and most of all the bold, blatant sexuality in his dark eyes. He had been involved with other women before Cecily but he’d never looked at me with even a hint of interest, she thought with a sigh.

Then, when Danny had tired of Cecily’s refusal to conform to what he expected and demanded from a woman, she had captured Gareth. Why Cecily and not me? She wondered sadly.

She rubbed at the speckled mirror where steam from the kettle had blanked it and stared again at her reflection, all sad and misty. Then she smiled and told herself not to be a fool. ‘How could you want a man who prefers your sister?’ she asked out loud. ‘Best you stop blaming Cecily for being more beautiful and get on with your own life,’ she told herself firmly. ‘You aren’t a shadow of her! You’re a person in your own right!’ She heard Cecily and Gareth come in and attended to the kettle. Singing to announce her arrival, she went in carrying the tray.

‘Ada,’ Cecily said in a soft whisper. There was something about her voice that made Ada look up sharply. Cecily’s face was flushed and her blue eyes shone in the light of the hissing gas-light. She smiled and her face was, to Ada, utterly beautiful.

‘You have something to tell me?’ Ada asked, forcing a smile.

‘I’ve asked Cecily to marry me,’ Gareth said in a rush.

Ada dropped the tray clumsily and rushed to hug her sister. ‘Oh Cecily, I’m so pleased for you both.’ Tears of disappointment and jealousy coupled with the realization that she was destined to be the ‘old maid’ of the family were presumed to be tears of joy and she made no effort to hide them. She hugged Gareth and it was painfully sweet to feel his arms around her at last and experience the touch of his lips on hers.

‘Damn the tea,’ she said with a great gulp. ‘Wonderful news like this deserves more than tea. It deserves something stronger. What’s in Dadda’s cupboard?’ She opened the wooden cabinet and pulled out a few bottles, dabbing her eyes as she searched. ‘Will port do? We don’t seem to have anything else.’

‘Don’t say anything about this yet, will you, Ada?’ Gareth warned. ‘Not till I have the chance to tell Mam.’

‘Our secret.’ Ada held up her glass and drank to their health, their luck and their secret. Then the bottle was empty and Gareth had to go home.

‘I wonder how long it will take him to pluck up the courage to tell her?’ Ada giggled. ‘It took him long enough to tell you!’

‘I’ll give him a week, then I’ll tell her!’

‘Where will you live?’

‘Here, of course! I don’t want to leave you, and,’ she added with a wry smile, ‘I can’t imagine me reigning comfortably with Mrs Long-nosed
Price-Jones
, can you?’

Excitement and the unaccustomed drink had tired them and it took longer than usual to get through the few chores left to do before bed. Yet Ada sat up for a while thinking about the promise she had made herself in the misty mirror. Tomorrow she’d stop mooning about Gareth and start moulding a life of her own. I’ll no longer be half of a partnership, she decided, but an individual without strings. The decision cheered her momentarily but gloom had resettled before she reached the door of their bedroom.

The window was open and the curtains blew softly in the night breeze. The candle guttered and she snuffed it out. Opening the curtains she looked out into the silent street. Only circles of light from the gas lamps lit the scene like spotlights on stage; everywhere was black but a peaceful
blackness
, not one in which unpleasant things lurked. She wished Willie lived in. She’d love to have someone to walk with her and she needed a walk. A fresh cool night wind on her face would have calmed her.

On a corner further down the road a door opened and two figures fell out, illuminated by the splash of light from within. Their shapes were distorted by the pattern of light but she quickly realized it was two women and they were fighting. From the screams and the shouts that reached her, it was over a man.

The mood of tranquillity was shattered and she closed the sash with a gentle thump. Fighting over a man indeed! Thank goodness she and Cecily weren’t like that. Gareth belonged to Cecily and she, Ada Owen, was free to enjoy a real romance of her own. But, she wondered sadly as she pulled the cool sheets over her shoulders, where would she find it?

Dorothy Owen was an aggressive character and many were afraid of offending her. Since being widowed she had received many invitations to ‘walk out’. She was still attractive, her confidence and air of authority lifting her above the rest, and now, at forty, she was still a woman who men noticed.

She was fashion-conscious but always selected for herself clothes that flowed. Even when fashion dictates were for slinky, well-fitted dresses and coats, she wore skirts that were full and billowed out behind her. She
frequently wore a couple of scarves around her shoulders like stoles with ends floating around her in layers of undulating cloth as she moved.

‘Dorothy Owen makes fashion, she doesn’t slavishly follow,’ she told her admiring friends.

She had worked for a few seasons on the beach, serving trays of food to families on the sand. As this only lasted for the few months of summer, when trippers came to fill the small, friendly town, she was forced to look for other work for the rest of the year. Standing for a friend who was ill, she found herself in the big department store, selling ladies’ clothes, and she quickly realized she had found her natural place.

She was so popular with those with money to spend and a desire to be noticed, she had been invited to stay and, leaving the children with a
neighbour
during the school holidays, and on Saturdays, she continued to enjoy the work and the extra money.

The bonus was the opportunity to dress up instead of dress down to go to work. She loved it and spent more money on clothes to wear in the shop than she could really afford. This so impressed her employers they appointed her first sales when she had been there only two months,
something
unheard of. Now she helped with the buying and was considered indispensable in the smart fashion department. Miss Dorothy was a success.

So, it was no surprise when, sitting in the small room she liked to call her office, one of the trainee sales girls came and told her a customer wanted to see her. There were many people in the town who asked for her advice when buying new outfits and Mrs Price-Jones was one of them.

‘Mrs Price-Jones, how nice.’ Dorothy was never too gushing, especially with those she considered her inferior. Just enough of a smile to set the customers at ease but not enough to suggest they might be equals. Dorothy considered herself above most of them, even those living around the park. ‘How can I help you today?’

‘I want a dress to cheer myself up,’ Gareth’s mother sighed. ‘Shocking news I’ve just had. Shocking.’ She stopped and covered her mouth and her long nose with a be-ringed hand. ‘Oh, I shouldn’t be saying this, you being related an’ all.’

‘My sisters-in-law misbehaving?’

‘My Gareth has told me he and Cecily are to wed.’

‘Oh, how nice.’ Dorothy waited for the shock to pass before adding, ‘Why should that upset you? Two girls with a busy shop can’t be a bad match, even if it is only a badly run grocery store.’

‘But they’re so unsuited. Sorry to say this but Cecily is a bit … bold, for a woman, don’t you think? For someone as sensitive as my Gareth.’ She
leaned closer. ‘Did you know that on the day after their father’s funeral they were laughing and singing, yes, singing, with that stable lad of theirs? Trotting over to the Pleasure Beach as if they were celebrating.’

‘No principle, Mrs Price-Jones. I sympathize with you. I wonder if there isn’t some way we can persuade them to at least delay things? I mean, that Danny fellow is around again. I’ve seen Willie Morgan giving him a lift only weeks ago. She and Ada went off with him after the New Year dance. That must surely give him cause to wonder if she is being completely honest with him?’

Dorothy listened to the woman’s criticism of Cecily for a while longer then, leaving her in the hands of a junior, went back to her office. Cecily must not marry. If either of the sisters had a son then Owen would never have the shop. She considered a few ideas on how to prevent Gareth making the engagement official. Danny Preston lived in Quarry Street on the far side of town near the docks. Perhaps a visit might reveal something useful.

Waldo and Melanie Watkins came one evening to look through the books at Owen’s shop. The fact that they were rivals was not any concern to either side: without Waldo’s advice and assistance, the sisters would have found it difficult to take on the running of the shop without making
expensive
mistakes. For Waldo’s part, he saw the small grocer’s shop as a hobby, taking a keen interest in its changes and a pride in its success.

‘The new business with the stall holders over the beach is impressive,’ he said as he closed the books. ‘You’ve specialized in lines your father refused to consider and it’s paid off. Well done, both of you.’

‘Willie has been a marvellous help,’ Ada said. ‘Without him putting in the hours he has, we’d never have kept so many customers happy.’

‘Getting an extra boy, I hear,’ Melanie said. She put down the tray of tea she’d made and began to pour. ‘I wish you’d find a couple for us. Stuck we are now Jack Simmons has gone.’

‘What happened?’

‘Fighting, that’s what! We couldn’t send him to our customers looking like the result of a heavyweight boxing bout!’

‘Fighting? That isn’t so terrible, is it?’ Cecily defended. ‘In fact, our Willie came in looking like a map of a coal mine one morning back in the winter, and went through all the colours of a rainbow in the days that followed. He’d obviously been fighting but we pretended to believe his story about falling down some steps.’

‘Once you can ignore, but when it happens several times in a month, it begins to look bad. No, Jack Simmons had to go.’

‘Shame. Well, if we hear of anyone we’ll let you know.’

‘Plenty of people unemployed but not many like your Willie.’

Melanie handed her husband a cup of tea. He had reopened the books and was thumbing through them, making sure all was well with the way the shop was managed, and what he saw satisfied him. Melanie watched him nod appreciatively before closing them again and taking up his tea.

Waldo was a small man, still fair although in his late forties. His blue eyes were paler than those of his wife but very bright, impish at times, but always giving a clear indication of sharp intelligence.

Waldo and Melanie had taken over an ailing business on the main road when they were newly married and worked together, a true partnership, dealing with every part of a complicated business together. They were
separated
only by their volunteer work. Melanie supported a charity for homeless children and Waldo a sport and exercise club for boys. Regret for their lack of children showed in the way they used their precious spare time.