Goodbye to Dreams (7 page)

‘We’ll have such fun, the three of us,’ Cecily said.

‘D’you think any of the family will help?’ Ada wondered.

‘Remembering their faces as they left, I don’t think we’d better ask, do you?’

Ada began cooking dinner. Lamb chops, tinned peas and potch, she announced a while later. Mixing mashed potatoes and swede together was a favourite meal. It was still early and when they had stacked the dishes away, Ada said firmly, ‘It’s no good, I can’t stay in tonight. How would you like to go for a walk instead of going to bed, Myfanwy?’

They put on the coats they had bought for mourning and, covering their heads with large hats, they set off, the heavy shop door key in Ada’s pocket, Van’s hands in a fur muff. They walked along the dock road in a sedate manner. Only the most observant would have noticed the suppressed excitement in two pairs of blue eyes.

B
ERTIE AND
B
ERYL
Richards’ house was not far from the town end of the docks. It was a double-fronted, impressive, grey-stoned building and the imposing front door and generously proportioned windows seemed to invite passers-by to stop and admire and be dazzled by the obvious success of its occupants.

Bertie had begun buying property when he was hardly more than a boy, beginning in a small way in the long terraces of the older part of the town not far from where Willie now lived. He had worked at three jobs, survived on scraps and paid twelve shillings a week to buy the almost derelict
property
for his mother when they were threatened with eviction from their shabby rooms.

It had been hard finding the sum of money that was a wage for many, but somehow every week the payment was met. He would eat what he could find cheap, and sleep in snatches in between jobs which included a few night shifts in a hospital and labouring on a building site. Luck had been with him and he soon began to make payment on two more small, mean properties for which his mother found tenants. She also took in a lodger to help pay for them. They rented the shabby places to people whom they trusted and who even helped with some repairs. Now, at forty-one, he was a rich man with property all over the town, a comfortable home with a wife he adored and eight-year-old Edwin to share it.

He had been helped in a small way by Owen Owen offering him work for which he paid generously and had been a friend of the Owens ever since, treating Cecily, Ada and Van as part of his own family.

When Ada and Cecily knocked on the door that evening, it was answered by Gaynor Rees, the young maid, who invited them to wait in the drawing room while the master was told of their arrival. But as the sisters stepped into the hall, Bertie came out of the study to greet them. He spread his arms wide and picked up Van and swung her around, giving her a noisy, wet kiss.

‘Beryl,’ he shouted. ‘Van’s back! We’ve only just taken you home and you couldn’t wait to see us again, eh? Edwin,’ he shouted, ‘our Van’s back so
you can stay up a bit longer!’ The two children scampered off to the family room at the back of the house, overlooking the garden, and Beryl joined the others, ushering them into the drawing room.

‘Everyone’s gone then,’ Bertie said rhetorically.

‘Gone with a lot of resentment, I’m afraid, Bertie,’ Cecily said. ‘Dorothy especially had a flea in her ear. She thought her son was sure to have the shop.’

‘Where she thought we’d go I can’t think!’ Ada added.

‘Things will settle. Any straight talking to do I’ll do if for you, remember.’

‘Thanks, Bertie.’ Ada patted his arm affectionately. ‘But I expect the shouting will subside to a mumble in a day or so.’

‘So,’ Beryl said with a smile, ‘you are now the proprietors of a shop. Does the prospect frighten you?’

The sisters looked at each other and laughed. ‘A bit,’ Ada admitted, ‘but more because of sleeping in that big house without Dadda being on call than fear of not managing.’

‘And, to be honest, not being able to go out together because Dadda isn’t there to mind Van,’ Cecily admitted.

‘There’s no worry there. Van can stay with us any time, day or night,’ Beryl promised. ‘If Bertie and I go out there’s Gaynor and her sister to watch them. No trouble to us having Van for company for our Edwin. You go out and enjoy yourselves.’

While Bertie poured drinks and Beryl fussed with sweets and small biscuits, Cecily watched them with an affectionate smile. Everything about Bertie was large, she mused. His figure certainly, his house, his wife and son, the cigar which was habitually clenched between his teeth. Even his suit was loose and generously cut. His ears were fleshy, his nose broad and his mouth full, hanging wetly around the cigar. His thoughtfulness and his generosity towards them were equally large.

The sisters didn’t stay long, for all the inviting warmth of the welcome and the entreaties to settle for the evening near the roaring fire in the carpeted comfort of the over-furnished room. They set off back along the dock road with Myfanwy skipping along between them.

The little girl asked a lot of questions about the funeral and the changes the death of her grandfather would bring. Cecily guessed she had been talking things through with Edwin. They answered her questions as fully and clearly as they could.

‘Granddad has gone from us, but nothing else will change, lovey,’ Ada assured her. ‘Tomorrow you’ll go to school and come home at dinner time with either me or Auntie Cecily. You’ll see, everything will be just the same.’

When Myfanwy was settled in bed, Cecily said, ‘Funny Gareth didn’t come. Bertie saw him standing outside his shop with a razor in his hand, would you believe? He couldn’t spare time from shaving a customer to even put down his razor.’

‘His mam’s instructions no doubt.’ Ada hesitated then added, ‘Danny was at the cemetery according to Willie.’

‘Danny? I didn’t see him among the mourners.’

‘Me neither. But he was there. Went on his motorbike he did and waited for them, then left after the others had gone.’ Ada watched Cecily’s face. ‘Still want him, do you? Or has Gareth taken his place? Not fair to Gareth if you still want Danny Preston, yet accept invitations to go to Cardiff with him, is it?’

‘Fat chance I have of going anywhere with Gareth. How long will it take him to pluck up courage and ask me out again now?’ Cecily built up the fire then stretched and gave a yawn. ‘This inheriting lark is very exhausting, Ada. I’m going to bed.’

‘Go on, you.’ Ada smiled. ‘I’ll follow in a little while. I feel the need to let things settle.’ She reached into the cupboard and brought out two candlesticks and, taking a taper of folded paper from the hearth, lit one and handed it to Cecily.

‘Check all the doors before you come up,’ Cecily said, as she did every evening before going upstairs.

Ada didn’t bother to answer. Didn’t she always make sure everything was as it should be? Lost without me, Cecily would be, she thought contentedly.

Cecily climbed the dark stairs and pausing only to look in on Van, who had elected to stay in her own bed and not share theirs, went up a third flight to the top landing where she and Ada slept. The room next to Van’s that her mother and father had used was empty now but she had no
inclination
to sleep there. With its white counterpane and white covers on the chest of drawers and the old luggage trunk, which had held Mam’s bedding for years, it was a cold, unappealing room. Perhaps it would be improved by adding a few colours, but she thought that even then it was not a room she wanted to use.

Ghosts, she thought whimsically. Ghosts are what we invent from past experiences. Mam running off like that and Dadda’s sad accident, they were reasons for not liking the room. She thought of her mother lying beside her father, everything normal, and all the time Mam had been planning her escape with her lover. Mam, who had not acknowledged the news of Dadda’s death. Yet she still felt Mam’s presence in that room; ghostly, ethereal, like a whiff of perfume on opening a drawer, there but not easily defined.

It would always be there, Mam’s presence. She would always half expect to see her sitting up in the big white bed, her grey hair loose around her shoulders, demanding breakfast and complaining about the hot-water bottle being cold. Cecily looked down over the curving banister to where a light showed faintly. It was all theirs now, hers and Ada’s. Tomorrow they would begin to build up the business and make a good life for themselves.

Whether Gareth would have a part in it only time would tell. His
non-appearance
at the funeral, or even to offer condolences, suggested that, having asked her out, he had been thankful something had intervened and given him a chance to reconsider.

She went to the bedroom she shared with Ada and hurriedly undressed in the icy chill. The sheets were cold and stiff against her body and she enjoyed the punishment for a moment before sliding her feet down to reach the warmth of the stone hot-water bottle.

She thought of their father and how kind and loving he had been. A constant source of security, utterly reliable whatever problem they faced. Now he was gone and she thought again about the saying: ‘Be careful what you wish for, or you might get it.’ She and Ada used to wish Dadda would leave them to get on with running the shop the way they wanted to and his death had given them their wish. She was crying when Ada came up and they hugged each other and allowed the grief to find release in tears.

The day following the funeral was busy. Everyone stopped as they passed or called in to buy and stayed to offer their sympathy, and to ask questions about what would happen to the shop now there was no man about.

Willie set about his extra chores with an eagerness that delighted them. He watched and saw what was needed before being told.

‘Your mam pleased with the extra money?’ Ada asked.

‘Yes, thank you,’ Willie said, thinking of the empty house waiting for him. ‘Grateful she is and to thank you very much,’ he said as though he were repeating his mother’s words.

Whenever she was free, Cecily left the shop and in the back kitchen busily prepared the cooked meats for the weekend trade. The room still smelled strongly of the funeral flowers and for once she didn’t curl up her nose at the assorted smells coming from the cooking. At twelve o’clock everything except the faggots were finished and she went to help Ada clean up for lunchtime closing.

‘Thank goodness it’s Wednesday and half-day closing,’ Ada grumbled as she scrubbed the marble counter. ‘Worn out I am and sinking for a cuppa. I thought this morning would never end.’

‘Want any help in here?’ Willie asked, coming from the passage. ‘The trap is ready for this afternoon. The deliveries and the stable work is all done.’

‘Willie, you’re a marvel.’ Ada told him. ‘Stay and have a bit of food with us then we’ll go straight off. We shouldn’t be long.’

‘I found this in the stables, miss,’ Willie said hesitantly, showing them a grey leather glove. ‘I think it belongs to Miss Annette. Call with it, shall I?’

‘We’ll drop it in on the way,’ Ada said. Willie put it back in his pocket, where it had been since the previous day.

Ada had already pulled the blind on the window where fresh fish was sold from a cold marble slab. She had scrubbed it, first with sawdust, then with hot water containing soda and soap. Now she rubbed the surface briskly with a piece of clean sacking until it was spotless and she smiled her satisfaction at the result.

‘The pigs’ trotters and tails are cooked,’ Cecily reported. ‘I’ll bring them in here to cool.’ As she returned with the steaming dish, Ada said warningly, ‘Cover them up, quick. Here’s Ali.’

Taking the freshly washed muslin, Cecily managed to cover the offending sight as the proprietor of the Arab boarding house entered, smiling as he greeted them both.

‘Just the gentleman I want to see,’ Cecily said. ‘Look down this list of spices, will you, and tell me what we need to stock to save you walking up to the high street.’ She handed him the list and as he called out the names she noted them in her order book and smiled her thanks.

His dark intelligent eyes met hers. ‘You are after bigger business, Miss Cecily?’

‘Much bigger,’ she replied. ‘If there’s anything you think we should stock, please tell us.’

‘The eyes of sheep?’ he teased.

‘Everything except sheep’s eyes.’

When they were washing up after lunch, Ada frowned as she looked at the order book. ‘We’ll be spending a lot of money this month.’

‘Yes,’ Cecily agreed, ‘and it will be a long time before we benefit. It will take time for the news to get around that we’re increasing our lines.’

‘Perhaps we could send young Willie around with some hand-bills? We could get them printed cheaply enough at Phil Spencer’s print shop.’

‘Good idea. We’ll make Owen’s shop the largest shop in the town!’

‘Bigger than Waldo Watkins’s?’

‘Why not? Waldo has made his money, now it’s our turn. Besides, I think Waldo and Melanie are falling into the trap of concentrating more on their wealthy friends up around the park. There’s more to be made here, among
the small streets, where people fill their tables with plenty of good, honest food and not expensive luxuries spread thinly. No, I think we’ll do well here if we get the stock right and give a service people want.’

They collected their black coats and their hats covered with artificial flowers in sombre colours, then locked the shop and walked through to the stable where Willie Morgan waited to take them to the shops at the beach.

Willie had changed into a newly bought, albeit second-hand, jacket. He usually kept a spare in the stable but since the increase in his wages had been promised and the new duties, which he translated as looking after Cecily and Ada, he was determined to look after himself too. His long, curling black hair had been washed and brushed, and the shirt he wore had been repaired and laundered by his neighbour, Gladys Davies, who looked after his fire. The coat had been sponged and pressed by that same lady. In between his work during the morning, he had polished the trap and washed the wheels until everything was as clean as he could make it.

As the trap climbed the hill and turned into the main road, one of their customers, Gertie Dill, stared at them, disapproval on her thin face, and when she was sure they had noted her expression, turned away, her small mouth tight in disgust. Cecily and Ada waved as they passed her and she glared again before shouting, ‘All that show at the funeral! It was nothing but a suck-in. The poor dab’s hardly cold in his grave before you two go off gallivanting!’

Ada looked upset but Cecily turned and waved again, smiling as if the words hadn’t reached them. ‘Don’t worry about her, Ada. Any excuse to give us a slating and she grabs it with enthusiasm. Jealous old witch.’

‘Yes, she sold all her husband’s clothes and his pigeons before he was dead, that one,’ Willie reminded them with a chuckle.

There were others who showed their disapproval as they rode along, laughing at Willie’s remark. Once past the town and heading along the quieter roads leading to the Pleasure Beach, there were few to worry them and they began to sing, Willie joining in the choruses.