Homecoming (18 page)

She cooked their breakfasts and evening meals, but after Tuesday morning when the strain of sitting in the same room as him had been more than she could bear, she had taken to eating hers alone in the dining room and leaving his on the kitchen table. She had no way of knowing how much he ate, or if indeed he ate at all because she made a point of not returning to the kitchen until he had left the room and by then he had washed, dried and put away his plate. But if the amount of food in the pigswill bin was anything to go by, neither of them had much appetite.

Even Sam and Mike had stopped their scrounging visits and came up the stairs only when she invited them, which was hardly surprising. She found the atmosphere between her and Martin hideous and, if she had the choice, she wouldn't visit their house either.

‘You can begin drawing on the overdraft whenever you like, Mrs Clay.'

‘Thank you, sir.'

‘As you instructed, I've taken the cost of arranging the facility from the funds in your savings account. There are a few papers for you to sign.' He pushed them across his desk. ‘I've marked the relevant lines, but you should go through everything carefully to make sure you understand exactly what you are signing.'

‘I will, sir. I'll return them after my lunch break.'

‘Good. When do you anticipate that you'll need the first advance?'

‘Next week, sir. We need a thousand pounds to buy into the business.'

The manager scribbled a note on a pad on his desk. ‘You may sign a cheque for that amount today if you wish.'

‘It won't be that soon, sir.'

‘Don't forget it takes four working days for a cheque to clear,' he warned. ‘The rest of the money you can access as and when you require it.'

‘Thank you for arranging everything, sir. I am very grateful.' She left her chair.

‘You have talked to your husband about this, Mrs Clay?'

‘Of course.' She crossed her fingers and hid them in the folds of her skirt. She hated having to lie to anyone, especially her boss.

‘It's just that when I spoke to him, he adamantly refused to use your investment bonds as security for either a loan or an overdraft.'

‘I persuaded him that it is too good an opportunity for him to miss, Mr Hopkin Jones.'

‘You can tell him from me that he is fortunate to have such an understanding and financially astute wife.'

‘I will, sir.'

He gave her a rare smile. ‘I'm only glad the bank could be of service.'

‘What time do you have to be there?' Judy carried Emily's suitcase through the front door of the flat and opened her car.

‘The letter said, any time after ten o'clock.'

Judy glanced at her watch. Even allowing for traffic they would be at the hostel before half past nine. Stowing Emily's case into the boot, she slammed it shut and turned up the collar of her coat. It was a cold, dark, dismal morning. Rain was falling in a steady, unremitting downpour, drenching the street and greying the pavement and slate roofs to a shiny pewter.

‘We're going to be early, aren't we?'

‘Yes.' Judy gave her flatmate a sympathetic smile. Ever since Emily had made the decision to go into a hostel she had been restless, unable to concentrate or settle to anything. It was as though she'd already relegated Swansea to her past. ‘But we could always stop off for a walk on the way if this rain stops and, if it doesn't, we'll settle for a cup of coffee. There's bound to be a café open somewhere.'

‘That would be good,' Emily agreed enthusiastically.

Judy opened the driver's door. ‘You did lock the flat?'

‘Yes.' Emily folded her umbrella and climbed into the passenger seat. ‘Here are your keys.' She pressed them into Judy's hand.

‘I don't need an extra set. You could hang on to them.'

‘No,' Emily refused resolutely. ‘I told you. I'm not coming back to Swansea.' She glanced back at the street, as Judy drove away. ‘Not ever.'

‘I hope you don't mind.' Brian carried a record player into Lily's hall and set it down gently at the foot of the stairs. ‘I've arranged to meet a painter I hired to spruce up the garage today, so I thought I'd take the opportunity to drop a few things off. If I leave everything until next week the car will be groaning. I don't know how I've managed to accumulate so many things.'

‘According to Helen, possessions breed.' Lily walked to the porch with him. ‘Judy, Katie and I moved into her house with a couple of cases and boxes apiece, but we all moved out with cabin trunks and dozens of boxes.'

‘I don't have dozens of boxes, but I do have a few.' He returned to his car and Lily whistled.

‘Very nice.'

‘You like it?' He beamed with pride. ‘My cousin insisted that the garage manager should always drive a top-of-the-range model to instil customer confidence.'

‘I love the colour. They'll see you driving down the Mumbles Road from Ilfracombe.'

‘That's the idea. And Swansea girls can't say they weren't warned. Red for danger!' He lifted his eyebrows suggestively. ‘No, don't try and take this,' he swung an enormous box away from her and carried it into the house. ‘It's heavy. Books,' he explained, setting it down.

‘I'll take the record player upstairs.'

‘Leave it, it's heavy.'

‘Not that heavy,' she contradicted, picking it up. ‘I want to check the rooms in the attic anyway. I aired and made up the bed in one of the bedrooms earlier in the week, and Mike and Sam gave Uncle Roy a hand to sort out the other rooms but I'd like your opinion on what we've done.'

‘Knowing you, I'm sure everything's more than fine.'

‘I hope so.' Clearing the attic would have been something that she and Martin would normally have done together, but it had been impossible for her to discuss converting the attic into a self-contained flat with Martin when he wasn't talking to her, so she had enlisted her uncle's help. If Roy had heard about her argument with Martin, he was too tactful to mention it, and, with Sam, him and Mike all working shifts, it had been easy enough to arrange for them to move the furniture about when Martin had been at work. ‘The builder called this morning.'

‘I don't want you to go to any expense on my account,' Brian demurred.

‘It's something we've been meaning to do for a while. It's crazy to shut off the top floor of the house when there is such a shortage of housing in Swansea, and we want you to be comfortable.'

As Brian returned to his car, Lily carried the record player up the two flights of stairs. With her help, Martin had decorated the entire house, including the rooms on the top floor, shortly after they'd married. The attic room she'd chosen to keep as a bedroom had pale blue wallpaper spattered with white polka dots. The linoleum was grey, the bedroom suite of wardrobe, chest of drawers, tallboy and bedside cabinets a light, unadorned pine. It wasn't luxurious but it was clean and comfortable and the new blue, white and grey cotton curtains, rug and candlewick bedspread she'd bought at Swansea market gave it a fresh, modern look.

Brian glanced in and she set the record player at the foot of the bed. ‘Someone's been working hard.'

‘Martin did most of the work just after we moved in.' She opened the curtains wide before she crossed the landing and opened another door. ‘I thought this would make the most suitable living room, not only because it's the largest room but because it has a view of the sea.'

‘A good one,' he commented appreciatively.

‘The electric fire used to be in Auntie Norah's front parlour. It's old but it works perfectly.'

‘I like the coffee table. But please don't tell me you bought a new three-piece suite on my account.'

‘We didn't,' she admitted. ‘It was Judy's mother's, but she wanted to change it. I didn't like the original covers so I made these to match the rug and curtains and, before you ask, the rug's not new either. It was in my bedroom before I got married.'

‘It goes well with the suite and the wallpaper.'

‘I know the suite's small and the room looks a bit bare, but Uncle Roy and the boys packed all the leftover furniture into the box room on the floor below. As well as beds and bedroom suites, there are a couple of cupboards, tables and a sideboard. Most of them are old-fashioned but if you want anything, all you have to do is ask Sam or Mike to help you carry it up.'

‘I'll take a look. You have good taste, Lily,' he complimented. ‘I wouldn't have thought of orange and green as a colour scheme but this looks good.'

‘I'm glad you think so.' She left the room and walked along the landing. ‘This room is directly on top of our bathroom, it's also small, so I thought it would make an ideal bathroom and the builder agrees. He measured up and it will take the same size suite that we put into the basement bathroom.'

He looked in and saw a pine kitchen dresser, table and chairs. ‘I'll give you a hand to clear it.'

‘This is Auntie Norah's old kitchen furniture. We thought we could use it in your kitchen. It's solid enough but it will look better after a coat of paint. Martin or I can do that …'

‘Or me,' he broke in.

‘You are a paying guest, as Auntie Norah would say.'

‘Did say,' he smiled, recalling the day he had moved into the house just before joining the Swansea police force. ‘But I'm also a friend and you've gone to enough trouble on my account as it is.'

‘This,' she opened the last door on the landing, ‘will be the kitchen. As you see, it's empty. The builder said it was best to leave the cupboards until after he's plumbed in the sink. I bought an electric cooker in the warehouse, it's small but it has three rings and a decent size oven and it's being delivered on Monday. Uncle Roy's on shift and he's taking it in for me.'

‘I don't expect to be doing much cooking.'

‘You'll be doing some.'

‘Possibly,' he agreed.

‘So, with Auntie Norah's cupboards, table, chairs and a sink, it should do.'

‘It will more than do, Lily, it's going to be extremely comfortable. You sure you and Martin won't mind sharing your bathroom and kitchen with me until it's sorted?'

‘I'm sure,' she murmured. It was a relief to talk to Brian after a week of strained silences from Martin, but Martin only worked until midday on alternate Saturdays. If Brian stayed until Martin arrived home he would soon discover that they weren't speaking to one another. And she couldn't help feeling that if she were Brian, she'd sort out other lodgings and as quickly as possible.

The house was neither as large nor as imposing as Emily had been led to believe by the doctor who had examined her in Swansea. Set at the side of a country road, it was the kind of residence her father would have dismissed as belonging to a ‘jumped up' country tradesman – a grocer or butcher too insignificant to warrant his attention as manager of the largest bank in Swansea – but it was a lifeline for someone in her condition.

‘Ten o'clock on the dot.' Judy drove into a small courtyard at the side of the house, pulled on the handbrake and turned off the ignition.

‘Thank you for the coffee.'

‘It was disgusting.' Judy wrinkled her nose. ‘It was more chicory than coffee and that café was rough, even for the lorry drivers.'

‘It passed the time.' Emily's hand shook as she reached for the door handle.

‘Every girl in there has the same problem as you,' Judy reminded her.

‘I know, but …'

‘Would you like me to go inside with you?'

‘Would you?'

‘I'll get your case.' Judy took Emily's arm and they walked to the front door. Before they reached it, Judy heard a baby crying and as soon as she pushed open the outer door and stepped into a covered porch, she could smell ‘babies', that peculiar cocktail of odours that ranged from sour milk to talcum powder, with overtones of damp clothes, washing soda and bleach.

‘Can I help you?' A stern looking women in a navy blue dress that was almost, but not quite, a nurse's uniform, opened the door a few minutes after Judy rang the bell.

‘I'm Emily Davies,' Emily murmured, dropping the Murton.

‘You're early, Davies.' The woman looked Emily up and down as if she was an inferior exhibit in a best of breed show.

‘It said any time after ten on the letter.'

‘It should have been eleven.' The woman turned her attention to Judy. ‘And you are?'

‘Judy Hunt, Emily's cousin and next of kin.' After setting up ten salons Judy had become accustomed to dealing with officialdom and wasn't even faintly intimidated by the woman's imperious attitude. ‘I'd like to see my cousin settled and check on visiting times.'

‘Sunday, two until three in the afternoon, any other time has to be by special arrangement,' the woman snapped in a marginally politer tone, ushering them into a large, square, gloomy hall, painted institution green and floored with black and white tiles. She turned to Emily. ‘You have been allocated a bed in the third room on the left at the top of the stairs. Your bed is the only one not made up. As soon as you've made it – properly – and put your clothes away, bring your suitcase down here for storage. And, as you're here early, you can see the doctor. He calls every Saturday morning but quick sharp, he's only here until eleven. After he's examined you, one of the staff will take you through the admission procedure. There will be forms for you to sign. Lunch is at twelve, sewing class at one.'

‘Yes … thank you …' Emily stammered, fighting a lump in her throat, as she tried to commit everything the woman had said to memory.

‘I am the matron and I expect to be addressed as “Matron” at all times.'

‘Yes, Matron.'

‘Well, get along then. I'll tell the staff to expect you in the examination room in ten minutes. Second door on the right through the double doors.' The matron pointed down the corridor. ‘Just one quick word before you go,' she added, as Judy and Emily stepped on to the staircase. ‘This is a home for unmarried mothers, not a rest home. You will keep the areas you live, work and sleep in, clean and tidy. You will be expected to do your share of the housework and cooking until your baby is born and for six weeks afterwards. In return for antenatal care, board and lodge, the staff will expect you to be polite, respectful, willing and helpful towards them and your fellow residents at all times. Do I make myself clear?'