Homecoming (20 page)

‘What?' Martin interrupted defensively.

‘That she couldn't discuss raising the overdraft with you because you weren't talking to her.'

‘That's between me and her …'

‘Not if I caused the argument. Are you going to offer me a cigarette or do you want one of mine?'

‘Help yourself.' Martin pushed the packet towards him.

‘I would never have mentioned the garage if I'd known that it was going to cause problems between you and Lily. But I'll tell you one thing.' Brian looked Martin in the eye as he shook a cigarette from the packet. ‘I'd give everything I own and twenty years of my life to marry a woman who has the faith in me that Lily has in you. And if you can't see that, you're an even bigger fool than I take you for right now.'

‘I can't believe she'd do something like this without telling me.' Martin flicked his lighter and lit both their cigarettes.

‘How could she tell you if you weren't talking to her?' Brian reasoned logically.

‘Want a cup of tea?' Martin picked up his cold cup.

‘I've time for a quick one, but it will have to be quick.' Brian checked his watch as he rose to his feet. ‘Ronnie and Will are expecting me back in Pontypridd this evening.'

‘You and Lily have boxed me into a corner.'

‘Exactly,' Brian agreed as he sat at the kitchen table. ‘And you have a choice. You can either tear up that cheque and cancel the overdraft she arranged, or go into work on Monday morning and hand in your notice.'

‘I've worked in the depot since I was fourteen.'

‘And you want to be working there when you're sixty-five?'

Martin considered the prospect. Getting up six days a week for the next forty-two years, walking to the depot, overseeing the repairs and maintenance of the council's fleet of lorries, vans, cars and buses, coming home every night to Lily … Lily!

The last week had been sheer torture. More than anything he wanted to end their argument, but once their quarrel had escalated into silence he didn't know how to set about making amends. He didn't just want Lily – he loved and needed her. And she had proved that she loved him enough to stake everything she owned just so he could realise his ambition of being his own boss.

‘No, I don't want to still be working in the depot when I'm sixty-five,' he said finally.

‘But you're too afraid of failure to come in with me.'

‘Perhaps,' Martin replied honestly. ‘But if you were in my position, would you speculate with your wife's inheritance? The only money she has, or is ever likely to have?'

‘I wouldn't gamble with it but I would invest it in a business if she wanted me to.' Brian ground the remains of his cigarette to dust in the ashtray on the table. ‘It's your decision, Marty.'

‘If I hand in my notice on Monday morning, the council will never take me back.'

‘So, if the worst does happen and we go bankrupt, you'll have to work somewhere else.'

‘I may never get offered another foreman's job.'

‘You may not,' Brian agreed infuriatingly. ‘But if you do hand in your notice, arrange to take Wednesday off.'

‘Why?'

‘There's a sale of bankrupt tools and garage equipment in Cardiff. I told Lily about it. You might be able to save a few bob on equipping your workshops.' Brian pushed his hand into his pocket and pulled out a leaflet. ‘The address is on there. If you want to go, I'll meet you there an hour before the sale starts.'

‘Did Lily say anything else about me when you saw her?'

‘Nothing, other than that you two weren't speaking and she'd be out this afternoon. That's why I came back, to try to talk some sense into you. She looked so miserable, I felt guilty for causing the row between you.'

Martin ran his hands through his hair. ‘We've both been miserable. I don't know where to start with her.'

‘Take Uncle Brian's advice, walk into town, buy her a bunch of flowers and a box of chocolates, and reserve a table in the Mackworth for dinner tonight.'

‘I haven't a clue where she is, or what time she'll be back.'

‘As soon as Joy comes home from the salons. She's babysitting Billy.'

‘She told you.'

‘Only in passing. I wasn't here that long. I only called in to drop a couple of things off.'

‘Oh God, the attic! I forgot, you're moving in.'

‘Lily has everything under control.'

‘The furniture.'

‘At the risk of sending you screaming mad again, Roy, Sam and Mike moved it for her.'

‘You must think I'm a right idiot.'

‘Yes,' Brian agreed baldly. ‘But to continue with my advice, after dinner, have a couple of drinks. And say you're sorry. But the apologising bit should come at the beginning of the evening, not the end.'

‘Why should I say I'm sorry when she was the one who went to you and the bank behind my back?'

‘Because you love her and want to be happy?' Brian suggested. He got up.

‘The tea …'

‘Forget it. Do you want me to take the cheque or not?'

‘If you do, there'll be no flowers or dinners out for the next three years and that's on your figures.'

‘I'll give you as long as it takes for you to walk me to the front door to decide.'

‘Morning sickness?' The nurse poised her pen over the record card she had made out for Emily.

‘It stopped four weeks ago.' Emily tried not to stare at the row of subdued girls sitting around the room in thin cotton gowns, bare legs and feet.

‘Sit down, I'll take your blood pressure.' The nurse was older than the matron and every bit as daunting.

Emily removed her cardigan and sat while the nurse fastened the machine to her arm and pumped up the pressure until she felt she was being squeezed in a vice. The nurse recorded the numbers without comment.

‘Go behind the screen and take off all your clothes. All,' she stressed. ‘Make a note of the hook number you hang them on and put on one of the gowns.'

‘I had a full examination this week in Swansea,' Emily protested.

‘And you'll have one every week while you're here,' the nurse snapped. ‘Take off your clothes.'

The screen was covered in muslin so fine it was transparent. Turning her back to the rows of girls, Emily undressed and slipped on one of the gowns, only noticing that it was open from neck to hem at the back when she tried to fasten it.

‘Take a chair and wait your turn,' the nurse shouted, and Emily realised she had been watching her.

The half an hour that elapsed before Emily saw the doctor dragged for an eternity. Too embarrassed to look at the other girls, Emily stared down at the floor, shivering in the thin gown until her name was called. To her relief, she realised she was the last resident left in the room, yet she still clutched the hem of her gown together as she padded barefoot into the examination room. It was small, scarcely large enough to hold the desk, chair and examination couch it contained.

‘Lie on the couch.' The doctor checked her notes before proceeding to examine her with a dehumanising thoroughness. Mortified, Emily kept her eyes closed throughout the whole humiliating procedure. When he finished, he removed his rubber gloves, peeled them off and tossed them into a bin. Scrubbing his hands under the tap, he called to the nurse. ‘I agree with the doctor in Swansea. She is closer to five than four months.'

The nurse added a few lines to the card.

Almost as an afterthought the doctor glanced up and said, ‘You can go.'

Emily climbed off the couch. Averting her eyes from the matron who entered the examination room as she left, she charged across the waiting area.

‘Apart from the high blood pressure case, they are all fit and healthy, Matron.'

As Emily began to dress she heard the matron reply, ‘They invariably are, Doctor.' Her tone suggested that they had no right to be.

Acting on her mother's suggestion that she cook Sam a meal and have a relaxing evening with him, Judy stopped off in Swansea on her way home. She went to the market and was dismayed to see depleted counters. Most Swansea people shopped early on a Saturday. After studying everything the butchers had on offer she bought a plucked chicken, a bag of ready-made stuffing, two pounds of tiny and exorbitantly priced forced new potatoes, a bag of frozen peas, and a cauliflower and cheese to make a sauce. She decided on laver bread and bacon as a starter, which only left dessert. Suspecting she wouldn't have the energy or inclination to make anything fancy after preparing the chicken and cleaning the vegetables, she bought a frozen, cream filled sponge.

Sam had said he would call round after his shift finished at ten. She only hoped that his lack of faith in her culinary ability wouldn't prompt him to buy fish and chips for both of them on his way.

‘And how is my boy?' Joy opened the door to her living room before she'd even hung up her coat.

‘Angelic, as always.' Lily helped Billy down from her lap and he ran across the room to his mother.

Billy nodded enthusiastic agreement and hugged Joy's neck. ‘Good,' he chanted.

‘How was work?' Lily asked.

‘I enjoyed it. I was amazed at some of the things that Judy has done to the salons. It never occurred to me to sell hairbrushes, combs and cosmetics, yet the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. The junior on reception duty always has time on her hands that may as well be put to good use. And every salon was fully booked. I know it's a Saturday and that's always the busiest day, but all of them had healthy bookings for the week as well.' Joy finally managed to unlock Billy's hands from around her neck long enough to take off and hang up her coat. ‘Like a cup of tea?'

‘No, thank you. I have to go home and make Martin's tea.'

‘I told Roy we shouldn't have asked you to babysit, not on Martin's afternoon off.'

‘We didn't have anything planned.'

‘Everything all right between you two?' Joy was aware of Roy's concern that something was amiss between Lily and Martin, but unlike him she had no compunction about trying to find out what the problem was, in the hope that she could help.

‘Fine,' Lily lied unconvincingly. She closed the book she had been reading to Billy. ‘We'll find out what happens to the little pigs next week, darling.'

‘Huff, puff and blow …'

‘It's one of his favourite stories.' Joy handed Lily her mac. ‘Roy reads it to him nearly every night.'

‘I remember him reading to me when I was little. It used to be the high spot of my day. You're a lucky boy, Billy Williams.' Lily kissed first Billy then Joy. Dreading what she'd find waiting for her at home, she left the house.

Emily felt lost, friendless and very alone, as she walked down the corridor to the lounge to spend the hour of ‘free time' before supper. The medical examination had been followed by a lunch of bacon and egg pie and baked beans. Left too long in a hot tray, the beans had dried and the pie was undercooked and watery. The sewing class had only served to highlight her incompetence when it came to handling a needle. The remainder of the afternoon had been spent in ‘domestic duties', which, in her case, had included cleaning the downstairs bathroom. Her hands were dry, they smelled of bleach and she'd splashed cleaning fluid on to her skirt, taking the colour out of it.

No one had spoken to her during the half hour tea break when they'd lined up to receive a cup of weak tea and a scone spread with margarine and raspberry jam, and the cookery class that followed hadn't been any more successful than the sewing class. The only cake that hadn't risen during baking had been hers.

She hesitated at the door and wondered if she'd be allowed to go upstairs. The prospect of a quiet talk with Maggie in the bedroom was more tempting than the thought of braving the room full of chattering girls. There seemed to be dozens of them, although she knew the hostel only accommodated twenty-four.

A well-built girl showing an inch of mousy roots below peroxide blonde hair, beckoned to her. ‘I'm Jean, and as the only spare bed in the house is next to mine, I presume you'll be moving into it.'

‘I'm Emily.' Emily held out her hand.

‘Bit formal, aren't you?' Jean laughed.

‘Posh too, if that's the way you always talk. I'm Ann, and I sleep the other side of Jean. Did you see Queen Maggie when you arrived?'

‘Yes,' Emily replied warily, wondering what Ann meant by ‘Queen'. She sat on the only empty chair at their table.

‘Queen Maggie's married.' Ann flicked the cover over her notepad to conceal the letter she'd been writing. ‘That's why she gets special treatment.'

‘Maggie has high blood pressure, Ann,' Jean interrupted.

‘If Maggie's married, why is she here?' Emily asked curiously.

‘Because her husband's dead and she already has four children under six,' Jean explained. ‘She says they are enough of a handful without a baby to look after as well.'

‘Her father is a vicar and he arranged for her to come in here. That's why she gets special treatment,' Ann carped.

‘You never let up, Ann Andrews, do you?' Jean turned her back on Ann and carried on talking to Emily. ‘Maggie's husband was killed …'

‘Months before she started carrying.'

‘You've a vicious mouth on you, Ann.'

‘I only tell the truth. We're all in here for the same reason and, underneath her airs and graces, Maggie Jones is no different from the rest of us.'

‘She was nice to me when I came in this morning,' Emily ventured.

‘She could afford to be. Anyone on bed rest is excused domestic duty.' Ann held out her red chapped hands. ‘A couple more days of scrubbing and you'll lose that manicured look,' she warned.

‘Take no notice of Ann,' Jean whispered, as Ann turned her back and carried on writing her letter. ‘Her baby's a week late and she can't wait to get out of here.'