Nothing is Forever (16 page)

‘It’s her brother.’ He shrugged as though to put aside the discussion and pointed to the food set out near the cooker. ‘Is that breakfast? I’m starving.’

‘You know you can come back here for a while, don’t you? This is still your home.’

‘We’ve sold our house and the business too, so I might do that when I move out. Just until I arrange my next move.’ Movements upstairs stopped the conversation and Geraint picked up the newspapers from the hall and sat in the living-room while a distracted Ruth began cooking.

When they were all squashed around the table, Geraint told the others and when Henry arrived later he, too, was told.

‘It’s a lot to take in,’ Tommy said, reaching for Toni’s hand. ‘Bryn and Brenda’s baby, Emrys and Susan buying a house and now this. A divorce. Are you two sure it’s what you want?’

Hazel was about to speak, but Geraint answered first. ‘I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life!’ Hazel jumped up and ran from the room and Geraint put his head in his hands and stared down at the floor.

‘You promised me,’ Hazel shouted from the hall. ‘You promised not to tell them until we got back.’

Geraint went out to where his wife was standing, reaching for her coat. The murmur of their voices was heard by the others until the door slammed shut behind them. They sat and stared at each other in disbelief.

‘I thought they were happy together, building the business which is earning them enough money to enjoy themselves and have a decent home. What went wrong?’ Tommy asked.

‘Eddie Collins – whoever he is,’ Bryn replied.

‘No wonder they offered us their unwanted furniture,’ Toni muttered.

Unable to think of anything to add, and needing to keep busy, Ruth finished cooking the breakfast. ‘Go and see if they’re coming back to eat,’ she asked Tommy as she began putting food on plates. Henry smiled and touched her shoulder. ‘Whatever happens in your little world, your first thought it to feed people.’

‘Well, we still have to eat, don’t we? Pass your plate, there are some tomatoes left.’

‘Caring for people – that’s how you should earn your living.’ Still smiling, he offered his plate.

Tommy came back and explained that Hazel wasn’t hungry and they were leaving as soon as they were packed.

‘Oh no you don’t!’ Ruth went out to where they were still arguing. The words were softly spoken, only the tension in their faces showing their anger. ‘Come on, we aren’t going to join in your argument, take sides, but I’m not wasting good food, so come on, and eat up. Then you can get packed and go.’

The meal was eaten in silence, only the occasional word as someone asked for more bread or needed a tea cup re-filled. Still silently, Hazel nodded to excuse herself and went upstairs. The tension eased slightly as the men discussed which was the best route, Chepstow or Ross-on-Wye to get to Gloucester and on to London.

Henry stood up and helped Ruth with the dishes. ‘I wish you hadn’t invited Geraint to come back here,’ he said. ‘You aren’t the mother, and he’s old enough to sort out his own problems. It’s time for you to make a life of your own.’

Ruth scrubbed the saucepans a little more vigorously. ‘It will only be for a little while. He’s terribly hurt and coming home offers comfort and gives a chance to heal.’

‘Are you working tomorrow?’

‘Yes, but I should be finished by three.’

‘Then come to the shop. I have something to show you.’ To his disappointment she didn’t even show curiosity. ‘Don’t you want to know what it is?’

‘Sorry, Henry, is it a new purchase? Something beautiful?’

‘Yes. And no.’ It was useless, she wasn’t concentrating on what he was saying. If he’d said it was a pack of elephants she would probably smile and say, that’s nice! ‘I’ll expect you at about half three, then.’

‘Half three,’ she repeated. ‘Fine.’

Henry wanted to show her a house he was hoping to buy, a place on which to build their future. But she needed to see it and decide whether she could live there. He had to do something to move their relationship on or he might as well walk away – as his mother frequently suggested he should. Sometimes the thought was tempting, but only for fleeting moments. He loved her and knew she would make him happy. His doubts were whether she felt the same way. Confronting her with the house and his plans for it might make her feelings clear.

It was with more trepidation than excitement that he drove her through the terraced roads near the centre of town and onto the outskirts.

The house was overlooking a common, where seats and shady trees attracted people to walk with children and dogs, or to sit and admire the flower beds and the wild birds that were regularly fed there. It was double-fronted and set back from the road. He parked the car and opened the door for her. She hadn’t asked a single question.

‘What are they selling, silverware? Paintings? Furniture?’

‘No, they’re selling the house. I want you to look at it and decide whether it would be a suitable home for us and our children. I know you wouldn’t want to live in my flat with its lack of a garden.’

She turned and stared at him and he watched the surprise, the doubts, then pleasure cross her face. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘Wait till you see inside.’ He took her arm and led her to the front door, which was opened before he could raise the knocker.

‘Mr Owen?’ the man queried and held the door back for them to enter. Introductions followed and the man explained that, since the death of his wife he found the place too large. ‘It’s a place for a family,’ he added. ‘We had four children and were very happy. Now they’ve gone and I need to find somewhere smaller, a flat probably.’ He went in to each room explaining a few things they might have otherwise missed then went to sit in the garden allowing them to look around on their own.

The place was mature and comfortable with a feeling of warmth and contentment. Five bedrooms, all of which were large, three reception rooms, a garden, a large barn, a stream and behind all that, a small woodland that was a haven for birds and wild flowers.

‘It’s a beautiful house and I can imagine someone being very happy here,’ Ruth said.

‘Someone? Not you and me?’

‘I don’t know why you brought me here, Henry. I live in Ty Gwyn, it’s the family home. I can’t leave it.’

‘Not even if your brothers want it sold?’

‘They don’t want it sold! How can you think such a thing?’

‘Bryn and Tommy are both expecting their first child. Emrys and Susan are buying their first house. Geraint will need finance to help start a new business. The money is needed by them all.’

She waved and called thank you to the owner of the house and hurried through the hall and out. Henry stood for a moment, then went back to answer the man’s call of ‘What d’you think?’ with a vague muttered reply that said nothing.

Ruth was sitting in the car and her face looked stony.

‘If you don’t intend to marry me, I think we should call the whole thing off. I don’t want to waste any more of my life while you play at “being mother”.’

‘I’m not playing at “being mother”! I’m keeping the family home going. It’s important to all of them. Geraint’s need to come back home when he wants a place to lick his wounds and make decisions about his future just proves me right.’

He said no more. He stopped at the shop and watched as she picked up her bicycle and rode away.

Tabs was in the shop, cleaning some brass horses he had recently bought. She didn’t look up or she might have seen his tense expression. ‘I don’t think we’ll sell many more of these,’ she said, rubbing furiously. ‘Many went for scrap during the war and people wanted to replace them, but I think polishing brass is already losing its appeal.’

‘Tabs, do you have to go anywhere this evening?’

‘I haven’t anything special planned. Why, do you have a job for me?’

‘No, I’d like some company. Do you fancy going out for a meal? Down The Vale maybe?’

‘I’d love to. I want to talk to you about a neighbour who has some china and cutlery she wants to sell, Georgian some of it.’

He smiled. Tabs was unusual in that her first thought hadn’t been what would she wear. Then she looked shocked and said, ‘I’ll have to go home first, I can’t go like this. I’ve got brasso stains all over my sleeves.’

‘Give me that rag. I’ll stain mine to match. Come on, let’s just go.’

Ruth sat up thinking about what she wanted from life. Of course she wanted marriage and children but now wasn’t the right time to move away from Ty Gwyn. Geraint needed a home more than he needed money. The others too looked upon the house as the centre of family life. It would be a useful sum though and she understood how it would help the four couples with their new commitments, but selling their home? Surely they didn’t really want that?

Her thoughts danced about, from the idea of selling the house to Henry’s remark about ending their plans for the future. As the fire burned low and the room cooled she shivered, but it wasn’t the lack of warmth, it was the realization of what that would exactly mean. Could she face a life without him? The balance was between being here for her brothers, being on the periphery of their lives, taking what crumbs their wives offered, or marrying Henry and building a life of her own. Yet her commitment to being the mainstay of the family, its anchor, was hard to put aside. She did have a life and it was here, being custodian of Ty Gwyn, the centre of the family, its past and its future. Yet she still felt a little afraid of the empty years that threatened.

She heard a car approach and stop outside and recognized it as Henry’s. Relief filled her. He had come back to make it clear he would never leave her. She stood up and ran to open the door. She had been foolish; they could marry but live here. That way she’d satisfy all her needs. Sure he would agree, she opened the door. Henry got out of the car, but before she could call out she saw him open the door for someone else. Tabs stepped out and he hugged her for a moment, before driving away.

Tabs came in laughing, her eyes bright and her cheeks glowing.

‘You’ll never guess where I’ve been,’ she said, throwing off her coat and scarf. ‘Henry took me out to dinner in Cowbridge then we went to Swansea and walked on the beach, in the dark, all on our own. It was such fun.’

‘Tell me about it tomorrow, will you? I’m tired and I’ve got a busy day tomorrow. Aunty Blod isn’t feeling well. I’ll pop over and bring her back here for a few days. It always does her good to come home.’

She went to bed but didn’t sleep for a long time. Had Henry meant it when he said they should end it? Had he already been thinking about Tabs? Someone who had abandoned all ties with her family and who understood his business and was interested in the same things he enjoyed?

She’d fill the house again, that was the best way of dealing with disappointment, making sure every moment of her time was filled with people who needed her, understood her and most importantly, valued her and appreciated having her in their lives.

While Ruth was clinging to her home, Abigail was walking away from hers. Being seriously sick during the mornings which eased slowly through the day, migraine headaches exacerbating the problem, she had tried and failed to find work. She only needed to work for a few weeks until Jack returned to look after them, but it was apparent to any prospective employer that she was not well enough to do any of the jobs for which she had applied.

She had no success, even when she managed to get further than a brief chat with someone who arranged an interview. Prospective employers were put off by her confident manner, unnerved by her attitude, unable to imagine her taking orders, afraid she would be after their jobs in a matter of weeks!

Two jobs she tried had ended after a couple of days and there seemed no prospect of even the poorest paid work until the sickness passed. And by that time her pregnancy would be showing and no one would employ someone and train them for what might only be for a few weeks.

After vacating the flat and paying the overdue rent, returning the car and settling that account, she had enough money to stay in an hotel for no more than two weeks. Everything worth anything had been sold. There were only the beds and an armchair left at the flat and, she thought sadly, if someone offered a few pounds they would go too. Someone told her about a bungalow which they admitted was rather a mess but which was cheap to rent and she took it unseen, grateful to have somewhere to go. Where was Jack?

She hired a van to take the few items they had left, mostly clothes which were wrapped in tissue paper and packed in three trunks. One day she would go back to what she did so well, selling beautiful hats and until then, she needed to keep her ‘other self’, her clothes and accessories and make up, as a talisman, a promise to herself that those days would return. Bedding and other necessities filled two more trunks. Not a lot to show for all the money she had earned, she thought ruefully. How stupid she had been.

She left messages for Jack at the flat and with her ex-employer and set off for a house they hadn’t seen, in a village she had never heard of and hoped that somehow Jack would find them and look after them. For a moment, looking at the van with its sad contents, she had qualms of doubt but she smiled at her mother and promised her that once Jack came he would put everything right.

Ruth woke early having slept just as dawn was breaking and she went downstairs with confused remnants of her dreams in her mind. She’d had fractured dreams of her wedding day with a church filled with her friends as she walked down the aisle with a beautiful dress floating around her, and Henry looking handsome beside her. Voices called good wishes and confetti showered on them and laughter filled the air.

Then, the scene distorted and became mingled with scenes of Ty Gwyn empty and abandoned, windows broken, grass growing on the paths and slates fallen from the roof. Another half-remembered scene showed strangers moving around its rooms.

Amid all these were pictures of Henry smiling down at Tabs after telling her their love-affair was over. That wasn’t a dream, she thought, as she reached for the teapot and cups. It happened and I can’t face it. Henry with someone else, with anyone else, was breaking her heart.

Abandoning the teapot and turning off the kettle, she grabbed a coat and went to talk to Henry. As she walked towards the shop she relived her dream. She didn’t understand such things but it seemed to be telling her she had to choose, the family home or Henry. Henry meant a home of her own and that was what she wanted, but to abandon the house? To part with the place the family still thought of as home? How could she do that? Would her brothers let her give it up? Where would they meet without Ty Gwyn as a base? How would they stay in contact without that sanctuary, that place where news was shared, where arguments were resolved, where everyone felt safe?

Henry opened the door and she didn’t know how to behave. Should she reach up and kiss him as she usually did, or did their last conversation mean that was no longer acceptable. To her relief he opened his arms and she slid into them and reached for his kiss. Relief that all was well made her tearful. Nothing had changed, yesterday’s words were just that, words.

As she relaxed in his arms she thought about how rarely they had disagreed, apart from her hesitation to accept his regular proposals. Henry didn’t argue, he just discussed things calmly and if he didn’t convince her of whatever they had disagreed on, he just let it go, accepting and respecting her opinion. Sometimes, like now, she was grateful for his understanding but occasionally, when she was alone and thinking about their future, she wondered if his calmness might be one of the reasons why she couldn’t make up her mind to marry him. His life seemed set to continue unchanged.

Dullness wasn’t a word she could honestly associate with Henry but she could see a time, some distance in the future when her life might be just that, dull. She wasn’t one to crave excitement, but she suspected that without an occasional spat and some change of mood, she might regret saying yes.

Abigail stared at the bungalow she had rented in utter disbelief. Semi derelict, even the roof didn’t seem keen to keep its position as it leaned on the damaged guttering for precarious support, causing the chimney to lean at an alarming angle. Her heart raced with fear as she approached the door. Surely there was a mistake? This couldn’t be the place? On the door there was a faded sign which announced the place as Heavenly View. Someone with a warped sense of humour she decided.

It was late, the day was ending and she was achingly tired. She would have to stay for one night at least. Tomorrow she was bound to find something better. Taking a deep breath she stepped inside.

The room smelled seriously of damp and the walls were patterned with the signs of its long term damage. She shuddered. She couldn’t stay here. But her first impulse, to find an hotel for the night, was quashed. She had hardly any money until her final cheque at the end of the month, so she couldn’t afford even one night.

After dragging their belongings inside, she built up the fire. At least there was plenty of wood around where gardeners had thrown their rubbish to join the rest, then made herself a bed of sorts wrapping herself in cushions and blankets. She lay there wondering how to start on the mammoth task of making the place fit for her mother and wondering when Jack would come to help them.

Allowing Jack to wander around the country searching for some imaginary treasure had been fun, a way of making people admire her tolerance, but now the joke had come back to hit her hard between the eyes. Within weeks everything had changed and she needed him here. In a way she could never have imagined, she had lost everything and she desperately needed his help.

She went each day on the bus, to see her mother and dreaded to be told she could come home. How could she bring her to a place like this? Working most of each day and half the nights lit by candles she had found in the dismal kitchen, she scrubbed and cleaned.

Two weeks passed before Jack came to find Abigail and Gloria. He was unclear about what had happened to make Abigail leave the flat. Explanations had been vague but he learned that she had lost her job and that alarmed him. He had optimistically told himself there was plenty of time, she was sure to be offered work in the office when she could no longer trade as a saleswoman. She was highly valued, how could they tell her she must leave? He had no money to offer her, and without a job and with her extravagances, Abigail would soon be in difficulties.

He asked directions to the bungalow of a few people and was rewarded with curious looks and comments of surprise that anyone was living there. The place, which he had been told was next to a garage, was a shock. The garden was overgrown with mounds where grasses and wild flowers had covered piles of rubbish and abandoned machinery. More recent rubbish littered the area around the back door where it had been piled, presumably to allow access.

He stopped at the rusting old petrol pumps and looked behind the garage to where the bungalow stood. Tattered curtains blew at the window and smoke curled up from the precariously balanced chimney. Looking in at the muddle of bedding and half opened boxes, he began to walk away. This had to be a mistake.

Tabs was worried. She hadn’t seen Jack for days and, not knowing where he lived, there was no way she could look for him. He had been evasive each time she had asked where he went when he disappeared for a few days, not exactly refusing to tell her, but vague and he managed to answer the question without actually telling her anything. She had been curious but not worried – until now. Now she badly wanted to see him, to be reassured that his love meant they would be together for always. That was what most people usually meant when they shared a moment of love and uttered those words, but she had an uneasy feeling that Jack might be different. No permanent address, unwilling to tell her about his family, not even telling her the real reason for his being here. Saying I love you might have meant something far less than it did to ‘most people’.

He frequently disappeared for a few days without explaining. He’d describe places he had enjoyed; some to which he would take her. She never pressed for explanations. One day he would tell her everything and until then she would be patient. She mustn’t pester him, that might drive him away. She couldn’t bear that. He was the only person in the world who truly cared for her and far too precious to risk losing.

She sat on the park bench, their bench, and ate her solitary lunch. She had brought more than she needed, just in case Jack surprised her and joined her. She ate very little and spread the remainder on the grass for the birds.

Jack was some distance away, walking down an unmade up road following directions to the bungalow called Heavenly View once again. He had asked again at the flat where Abigail had lived and had been assured that the directions he had been given were those left by Abigail. There was no one around; this was no longer a highway. Traffic had once regularly passed the garage but came no longer. Grasses and weeds grew on the cracked surface of the road.

He stopped at the rusting old petrol pumps and looked behind the garage to where the bungalow stood. Forcing a smile, he pushed open the door called. ‘Abigail? Gloria? Anyone home?’ He went into what he presumed was the living-room and looked around at the shabby furniture; the bed against one wall, a couple of armchairs beside the fire, a small table on which, incongruously, a vase of wild flowers stood. Surely this can’t be where Abigail lived?

It had to be a mistake, the woman now living in the flat had given him the wrong information. A further search alarmed him even more, there were only three rooms and the building was in need of repair. A place like this called Heavenly View? That must be a joke! He recognized many of Abi and Gloria’s possessions; Abi’s beautiful clothes were hanging around the walls protected with tissue paper, the boxes containing hats piled in one of the other rooms.

He looked in vain for a note, something to explain where Abigail and Gloria were. He sat down and prepared to wait. Abigail would be working, and Gloria wasn’t able to walk very well although, she might have reached the bus stop, he mused.

He dozed for an hour and was woken by Abigail coming in. She gave a cry of pleasure seeing him there and ran into his arms. ‘It’s Mum,’ she said, before he could comment on the place. ‘She’s in hospital, pneumonia they fear. It’s this place, Jack. It’s so damp and we’ve had nothing but bad luck since we came.’

He listened to her story, in which she admitted ignoring warnings from the bank and he blamed himself for not being there. He stayed overnight and the next day he spent some time fastening broken window frames and adding a stronger lock on the door.

Abigail went back to the hospital to see Gloria but Jack stayed at the bungalow, intending to make the place as safe as was possible. He bought tools and other things he needed and spent the day cleaning up and doing what he could. He chopped piles of wood and sawed through some trees he found nearby to make a reasonable pile of logs. He bought a couple of sacks of coal and helped himself to a second loaf when he paid for one, and took milk from the delivery cart while the milkman wasn’t looking. He had done all he could for now but – as he looked around the room so different from the beautiful flat, with its sad attempts at cheer, where Abigail had polished an old table, added a bright cushion, or filled a couple of jam-jars with flowers – he felt ashamed and angry. He had to do something more than this, and soon. Abigail and Gloria deserved better than he had given them. But he might be close to getting the money he believed waited for him, so regretfully he left the bungalow and headed back to Tabs.

Sitting on the bus, he thought of Tabs. He needed to encourage her a little more, careful not to frighten her away; she had to be persuaded to help him. He desperately needed money. It was lunchtime and he guessed that Tabs would go to the park and wait on the bench, hoping to see him. Not today, but in a few days time he wouldn’t disappoint her.

Abi went with the crowd that surged forward as the ward doors opened. Her mother had a hand raised, anxious for that first glimpse. Abigail smiled at her mother, the relief showing so clearly in Gloria’s expression. As if she didn’t expect me to return, she mused. As if I’d let her down.

‘Heard from Jack?’ Gloria asked.

‘He’s been held up,’ Abigail lied. ‘Some problem with payment, you know how difficult it is sometimes.’

‘They want the work done but argue about paying for it. I don’t know why people are so mean. I think your Jack’s too soft. Too nice for business.’

‘You’re right, Mam. He’s so kind, often doing work and not taking the money when he thinks they can’t afford it. Foolish, I know, but you’ll never change him and I don’t think I’d want to.’

‘Neither would I. He won’t stay away now, knowing how we need him. And once he sees his beautiful baby he’ll never want to leave again. Lovely boy he is.’

Abigail glanced again at the door. ‘Lovely he is, but I wish he’d come back. When you come out of hospital, I don’t want you going home to the euphemistically called, “Heavenly View”. It can’t be healthy for you. It’s so damp and cold. But I can’t do anything for a while, I have to sort out my finances first.’

‘We’ll manage. It’s just till Jack comes home and finds a proper job. All this travelling around from job to job isn’t much of a life. He’ll never want to go away again, fortune or no fortune, when he knows how we are fixed.’

Abigail smiled. She wondered whether there was anything she could sell, to buy some extra coal and logs. What Jack had provided wouldn’t last long. A good fire and a pantry filled with nourishing food, that’s what her mother would need in a few day’s time, when they sent her home.

The bungalow behind a garage that had been closed for several years would never be a suitable place for someone who had been as ill as her mother. The pumps were still in situ but rusted, the glass over the circular gauge cracked and covered with dirt. The rent was nominal but no repairs had been carried out and Jack’s temporary repairs wouldn’t last long; the weather was a powerful enemy.

Jack had promised to make the place more comfortable and for those few days he had worked on it, mainly to make it weather-proof, but he hadn’t quite achieved that aim. She went home every night after the hospital visit and more failed attempts at getting a job, and did what she could to improve the place. She worked during the day shutting her mind off to everything else. Thankfully there would be money at the end of the month and paying final instalments on the debts would leave her with enough to heat the place and provide decent food for a while at least.

It was such an isolated place and although there was nothing to attract a burglar, someone looking for a place to sleep might think it was unoccupied, and break in to shelter for the night. The thought made sleep difficult. Restless she got up several times and by the light of a torch made herself a hot drink, which she left to go cold as she dozed briefly. Then she was woken by a severe pain.

The pain increased and engulfed her and she knew that she was going to lose the baby. She wondered between agonizing cramps how she would manage if she couldn’t work, ignoring the fact she no longer had a job. Then her thoughts were only on the pain, and the misery of her loss. An hour later she began to think about how she could get to a doctor. It was some time before she felt confident enough to walk to a phone box and call for a taxi.