Rhiannon (23 page)

‘There's no need.' Frank's voice came abruptly from behind. ‘Mair has got it wrong.' He entered the room. ‘I'm sorry, but I couldn't help but overhear.' He turned firstly to Mair. ‘Mair, I can't imagine what's put such a silly idea into your head.' Then, turning to face Rhiannon, ‘And Rhi, just to set the record straight, I'm pleased to hear that you think of me as a brother – an older brother, of course.' He threw her a wicked smile, reached out and took Mair's and Rhiannon's hands in his. ‘That's how I truly think of myself regarding the two of you. And I want you both to know that I'll always look out for you.'

Rhiannon forced a smile. ‘I really meant it when I said I'll miss you.'

‘Me too,' an embarrassed Mair whispered.

 

Rhiannon and Frank made the journey to Cardiff together on Friday.

‘When do you actually need to present yourself to the battalion?' Rhiannon asked, breaking what she thought to be an awkward silence between them. Since overhearing her and Mair's little chat he seemed to have distanced himself from her – or was she imagining it?

‘Monday morning. I'm hoping Adam won't mind my lodging at his house until then.'

‘I'm sure he'll be only too pleased to have you stay. I'll be staying with Mrs Gordon and her sister. It's only for one night; we leave early in the morning to start the tour. Look, I know it's short notice but later tonight, maybe we could get together for a farewell meal?'

Frank smiled. ‘I'd like that.'

‘Do you know where you're heading?' Rhiannon asked.

‘My initiation will be in Cardiff. After that, I'll be based at Maendy barracks. And after that – who knows?'

‘We'll keep in touch, though?'

‘I don't think that, with you on tour and me stationed God knows where, that it would be practical for us to write directly to each other. I shall of course be writing at regular intervals to my mother, so maybe you could do the same.'

‘Of course. I understand,' she said, but in truth, she didn't understand at all.

The tour was going well. Every venue they visited was a complete sell-out. The tour was a real eye-opener for Rhiannon. It was much harder than she'd expected: living out of a suitcase, never staying in one town longer than a couple of days, frequently moving digs – some better than others. Even Sundays, usually their day off, were spent in rehearsals.

Rhiannon, keeping her promise, frequently wrote to Ethel and Mair, separate letters in one envelope. Unfortunately, while on tour, it turned out to be a logistic nightmare for, though she found it easy to send letters, receiving them – well that was another thing.

She sent Ethel and Mair the first letter from Chepstow the day she arrived. She had to wait nearly two weeks before getting a reply! Ethel's letter, together with a short note from Mair, had been forwarded from the venue in Chepstow, then on to Bristol before eventually finding her in Taunton.

Ethel's letter told her that, although Mair seemed happy enough and was now eating well, her health seemed slow to recover. Ethel said she was keeping a close eye on her and if things didn't improve she would seek the advice of the doctor. Although this was a worry to Rhiannon, it made her realize how right she'd been to leave Mair behind.

Ethel went on to say how proud she was of her Frank, who appeared to be getting on so well in the army. For years he'd not just been her son but the head of the family ... the main breadwinner. Her marriage to John Jenkins had set him free to make a career in the army and maybe travel the world.

Mair's first note said that although missing Rhiannon, she was so happy to be staying with Ethel and the family, and how welcome they made her feel. Reading this went a long way towards easing Rhiannon's conscience.

Once again Rhiannon replied immediately. She thanked Ethel for
looking after Mair and asked her to let her know straight away if another visit to the doctor became necessary. She asked to be remembered to Frank and hoped to see him soon. She answered Mair, telling her how much she was missing her and, as they were already three weeks into the tour, it wouldn't be long before they were together again.

Not for the first time, Rhiannon wondered what the future held for them. When the tour ended Adam Fletcher would return to the company's base at the Empire Theatre, Cardiff; a new season, a new show to run from March through to September. He had already placed an advertisement in
The Stage
, looking for artists and dancers; auditions were to start in February.

‘There's a two-song slot for you, in the show, if you're interested?' Adam offered.

Rhiannon's first reaction was to jump at the chance of joining another of Adam's shows, but she knew she had to discuss it with Mair first.

When no reply came to her letter, Rhiannon hoped all was well.

 

‘Mair love, are you all right? You've been in that lavatory for ages,' Ethel called.

‘Yes, I'm fine, thank you,' Mair answered, but she'd lied. She felt wretched. She'd been sick again, the fourth morning in as many days. With her monthly course almost nine weeks late, she knew it could only mean one thing. She was pregnant.

If being brought up by the promiscuous Nellie Parson had taught Mair anything, it was to keep track of when her monthlies were due. If Nellie was as much as a day late she'd reach for the tried and tested remedy of a good nip of gin and a hot bath – an ‘old wives' tale' maybe, but it seemed always to have worked for Nellie.

A week ago, in desperation, Mair had tried the hot bath but, with no access to gin, it hadn't worked. It had been more than ten weeks since . . . she couldn't even bring herself to give what happened to her a name; the fact was that, by her calculations, she was nearly three months gone. Soon her belly would start to get big and then everyone would know. Mair felt that, before it became common knowledge, Ethel Jenkins deserved to be told. She decided to confide in Ethel after supper tonight, preferably when all the others had gone to bed. But that was later, right now it was time to face the family for breakfast.

Mair entered the kitchen and to her surprise found Ethel sitting
alone at the breakfast table reading a letter.

Ethel looked up. ‘Good morning, Mair. Tea's brewed. Be a love and pour us both a cup.'

‘Where is everyone?' Mair asked.

‘It's Saturday, so John – Mr Jenkins – invited the girls to accompany him to work in the shop next door. He offered them a sixpenny piece each if they'd help out. He rightly feels they should begin to get to know the workings of the butchery business. I do so hope they
are
a help, rather than a hindrance. You know what a pair of chatterboxes they can be? As soon as I've read this letter from Frank, I'll make you some breakfast.'

‘Thank you, but I'm not really hungry,' Mair said. She lifted the large teapot from the hob in front of the coal fire and poured two mugs of hot steaming tea. She placed one on the table in front of Ethel.

Ethel reached over for the honey jar and proceeded to scoop a heaped teaspoonful into her tea. ‘I know I shouldn't, but I like my tea strong and sweet. Come sit next to me.' Ethel tapped the multicoloured, hand-knitted cushion of the chair next to her and Mair did as she was bid.

‘Good news. Frank's been given a weekend pass; he's on his way home. He sent this letter on Thursday, hoping it would get to us in time . . . he'll be home tonight,' Ethel gushed.

Mair, although pleased to hear of Frank's return home, knew she would have to delay telling Ethel about the pregnancy. The thought of Frank finding out filled her with shame. Although he plainly only thought of her like a sister, to her there could be no denying that
she
idolized him. She had thought, after what that man had done to her, that she would hate all men, and at first she had. But Ethel had come to her bedroom one night and talked to her like a real mother, changing her way of thinking.

Mair, love, I don't want to delve too deeply into the dreadful experience you've had to endure at such a young age, but I keep thinking what I might say to help you. Since you've been here with us, I've come to think of you like one of my girls, and I've seen the way you, understandably, draw back when any man enters the house – even my John.'

‘I'm sorry, Auntie Ethel, I don't mean to. Mr Jenkins has been so kind to me. You must know that I don't for one moment think that he would... ?'

‘I know, child. And that's the thing, not all men are evil. What I'd
like you to do for me before you go to sleep tonight is to close your eyes and think of every man you've had anything to do with since leaving the valley and assess each of them fairly – will you do that for me?'

‘Yes, Auntie Ethel, I will.'

Later that night Mair lay in bed and closed her eyes and tried to picture every man she'd met over the past months. As instructed by Ethel, she began to assess each in turn. The first man to come to mind was Walter Cahill, the larger than life, kindly, American who insisted on pronouncing her name ‘Mayre'. Mair smiled: he was one of the least evil men she knew. Next, Gus Davenport: although he seemed something of a thoughtless jack-the-lad, the way he left Rhi and all, he could never be thought of as evil. The fact that Rhiannon still loved him proved that. Next, there was Adam Fletcher: look how kind and generous he'd been, in putting up the money to set her free. Next came John Jenkins, a really good man who had welcomed her into his home without a second thought. Yes, Ethel had been right; the only evil men she'd met were Harry and Jake.

Her thoughts then went to Frank Lewis, the sweetest, kindest man she'd ever known. A man who had this way about him, to make her feel warm inside and safe in the knowledge that he would never hurt her.

But what did it matter how she felt? She was barely fourteen and pregnant ... what man would want a shop-soiled girl like her anyway? No, the sooner she faced up to the fact that her life was totally ruined, the better.

Mair decided to hold back from speaking to Ethel until Frank had returned to barracks.

 

It was just getting dark. John Jenkins had lit the gas lamps and stoked up the fire with coal. Mair was sitting next to him with Ethel, Martha and Sadie at the kitchen table awaiting Frank's homecoming. A intricately embroidered white cotton tablecloth covered the table, which was heavily laden with plates of corned beef, ham, home-made bread and a tin of freshly baked Welsh-cakes.

Ethel's eyes stared at the kitchen clock. ‘The next charabanc from Pontrhyl railway station should be arriving on Ponty Square any time now, with our Frank on it.'

‘Now, Ethel love, don't go building your hopes up. We can't know for sure that the lad even managed to make his connection from Cardiff, now can we?'

Ethel sighed. ‘No. But it seems such a long time since I've seen him.'

‘Well, I for one hope he's not too long. I'm starving,' Martha groaned.

‘I'm sure Frank won't be long. While we're waiting, why don't you tell your mother and Mair what a grand day you've both had?' John Jenkins suggested.

‘Mam, it was great,' Sadie said excitedly. ‘The customers were so kind to us. Mrs Williams the farm gave us both a sugared almond and Dai – the fruit man, an apple each.'

‘I hope you both remembered your manners and said thank you,' Ethel said.

‘Yes, you've no worries on that score. They were both a credit to you and it was a joy to have them in the shop.' John Jenkins threw his wife a warm smile. ‘It felt good to show off my new family.'

At that moment the back door opened and they all jumped to their feet. Frank entered and for a while time seemed to stand still. Dressed in his new khaki uniform, with his smart military cap – proudly sporting the plumed coronet of the Prince of Wales, held under his arm, he looked so ... grand and so ... grown up and somehow so ... out of place.

‘Good to have you home, son,' a tearful Ethel said, throwing her arms around him.

John Jenkins reached out and shook Frank's hand. ‘Your mother's right,' he said. ‘It's so good to have you back. I know it's early days but I hope in time you
can
think of this house as home.'

‘Rest assured, home to me will always be where my mam and the girls are.' Frank reached over and affectionately ruffled both girls' hair. He flashed Mair a wicked smile and added, ‘and Mair of course.'

Mair blushed. ‘It's good to see you Frank. And don't you look grand?'

‘Well now, I could say the same about you. I must say, Mair, you look so much better than when I left. I do believe that, at last, you're starting to fill out,' Frank enthused.

Mair quickly pulled her shawl over the small bump that was her belly. ‘Have I? I hadn't noticed,' she lied.

‘She has, hasn't she, Mam?' Frank persisted.

Ethel Jenkins eyed Mair up and down, her eyes stopping at Mair's hands shielding her belly. ‘Well, now that you mention it, yes son. Seeing her everyday, I must admit I hadn't noticed.'

‘Didn't I tell you, Mair, how hard it would be to resist my mother's home cooking? Teasing apart, it's so good to see you looking so well.'
Frank beamed a smile.

Mair felt her colour rise.

‘Can we eat now?' Martha pleaded.

 

After tea, having spent the past hour trying to avoid catching Ethel's eye, Mair asked to be excused from the table and, on the pretence of needing a lie-down, went to her room. Less than an hour later came the knock on the door that she had been dreading.

‘Come in,' Mair reluctantly called.

A solemn-looking Ethel Jenkins entered.

For a while they just stared at each other; then, almost in unison:

‘Mair... .' Ethel said.

‘Aunt Ethel... .' Mair said.

Mair gave a nervous laugh. ‘Aunt Ethel, please let me speak first.'

Ethel nodded.

Mair touched her belly. ‘You've guessed, haven't you?'

‘Yes, child. And I feel daft for not having noticed before. Why didn't you tell me?'

‘I planned to tell you this evening but ... when you told me that Frank was on his way, well, I didn't want to spoil his homecoming.'

‘Mair love, Frank, like the rest of us, will understand that the condition you find yourself in is through no fault of your own.'

‘Pl-ease, you can't tell him! I just couldn't bear it!' Mair pleaded.

‘But surely you must realize that sooner or later it'll become obvious to all?'

‘I know. But does Frank really have to know today?' Mair begged.

‘No, I suppose another few days wouldn't hurt. If it makes you feel better I'll delay telling him until he's due to leave. Will that suit you?'

Mair gave a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you.' She felt that any delay, however short, would give her a few days' grace at least to enjoy Frank's visit.

‘We'll need to let Rhiannon know,' Ethel said.

‘Couldn't it wait until the end of her tour? After all, there's nothing she, or anybody else for that matter, can do to change things.'

‘I think she'd feel hurt to be the last to know, don't you?'

‘What harm could a couple of weeks do, eh?'

 

‘Bloody hell, Mam – sorry, I know you don't like to hear me swearing but ... a baby? It's so unfair. Hasn't that poor girl been through enough? If only I could get my hands on those responsible I'd—'

‘You'd just get yourself in trouble. That's what you'd do! I'm afraid what's done is done and what we need to do now is what's best for Mair. Raking up old coals is the last thing she needs!' Ethel admonished.

‘I know you're right. Has Rhiannon been told?' Frank asked.

‘No. Not yet. Mair wants to delay telling her until nearer the end of the tour and part of me agrees with her. I thought ... now say no if you don't want to, but I thought you'd maybe find out where the tour ends and pay Rhiannon a visit. I'd write to her, but it just doesn't seem right to give such news in a letter. What do you think?'