Spoils of War (13 page)

‘Ten years later.’

‘At least. You seem to have grown into a good bloke with a fair amount of common sense.’

‘Compared to Alfredo?’

‘Compare a rabid dog to Alfredo and the rabid dog would come out on top. What’s the matter with him?’

‘He’s furious because he was too young to join up before the war ended. He thinks he’s missed out on all the glory and medals.’

‘I would have gladly given him my share.’

‘POWs didn’t have any to share. I think he just feels a bit useless. He couldn’t stay here to help Tina and Gina when the family was sent away because everyone with the surname of Ronconi was a suspect traitor. From what Mama told me he had a rough time in the school he was sent to in Birmingham. The kids couldn’t fight the war but they could beat up the Italian fascist kid. Then he comes back here and first me, then you and now Tony return to push him around.’

‘Put like that you could almost feel sorry for him – until you see him spitting and snarling like a cornered wildcat.’

‘He’ll calm down.’

‘You’ll calm him down more like. What about you? Do you really want to run the restaurant?’

‘I had no choice when I came home because Gina wanted to give it up and to be fair I couldn’t think of anything else I would rather do.’

‘And now?’

‘The work’s all right.’

‘And outside work?’

‘You ran the cafés and restaurant, you know how little time is left.’

‘A little.’

‘You been talking to Tina?’

‘No, but you’ve been a prisoner for a long time. You must have missed women.’

‘There is a girl.’

‘Anyone I know?’

‘The eldest of the Clark girls.’

‘The evacuees Bethan took in and adopted?’

‘She’s training to be a nurse in Cardiff Infirmary. I’m going to ask her to marry me.’ It was the first time Angelo had admitted how much he loved Liza to anyone, including her.

‘Will she say yes?’

‘I think she might.’

Ronnie finished his brandy. ‘I hope you’ll be very happy.’

‘If I make her as happy as you made Diana, I’ll be doing all right.’ Encouraged, when Ronnie didn’t object to him mentioning his wife’s name again, he continued. ‘All Diana could talk about was you. Practically every sentence began with,
When Ronnie comes home …’

‘Yes, well, I made a right mess of that, didn’t I?’

‘As you told the police, it was an accident. The sort of thing that could happen to anyone.’

‘Not everyone tries to kill their brother. If I hadn’t half-strangled Tony, Diana wouldn’t have been in the way when he lashed back at me.’

‘I wish there was something I could do for her – and you.’

‘You could do what I did this morning when I left hospital. Go to church and light a candle.’

‘I haven’t been in a church since before the war.’

Ronnie went to the door. ‘Neither had I, Angelo. See you around.’

Chapter Seven

‘This hill is endless.’

‘You offered to walk me home.’

‘I’d forgotten how far it was and it’s cold enough to freeze a battalion of brass monkeys.’

‘And your muscles are aching, you’re tired and hungry, my bag is heavy …’

‘And I’m a sensitive soul who wants to curl up and die whenever my girlfriend makes fun of me.’ Angelo hugged Liza closer as they trudged towards the top of Penycoedcae Hill. All he could see of her were her eyes, sparkling icy-blue in the frosty moonlight, and the tip of her nose peeping out above her scarf.

‘Who says I’m your girlfriend?’

‘You are, aren’t you?’ he maintained apprehensively. ‘You haven’t been out with anyone else in months.’

‘That you know about.’

‘I thought you spent all your free time in Pontypridd.’

‘There’s always the twelve hours left after I’ve done my ward shift in the Infirmary. Three for studying, an hour for washing, ironing and starching my uniform, another to play with make-up and transform myself into a human being instead of staff and sister’s doormat, that leaves seven for the high life – oh, and I almost forgot sleeping.’

‘I’m serious, Liza.’

He stopped and drew her back, out of the slush of traffic-churned snow and ice, towards a gate set in the hedgerow. As she looked up at him he cupped her face in his gloved hands and kissed her, a slow, gentle kiss that thawed both their lips. Pulling her even closer, he wrapped his arms around her. ‘I told you, it was sewed last night. I’m going to run the restaurant. I’ll have a good wage. We can get married.’

‘Married!’

‘Why not?’

‘I hardly know you.’

‘You’ve known me for nearly a year.’

‘Ten months, which you’ve spent working day and night in the restaurant or café and I’ve spent training in Cardiff. Angelo, I like you –’

‘That’s good to know.’

‘And you can snap out of that huff when you like. I’m very happy to have you for a boyfriend but I want to finish my training and then there’s my sisters.’

‘I thought Bethan John and Mrs Raschenko had adopted them.’

‘That doesn’t make them any the less my responsibility. I promised my dad before he was killed that I’d look after them. I couldn’t have done it without their help, and Mary is very happy working for Mrs Raschenko but Polly and Nell are bright. They may want to stay on in school and if they do, I want to be earning a good wage so I can help them.’

‘And me?’

‘There’ll be more nights like this. A lot more, I hope.’ She locked her hands round his neck and stood on tiptoe, waiting for him to kiss her again. Refusing to be placated he pushed her away.

‘The last thing I want is a long courtship, Liza. I’ve wasted four years of my life as a prisoner in Germany as it is. I want some fun.’

‘So do I. Lots of it before I have to start cooking, cleaning, washing, scrimping and saving, and bringing up kids – and don’t say it’s not like that. Being the eldest, I got lumbered with most of the housework after my mother died.’

‘And we’re going to have loads of fun with you spending six days out of every seven in Cardiff Infirmary.’

‘And you spending six out of every seven in the restaurant and the seventh in the café.’

‘It’ll be easier now Alfredo and I know exactly who’s running what. And once Tony’s recovered and running the Tumble café, I’ll probably be able to wangle every Sunday off.’

‘And I’ll still get only one Sunday off in seven. But do we have to talk about this now, Angelo? I don’t have to be back in the Infirmary until the day after tomorrow. I was hoping we could do something tomorrow night, like sitting in the back row of the pictures and finding somewhere private to talk afterwards.’

‘You know what happened the last time I took you to the restaurant when it was closed.’

‘You cooked me a real egg and chips.’

‘And afterwards?’

‘I said thank you.’

‘I’d like you to say thank you properly, which is why I want us to get married.’

‘And I want to get to know you better, which means a longer courtship. So, do I get the pictures and egg and chips tomorrow evening, or not?’

‘I’ll keep proposing.’

‘I can say no nicely.’

‘Come to the restaurant at half-past six,’ he capitulated, unable to come up with any more forceful arguments as to why she should marry him sooner rather than later. ‘All the staff will have gone by then.’

‘I’ll be there.’

‘And I’ll find something to cook.’ Taking two nights off in a row would mean quarrelling with Alfredo because it was his turn to run the Tumble café, but if he offered a two-night stint in exchange for one, Alfredo would take it and it would be worth the sacrifice. He smiled down at her – definitely worth it.

‘More potatoes, David?’

‘No, thank you, Bethan. That was a fine meal but if I eat any more I won’t fit into my uniform.’

‘So, what exactly are you doing in Pontypridd, David?’ Andrew handed his plate to Bethan and sat forward, anticipating David’s explanation.

‘Looking for some of the six million tons of equipment our army mislaid in Wales.’

‘Mislaid?’ Andrew raised his eyebrows.

‘The US army’s not naive, Andrew. The million or so tons of canned goods have gone for good. I have no intention of prying into the pantries of good Welsh citizens. What we’re most concerned about are our missing Jeeps and,’ he made a wry face, ‘guns, tanks and rolling stock.’

‘Tanks and rolling stock? You mean railway wagons? You can’t be serious?’

‘Unfortunately I am. I know how ridiculous it sounds but we can’t find them anywhere.’

‘I can understand why criminals would steal guns but why on earth would anyone take tanks and railway wagons?’ Bethan returned from the kitchen with a gooseberry pie she’d made from home-grown and bottled fruit.

‘That’s what I’m here to find out.’

‘At least they’re big enough for you to recognise when you see them,’ Andrew observed drily.

‘If they haven’t been repainted or broken up.’

‘Gooseberry tart?’ Bethan held it up in front of both men.

‘Please. I remember the children picking them when I was here, and Maisie and Megan teaching Dino how to bottle not only gooseberries but all the other fruit you’d grown. It seemed to involve heating the kitchen with pans of boiling water to steam bath temperature and a lot of quarrelling. You ended up sneaking into the pantry to steal a loaf of bread and jam to make the children sandwiches because there was no chance of anyone making anything other than preserves that day. What did the children call the gooseberries now – gos goggs, wasn’t it?’

‘That’s right.’ Bethan cut a large slice and lifted it carefully on to a plate. ‘I’ve only custard, I’m afraid, no cream.’

‘I love your custard.’

‘You didn’t when you first came here.’

‘Perhaps I’ve learned to adapt.’

‘Or be uncommonly polite,’ Andrew suggested cuttingly, furious at David’s intimate knowledge of his family and their home life. If the man was out to make him feel like a stranger in his own home – and to his own wife – he was succeeding.

‘David doesn’t have to be polite here,’ Bethan interrupted sharply, taking care to cut Andrew a slice of tart of equal size to the one she had given David. Cutting a smaller piece for herself she resumed her seat wondering why she had gone along with Andrew’s suggestion that it would be a good idea to invite David for a meal. He’d done nothing but snipe at the colonel since he’d turned up. Even the bottle of bourbon David had brought had elicited only the barest and gruffest of thanks.

Silence, tense and embarrassing, closed in on the table as they passed round the custard jug.

‘Bethan tells me you’ll be living in the Park Hotel,’ Andrew said at last.

‘The brass is of the opinion that it will work out cheaper than renting rooms and an office. They’ve given me a kind of suite with a bedroom and a small separate room with a desk, filing cabinet and telephone, so I’ve nothing to complain about.’

‘It
is
one of the best hotels the town has to offer.’

Bethan jumped up as she heard the front door open. ‘Liza, darling,’ she cried as she went into the hall, ‘how lovely to see you. We weren’t expecting you.’

‘I swapped shifts with a girl who wanted to go to a wedding next week. I hope you don’t mind, Auntie Bethan, but I asked Angelo in for a warm. He walked me up here.’

‘All the way from town?’

‘Unfortunately,’ Angelo confirmed dolefully from the hall.

‘Don’t stand out there, Liza, Angelo, come in,’ Andrew called, as pleased as Bethan that they’d been interrupted.

‘You remember the colonel?’ Bethan asked, as Liza followed her into the dining room.

‘Of course. Hello, Colonel Ford.’

To Andrew’s annoyance Liza kissed the colonel’s cheek, reinforcing his opinion that David Ford was far too familiar, not only with Bethan, but with every member of his family.

‘Mrs John’s been telling me that you’re studying nursing in Cardiff.’

‘That’s right, in the Royal Infirmary.’

‘Hello, Bethan, Dr John, Colonel Ford. I’ve left your case in the hall, Liza.’

‘Thank you, Angelo.’

‘Come in, sit down here, close to the fire,’ Andrew pulled two chairs from the table.

‘Are you hungry?’ Bethan asked. ‘I could heat up some soup.’

‘No thank you, Auntie Bethan. Angelo made me a meal in the café.’

‘But you’ll both have some gooseberry tart and custard?’

‘With a bourbon chaser.’ Andrew picked up the bottle David had brought from the sideboard.

‘Just a small one, Dr John.’ Angelo sat down feeling more like a gauche sixteen-year-old schoolboy than a twenty-three-year-old restaurant manager. One of the reasons he wanted to marry Liza as soon as possible was his uncertainty about courtship and all its mysterious rituals. He was never sure just how far it was permissible ‘to go’ with a decent girl before marriage, because the years he should have spent finding out such things had been taken by the army and later the Germans.

He had known Bethan all his life, and Andrew John since their marriage, but it was the first time he had been invited into their house with Liza. And although he suspected that Bethan and Andrew knew he spent as much time with Liza as their respective jobs allowed, he was plagued by the thought that he should have formally asked for their permission to court her.

‘Has Ronnie told you the latest news about Tony?’ Andrew asked.

‘Yes, he called in the café this afternoon with Billy and Catrina.’

‘Angelo and Ronnie’s brother has pneumonia. He’s in the hospital,’ Bethan explained hastily, hoping neither David nor Angelo would mention their conversation in the café the day before. Andrew was jealous enough of David as it was, without knowing she’d spent time with him.

‘But thanks to penicillin, he’s making a remarkable recovery. You can tell your mother and Ronnie that Tony can receive visitors tomorrow but no more than two, or the sister will have my head on a plate.’

‘And Diana?’ Angelo asked.

‘There’s still no change there, I’m afraid. But that goes for change for the worse as well as better.’

‘We’re hopeful.’ Bethan passed him the whisky Andrew had poured.

Angelo glanced uneasily at Liza. ‘Would it be all right if I took Liza to the pictures tomorrow night, Dr John?’ he blurted out.

‘As she’s the one involved I think you’d better ask her.’ Bethan cut the remaining tart into two pieces, lifted them on to plates and handed them to Liza and Angelo. ‘You have two days off, Liza?’

‘I don’t have to be back until late Wednesday afternoon, ready for the night shift.’

‘Your sisters will be pleased.’

As the conversation moved easily into small talk about Liza’s nursing training, her sisters’ progress at school, and the difficulties of getting supplies of food for the cafés, Bethan frequently caught David’s eye. It wasn’t that he was staring at her, in fact she sensed it was rather the opposite – that he was trying to avoid looking at her. She couldn’t help contrasting the strained atmosphere between the three of them, before Liza and Angelo had walked in, with the free and easy one yesterday afternoon in the park.

Was it so unreasonable of her to want to keep David as her own special friend and to enjoy his company occasionally without Andrew’s presence? Then she saw Andrew watching her every move and decided that whether it was unreasonable of her or not, her husband would definitely think so.

‘A pint of beer, Judy, and a drink for yourself if you want it.’

‘Ta, Glan, you’re a real gentleman.’ She beamed at the porter from the Graig Hospital as she reached for a mug. ‘You’re late off shift.’

‘Don’t talk! I’ve been trying to get away for the last four hours. Two of the night porters sent round sick notes so I was “persuaded” to stay on. When I joined up I was given every promise in the world that my job would be kept open for me. Now I’m back, I’m on the same money I was before I left. Bloody juniors who weren’t fit to wipe my boots then have been made supervisors over my head and they see to it that I’m given every mucky mess to clear and every twilight shift that comes up. If I refuse to sort them or work on when they want me to, I’m warned,
“It’s last in, first out, Glan.”
“Land fit for heroes” my arse. If you weren’t a lady I’d tell you exactly how knackered I feel.’

‘Language!’ the landlord shouted from the bar.

‘Sorry, Dick.’

‘I should think so. You just come off duty?’ He joined Judy at the side hatch that opened into the corridor where Glan was standing.

‘Unfortunately, but I’ve been here in spirit for the last couple of hours.’

‘Don’t suppose you know how Ronnie’s wife or young Ronconi is? The missus was in the café this afternoon. From what she heard there isn’t much hope for either of them. The coppers and gossips can say what they like. I think it’s a crying shame to think of a young mother like that lying in hospital with her head cracked open and a young lad who’s fought all through the war, upping and dying of pneumonia when it’s over. Makes no sense, no sense at all.’

‘From what I heard, they’re both holding their own. Tony a bit better than Diana. But you know the Ronconis: they’re all pretty tough.’