Swansea Summer (16 page)

He kissed her once more, then, leaving one hand round her waist, led her on. As they neared the village, he spotted lights burning in the Italian café. ‘Buy you a coffee?’

‘The cafés open?’ she asked.

‘The lights are on.’

‘It will be warm in there.’

‘And then we take the train back.’

‘Lazybones.’

Once again silence fell between them, but it was devoid of strain and tension. He wondered why he couldn’t always be like this, simply take what life offered and be grateful for it, like Lily. Instead, he seemed doomed always to question any happiness it brought, too terrified to enjoy it, in case it would be snatched away.

Chapter Nine

‘I’ve asked Ann to clear the outdated files from the system,’ John informed Katie as he returned from the warehouse floor early on Monday morning with one of the assistants from Ladies Fashion. Taking the girl aside, he pointed to the bank of filing cabinets set between his office and Katie’s desk. ‘Remove every file that hasn’t any papers documenting transactions in the last year and place them in alphabetical order in the cupboard in the corridor. If you’re not sure about anything ask Miss Clay.’

‘I will, Mr Griffiths.’ Smiling nervously at Katie, Ann opened the top drawer in the first of the cabinets as John disappeared into his office and closed the door. Katie managed a brief nod, before continuing to type a letter John had given her that morning, the first he’d written out instead of dictating it.

She knew exactly why John had brought Ann into the office and it had nothing to do with overcrowded filing cabinets. He could no longer bear to be alone with her and that knowledge hurt. More than she would have believed possible. She finished her letter and began another. By the time she had cleared her typing in-tray she had made a decision. Glancing at her watch, she looked at Ann.

‘It’s time for mid-morning tea, Ann. Go down to the canteen, ask them to set a tray for three and bring it up here, please.’ As the girl left, Katie rose from her desk and went to John’s office door. Lifting her hand, she rapped on it with her knuckles.

‘Come in.’

Katie deliberately left the door open as she walked into John’s office. ‘Could I have a word, please, Mr Griffiths?’

‘Of course, Miss Clay.’ Not trusting himself to look at her, he kept his attention fixed on the letter he had been trying to read.

‘If it won’t cause too much inconvenience, I’d like to leave half an hour earlier tonight. I’ll work through my lunch hour tomorrow to make up the time.’

‘Take all the time you want, Katie, there’s no need to make it up.’ He set aside the letter but still avoided looking at her.

‘I’d get behind if I didn’t.’ She moved aside as Ann entered with a tray. ‘Set it on the table in the reception alcove, please, Ann, and pour it out. Mr Griffiths takes milk and two sugars, I just take milk.’

‘Yes, Miss Clay.’

Standing back so Ann could walk out ahead of her, Katie murmured, ‘Thank you, Mr Griffiths.’

As Katie returned to her desk, John looked from her to the young girl who brought his cup of tea. Ann was probably only a month or two younger than Katie but there seemed to be years and a wealth of experience between them. Experience he had given Katie, which he was finding it impossible to forget – or totally regret.

Joy stood in the street and looked through the window of her salon. Judy was engrossed in combing out old Mrs Jones’s hair, coaxing it into a style that had been the absolute height of fashion a quarter of a century before. Judy didn’t look happy but there was no trace of the tears she’d shed the previous day – and night. Two other elderly clients were sitting under the hairdryers and the junior was washing the hair of a third. As all the customers were smiling and talking animatedly, her daughter had evidently coped. Pushing open the door, Joy called out, ‘Good afternoon, ladies,’ as she walked in.

‘And a good afternoon to you, Mrs Hunt.’ Mrs Jones, who could be cantankerous when she chose, beamed at her. ‘Your daughter’s a lovely little hairdresser, quick too,’ she added, making Joy feel as though she had always been tardy in doing her hair.

‘I’m glad to hear you’re satisfied, Mrs Jones.’

‘Lacquer, Mrs Jones?’ As Judy glanced at her mother in the mirror she realised she was watching her.

‘Please, Judy, it’s well worth the extra sixpence.’

Judy covered Mrs Jones’s face with a cardboard shield and picked up the plastic squeezy bottle of lacquer. Holding her breath, she squirted it liberally over the waves she’d pinched into shape, only stopping when they were thoroughly coated with a shiny crust.

‘Beautiful, Judy, just the way I like it,’ Mrs Jones complimented her, reaching for her handbag. ‘Same time next week, all right?’

‘Mam?’ Judy looked at her mother.

‘You’ll probably get me, Mrs Jones.’ Joy went to the desk and flicked through the pages of the appointment book.

‘Judy’s not come back to work for you, then?’ Mrs Jones asked, fishing for gossip she could pass on to her neighbours in Hanover Street. Despite all her quizzing, Judy had refused to tell her why she’d returned from London so suddenly. And she had pretended not to hear her when she had asked after her young man, the policeman.

Joy smiled at Judy as she took the half-crown Mrs Jones handed her. ‘We’re opening another salon, in Mumbles, Mrs Jones. I’ve just signed the lease on it. The decorators and plumbers are moving in there tomorrow and if I can get the equipment delivered by Saturday we’ll be opening first thing on Monday morning.’

Joe paid the barman for the pint of beer and cigarettes he had bought. The windows in the pub were set too high for him to see out of if he sat at a table, so he pulled up a stool and perched at the bar. Fortunately, at this time of day he’d never found the pub busy. Four old men sat crouched around the table nearest the fire, playing dominoes. A couple of labourers from one of the building sites on the Kingsway had laid claim to the darkest corner, but as both started nervously every time a shadow darkened the glass in the doors he wondered why they’d bothered to come in, as they were obviously feeling far too guilty to enjoy their drink.

He opened his cigarettes and looked towards the double doors. The top halves of both were glazed, giving him a clear view of the bank opposite. It was almost five o’clock. The bank had been closed for an hour and a half. On Friday, the first of the staff had left about this time but he knew from the number of times he’d sat at this same bar that Lily was always one of the last. She had recently been promoted secretary to the assistant manager. Not an entirely good move from what she had told Helen, because the man was a stickler for rules, regulations and procedure, and insisted on both his and her desk being as clear as possible at the end of every day.

He sipped his pint. There was an odd metallic tang to the beer but he couldn’t stay in the pub without a drink and he always felt men, particularly those who frequented pubs in the afternoon, looked sideways at anyone who ordered orange squash in a bar.

The bank door opened and he was instantly on the alert. Two girls walked out, arm in arm, wearing bright purple headscarves and identical green duster coats. From the back they could have been twins. Chattering, they headed in the direction of the bus station.

He glanced at his watch again before lighting his cigarette. If the bank timetable was running true to form, Lily should be out in the next twenty minutes. He checked his pockets for the peppermints he had bought earlier to disguise the smell of the beer. They would serve coffee and cake in the Kardomah until six. Lily would be tired after her day at work and, after what Martin had said about his finals yesterday, he assumed he’d be too busy for the next week or two to take Lily out. What girl could resist a casual invitation originating from a chance encounter in the street with a friend? Hopefully not Lily.

Katie left the warehouse at half past four. Walking into the nearest newsagent’s she bought a copy of the
Evening Post.
Turning to the Situation Vacant column she scanned it before leaving the shop. Monday was usually a sparse day but there were two advertisements that caught her attention. Folding the paper under her arm, she left the shop and headed purposefully for High Street.

‘Lily, how amazing to see you here.’

‘Hardly, Joe.’ She eyed him suspiciously. ‘I work here.’

He glanced behind her to the bank as if he hadn’t noticed the building. ‘So you do.’

‘You’d forgotten.’

‘I’m just a bit preoccupied. Exams and all that.’

‘Nice seeing you.’

As she turned to leave he touched her arm. ‘Have you time for a coffee?’

‘After Saturday night I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’

‘I want to apologise. I … I had too much to drink. I behaved like an idiot. I would have said something at Mrs Hunt’s yesterday but there were too many people around.’

‘Apology accepted.’

‘We are still friends?’

She hesitated for a fraction of a second. ‘Of course.’

‘Then have that coffee with me to celebrate.’

‘I should go home.’ She sounded half-hearted, even to herself. Katie was never home before seven o’clock and frequently later on a Monday, Wednesday and Friday because they were her overtime nights. And she didn’t want to call in on Judy without her. Her uncle was on afternoons and wouldn’t be home until ten at the earliest, and Martin had warned her last night that he would be swotting all week and most of the next for his exams, and he’d make up for his absence after he had sat the last one.

‘How long will a quick coffee with a friend take?’ Joe smiled disarmingly and she relented.

‘One quick coffee.’

‘If we go to the Kardomah they may have some of those chocolate cream cakes you like.’ He almost offered her his arm, then thought better of the idea. The more distant and gentlemanlike he behaved, the more likelihood there was of her trusting him and building a foundation on which he could re-establish their relationship.

‘And you, of course, hate.’ She laughed, referring to an evening when he had met her from work, taken her to the café and eaten four of the cakes himself.

‘No lady should remind a gentleman of his failings or fondness for sticky cakes.’ His smile broadened as he pushed the café door and held it open for her.

Martin was walking through town on his way home when he glanced into the Kardomah and saw Lily sitting at a table close to the window with Joe. She was drinking coffee and smiling at him while he talked expansively, using his hands as much as his mouth.

He felt as though someone had plunged a knife into his stomach and twisted it. Stepping into the shelter of the porch of a children’s clothes shop opposite, he continued to watch them, contrasting Joe’s immaculately cut, black-and-white houndstooth sports coat and black trousers with the grease- and oil-stained jeans and jacket he was wearing. Joe and Lily looked perfect together. Like the young couples in the advertisements in glossy magazines, who lived in beautifully furnished homes and bought all the right products.

‘Excuse me, young man.’

As he moved to allow the middle-aged woman to pass, he caught a glimpse of the contemptuous expression on her face. He was what he looked, a filthy labourer. Putting his head down, he charged round the corner. Who was he to tell Lily who she could and couldn’t see? Last night she had insisted that it was over between her and Joe – that there was nothing left between them. Had she remembered him telling her on Saturday night that there was no way he’d be able to marry or support her and decided to give Joe another chance after all?

For all Lily’s declarations that she didn’t love Joe, perhaps he should bow out. Despite his hopes to the contrary it was obvious she didn’t love him – if she did, why was she with Joe now …

Then he realised he didn’t have to bow out because Joe was already seeing her again. The only wonder was why Lily had agreed to go for a walk with him last night after his behaviour on Saturday night. Kindness – or did she feel sorry for him? The thought that the only emotion he evoked in her was pity, hurt. But when he compared himself with Joe Griffiths he really couldn’t see why else she would even stop to give him the time of day.

‘Either of you thinking of going to the Pier tomorrow night?’ Judy looked at Katie and Lily as she settled herself in the window seat of Lily’s kitchen.

Lily shook her head. ‘Martin’s too busy swotting and I don’t want to go without him.’

‘You seen him this week?’ Judy took the tea Katie handed her.

‘Beyond shouting “Good Luck” when we pass in the street, no.’

‘What about you, Katie?’

‘I don’t want to go to the Pier full stop.’

‘What a trio we make, one boyfriend between the three of us and he’s too busy to go out.’ Judy gazed at the raindrops sliding down the window-pane as she stirred her tea.

‘You still haven’t heard from Brian?’ Lily passed Katie the sugar bowl.

‘No, nor am I expecting to.’

‘Don’t you think you should write?’ Katie suggested. Certain that Judy loved Brian, she couldn’t understand why she wasn’t doing everything she could to remain close to him. She would have thought a dismal, lonely hostel life in London a small price to pay for an occasional shared evening with John.

‘To say what? “I’m sorry I left London to return to Swansea”?’

‘You must miss him.’

‘A lot.’ Judy swung her legs up on to the seat and curled them beneath her. ‘But much as I hate to admit it, I’m not cut out for the high life of glamour at the BBC, more like the tedium of running a small local salon, which I start doing first thing on Monday morning.’

‘Is it ready?’ Lily asked, surprised.

‘It is. You wouldn’t believe how hard my mother has worked this week to make sure it would be and if you aren’t too busy to take a trip down Mumbles tomorrow you can see it for yourself.’

‘I’d like that.’ Katie sat in the easy chair opposite Lily.

‘Ice creams on me afterwards,’ Lily offered.

‘So’ – Judy looked around the room – ‘it’s back to girl evenings, exactly where we were two months ago before I went away.’

‘Not quite,’ Katie corrected. ‘Helen’s married and Lily has Martin.’

‘You and I are footloose and fancy free.’

Katie tried not to think about John as she parried Judy’s forced smile. At that moment she would have given everything she had and twenty years of her life to be closeted with John, discussing what they would do as soon as his divorce was finalised.

‘Mr Griffiths.’ Katie left her desk as John entered the reception area of the outer office. ‘May I have a word, please?’ She glanced at Ann, who was removing the last files from the bottom drawer of the third cabinet. The girl had taken nine and a half days to clear three four-drawer cabinets; a task she could have accomplished in a fraction of the time.