Two Penn'orth of Sky (37 page)

Emmy sighed but said nothing more. It was useless arguing with Diana; she would just have to redouble her efforts to find somewhere affordable for rent.

‘Emmy! It’s wonderful to see you . . . come on, give us a hug.’

Emmy stepped off the train, virtually straight into Johnny Frost’s arms. Laughing, pink-cheeked, she gave him a quick hug, but stepped back, shaking her head, when he tried to prolong the embrace. It was a fine day in late March and she was going to the
sanatorium for a check-up. Johnny had been coming back to Liverpool to see her most weekends all through the winter, but Emmy knew he would be unable to do so once the holiday season started, and was secretly not displeased at the thought of having some time to herself. Johnny was very good, taking her out for days in the country, always anxious for her welfare and eager to please. At first, she had felt that her Sundays away from the court gave Beryl and Wally more time for their own family, but lately, Johnny’s gentle persistence had made her feel a trifle hunted. He wanted to marry her, to take her away from the bustle of a big city, back to Llandudno where the fresh sea breeze was always with them.

‘You loved me once,’ he had said wistfully only the previous Sunday. ‘Why can’t you love me again?’

Emmy wondered this herself; wondered also if she did love him. She was certainly very fond of him, admiring his hard work in the guest house and the fact that he never lost his temper, but was always patient and kind towards herself. Even when she was rather abrupt with him, he never reproached her. Which was why she had agreed to spend a couple of days at the guest house after her next check-up. It would give her a chance to get at least some idea of what living with Johnny would be like.

So now, she tucked her arm in his and let him take her small case, and lead her towards the station entrance. He smiled down at her, his dark eyes liquid with affection. ‘I did wonder whether you might turn up with Diana in tow. Of course, I’d welcome her because I think we ought to get to know one another better if—’

Emmy interrupted him hastily. ‘Oh, it’s term time, don’t forget, and anyway, Diana is growing quite
useful. Beryl relies on her to take care of Becky when they come out of school. Indeed, she says it’s entirely due to Diana that Becky is learning to read. They never thought she would, you know, but Diana reads her stories very slowly, moving her finger along the lines so that Becky can see the written word and hear the spoken one simultaneously. Everyone is most awfully pleased . . .’ She stopped speaking as Johnny shook her arm reprovingly, aware suddenly that she had been chattering in order to stop him completing his sentence with the words ‘if we’re going to get married’.

‘It’s all right,’ he said quietly. ‘I weren’t going to propose again . . . well, not exactly, that is. I reckon you know how I feel, Emmy, and you’ve got to remember that with me, your health comes first. I know Carl takes you racketing round dance halls, theatres, music halls and the like, because that’s the sort of life he enjoys. I’m not saying he’s wrong, I’m just statin’ a fact. But I’ve changed since I came to live here. I like long country walks, a quiet stroll along the pier of an evening to watch the sunset, a sea-bathing summer and a trip to the theatre at Christmas, when the panto’s on.’

They had been walking down Madoc Street and were now crossing into Chapel Street, and Emmy looked at the neat, clean houses whose brickwork was unsullied by soot, at the gardens where already tulips were coming into bud and the daffodils and narcissi were in brilliant bloom. Even the trees which lined the street were big with bud, their branches swaying gently in the spring breeze. Johnny was quite right, Llandudno would be a good deal healthier, both for herself and for Diana. And she was fond of Johnny, but being fond did not mean you could live with a person.

And that’s what these few days are about, she reminded herself, as Johnny swung open the gate of the guest house. They say you have to live with someone to know them; well, I’m a very lucky girl, because I shall be living in the same house as Johnny without having to go through a ceremony of marriage first!

Next morning, Emmy went up to the sanatorium. Johnny had wanted to go with her; however, Emmy had been polite but firm. ‘You would be very much in the way, my dear old friend,’ she said, and saw him wince, without feeling particularly guilty at the phrase. ‘A good many girls who were in the sanatorium when I was attend this clinic. We talk amongst ourselves, about work, families and so on, which takes our minds off all the tests and X-rays we are there to undergo. I’ve arranged to meet Violet outside the station and we’ll walk up together, so I shan’t be on my own for one moment. Besides, I heard you telling your Aunt Carrie that you would put up some more shelves in the pantry; why not do that today?’

She had to admit that Johnny took his dismissal very well. He smiled, said he quite understood and agreed that he would go down to a local sawmill and purchase the shelving, and would probably actually erect it over the course of the day. Then he waved her off with a cheerful face and Emmy, who was greatly enjoying her stay in the guest house, strolled up to the station feeling at peace with the world. He was nice, was Johnny! Perhaps she would make him a happy man and marry him, live in this beautiful clean town, send her child to the local school. She would learn Welsh, become a member of the WI, bake bread as good as Beryl’s and have half a dozen children.

Her thoughts broke off at this point, making her laugh aloud. How absurd she was being! If she wanted to bake bread as good as Beryl’s, marriage to Johnny was not a necessity. But it might be fun . . . no, not fun precisely. It might be a satisfying sort of life and perhaps, if they were married, love might follow.

She reached the station and consulted the clock. She was ten minutes early, so she went on to the platform and sat down on a green-painted wooden seat to wait. She reminded herself that Johnny was not the only man eager to marry her. Carl now knew about Johnny since Diana, the little wretch, had seen fit to inform him that he had a rival. Carl had been at first incredulous, and then sulky, accusing her of deliberately deceiving him. But his ill-humour had passed and they had settled back into their old routine of having many outings and pleasure trips during his time in port, and writing to each other in between. Carl had met Johnny one Sunday, when they had both come visiting, and Emmy thought that this encounter, oddly enough, had calmed the fears of both parties. Johnny had said afterwards that Carl was a grand feller but not, he thought, ideal husband material. ‘But mebbe I’m wrong,’ he had added hastily, clearly reading the disagreement in her expression. ‘Mebbe he’ll settle down to quiet evenings at home and so on.’

Carl, for his part, said that Johnny was delightful, though obviously not an ambitious man. ‘If you were to marry him, you would be in partnership with the aunt more than with him, because from what he was telling me, she’s the one with drive and ambition,’ he had said shrewdly. ‘And my old mother used to say, “Two women into one kitchen doesn’t go.”’ He
had laughed at her expression. ‘Don’t be cross, my little cherry pie! I am only saying what you must have thought. Johnny is a grand fellow, but he isn’t going to set the world on fire.’

Emmy had said, tartly, that she did not want a man likely to start a conflagration and Carl had laughed and given her a squeeze. ‘Well, Carl Johansson is going places, going right to the top,’ he had said exuberantly. ‘And I’ll take my wife and family with me, you mark my words.’

So now, waiting for the train, Emmy mulled over what Carl had said, and decided he was mistaken in one thing, at any rate; Johnny’s Aunt Carrie was a delightful woman with whom Emmy would be glad to share not only a kitchen, but a life. She was generous and tolerant, and it was plain that the girls who worked in the guest house thought very highly of her. Mr Mac often said that he valued the good opinion of his staff. Most workers grumbled about their boss from time to time, but Emmy knew that everyone connected with Mac’s liked and admired their employer, so that the restaurant was a pleasant place for both staff and customers.

Her reverie was interrupted by a train, steaming to a halt alongside the platform. The quiet vanished as doors opened and passengers erupted from the carriages, Violet amongst the foremost. Emmy jumped to her feet, thinking how well her friend looked. She had put on quite a lot of weight but it suited her, and her smile and the warmth of her embrace convinced Emmy that Violet felt as well as she looked.

‘Emmy!’ she squeaked. ‘Wharra lovely coat . . . and I like the little hat ’n’ all.’ She drew back a little to display her own garments. ‘I know all redheads
go for green, but I thought I’d have a change. What d’you think?’

Violet was wearing a navy blue coat with an emerald green scarf tucked in the neck, and her navy blue hat was trimmed with green feathers. Emmy, in the blue which matched her eyes, admired her friend’s outfit and received Violet’s admiration in return. Then the two of them made their way out of the station and headed towards Hill Terrace and the sanatorium.

Diana and Charlie had made up their difference and were now hand-in-glove once more. Their coldness towards one another had lasted until Christmas, when Emmy had warned her daughter that she was going to receive a present from her small enemy.

‘I don’t want it; I hate him and I want to go on hating him,’ Diana had said fiercely. ‘He’s a horrible boy. He said beastly things, and I like Lenny best, anyway.’

‘You are making life difficult for everyone and Charlie’s sensible enough to realise it,’ Emmy had said quietly. ‘If you continue with this absurd feud, then I shall have to move out, because it’s not fair on Beryl. As you know, we have very little money, but I could afford a bedsit over one of the shops. If you persist in being enemies with Charlie, then that is what I shall have to do.’

It had brought Diana up with a jolt. She had stared at her mother, unable to believe that Emmy would do such a thing. Diana adored living with the Fishers and knew that Emmy did, too. She thought about moving out, living in a cramped, one room flat over a shop, toiling up and downstairs carrying water, a slop bucket, all their food. Her pride had kept the
feud with Charlie going, but deep down inside her she still liked Charlie very much. And since he had bought her a Christmas present, he must still like her too. She looked up at her mother, wondering what was expected of her.

‘Well, young lady? What’s it to be? War or peace?’

Diana giggled. ‘Peace, I suppose,’ she had said, with assumed reluctance. ‘Only I’m not telling him I’m sorry, because it’s
him
that ought to say that.’

‘All you have to do is buy him a Christmas present. I’ll give you some money,’ Emmy had said. Her voice had sounded lighter, almost gay, and Diana realised that the quarrel between herself and Charlie had seriously worried her mother, and felt guilty.

‘Right, but I’ll buy it with my own money, thanks very much,’ Diana had said decisively. ‘I’ll get him something really nice. The only thing is . . . well, I want to buy presents for everyone and I don’t have an awful lot of money saved, because me and Charlie used to earn together and you can’t earn money with someone when you aren’t speaking to them.’

Emmy had smiled. ‘Very well, you buy Charlie’s present from your money and I’ll give you some money to buy the rest of your presents,’ she had said. ‘We’ll start our shopping first thing tomorrow morning.’

Diana had agonised over the present and had ended up buying Charlie a proper fishing rod. It had cost her every penny she possessed, but his pleasure had been worth it. They had grinned sheepishly at one another as they exchanged presents on Christmas morning – Charlie had bought Diana a pink woolly hat and matching scarf – and ever since had reverted, with secret relief, to their old friendship.

The previous day, Charlie had accompanied Diana
and Emmy to the station, carrying Emmy’s weekend bag, though why it should be called a weekend bag, he had said, when she was travelling mid-week, he had no idea.

But right now, school was over and supper was not yet ready, so Charlie and Diana decided to take a stroll along the Scottie. They intended to go to the Penny Rush at the Commodore – the Commy, as they called it – on Saturday, and this necessitated earning at least fivepence, and probably eightpence since they usually took care of the younger ones at weekends, so that Beryl might have a bit of peace and quiet about the house.

Scotland Road was a good place for a kid to earn a copper or two. As they walked, Diana looked rather doubtfully up at the sky above. ‘There’s an awful lot of cloud about,’ she said dolefully. ‘Oh, Charlie, I do hope Mam got on all right at the sanny this morning. But she won’t know the results of the tests and things yet, of course. She said they’ll tell her by letter. Only I do think she looks better, don’t you? She’s working pretty well full-time at Mac’s now, but your mam sees that she comes straight home and rests until supper time, so she doesn’t get over-tired.’

Charlie grunted. ‘She’s doing pretty well,’ he agreed. ‘Shall we try Ellen Turtle? She sometimes lets us have orange boxes.’

‘Ye-es, I suppose we could,’ Diana said reluctantly. ‘But selling chips is such hard work, especially when the weather’s fine, and folk aren’t having fires in the parlour. I’d rather cart someone’s shopping, or deliver parcels, or run messages for the shop ladies.’

‘It’s a bit late for running messages because the shop ladies mostly want us to fetch them in something for their dinners,’ Charlie pointed out. ‘Tell you
what, we could try the ironmonger’s. Old Mr Brown got me counting nails last time I went in. He don’t pay much, but it’s better’n a slap in the belly with a wet fish.’

‘All right, we’ll give it a go,’ Diana conceded, after some thought. ‘It’s not a good time of year for earning money, is it, Charlie? There aren’t many gardens round here, so we can’t offer to weed flower beds, you can’t sweep up leaves in March, because there aren’t any, and it isn’t Christmas, so folk don’t need a hand with carrying huge marketing bags.’

Charlie agreed that this was so, and presently they reached the hardware store. They went inside cautiously, for Mr Brown was a man of uneven temper and was as likely to bawl them out as to offer them a job, but they were in luck. The old man was standing behind his counter, staring balefully at a huge tea chest. He looked up as they entered and his expression brightened. ‘Ah, I remember you, young man,’ he said, indicating Charlie with a pointing finger. ‘Now how about you sorting this little lot out? I ordered three gross of two-inch nails and three gross of one-inch, and they’ve just copped the whole lot in together, so I don’t know whether they’ve sent me the right amount. How about sortin’ them out for me? I’ll pay you twopence.’