Swansea Summer Read online

  ‘You want me to go next door?’

  ‘To do what?’ Jack asked his brother.

  ‘You’re right. It’s Helen’s family’s problem.’

  ‘Only until twelve o’clock,’ Jack muttered darkly.

  ‘It’s my day and I don’t want her at the Register Office or wedding breakfast and that’s an end to it.’

  John had taken Helen into the kitchen to tell her that Esme was in the living room, so she deliberately raised her voice in the hope her mother would hear.

  ‘She is your mother, Helen,’ John reminded her mildly, feeling he ought to say something in his estranged wife’s defence, lest Esme accuse him, yet again, of driving a wedge between her and the children, although she’d expressed no desire to have either of them move out to her mother’s house with her when she left.

  ‘All she’s ever done is belittle me and try to make me look stupid.’

  ‘If I have, I am sorry for it, Helen.’ Esme pushed open the kitchen door but was careful to remain in the hall. ‘I heard you arguing with your father,’ she explained. ‘The last thing I intended to do was to upset you on your wedding day.’

  ‘Then why did you come here?’ Helen demanded.

  ‘To bring you these.’ Esme removed two envelopes from her handbag. Inching round the door, she laid them on the Formica kitchen table. ‘They are cards from your grandmother and me. We want to wish you well in your new life.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘I am sorry, Helen, the last time I saw you I said some things I shouldn’t have. The only explanation I can offer is that I was shocked and worried for you. You are my daughter. I don’t expect you to forgive me but when you are a mother you may understand why I said what I did.’

  ‘And where did you get that speech? Your last production in the Little Theatre?’ Helen turned her back on her mother and stared resolutely out of the window.

  ‘Helen, darling …’

  ‘You upset Jack.’ Helen would have died rather than admit her mother had upset her more.

  ‘For which I am trying to apologise.’ Making an effort to ignore Helen’s antagonism, Esme changed the subject. ‘You really do look very lovely. That is a beautiful costume, it is so well-cut and the blue matches your eyes. Your hair looks perfect …’

  ‘You won’t get round me by flattery.’

  ‘I wasn’t flattering you, simply speaking the truth. Please open the cards.’

  Imagining how miserable he’d feel if the situation were reversed and Helen’s anger was directed at him, John picked them up and handed them over.

  ‘We thought cheques would be best. You can pay them into your bank account and buy whatever you want.’

  Helen tossed them back on the table. ‘I’ll talk to Jack. He may not want to accept yours.’

  ‘Helen, I really am very sorry if I hurt or upset you or Jack in any way. If it will help I’ll apologise to him as well …’

  ‘It’s a quarter past eleven. Judy’s waiting to pin on my hat.’ Turning, Helen pushed past her mother and ran up the stairs.

  ‘Please, Helen,’ Esme called after her. ‘May I come to your wedding?’

  ‘There’s no room for you in the cars,’ Helen shouted from the landing.

  ‘I could call a taxi.’

  When Helen didn’t answer, John went to the foot of the stairs. ‘Your mother is waiting. What do you want me to tell her?’

  ‘That she can do whatever she likes, as long as she doesn’t expect me or Jack to talk to her.’

  ‘Thank you, John, don’t bother to call a taxi, I’ll do it.’ Esme went to the hall table.

  ‘It’s obvious Helen doesn’t want you to come.’

  ‘She’ll change her mind,’ Esme assured him glibly as she picked up the receiver.

  ‘And if she doesn’t?’

  ‘I’ll see her married, drink a toast to my daughter and her new husband, and leave.’

  ‘Without making a scene.’

  ‘It’s other people who make the scenes.’

  ‘Only because you push them, Esme.’

  ‘It’s Helen’s wedding day.’ She hesitated, as she looked him in the eye. ‘Can’t we at least pretend to be friends?’

  ‘You’re the actress.’

  ‘You won’t even meet me halfway,’ she murmured seductively.

  ‘Not any more.’ He went to the top of the basement stairs. ‘If you’ll excuse me I have to warn Joe that you’re coming to the wedding.’

  ‘How is he? I haven’t spoken to him in weeks.’

  ‘You find that surprising?’

  ‘Not when I consider he lives with you.’ Hearing John’s sharp intake of breath, Esme gave him a brittle smile. ‘Sorry, that wasn’t intended to sound the way it came out.’

  ‘One more comment like that, Esme, and it’s you who will be out. And for once I’ll have no compunction about making a scene.’

  ‘I promise I’ll be the soul of tact and discretion.’

  As John ran down the stairs, he was already regretting that he hadn’t ordered her out of the house.

  The ceremony in the Guildhall’s Register Office was brief and devoid of the emotion Helen had come to associate with the few church weddings she had attended. It was also very much smaller. Martin was best man, Lily bridesmaid, and apart from Jack’s friends and hers there were only her parents, her mother’s cousin Dorothy Green, who had closed her hat shop in Sketty for an hour so she could attend the ceremony, and Lily’s Uncle Roy, invited by Jack, because Roy had been more of a father to him than his own ever had.

  Expecting to, but feeling no different than she had done when she had walked into the room with her father ten minutes before, Helen kissed Jack, her father, Martin, Lily, Judy, Katie and Auntie Dot, while studiously ignoring her mother. At a prompt from the Registrar, who had his eye on the clock and the next party, her father led the way outside.

  Martin and Lily produced confetti, her father and Roy took a few photographs and she and Jack were showered with paper petals and shouted congratulations as they ran to the car Jack had booked to take them to the Mackworth Hotel where her father had reserved a private room for the wedding breakfast.

  Helen stood back in amazement. ‘A Rolls-Royce!’

  Jack kissed her cheek. ‘Nothing’s too good for my bride.’

  ‘It must have cost a fortune.’

  ‘Martin knows a few people in the trade.’

  ‘All the same, Jack …’

  ‘Mrs Clay.’ Jack squeezed her hand as he helped her into the car. ‘Happy?’ he asked, as they drove off.

  ‘I thought I’d feel …’

  ‘What?’ he asked anxiously, hoping he hadn’t done anything to disappoint her.

  ‘Different. More married.’

  He patted the inside pocket of his suit that held the certificate and kissed her ringed finger. ‘What more proof do you need, Mrs Clay?’

  She looked at him as though she were seeing him for the first time, slim, dark, impossibly handsome, with black curly hair and deep-brown eyes; as attractive as his brother Martin but with a sharper, more volatile edge. The first time he had asked her to dance he’d seemed dangerous, unpredictable, as befitted an ex-Borstal boy, but if there had ever been any danger outside her imagination, there was no evidence of it now. His eyes were calm, quiet and loving – so very, very loving.

  ‘I love you, Mrs Clay.’

  ‘And I love you, Mr Clay.’

  ‘That’s all right, then.’

  ‘I’m sorry about my mother. I told her I didn’t want her to come …’

  He kissed the tips of her gloved fingers. ‘We’ve done a good job of ignoring her so far, we’ll just carry on.’

  ‘I told her we would.’

  He squeezed her fingers again. ‘The train leaves at two.’

  ‘The suitcases …’

  ‘Martin and I dropped them off at the station. Have I told you that you look beautiful in that costume?’

  ‘Twice, but you ca
n tell me again.’

  The car slowed to a halt outside the hotel, a porter stepped forward and opened the door. Jack offered her his arm. They were led upstairs to the function room where silver and porcelain gleamed on white damask tablecloths.

  Helen barely had time to glance at the table decorations before the door opened behind them and Martin came in with Lily, followed by her mother. Jack put his arm protectively round her waist. In an hour and a half they’d be on the train. If anyone could help her to forget her mother and the angry bitter things she had said it was Jack. And soon they’d be alone.

  Smiling determinedly, she took the glass of champagne the waiter handed her and allowed Jack to lead her to the top table where her father, Lily and Martin were waiting.

  Chapter Three

  ‘… and I know Jack will do all he can to make Helen happy.’ Martin waited for the ripple of applause to subside. ‘Now, ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasant duty to propose a second toast to a beautiful girl who has been an invaluable help to the bride – and the best man.’ Martin smiled with relief as he finished his short speech. He raised his glass to Lily. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the bridesmaid, Lily Sullivan.’

  Joe shuffled to his feet and lifted his glass along with the other guests. His father had allowed Helen and Jack to opt for an informal seating arrangement that had resulted in Martin and Lily sitting next to one another, scuppering his hopes of commandeering Lily and persuading her to take back the engagement ring he had bought her.

  He had brought it with him, along with plans to drive her in his father’s car to Three Cliffs Bay after the reception, so he could formally propose a second time. After they’d reaffirmed their love for one another, he’d pictured himself slipping the solitaire on her finger, kissing her, and watching the sun set over the sea, before returning home and changing into evening clothes for the Saturday night dinner dance in the Langland Bay Hotel. The hotel had a few vacancies left – he had checked before leaving the house. He would have ordered champagne, a red rose for Lily …

  Lily’s laughter – light, silvery – shattered his daydream. Seeing her with Martin was like receiving a slap in the face. She couldn’t have made it more obvious that she was enjoying the lout’s company. The only break in their conversation had been when he had made his speech.

  ‘I see Lily Sullivan has sunk her claws into Martin Clay now.’ His mother crumbled the slice of wedding cake on her plate between her manicured, be-ringed fingers.

  ‘They are bridesmaid and best man,’ he reminded her pointedly.

  ‘Then they aren’t going out together?’

  ‘If they are it’s none of my business.’ Joe took care to sound offhand, although it had hurt more than his pride when he had seen Martin bringing Lily home late one night shortly after she had broken off their engagement. He’d even risked rousing Helen’s curiosity by asking her about their relationship. She’d told him it was just a casual date but the way Martin was looking at Lily now was anything but casual and he couldn’t bear to see someone as special as Lily throw herself away on an uneducated boor like Martin Clay.

  ‘Have you applied to schools for a teaching post, Joseph?’

  ‘No,’ he answered sharply. Too sharply, he realised, when Roy Williams, who was sitting on his mother’s right, gave him a stern look. But then Roy didn’t know how angry he was with Esme, and not just because of his parents’ impending divorce. Shortly after she’d left, he’d discovered John Griffiths wasn’t his biological father and, as if that weren’t enough, Esme had categorically refused to reveal the identity of the man who had fathered him.

  ‘You’ll be graduating in a couple of months. The best schools fill their vacancies quickly. If you don’t apply soon …’

  ‘I’m going to work for the BBC,’ he said, cutting his mother short and rising from the table. Before the door swung shut behind him he heard Lily’s laughter again. It sliced into him with a pain that was almost physical; stifling his breath and sending his heart pounding erratically against his ribcage.

  Was she deliberately trying to hurt him? Did she want to make him suffer or … Or … That was it – it had to be. Why hadn’t he realised before? It was obvious now he had thought of it. Lily was using Martin to make him jealous. She loved him. She had told him so many times when they were going out together that she loved him and only him. No man or woman could switch off the intense feelings they had for one another. Lily hadn’t stopped loving him. She was simply trying to teach him a lesson. Well, two could play at that game …

  No!

  He’d wait – and patiently. He’d use the time to prove he was worthy of her. That he could take whatever punishment she chose to mete out stoically and uncomplainingly. He touched the ring in his pocket. It would eventually be back where it belonged, on her finger. In the meantime he would concentrate on his degree so he would be in a position to command the best possible salary that, together with the interest from his trust fund, would keep Lily in luxury, style and comfort, the elegance that the likes of Martin Clay could never aspire to – and which no girl in her right mind could possibly turn down.

  ‘It wasn’t easy for me to come here today,’ Esme confessed to Roy, feeling the need to explain her presence.

  ‘I shouldn’t imagine it was,’ he replied ambiguously.

  ‘But a mother’s place is with her daughter on the most important day of her life. Don’t you agree?’

  Roy nodded, although given John’s and Joe’s thinly veiled antagonism and Helen’s refusal even to acknowledge her, he wondered why Esme had made the effort.

  ‘Lily seems happy.’ Esme leaned back as a waiter approached their table with a fresh bottle of wine. ‘Is she going out with Martin Clay now?’ she probed transparently.

  ‘She and Martin have been friends since they were children,’ Roy observed abruptly. He hadn’t forgotten Esme’s rage when she discovered that Joe had bought Lily an engagement ring.

  ‘And Katie Clay looks happy with that policeman.’

  ‘Sam Davies.’ Roy looked across to the table Katie and Sam were sharing with Brian, Judy and a pale Adam Jordan. He smiled as Katie moved Brian’s glass of wine closer to Sam so he could drop a plastic spider into it. ‘Not that there’s anything there either, Esme, they’re just youngsters out for a good time.’

  Esme frowned as Joseph returned. Instead of taking his seat opposite her and Roy as she’d expected, he pulled a spare chair between his father’s and Helen’s. As Helen made room for him, Esme glanced back to Katie’s and Judy’s table. The plastic spider was lying abandoned on the tablecloth and Brian, Sam and Adam were deep in conversation with Judy. Part of, yet separate from, the group, Katie sat with her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her hands and staring at Joseph with an expression of absolute love and devotion.

  Incensed, Esme studied Katie until there was no doubt in her mind. The girl was clearly besotted; she had succeeded in extricating her son from one unfortunate entanglement, only to see him fall prey to another unsuitable girl. And with Jack moving into the house with Helen, it would give Katie an excuse to call at all hours of the day and night …

  She turned back to Joseph. Apparently oblivious to Katie’s loving look of adoration, he was engrossed in a discussion with John but that didn’t mean he would remain immune to Katie’s wiles. No matter how socially disastrous a relationship might be, few men – or in Joseph’s case, boys – could resist the flattery and adulation of a young and, much as she hated to admit it, almost pretty girl.

  Mousy, nondescript Katie Clay had blossomed. She had been a scrawny, runny-nosed, scruffy child in her hand-me-down clothes but since the death of her parents she had acquired a veneer of assurance and sophistication along with her salon-styled hair.

  No doubt the secretarial job John had given her in the warehouse and the staff clothing discount helped. The fine wool russet costume she was wearing was the height of fashion without being showy, and the nipped waist and wide-shouldered cu
t of the jacket and voluminous folds of the skirt disguised her figure which, as far as she could tell from her wrists and ankles, was too skinny for beauty. The tan hat and matching veil brought out golden-brown highlights in her hair – strange that she had never noticed them before. Perhaps Katie’d had the highlights ‘done’. Not that Joseph would notice if Katie’s hair was dyed. Men only saw the effect, never the artifice. The problem was how to warn Joseph against Katie’s intentions without infuriating him and driving him into not only ignoring her advice, but also Katie’s arms.

  Esme wasn’t the only one watching Katie. John Griffiths had scarcely taken his eyes off her during the meal and realised that during the past few weeks she had transformed herself from the tongue-tied, insecure, badly dressed waif he had taken ‘on trial’ to replace his secretary. Smiling, confident, she looked happy and beautiful as she laughed and joked with Judy and the boys. He knew she had rejected Adam’s advances but this was the first time he had seen her with her brothers’ new flatmate.

  Tall, with light-brown hair and grey eyes, Sam Davies was a good-looking young man, the perfect match for the new Katie and not only in looks. As a policeman he earned decent money and, according to Roy, had excellent career prospects. There was no denying they made a handsome couple. Just like Judy and Brian, Martin and Lily and – he glanced at Helen sitting beside him – his daughter and Jack. Not that this was the way he would have chosen to have her married, at eighteen and pregnant, but given the situation he’d seen little point in making another scene like the one Esme had engineered. He glanced across at his wife, noted the sour expression on her face and wondered if she enjoyed making him and her children miserable.

  ‘We’ll have to leave in ten minutes if we’re going to catch the train, Helen.’ Jack held out his hand to John as he rose from his chair. ‘I can’t begin to thank you for everything, Mr Griffiths. I only wish there was something I could do for you.’

  ‘Just make Helen happy,’ John answered gruffly, fighting the presentiment that the road lying before Jack and Helen was a rocky one as he shook his hand.