Swansea Summer Read online

  ‘If I don’t, it won’t be for lack of trying.’

  John reached for his stick as he left his chair. ‘I’ll warn everyone you’ll soon be off.’

  ‘So they can throw more confetti.’ Jack brushed a few paper petals from the top of Helen’s hat.

  ‘It’s their way of making sure you won’t be bored. It’ll take you until London to pick it out of your hair.’

  ‘Thank you, Daddy.’

  As Helen gave him a hug that took his breath away, John realised she hadn’t called him ‘Daddy’ since she was a small child. Without even a backward glance at her mother she left the room.

  ‘You look every inch the perfect bride,’ Judy reassured, as she secured Helen’s hat with a pearl-headed pin.

  ‘There’s no straggly bits of hair?’

  ‘Not a one.’

  ‘The train won’t wait, not even for a bride,’ Martin shouted from the corridor.

  ‘We know,’ Judy called back.

  Helen checked her reflection in the mirror. ‘Thank you, Judy. All of you.’ She hugged each of them in turn.

  ‘Judy, Lily, hurry up.’ Brian knocked on the door.

  ‘The boys obviously don’t know how to throw confetti without you,’ Helen joked as Judy opened the door. Katie lingered, holding on to the door handle as if she couldn’t decide whether to follow Judy and Lily, or stay with Helen.

  ‘I’ve always wanted a sister.’ Helen kissed her cheek.

  ‘So have I.’ Katie smiled.

  ‘And isn’t it great that we’re already friends. We’ll have to set aside one night a week for us to have a chat. Like every Friday or something.’

  ‘And Jack?’ Katie asked.

  ‘We’ll send him and Martin down the pub. It will be our sherry night.’

  ‘I’d like that.’ Katie opened her handbag and pulled out a packet of confetti. ‘I’d better share this out.’

  ‘Most of it goes over Jack, right?’

  ‘I’ll give it to Judy along with your instructions.’

  ‘Our first sisterly secret.’

  As Katie left, Helen picked up her gloves and handbag from the chair. The door opened again and she looked up to see her mother standing in the doorway.

  ‘I hoped I’d catch you alone.’

  ‘I’m on my way out.’ Helen stood back, waiting for her mother to step aside.

  ‘If there’s anything you want to ask, or ever need advice …’

  ‘You’d be the last person I’d go to,’ Helen broke in resolutely.

  ‘Helen …’

  ‘I won’t forget the things you said about Jack and me when we told you we were getting married.’

  ‘I’ve apologised.’

  ‘Saying sorry isn’t enough.’

  ‘You’re going to need a mother in the coming months.’

  ‘No more than I’ve needed one in the past and you were never around then. If you’ll excuse me, the train won’t wait.’ Hoping her mother wouldn’t notice she was shaking, Helen swept past and ran down the stairs. Esme went after her, but she hung back and watched from a distance as Jack helped Helen into the back of John’s car, festooned with blue paper chains and a homemade Just Married sign.

  Before climbing in, Helen embraced Lily, Katie and Judy with more warmth than she had ever shown towards her. The boys threw confetti again; then, to the rattle of tin cans that had been tied to the bumper, John drove up High Street towards the station.

  ‘Take care of her.’

  ‘I will, Mr Griffiths.’ Jack shook his father-in-law’s hand again. ‘What’s this?’ He held up the bundle of notes John had pressed into it.

  ‘Fun money. London’s an expensive place. Don’t go spending that on anything sensible. If you’re tempted, give it to Helen. She knows how to waste it better than anyone.’

  ‘I had hoped that could remain our secret, Dad.’ Helen kissed her father’s cheek. ‘And thank you for a lovely wedding.’

  ‘Enjoy yourselves.’ He waved as Jack picked up their cases from Left Luggage and followed Helen on to the platform.

  ‘Coach G.’ Jack looked up and down the length of the train. ‘There it is, straight ahead. You all right?’

  ‘Now I’m away from my mother, brilliant.’

  ‘Really?’

  She beamed at him. ‘The honeymoon starts here. Race you to our seats.’

  ‘That’s not fair, I’m carrying the cases.’

  ‘And I’m carrying your son,’ she shouted, not caring who was listening, ‘but you don’t hear me complaining.’

  Esme returned to the private room to find it empty apart from a solitary waiter who was clearing plates and boxing leftover wedding cake. She collected her jacket and went to the ladies’ room to touch up her make-up and apply more scent. Confident she looked her best; she stood at a window that overlooked the street. A few minutes later John parked outside. She went downstairs to find him untying the tin cans.

  ‘You saw them off.’ The comment was superfluous but she felt the need to break the silence between them.

  ‘As far as the gate to the platforms,’ he replied tersely.

  ‘Has everyone left?’

  ‘They’re in the lounge bar. I thought we could have a drink.’

  ‘As soon as I’ve settled the bill I have to go to the warehouse.’

  ‘Surely not on your daughter’s wedding day.’ She waited for him to answer and when he didn’t, murmured, ‘We don’t have to stay here, John, we could …’

  ‘I’m meeting new suppliers in half an hour.’ Not wanting to remain with her a moment longer, John tossed the cans and Just Married sign into the boot of the car and limped as quickly as he could to the door, almost barging into Roy in the passageway outside the bar.

  ‘Everyone seems to have adjourned downstairs, John.’ Roy put his hand in his pocket. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’

  ‘Thanks, Roy, but not now. As soon as I’ve paid the bill I have to go into work.’

  Roy looked from John to Esme who was watching every move John made. ‘Tonight, then?’

  ‘I’ll be in the Rose. And thank you for coming.’

  ‘My pleasure. Jack and Helen make a handsome couple. I hope they’ll be very happy.’

  ‘So do I,’ John agreed fervently.

  Roy tipped his hat. ‘Esme.’

  ‘Goodbye, Roy, and thank you.’

  ‘Why did you thank Roy?’ John asked after Roy had left, incensed that Esme had adopted the role of hostess after inviting herself to the wedding.

  ‘Because he was kind and talked to me when everyone else ignored me.’ She’d hoped to prick John’s conscience but he remained unperturbed. ‘We do have things to discuss …’

  ‘We have nothing to discuss,’ he interrupted, sensing a scene brewing and hoping to quash it. There was enough gossip in Swansea about their separation without Esme starting a quarrel in the doorway of the lounge bar of the Mackworth.

  ‘The divorce …’

  ‘I pay our solicitors handsomely to do the talking for both of us.’

  ‘If we went over a few things it might lessen the bills,’ she suggested in a sickly sweet voice.

  ‘It’s worth every penny to get things straight and watertight.’

  ‘I don’t want to be difficult …’ She faltered as his mouth settled into a thin, hard line.

  ‘Then don’t.’

  ‘You can’t simply throw away twenty years of marriage, John.’

  ‘What twenty years? We haven’t lived as man and wife since Helen was born.’

  Esme bit her lip; this wasn’t going the way she’d intended at all. ‘You know full well that was down to my health.’

  ‘And now all of a sudden you’ve made a remarkable recovery.’

  ‘What if I said I wanted to try again?’ He’d reduced her to pleading and she hated him for it.

  ‘I might have listened eighteen years ago, but not now, Esme.’ Expecting her to walk out of the hotel, he stepped into the bar but she trailed behind him.r />
  ‘How can you be so hard?’

  ‘You were the one who walked out on me,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Only because you made it impossible for me to stay.’

  As the area around the doorway was comparatively deserted, John crossed his arms, leaned against the wall and faced her head on. ‘I rather think you did that when you began to spend your nights with other men,’ he said quietly, hoping to embarrass her into leaving.

  ‘The Little Theatre is very time-consuming, especially when you direct …’

  ‘I’m not stupid, Esme.’

  She eyed him coolly. ‘No, you’re not.’

  ‘It will be easier if we see as little of one another as possible, given that we’re about to become grandparents to the same child.’

  ‘You mean it will be easier for you, John.’

  ‘I can’t say I’m enjoying this conversation.’ He fell silent as a man and woman walked into the bar and glanced their way.

  ‘And the children?’

  ‘I’ve never stopped you from seeing them.’

  ‘You don’t exactly encourage them to contact me either,’ she criticised.

  ‘They’re adults now, Esme, they make their own decisions.’

  Katie looked up from the table where she was sitting with the others, saw John standing next to the door with Esme and assumed he was leaving. Making her apologies, she picked up her handbag and joined him. ‘I’m ready to go to the warehouse whenever you are, Mr Griffiths. I only have to get my coat.’

  ‘You’re a good secretary but you’re not indispensable, Katie.’ Angered by Esme, John realised he’d sounded brusquer than he’d intended. ‘I’ll ask one of the supervisors to make notes during the meeting,’ he added in a conciliatory tone. ‘Go and enjoy yourself with the others.’

  ‘I really don’t mind.’

  ‘Judy’s only home for the weekend.’

  Sensing she’d interrupted something, Katie looked from John to Esme, ‘In that case, thank you, Mr Griffiths. I’ll see you on Monday morning. Goodbye, Mrs Griffiths.’ Turning, she rejoined the others.

  Taking advantage of the interruption, John went to the door.

  Laying her hand on his shoulder, Esme made one final, desperate attempt to put her plan into action. ‘You’re going, John. Just like that.’

  ‘I told you I have to pay the bill; the manager’s waiting. Shall I ask reception to call you a taxi?’

  ‘I’ll walk. I need to pick up a few things in Lewis Lewis’s.’ Dropping the veneer of politeness, she hissed, ‘You really are an absolute bastard.’

  ‘A moment ago you wanted to discuss reconciliation.’

  ‘Only because a divorcee’s position in this town is untenable. You have no idea what it has been like for me since I left Carlton Terrace. The only invitations I’ve received since I moved in with Mother have been for charity coffee mornings and even at those, most of the women cut me dead. I’ve become a social pariah.’

  ‘You have the Little Theatre.’

  ‘I’ve been asked to resign from the committee.’ Her hands shook as she pulled on her gloves. ‘Once the women discovered we’d separated, they assumed I’d be after their husbands.’

  ‘And you aren’t.’

  ‘That’s cheap even for you.’

  ‘Sorry, Esme,’ he said wearily, ‘but I can’t help you. I never was a social animal.’

  ‘I know, it’s just that I thought if we could come to some arrangement …’

  ‘The same arrangement we had for the last eighteen years, where you go out with as many men as you choose, while I pay your bills and sit at home at night with the children?’

  If ever he’d needed evidence that she had never loved him, it was in her face at that moment. She didn’t even attempt to conceal her contempt – or rage. ‘You’ve seen to it that Helen has married beneath her. Don’t think I’m going to do nothing while you let Katie Clay move in …’

  ‘Katie,’ he interrupted hoarsely, his mouth suddenly dry.

  ‘You think I don’t know what’s going on?’ She looked towards the table where Katie was sitting with Lily, Judy and the boys.

  ‘She’s my secretary and a damned good one.’

  ‘But she intends to be a whole lot more.’

  ‘You’ve an evil mind, Esme. I warn you, if you try to drag the name of an innocent girl through the mud, you’ll be hearing from my solicitor.’ Tired of her vicious tongue, her attempts to manipulate him, her contempt, but most of all her presence, he walked away.

  Esme glanced around the bar as the door swung shut behind him. Katie, Lily and Judy were apparently engrossed in conversation with the boys. If they had overheard her argument with John they were tactfully ignoring it. There was no sign of Joseph. Feeling superfluous and unwanted, she pushed open the door of the hotel and walked out into the Saturday crowds thronging High Street.

  ‘What do you want to see first in London?’ Jack wrapped his arm round Helen’s shoulders. They had the carriage to themselves but as they hadn’t yet reached Cardiff to take on passengers from the capital; he intended to take full advantage of their privacy while he could.

  ‘Harrods.’ She snuggled close to him. ‘You?’

  ‘The Tower.’

  ‘You’re having me on.’ She tried to read the expression on his face.

  ‘I am not.’

  ‘You’re interested in history?’

  ‘I am, especially the gory bits.’ He linked his fingers with hers. ‘A lot of people had their heads cut off in the Tower.’

  ‘I think they’ve buried the bits by now.’

  ‘In the Tower, or so I’ve read, and that means their ghosts could be walking around.’

  ‘In daylight?’

  ‘It’s possible; ghosts have been seen at all hours of the day and night. Madame Tussaud’s have a display of murderers. Martin went there on one of his leaves. He told me that they have a guillotine and an axe and execution block as well as mock-ups of prison cells.’

  She shuddered. ‘You go there, you go by yourself.’

  ‘I didn’t know you were squeamish.’

  ‘And I didn’t know you were a ghoul.’

  Pulling the blind on the window to the corridor, he lifted her face to his with his fingertips and kissed her. ‘There’s a lot we don’t know about one another. It’s going to be fun finding out.’

  ‘Someone could walk in,’ she murmured, as his hand slid beneath her jacket.

  He glanced at his watch. ‘Another two and half hours before we get to London, I’m never going to hold out until then. You?’

  ‘If we start our honeymoon in a railway carriage we’ll get arrested.’

  ‘Not necessarily.’ He pulled her to her feet. Opening the blind, he looked up and down the corridor.

  ‘What are you up to?’

  Holding his finger to his lips, he slid back the door and led her to the end of the carriage. A man walked past them, turning his head to get a second look at Helen. Jack glared at him and he disappeared into a carriage. ‘Quick.’ Opening the door to the toilet, he pulled Helen in and locked it after them.

  She looked into his eyes and they both burst out laughing. ‘You’ll get us thrown off the train,’ she murmured as he slid her jacket over her arms and hung it on a hook on the back of the door.

  ‘Not if we’re quiet.’ Undoing the buttons on her blouse, he pulled down her bra straps. ‘God, you’re beautiful.’

  ‘I love you.’ She slipped out of her skirt and hung it over her jacket.

  ‘And I love you back, Mrs Clay. With every inch of my soul – and body.’

  ‘Sea-green, sky-blue, rose-pink, lemon, whole sets and all in your size.’ Katie gave the assistant a conspiratorial smile as she laid a bra, suspender belt and petticoat on the counter in front of Judy.

  ‘It’s an awful lot of money,’ Judy murmured doubtfully.

  ‘But they’re quality and wash beautifully,’ Lily said practically. ‘And this is a lovely colour.’


  ‘Sorry you bought the pink set now?’ Judy asked.

  ‘Not at all. I’m thinking of getting another in blue.’

  ‘You’re not serious.’

  ‘Why not?’ Lily looked around at the racks of frocks and blouses. ‘I’m earning good money. It’s time I splashed out on a few clothes, like a new dress for tonight.’

  ‘Our afternoon and evening frocks are over there.’ Katie indicated the back corner of the warehouse floor.

  ‘“Our”’ Judy teased.

  ‘Our.’ Katie repeated. ‘I love working here and I’m proud of our stock.’

  ‘I’ll take the blue set, please.’ Lily set them aside.

  ‘I’ll have them wrapped and ready for you to pick up at the cash desk, madam.’ The assistant beamed at Katie as she folded them.

  Judy hesitated, but only for a fraction of a second. ‘And I’ll take the green, please.’

  ‘Miss Clay?’ The assistant looked enquiringly at Katie.

  ‘Maybe next week, Miss Evans.’

  ‘Spoilsport,’ Judy grumbled, as they walked over to the dresses. ‘You brought us here; the least you can do is join us in our extravagances.’

  ‘You haven’t seen what I’ve bought since I started working here.’

  ‘Katie has a fantastic wardrobe,’ Lily complimented her. ‘Why don’t you dress for tonight in our house, Judy, then you can see it?’

  ‘I’ll call in for a few minutes but I have to go home. Brian’s coming for tea.’

  ‘And your mother’ll be working.’

  ‘It is just tea, Lily. Will you look at that rust and white polka dot. It’s gorgeous and only forty-two shillings but I haven’t any shoes that will match it.’

  ‘Shoe department is behind you,’ Katie advised.

  ‘I won’t have any money for rent if I carry on at this rate.’

  ‘What do you think of this?’ Lily held up a crimson shawl-collared cotton dress with a belted waist and wide skirt.

  ‘Stunning, and the colour will look great on you. I wish I could wear red,’ Judy answered wistfully.

  ‘Don’t tell me you still hate your hair.’

  ‘Half the staff in the BBC call me “Ginger”.’

  ‘If you don’t answer to it, they’ll stop,’ Lily counselled.

  ‘Besides, your hair isn’t ginger, it’s …’

  ‘Auburn.’ Judy pulled a lock forward and examined it. ‘I wish.’