Family Pride Read online

  She wasn’t a bad kid, he mused, and fair play, she didn’t bother him much any more. He’d made her feel foolish with his stupid remarks and wished he could rub them out like letters on the school black-board. When he had cleared up after the baking he put on his jacket to go home. In the pocket his hand touched the ribbon he had taken that night when she had been to Cardiff with his mother. It was strange how different she had seemed that day. With slight embarrassment, he put the ribbon back in his pocket.

  Walking home, he went through the lane where Gilly had walked to deliver Granfer’s message. Singing at the top of her voice was Megan Moxon. She was wearing a hat on her untidy hair that looked suspiciously like the one that matched Gilly’s old-fashioned coat.

  The following day he saw Gilly again. She was walking through the main street towards the bus stop, purse in her hand, taking out coins, holding one in her teeth while she struggled for another. He was on his bicycle, having just delivered bread to a café near the docks.

  “Going somewhere nice, then?” he asked, unconsciously brushing back his hair.

  “I’m going down the beach for a walk!” she sounded angry. “I can’t stand that place another minute!”

  He dismounted and walked beside her. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Had a row with your Mam?”

  “Perhaps, doesn’t everyone?”

  “Most people do, I don’t. Mam and I get on fine. I argue a bit with Dad, mind.”

  She longed to tell him what was wrong but was afraid that, once they reached the corner, he would turn away from her leaving the story half told. She didn’t look at him although she longed to. She knew she would see that bored expression, the glazed look in his fine hazel eyes, his regret at stopping to greet her.

  “Wait while I tell Mam and I’ll come with you,” he offered.

  She knew she was blushing. Hiding her face by bending her head so she could hardly be heard, she said, “All right, if you want to.”

  “Come on, then, come and say hello to Mam.”

  Shirley Green was in the kitchen, prettily dressed in a flowery apron over a slim-fitting, pale lemon skirt and blouse, stirring something over the stove. She greeted Gilly with affection.

  “Gilly, love, come in, want a drink of pop?”

  When will I be offered tea? Gilly sighed inwardly. She shook her head and smiled.

  “Going over the beach we are, Mam. Just for a walk. I think Gilly needs some fresh air and I could do with a bit of a stretch.”

  “Sandwiches! I’ll make you some sandwiches, I’ve got a bit of lettuce and tomato, flavoured with some pepper it’ll go down a treat.” She busied herself at the table and laughingly said, “Don’t tell that Granfer Jenkins, mind, kill you he will for eating off a Green’s loaf!”

  The reason for Gilly walking out of the house in an unhappy rage was Gerry. He had failed to get up to take his turn and revive the fire, so the baking was late, the bread didn’t rise as it should and everything had been in uproar, with Granfer shouting down and demanding to know why he hadn’t heard the ovens being raked, and guessing something was wrong.

  Gilly had been hauled out of bed to help and without even a cup of tea to help wake her, she was set to knocking up the first batch of dough that had been mixed in the trows the previous evening to rise slowly. The best bread of the day, Granfer always said.

  In the yard the clopping of hooves reminded them all that Ianto was impatient to begin his day’s work. Upstairs Granfer heard it and fumed.

  When there had been a moment, Gilly had taken the old man a cup of tea and had surprised him prowling around the top floor looking out of the window to see if he could understand what had happened. He had made her promise not to tell the others.

  “Tie me into the sheets they will if they know I’m disobeying the damned doctor. And what does he know about my lungs? Stronger than his they are if his Sunday singing is anything to go by!”

  Gerry had arrived breathless, giving the impression of having run all the way and was full of apologies and excuses. By the time the first stage of the day’s work had been finished, Gilly was tired and with the tiredness came anger.

  By the time she and Paul had reached the wide crescent of sand and foaming sea and she had begun to explain, her anger had vanished. The disastrous beginning to the day had become nothing more than an amusing incident and she told the tale with exaggeration and light-hearted laughter.

  They stopped to look down at the sands from the rocks of the headland, drawn to the edge for a look at the sea that, while being a familiar sight, still filled them with excitement for that first glimpse. The wide sea was empty of ships and Gilly thought of her uncles out on its quaking surface and wondered how they dare trust their lives to the fragile inches-thick barrier of steel that was their only protection from death. They heard distant gun-fire and she shivered and was afraid for them.

  They weren’t the only ones for whom the sea was an attraction that chilly October day. There were still families defying the approach of winter, settled on the beach like huge flowers with their late summer dresses: the spread of abandoned clothes, towels, picnic baskets and toys adding circle after concentric circle around them.

  They ate the sandwiches Shirley had prepared. From his coat pocket Paul drew a couple of apples. “I’ll go and fetch you a bottle of pop to wash it down, shall I?” he offered.

  Why pop, she thought miserably, just when Paul seemed to be realising she was a young woman and old enough to be invited to take tea in one of the beach cafés that still remained open for the last of the season’s trade. Old enough to be invited out for tea and he offers her pop as if she were a small child.

  “No thanks, the apple’s fine.”

  They removed their shoes and walked along the shore, watching as group after group gathered their belongings and departed. Paul’s shoes stuck out of his pockets and she carried hers, with the laces tied, across one arm.

  “You don’t like Gerry being a part of the firm, do you?” Paul said as they turned at the swimming pool built out of the rocks and filled by the tide. “Not many men like him, mind, jealous they are of his good looks and charming ways, but most women seem to love him.” Yes, she thought, Maisie Boxmoor for one! “But not you?”

  “My one dread is that Mam will be foolish enough to marry him.”

  “He isn’t that bad, is he? Gave up his job to help you until the uncles come back from the war. Generous that was, for sure.”

  “I wonder. More likely he hated the job and was glad to find an excuse to leave. Regular hours and being kept away from women by a wide bank counter is hardly likely to make him happy!”

  The beach was slowly emptying, the few brave family groups packing up and walking bare-foot up to the promenade carrying their assorted belongings. The sun threw lengthy shadows and gave a reminder that evening was approaching with its chill wind and complete darkness. The tide was receding, leaving the rippled area of sand that was filled with warm shallow water during the day but which now struck cold against their bare feet.

  “Best we head for home,” Paul said. “We don’t want to be stuck out here if there’s an air-raid. Feel better do you, for the walk and the blow of fresh sea air?” And for talking to me, he almost said, but thought it sounded too vain. “Come on, there might be time to buy you a glass of pop before the stalls close. Like a glass of pop, would you?”

  “No thanks,” she sighed.

  He paid her fare on the bus and they sat almost without talking as it droned its way back through the town. He walked her to the turning into Bread Street where they would separate.

  “See you soon, Gilly,” he said as he waved. He went home pleased with himself, thinking he had done a good turn for the girl who was obviously unhappy with the turn of events in her family. Thank goodness his own home was happy. The thought made him feel quite boastful, as if his happiness was something he could take full credit for.

  * * *

  Fanny was brisk with her daughter when she
arrived home. “Hurry up, girl! Gerry will be here in a minute and there’s me not ready. See to the dishes will you, and I’ve promised Granfer a cup of tea and a scone this half hour and haven’t managed to get it.” Back to earth, Gilly thought, with the proverbial bump.

  The house was hushed by the time Gilly’s chores were done. She helped Auntie Bessie prepare supper, leaving the boiled potatoes and left over vegetables cut ready to fry into bubble and squeak. She was glad of the silence, she wanted to sit and think about Paul. The hours spent in his company had been an unexpected delight, but there had been an inexplicable formality about his treatment of her, almost as if he were giving a small child a treat. Especially with his offers of pop!

  Bessie was sitting with her tortoise-shell glasses on the end of her nose, listening to the wireless and sewing a hem around an opened out linen flour sack in which Canadian wheat had been delivered. She spent a lot of time boiling them to remove the lettering, ironing them, then embroidering them to make table-cloths which she gave to the Red Cross to sell for funds. Ivor was out – no one knew where – and Gerry was at the pub from where he had promised to bring home a bottle of cider for Bessie and her mother and himself to have with their supper. A knock at the door made Fanny jump up and exclaim that Gerry was always forgetting his key, but it was Dai Smoky and his parents and with them was Sticky Vic, all friends of Granfer. Gilly looked at the bubble and squeak and wondered how Auntie Bessie would make it share between them all.

  The meal was abandoned and they all ate rounds of toast made against the bars of the fire, Granfer being carried down for a special treat so he could enjoy the company.

  Gerry returned and later was sent round the corner for fish and chips and a couple more flagons of beer and the evening ended in an impromptu party, Gerry clearly taking on the role of host. Smoky Vic, with the agreement of and his wife, Edna, promised to help in the bake-house until the boys came back. Sticky Vic, disabled with arthritis and breathless with weak lungs, insisted that he could still whitewash the walls and wash down floors. Even Edna offered to do what she could to help. Gilly guessed their enthusiasm would be somewhat dulled by morning.

  Leaving them to talk their dreams and reminisce, which was all old people seemed to do, Gilly excused herself saying she was tired and went to her room. She dozed off, tired after her busy day and the early start to it. When she woke she went to knock on Granfer’s door to say goodnight. He was sleeping and she tip-toed away.

  Undressing in the cold room she thought of Paul and uneasiness crept over her. He had been told to be nice to her, that was it. Shirley Green had felt sorry for her and as well as forcing her Mam to let her have a decent coat, she had asked Paul to be kind to her. Burying her head in the cold pillow she wished she were dead.

  Waking into the silence of early dawn she at once realised the clock wasn’t ticking. She had forgotten to wind it! Going to the window she looked out. A moon hung in the sky that was as black as the curtain she had pushed aside. It must be the middle of the night.

  She listened but there was no sound either in the house or outside. Feeling for her slippers and putting on her dressing gown she went out onto the landing. She daren’t light a candle in case she woke the others but the torch she always kept by her bed showed her when she reached Granfer’s room. He must have seen the thin beam under his door because he called softly, “Gilly, is that you, girl?”

  “What time is it, Granfer?” she asked as she opened his door.

  “Half past midnight and you should be sleeping.”

  “Want a cup of tea? I’ll be ever so quiet.”

  “Hang about, girl. I’ll come down with you.”

  “No, Granfer! Don’t even think about it. You’ve been down once today and you’ll be made worse and there’s me hoping you’ll soon be better!”

  “Damn me, girl, you talk like one of them machine-guns! Come on, help me find my dressing gown and my slippers are under the bed. I haven’t seen the books this week and I want to know for why!”

  Unable to refuse him, Gilly offered her arm and they went down the stairs and into the back kitchen. The gas wall light was on low and Gilly made sure the windows were covered with the black-out curtains before pulling the thin chain and increasing the light. Granfer sat in a chair and watched as she made a pot of tea, then, in whispers, they drank two cups each and talked.

  “I think you’d better go back to bed now, we don’t want to be here when Dai Smoky arrives to revive the fires,” Gilly warned.

  “Not yet. I want to go to the bake-house.”

  He refused to listen to her pleas to return to his room and pulled her out across the yard and into the bake-house. He didn’t put on a light but, using her torch to guide them, led her through the bake-house to the small room beyond where he had a desk, shelves and cupboards and where, until his illness, he had dealt with all the paper-work of the business.

  He was silent for several minutes while his sharp eyes read through the current pages of the various books. Several times he shook his head and pursed his lips in disapproval, and when he put the books back in the draw he tutted.

  “Losing customers we are, Gilly, and damn me, if we lose them we lose the allocations of fat, sugar and the rest, don’t we? We’d have one hell of a job to get it back, too. Filling forms and answering damned fool questions we’d be ’til long after Hitler’s been put in his place. You’ll have to keep a sharper eye on things.” He took a piece of paper from a pad and wrote down the names of the customers they had lost. “Go and see them for me and ask them to give us another chance, there’s a lovely girl. First opportunity tomorrow is it? Can’t waste time.” After talking to her about the business for a while, he began to reminisce and she was too enthralled to stop him, even though she knew the time was fast approaching when the bakery would start its busy day.

  “Gramps,” she said, interrupting his tale of how he had won Gran from Nathaniel Green, “we must go back or we’ll meet Mam and Auntie Bessie in the passage.”

  They went back through the house, Gilly quickly tidying away the evidence of their night-time prowling. Up the stairs, oh so slowly, and back to their rooms. She insisted Granfer put his socks on to warm his feet and he nodded agreement with a smile of satisfaction on his pale face. Tucking him in, she smiled in the darkness and kissed him good-morning. But once outside the door the smile faded. She hoped she hadn’t harmed his already precarious health.

  * * *

  As Gilly settled down to doze away what was left of the night, Lucy and her mother rose and silenced their alarm clocks. They washed, dressed and while Lucy went down to the kitchen on the ground floor to make tea, Polly began on the gloves they were making for an order to be delivered that day. As they worked and watched the light in the room distort with the coming of morning, Lucy was wrapped in thought. She and Teifion had been out together twice now but on the previous day he had walked towards her as she made her way past Cardiff Castle in the town centre, with a couple who might have been his parents and, instead of stopping to introduce her, he had walked on as if he hadn’t seen her. She wondered if their brief friendship was ended, but surely he would have told her, or simply not made another date? The glove being fashioned in her skillful hands was almost completed and she sighed as she put it down to measure against its partner.

  “What is it, love?” Polly asked. “Fed up with gloves are you? Never mind, we’ll be back to collars and flowers tomorrow.” Lucy told her about Teifion’s behaviour and Polly smiled.

  “Shy of telling his mam and dad about you for sure. Lots of young men are teased when they start courting.”

  “Hardly courting, Mam.”

  “Well, whatever. See if he mentions it next time you meet.”

  “If there is a next time.”

  “Plenty more out there if he doesn’t call. And when the boys get home from the war there’ll be such a rush. And you’ll have such fun. Fighting them off you’ll be. Best for you not to be tied before you have some fu
n.”

  Although she had known Teifion for a short time, Lucy didn’t want to have fun, except with him. She completed the gloves and changed into her best clothes to go and deliver them. Perhaps she would see Teifion, he knew where she would be this morning. But she didn’t see him, not for several weeks.

  * * *

  After finishing her work in the house, Gilly asked if she could go out for an hour.

  “An errand for Granfer,” she told them. Taking the names of the customers from her pocket she set off to ask politely if they were satisfied with their new baker or if they would give Victor Jenkins and Sons another chance.

  At each house she called it was the same story. All of them had changed to Green’s, and their reason was the same, too. They had all had been asked, by Dai Smoky, to pay for bread they had already paid for. In each case, also, the person they had paid was Gerry Daniels. He must have forgotten to enter the payments that was all. She brightly assured them it was all a mistake and explained that with him new to the firm and with the uncles away fighting for King and country, there were sure to be a few difficulties.

  With the amounts carefully entered beside each name, she went back to the shop, pleased with her afternoon’s work and looking forward to telling Mam and Granfer what she had discovered.

  Gerry was in the living room behind the shop, stretched out reading a newpaper.

  “Gilly, what about a cup of tea?”

  “No thanks,” she said, deliberately misunderstanding him. “Where’s Mam?”

  “Slipped out for some milk. She spilt what we had. Clumsy she’s getting. Enough for some tea mind, if you fancy making a pot.”