The Homecoming Read online

  ‘What about I call for Molly, she’d be glad to come and join the party, eh?’ Billy added.

  ‘I’ll go,’ Tomos said and within a minute of them arriving, feet clattered down the stairs, through the kitchen and out, boots ringing on the stone steps, their voices raised to reach Lydia as she stood by the window.

  What was the matter? Why hadn’t Glyn rushed and hugged her and smothered her with kisses? Surely the presence of the others hadn’t stopped him? It never had before. She stood there, the excitement draining from her like a leaking balloon.

  Detenninedly concealing her disappointment, she went down to the kitchen and cut more bread. Four extra to feed, she forced her mind to deal with practicalities. Thank goodness she’d bought an extra loaf. There was a sponge cake, a tin of fruit, ice-cream, that would have to do.

  She was still in the kitchen when the brothers returned with Molly. She was tense, waiting while Tomos and Molly went straight up to find a seat around the table. Now, at last she’d be alone with Glyn. She turned to look at him, her arms already raising to hug him, but he backed away. She failed to hold back a gasp of dismay as, without more than a half-smile, he followed them.

  Carrying the extra plateful of bread, Lydia went up, finding every step was agony, wondering how she would sit through this meal with Glyn treating her so distantly. Seven months was a long time to be parted, but it surely didn’t explain this?

  Annie was helped down the stairs and sat for a while, playing with her food before complaining of backache and returning to her bedroom. The awful evening continued, Lydia afraid to look at Glyn, knowing something was wrong, listening to Billy and Gimlet reminiscing and coaxing stories from the others, trying to join in the laughter.

  She dealt with the food like an automaton, hardly aware of what was being said. Every time she went downstairs to the kitchen for further supplies she expected Glyn to offer to help, to follow her down, embrace her, kiss her, tell her how glad he was to be home. But she alone dealt with the meal, like a paid servant, she thought bitterly. The others seemed apart, enjoying the unexpected party and seemingly unaware of her distress.

  Billy went to fetch a couple more flagons and it was after eleven before Molly, Gimlet, Tomos and Glyn all stood to leave. At the door, Glyn avoided her attempt to take his hand and only whispered, ‘Tomorrow we must talk,’ before following the others down the wide stone steps that would take them down to the seafront.

  What had happened? Why had loving letters become ordinary and ceased altogether? What had changed in the seven months he was away? Had he found someone else? No, he would have been honest enough to tell her. She looked at her father dozing in the armchair. She knew that he had cheated on her mother, people talk in a small village and everyone knew Billy Jones had been with other women. And she and Glyn weren’t even married, so there was less dishonour in him finding someone more attractive.

  ‘Did you notice how quiet Glyn was, Dad?’ Lydia asked when Billy was outing the fire before going to bed. ‘I have the feeling something is wrong.’

  ‘Never. Just a bit shy that’s all. You and he haven’t met for months and only letters to keep you in touch. It’s natural he’s a bit quiet, and with all of us here – damn me, girl, I didn’t think! Bringing them all back here when you and Glyn wanted to be alone.’ He didn’t tell her it was Gimlet and Glyn’s persuading that had made him invite them. ‘What a thoughtless old fool I am!’

  Lydia wanted to believe him.

  ‘Billy?’ Annie’s wavering voice called. ‘When you coming up? You know I won’t sleep till you do.’

  ‘Now in a minute, Annie,’ Billy called back patiently.

  ‘Tell Lydia not to make a noise. I won’t sleep a wink if she disturbs me when I’m off, mind.’

  When Billy had gone to bed, Lydia sat for a long time in the living room. She wondered if her father still found solace for his lack of a marriage in other women, and thought not. He was hardly out of her sight. He only went to The Pirate with Gimlet or sat with herself and Annie and, on occasions, Auntie Stella.

  She crouched closer to the comforting warmth of the dying fire. She had dreamed about Glyn’s homecoming for so long and now it had happened and had been nothing like she had imagined. They hadn’t even kissed. After seven months apart it was such an anticlimax she wanted to cry. She was too wide awake to think of sleeping, so, careful not to disturb her mother, she made herself a cup of tea and sat, imagining tomorrow’s meeting as a series of wonderful, romantic moments. As dawn crept across the sea around the sides of the curtains and invaded the room, she slept.

  * * *

  Both Lydia and Molly worked on a market stall in the centre of town. Molly sold soaps and toilet requisites and Lydia sold knitted garments, some of which she made herself. All that following day, Lydia watched the kaleidoscopic crowds wandering through the varied stalls, expecting to see Glyn making his way towards her. At five o’clock he still hadn’t come.

  The last half hour dragged by and even when she left Molly keeping an eye on her stall to go and buy vegetables and meat for the evening meal, there was still a lot of time left to stand watching, waiting for Glyn. So many people asked her about Glyn, forcing her to invent reasons and excuses that she was more relieved than disappointed when it was at last time to fix the canvas around the stall and go home.

  Getting the bus home was the usual crush and she and Molly had to stand, separated by several people. Speaking in hissing whispers as the bus trundled its way around the curve of the bay from town, out to the village nestling against the sea, they discussed Glyn’s non-appearance. Molly suggested he was so upset about the lack of privacy the previous evening he was home, planning a surprise evening out.

  ‘I hope you’ve got something quick to cook for supper,’ Molly grinned as they alighted at the bus stop below Lydia’s house into the face of a rising wind. ‘You won’t want to waste too much time cooking if Glyn’s waiting, eh?’

  But Glyn wasn’t there and her father hadn’t seen him either. Determined to speak to him, Lydia went to the Howes’ terraced cottage facing the sea and with its back to the castle, but the house was deserted. Gimlet appeared later in the evening to walk to The Pirate with Billy but he shrugged when asked and insisted he knew nothing of Glyn’s movements.

  It was two more days before Glyn finally appeared, late one evening, when Lydia was settled listening to the radio and sewing up a newly completed cardigan.

  The knock at the door was unexpected. Billy was already in bed. Prepared to see Molly, she gasped with surprise to see Glyn filling the doorway. He wasn’t smiling and he made no attempt to kiss her, he just said, ‘Hello,’ and walked in through the kitchen and up the stairs to the living room. Flustered at his casual greeting, Lydia made a cup of tea in the downstairs kitchen before going up to join him. Putting down the tray she attempted a joke.

  ‘So long since I saw you, do you still take sugar?’

  ‘Lydia, I don’t want to work on the taxis with Tomos and Dad.’

  ‘Oh, I thought you had arranged it all?’

  ‘It can be un-arranged, can’t it?’

  She sat down, tense and frightened. Was he going to tell her he was not leaving the navy after all? That she would face months of separation, time and again in the years ahead? ‘Well, so what?’ she said. ‘There are plenty of other things you can do.’

  ‘And I don’t want to come here and live with your mam and dad,’ he added as if she hadn’t spoken.

  ‘Then we needn’t. I’ll have to live somewhere close, mind. Dad and Auntie Stella will still need my help with Mam after we’re married.’

  ‘Lydia, there’s no easy way to say this. I want to cancel our plans to marry next year.’

  ‘Well, there’s no hurry. Give yourself time to settle into civvy street first, is it?’

  ‘I mean cancel for good. I – I don’t want to marry you.’

  ‘Glyn!’

  ‘There’s someone else, see. Cath is a girl I met six mo
nths ago and she and I – well. I know I can make her happy and – she needs me and… Sorry, I know I should have told you before this, but it isn’t something I could put in a letter. I had to face you and try to explain.’

  ‘No need to explain anything. It isn’t as if we’re even officially engaged, is it? You and me, we’ve known each other since we were babies and—’ Her attempt at being matter-of-fact failed. In a choking voice she added, ‘I think you’d better go now. We’ll talk again but for now I—’ she ran from the room, her hands over her ears shutting out his plea for her to listen to his explanations.

  ‘Oh, Lydia, why do you have to make such a row?’ Annie wailed. ‘Woken me up proper you have and what a night that’ll mean.’ Lydia thought that her mother wouldn’t be the only one to suffer a sleepless night.

  Although it was late, she put on a coat and went back down stairs. Glyn had gone and she waited for a few moments to make sure he was out of sight then slipped out of the door, down the steps and onto the seafront.

  The wind which had been gaining strength for days was rattling anything that was loose, prising weakened fabric from the older properties, beating a rhythm with a piece of broken shop blind and accompanying it with percussion from chinking metal and ropes slapping masts on the boats along the front.

  There were few people about, as it was past midnight but she walked, staggering occasionally as an unexpectedly powerful gust hit her, and made her way to Auntie Stella’s house. If, by any good fortune a light showed, she would knock and talk to her about Glyn’s change of heart.

  The house was in darkness. The bow window, which revealed its previous use as a shop, was black, not even a chink of light slipped through. She stood for a moment at the gate, wondering if her aunt was still awake and would respond to a gentle knock. She decided not and turned to look up at the castle. Such a pity it was closed. She forced her mind away from Glyn and considered trivialities.

  The old castle was a popular place for people in the summer and even in winter, when there was a weak sun, they would come and sit to eat their lunchtime sandwiches, sheltered by its great walls. The children would miss it too. Ignoring warning notices and ‘Keep Out’ signs, they had climbed in via a window or by trusting the blanket of ivy, to play inside the shell; robots, aliens and other villains filling the air, the television heroes forming the basis for exciting games. She wished stupidly that she was a child again, free from the disappointments of growing up.

  Now, as she stared up at the ancient building, her unhappiness created a less cheerful image. The ruin looked frightening, a storehouse of a thousand dark secrets, and she shivered. Trees were bending in the strong wind, groaning in their agony and their shadows danced behind street lights. It was a night when stories about ghosts haunting the place could be willingly believed.

  She was hidden from view tucked in the shadow of the gate and seeing the figures staggering down the slope leading down from the castle entrance made her press herself closer into the wall. Ghosts! They must be, her foolish mind insisted. These weren’t shadows of trees. The figures were distinct and making their way purposefully to the gate across the narrow road from where she stood. Afraid to breathe, she watched with rising fear as the shadowlike figures became recognisable as two people. But they couldn’t be real, flesh and blood people, some atavistic hysteria insisted.

  Her feet refused to obey her when she felt the need to run, and she pressed more tightly against the ivy-covered garden wall. Then laughter rang out; a man’s laughter. And someone said, ‘Hush you daft ’aporth, you’ll wake the neighbours,’ and she knew the voice.

  ‘Molly?’ she called.

  Perched on top of the castle gate, now without its recently placed wire-netting, one of the figures stopped. The other, close behind, turned and ran back up the slope towards the castle. ‘Molly?’ Lydia called again.

  ‘Hush, Lydia! Want to wake your Auntie Stella do you?’

  ‘What are you doing in there? And at this time of night!’

  ‘Don’t be soft, girl. What d’you think we’ve been doing, making daisy chains?’

  ‘That man,’ Lydia said as Molly came to join her, ‘your new boyfriend, is he?’

  ‘Been following us, then?’

  ‘Of course not! I couldn’t sleep and came hoping to find Auntie Stella still up.’

  ‘Seen Glyn then, have you?’ Molly asked with sympathy in her voice. ‘Spoken to you about – things? There’s sorry I am, Lydia.’

  ‘He’s told me we’re finished but, how did you know?’

  ‘I-I saw, who was it now?’ she frowned. ‘Oh, yes, your dad and Gimlet were talking. They said Glyn was coming to find you and tell you it’s all over between you. Sorry I am, but if he isn’t sure, then it’s best for you to find out now rather than when you are married. There’s a mess that would be for sure. Being married to someone you don’t love is no joke, believe me.’

  Lydia knew that Molly’s parents had separated and, after living with an aunt for a few years, Molly had lived in a succession of rooms before settling down with Mr and Mrs Frank.

  ‘You walking home?’ The two friends linked arms against the still ferocious storm and walked down the hill past silent shops to the seafront.

  ‘Who is he?’ Lydia asked, when she had exhausted the subject of her disappointment. ‘Why are you keeping him such a secret?’

  ‘You won’t let on if I say?’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Married he is and stuck with a wife he’s never loved. That’s why you should be glad for Glyn being honest and not getting you and himself into a mess that’s hard to escape from.’

  ‘I can’t believe Glyn doesn’t love me. We’ve been together since we were children.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s why. You’ve just drifted into expectations of marriage. Believe me, Lydia, an unhappy marriage is a terrible trap.’ A gust of wind sent them staggering into a shop doorway and laughing, Molly added, ‘Best to have some fun like I do and avoid the ties that can strangle happiness.’

  ‘Is that where you meet? Up at the castle?’

  ‘It was difficult for a while, with the gate being locked and the great stretch of wire over the top increasing the height. But since Neville Nolan stole the wire to mend his father’s chicken coop, we’ve managed all right.’

  ‘Aren’t you frightened?’

  ‘That’s part of the fun, creeping around the old walls, walking through the woods, imagining ghosts and clinging to each other in pretended fear. It’s a damn sight more fun than being home watching telly and washing his socks!’

  Lydia didn’t dare admit that caring for Glyn with small tasks like washing his socks had been a part of her now shattered dream.

  * * *

  The days that followed Glyn’s visit were difficult for Lydia. She had told so many people about his homecoming and the imminent engagement that it was a constant nightmare having to explain to everyone who remarked on the lack of a ring, that the romance had ended. Seeing Glyn when he walked past the house with his father caused stabs of pain which she thought would never ease.

  Her father never mentioned it, being of the opinion that it was better to say too little than too much. Her mother thought differently. Every time she spoke to her daughter it was to tell her how fortunate she was, and how thankful she should feel to have escaped from a man who obviously did not deserve her. Annie tried to speak with sympathy for her daughter but in her heart she was relieved that the wedding was off.

  When Lydia had been born, Annie had not been prepared for the pain. The agony was so unexpected she had screamed and screamed and insisted she was dying. Then, when it was all over and she was told she could get out of bed, she had collapsed. It was quickly discovered that it was nothing more than temporary weakness after the birth, exacerbated perhaps by nervousness and fear, but Annie had been so shocked by the whole affair that she lacked confidence to stand on her feet except when Billy was there to support her. The fear had never left her and since
then her life had been that of a semi-invalid.

  Now she felt relief at the ending of Lydia’s plans to marry. She knew that Billy wouldn’t be able to cope alone and fear of what that might mean made it difficult to hide her joy at the worry being removed.

  * * *

  A few weeks after the ending of her wedding hopes, as October was ending in frosts and misty mornings and brief periods of glaringly bright sun, Lydia opened the door expecting to see Tomos come with his taxi to take her mother to Auntie Stella’s and was startled to see Glyn standing there with that half smile which revealed his nervousness.

  ‘What d’you want?’ she asked casually. ‘Off to work I am, as soon as your brother comes for Mam.’

  ‘I’m taking her,’ he explained. ‘Tomos is off for the day.’ He stepped past her and went up to help Annie down. ‘It’ll be me bringing her back tonight. About half five isn’t it?’ he said, not looking at her, but walking swiftly down the steps to the seafront.

  Lydia was trembling from the unexpected encounter. ‘He couldn’t even bear to look at me,’ she told Molly when they were on the bus winding its way around the bay heading into town.

  ‘More fool him! I bet this Cath of his is a real man-eater.’

  ‘She’s welcome to him,’ Lydia lied. ‘I wouldn’t have him back if he begged me!’

  ‘Good on you. Have some fun like I do.’

  * * *

  Glyn drove back to his parents’ home after depositing Annie with Stella but he didn’t go inside. He sat in the taxi and stared out across the houses and up onto the hill. He had to go away, and it was killing him. To leave this friendly place and start again among strangers, was a nightmare. He’d done all the travelling he wanted for a long time. Now, to have to find a new place and build a life, without Lydia, was something he didn’t want to do, but there was no choice. He couldn’t stay and see her every day without telling her he loved her and asking her to wait. He didn’t need even to close his eyes to see the lovely face of Lydia, with her large gentle eyes full of reproach, wondering why he had stopped loving her and why he was going away.