Broken Rainbows (19 page)

From the tallboy she removed a long, flat box. It held a negligee set Haydn had given her after his first tour. Feeling faintly ridiculous, she slipped on a cream silk and lace nightgown that accentuated every angle of her skinny frame. She surveyed herself critically in the mirror. She had put on weight since Anne's birth, but not enough to give her the Betty Grable curves she so desperately craved, curves that the chorus girls Haydn toured with possessed in abundance, if the photographs in the
Sunday Pictorial
were to be believed. She brushed her hair until it hung glossy and smooth over her shoulders. Was there anything else she could do? She heard Evan's familiar tread on the stairs closely followed by Haydn's lighter step. Picking up the scent bottle she pulled the stopper and dabbed another fingerful at the base of her throat as the door opened.

‘Wow!' Haydn whispered.

She looked at him in the mirror. ‘Now, are you going to tell me what's wrong?'

Unbuttoning his jacket, he sank down on the bed behind her. ‘Nothing.'

‘If that was the case, you wouldn't have started that argument downstairs.'

‘Why did I have to marry a woman who can read me like a book?'

‘Haydn, I know something's the matter.' She glanced anxiously at the cot as she lowered her voice. Fortunately Anne appeared to be fast asleep.

‘It's nothing I can't cope with.'

‘Being separated is bad enough. You shutting me out is a lot worse. Tell me, is it something to do with me or Anne rejecting you? I know it must seem dreadful to you now, but it won't be like that when she's older.'

‘It's nothing to do with Anne, or you.' Reaching out, he pulled her down beside him and kissed the back of her neck. ‘You smell nice.'

‘And you're changing the subject.'

‘I just need time to remind myself of the important things in my life. God, you're freezing.'

Turning back the sheet and blankets Jane climbed into the bed as he carried on undressing. She watched him for a moment. He turned away, avoiding her eye.

‘Who is she, Haydn?' Her voice was quiet, so quiet he couldn't be sure he'd heard her correctly.

‘Who's who?'

‘Don't try to fool me. I watched you work your way through the chorus of the Town Hall, remember? You've got the same guilty “little boy been at the honeypot” look on your face now that you had then.'

‘There isn't anyone, Jane. I swear …'

‘No please. Don't swear. Even if you haven't actually made love to another girl, you've come close to it. That's what all this is about, isn't it?'

Loosening his tie he sank down wretchedly on the end of the bed.

‘Haydn?'

He nodded dumbly. ‘It's the usual story. I haven't any excuses. She was there, you weren't …'

‘So now it's my fault for not being there?'

‘Of course not. It's mine. We -'

‘I don't want to hear the details.'

His eyes clouded with guilt and misery as he turned to look at her. ‘That's why I want you to come to Bristol with me. Jane, I need you.'

‘As an excuse to keep predatory girls at bay, or a chaperon?'

‘As my wife,' he insisted fervently.

‘You promised me on our wedding day that there'd never be anyone else.'

‘And there won't be ever again.'

‘Please, no more promises, Haydn.'

‘I've been an idiot. I've no right to ask, but please try to forgive me. All I have, all I care about, are you and Anne. I even invented a fictitious family crisis so I could get this leave.'

‘Do you expect me to thank you for that?'

‘I had to see you,' he murmured dejectedly.

‘Why? To find out if you still loved me, or if I'd forgive you?'

‘It's not like that.'

‘Then what is it like?'

‘I do
love you.'

‘For three days. And then you'll go back to this girl.'

‘I've had her taken out of the show.'

‘It's hardly her fault.'

‘You'd rather I carried on working with her?'

‘No! Of course not… it's just that … Oh God, Haydn, I feel dirty, betrayed … the one thing I've clung to for the past ten months is the thought of you coming back. Of us being together again. Now, in one day you tell me that there'll be no settled life for us at the end of the war, and as if that wasn't enough, that you've had an affair.'

‘It was hardly an affair. It was one night. And it's over. She's gone.'

‘And the next time a girl catches your eye?'

‘It won't happen again.'

‘If it's happened once, it can happen again.'

‘I know “sorry” sounds inadequate. But if you'll give me a chance, I'll make it up to you.'

‘You'll never be able to make this up to me, Haydn.'

‘Don't say that. In the middle of this war, this awful bloody mess of bombs and bullets, there's only one thing I'm really terrified of, and that's losing you.'

‘Then you shouldn't have done what you did.'

‘Would it have been better if I hadn't told you?'

‘You couldn't keep it from me.'

‘I'll do anything you want if you'll forgive me.'

‘Like what?'

‘Anything. I might belong to the army now, but when I'm demobbed after the war, if you want to settle down in one place I'll give up my career.'

Her eyes rounded in amazement. ‘With your voice and acting ability, you'd give up your career? What would you do?'

‘Run a pub, keep a shop, what does it matter as long as we're together? I'll do whatever it takes to prove that to you.' Tentatively he touched her fingers. ‘If you want me to, I'll sleep downstairs in a chair.'

‘And what would that prove?'

‘That you forgive me enough to punish me.'

‘I'm not sure I do.'

‘If you let me I could spend the next three days trying to show you just how much I do love you.'

‘It will be a very long time before I trust you again, Haydn.'

‘And forgiveness?'

‘I don't know. I honestly don't.'

He brushed his hand across the silk bodice of her negligée. ‘Pretty nightie, but I wish I hadn't bought it. Skin is so much better.'

She moved as far from him as the bed would allow. ‘I'm tired. You can sleep here, but no more. Not tonight.' Turning her back on him she folded the pillow beneath her head and faced the wall.

‘And tomorrow?'

‘I need to think. Not just about tomorrow, but all our tomorrows, Haydn.'

Chapter Eleven

Snow fell softly and silently, flecking the blackout and icing the landscape with a shimmering coat of white that gleamed through the darkness, highlighting roofs, roads and the tops of the surrounding mountains. Evan paused as he opened the front door. Breathing in the sharp, clean smell of wintry air he trod warily down the steps to street level.

‘Careful,' he called back to Alexander who was closing the door behind him. ‘There's ice beneath the snow.'

‘This is all we bloody need,' Viv Richards grumbled as he joined them.

‘Nice for the kiddies,' Evan murmured from the depths of the scarf he'd wound round his neck.

‘Damn the kiddies, roll on summer, that's what I say.'

‘Don't we all.' Evan clutched at the wall, skidding on his hobnailed boots as they rounded Vicarage Corner on to Llantrisant Road.

The muffled sound of tramping feet reverberated around them as they joined the stream of miners flooding out of the terraces and heading down the hill towards the Maritime. Alexander walked stolidly behind Evan, his mind still numbed by sleep despite the freezing temperature. As they passed the turn to Factory Lane, he couldn't resist glancing up at the cushion of snow that lay across the windowsill of Jenny's upstairs sitting room.

‘Girlfriend not out to wave you on your way?'

Resolutely ignoring Viv, Alexander carried on down the hill.

‘Not talking today?'

‘Too busy wondering how many props management can check in one shift.'

‘That will depend on how many men they put on the job,' Evan pronounced logically.

‘And in the meantime we're at risk.'

‘Bloody cannon fodder, just like the poor buggers in the trenches in the last war. That's all we are to the bastards sitting in their safe, cosy offices up on ground level,' Viv muttered darkly. ‘All they can think about is tonnage, not the miserable sods who have to dig it out for them …'

Evan clamped his hand on Alexander's shoulder as they entered the gates of the Maritime. They'd succeeded in their objective. They'd managed to draw Viv's attention away from Alexander's private life.

‘Where's Mogg?' Viv asked no one in particular as they joined the queue shuffling into the long brick shed where the helmets and tools were stored.

‘Keeping out of the way if he's got any sense,' someone called down from further up the line. ‘The men Mogg put on checking the props have just been told they're working on the face.'

‘Someone's going to have to go to management.' Alexander had to shout to make himself heard above the mutters of rebellion rippling through the ranks.

‘I'm bloody going to management.' Viv slammed down the pick and helmet he'd collected and marched past the men to the door.

‘Steady. Watch the blackout,' Evan warned as he pulled aside the curtain.

‘To hell with the bloody blackout.'

‘You won't be saying that when Jerry lobs a bomb at us.'

‘Bloody Jerry doesn't need to blow us up. Not with management doing their damnedest to kill us.'

‘Cage going down in five minutes.' Mogg blocked the exit at the end of the shed closest to the shaft.

‘No one's going down, Mogg,' Viv proclaimed theatrically, milking the situation for every ounce of drama. ‘Not until every prop has been checked and all the damaged ones replaced.'

‘Management's doing it.'

‘When?'

‘They're arranging it now.'

‘Management couldn't arrange a bloody piss-up in a brewery.'

‘Language, Viv. I could report you for that.'

‘Go ahead, report me,' Viv taunted. ‘I meant every bloody word. And I'll -'

‘Steady, Viv.' Evan stepped between him and Mogg as a hush descended over the shed. ‘He only wants what we all want, Mogg. An assurance that the props are going to be checked out today.'

‘And I told you, management's doing it.'

‘Who in management?'

‘Me for one.'

‘I wouldn't trust you to recognise a weak prop if it hit you between the eyes …'

‘Who else, Mogg?' Evan interrupted Viv.

‘Dan Howells and Joe Plummer.'

‘Joe's all right,' Alexander asserted, in an attempt to defuse the escalating tension.

‘He's worked on top for the past three years. I doubt he even remembers how to put a helmet on, and I'd sooner trust a snake than Dan. He's management's man through and through.'

‘Who would you trust, Viv?'

The assembled miners turned as a clean-shaven, suited, middle-aged man stepped into the shed behind them.

‘Myself,' Viv stated contentiously.

‘Just as you find Dan unacceptable, management would find it difficult to work with you.'

‘How about Evan Powell, Mr Williams?' Alexander suggested, knowing that most of the men admired and respected Evan, both for his cool head and for his long service underground.

‘Viv?' The manager looked at him.

‘All right,' he said grudgingly.

‘Right, Evan, Joe and you, Mogg, start checking the props right away.'

‘What about my butty Luke, Mr Williams?' Evan asked.

‘Is he capable of working alone?'

‘He's ready for it.'

‘Then perhaps it's time he started. He'll get miner's pay from today, and you'll get full shift allowance plus bonus. All three of you report back to me on the state of the props at the end of the shift.' He studied Mogg for a moment, looking for further signs of insubordination before turning and walking out.

Evan handed Luke his pick. ‘It's sharper than yours. You can borrow it for today, but you'd better see about getting yourself a new one.'

Luke took it. ‘Thanks, Mr Powell, and thanks for speaking up for me.'

‘It's something I've been thinking about for a couple of weeks. It's high time you worked on your own. Stick close to Alexander, he knows what he's doing and what's even more important underground, he's careful.'

‘Looks like you'll be training your own boy next week,' Alexander said as he picked up his own tools.

Luke grinned. ‘Gina's not going to believe it. She told me I didn't stand a chance of becoming a fully-fledged miner before my twenty-first birthday.'

‘Married life must have put muscles on you sooner than most,' Viv sniggered.

‘Cage going down in one minute. Anyone not on it, misses a day's pay,' Mogg shouted impatiently.

‘Check those props well.'

‘Don't worry, Viv.' Evan picked up an extra lantern. ‘I intend to.'

Jane lay still and rigid for a full ten minutes after Evan and Alexander left the house. Finally, she reached out and silenced the alarm five minutes before it was due to ring. Lowering the lamp to the floor she pulled it close to the bed before switching it on, muting its glow so as not to disturb Haydn.

She glanced across at him. His eyes were closed. If any nightmares had disturbed his rest there were no visible signs. Resenting his peacefulness, she checked the clock. Anne was due to wake any moment. Usually she looked forward to early morning. She made a game of washing and dressing both of them and cooking and eating breakfast. The beginning and end of the day were the only times she felt like a real mother. Just as Haydn's leaves were the only times she could feel like a real wife. But now …

Turning her back on her husband she slipped out of bed. Lying next to him all night had been pure purgatory. Every time he had moved close enough for her to feel the warmth emanating from his body she had inched away, until she had ended up clinging to a few inches of mattress. Shattered by his confession, and tortured by images of him, naked, in the arms of another woman, she couldn't bear the thought of touching him. Sleep had proved impossible. She couldn't remember ever feeling this depressed, bone weary and unwilling to face the world. Not even during her most dismal days in the workhouse.

She peeped into the cot. Anne was curled on her side, her tiny fists half-closed above her head, her face flushed in sleep. Shivering, Jane checked the jug on the washstand. The water had frozen. Picking up her own and Anne's clothes, she lifted Anne from her cot, wrapped a blanket around both of them and padded softly out of the room and down the stairs.

As soon as he was certain he was alone, Haydn opened his eyes. He stared at the door. He could go after her, but after the night they had shared there seemed little point. Confession might be good for the soul, but it certainly played havoc with marriage.

‘You're up early.' David Ford walked into Bethan's kitchen where she was curled into the rocking chair, pencil in hand and an open notebook in front of her.

‘I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd make out a list of things for myself and Maisie to do. We won't get through half of it, and no doubt I'll lose the list before the end of the day but I feel virtuous for trying.'

‘I know that feeling.'

‘You saved the town from invasion again last night?'

‘Someone has talked. Dino?'

‘Don't blame him. I guessed. I'm worried about the casualty rate among the natives.'

‘The only people injured last night were our men.'

‘Anything serious?'

‘Sprains, cuts, bruises, a couple of sore heads. Nothing drastic.'

‘That's good to know. Tea's made. It's on the hob if you'd like some.'

‘Thank you.' Taking a cup and saucer from the dresser he picked up the teapot. ‘Would you like another?'

‘Yes please.'

‘I'm in danger of getting to like this stuff.'

‘That would be terrible. You might even end up trying to make the regiment drink it instead of coffee.'

‘I'd be on to a loser. The army couldn't march without its cup of Joe.' He sat in the chair opposite Bethan as she put aside her pencil and paper. ‘Living in wartime England is like living in a gopher hole,' he observed, staring at the closed blackout.

‘Wales, not England, please,' she corrected.

‘You people are so touchy. One state back home could swallow the whole of England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland and still have land to spare.'

‘Then it's a pity Hitler didn't set his sights on America before Europe. Looks like he could have got all the room for expansion he wanted there.'

‘I said they were big, I didn't say they were all desirable.'

‘That isn't what your men are saying. They're doing a first-class job of convincing the local girls that everything is bigger, better and more splendid in America. The legendary land of milk and honey and all they have to do to gain admittance is hook an American husband.'

‘Do I detect a note of complaint?'

‘Not exactly complaint. Just concern about Maurice and Liza.'

‘Ah, love's young dream. Dino's keeping an eye on them for me.'

‘So it was you who suggested that he should take them to the dance?'

‘I hinted that it might be a good idea for all the enlisted men to go together.'

‘And what happens when Dino's not around?'

‘Liza works long hours and I do my best to keep Maurice occupied.'

‘And when they're not working?'

‘I've talked to Maurice. He's promised to behave like a gentleman. And speaking of gentlemen, and lonely ones, I don't suppose you'd reconsider your policy of non-fraternisation and accompany me to an officers' ball in the Royal Hotel in Cardiff on St Valentine's Day?'

‘Sorry, much as I'd like to, I've already given Maisie the night off.'

‘You let Maisie go to the dance without a chaperon and not Liza?'

‘Maisie's not going to the dance, not that it would make any difference if she were. She's the same age as me and her free time is her own. Liza's only sixteen and my responsibility.'

‘Can't your aunt look after your children?'

‘Not on St Valentine's Day. Dino's taking her to the dance.'

‘So you'll be alone on the most romantic night of the year?'

‘I have my memories, and,' she smiled, ‘now that you Americans are here and optimism is in the air, the hope that this might be the last St Valentine's I'll be spending by myself.'

‘I think that might be a little too much optimism, Mrs John. Even for the Allies,' he said grimly as he finished his tea and carried his cup to the sink.

The winding gear turned as the cage creaked, groaned and shuddered its heavily burdened way to the floor of the shaft. Mogg pushed the doors open and stood back, watching as the mass of men shouldered their tools and headed for the coal faces.

‘Got paper and pencil, Joe?' Evan asked as they waited for everyone to leave.

Pulling a pencil from behind his ear, he nodded.

‘So have I. It might be an idea for both of us to keep a tally.' Stepping carefully around a pile of horse manure Evan made for the twisted steel prop that had attracted Alexander's attention the day before. ‘Shall we start?'

‘I didn't expect to see you in today, Jane,' Jenny commented as they fought their way through the crowds in the station, past the booking office and up the steps to the platform.

‘I didn't fancy a fine.'

‘Management's not that strict. Sally took five days off when her husband was given leave. They didn't even know where she was until she came back after he'd gone, and no one seemed to care. Her pay just got docked for the days she didn't work. She said it would have been worth it at twice the price. And like her, you can't be that desperate for the money.'

‘No.'

‘Haydn told me yesterday he's only got three days.'

‘He has.'

‘Then you shouldn't have come in. I would have told them he was home.'

‘It's all right. He's tired and could do with the sleep anyway.'

Jenny eyed her sister-in-law, but the blackout shrouded her face. ‘It can't be easy only seeing him now and again,' she murmured as the train came in and they pushed into a carriage.