Goodbye to Dreams (14 page)

‘No, Phil. I can’t marry you.’ Then the laughter died in her and she saw only a man who wanted her and was offering to share the rest of his life with her. But it was ridiculous. ‘I don’t love you, and—’

‘Not this week perhaps, or even next week, but soon you will, although tomorrow wouldn’t be too soon for me.’ He still spoke in his nervous chatter as if they were discussing nothing more exciting than where to drive next. ‘We’ll let Cecily get her “do” over first, I suppose, then we’ll plan ours.’ He moved closer to the stiff, startled Ada and kissed her. First on the cheek then, as she turned to protest, he held her head in gentle hands and kissed her lips. A low moan escaped him and she felt moved and in moments had fallen under the spell of his urgent caresses. They didn’t drive for several minutes and when they did she was limp with shock and
confusion
.

When she walked into the shop, Cecily looked alarmed, seeing the bright glow on her sister’s face. ‘Ada? What’s happened? Are you ill?’

‘Nothing terrible.’ Ada’s lips broke into a smile so devastatingly lovely that her eyes seemed lit from within. ‘I’ll tell you later,’ she said, and ran from the room.

Phil Spencer had ideas far above his ability to earn. The need for money was a constant problem and never as much as now, when he knew he wanted Ada for his wife. Ada’s family were hardly rich but they were used
to having all they wanted and they only wanted the best. How could he expect to win her if he couldn’t compete financially?

Phil had always cheated, both in his limited school career and in the small business he had built for himself after a brief apprenticeship with an old man called Prosser. When old man Prosser died, Phil had muddled through, managing to hang on to the business, through many mistakes and disasters, learning as he went, and the only way he survived was by cheating.

He charged for less than he gave, giving the impression he was woolly minded about money and prone to mistakes. That way any complaints could be put down to absentmindedness rather than dishonesty. He
sometimes
asked for and got a second payment for some distant and half-forgotten order. He also stole on occasions when calling at houses for settlement of an account; a small item here and there, selling to a jeweller who was even more dishonest than he.

All this was not for personal greed – for himself he needed little to be content – but the conviction that his role was that of breadwinner for his mother and, hopefully in the future, a wife. If he married Ada he wanted to provide everything. That was the man’s role. He encouraged his mother to be generous in everything, and to keep a ‘good table’. He made it clear that she only had to ask and he would provide. He would do the same for Ada. She would want for nothing while he was responsible for her welfare.

He felt a glow of pride as he imagined how he would feel when she walked down the aisle to where he waited, and in an ancient and beautiful ceremony changed her name from Owen to Spencer.

‘Lovely girl, always ready to laugh,’ his mother said as he went back into the house.

‘I’m going to marry her,’ he replied. ‘Whatever I have to do to win her, Ada Owen will one day be my wife.’

W
ALDO’S GROCERY STORE
was larger and more important than the one owned by Cecily and Ada. The smells were different too. Lacking the smell of fresh fish and kippers and the salt fish that appeared on many breakfast tables, the strongest smells were those of
delicious
, freshly ground coffee and the appetizing smell of smoked bacon, which the girls didn’t stock. Cheese, too, because of the larger amounts sold, filled the busy shop with mouth-watering aromas.

Waldo’s customers had a far greater choice than Cecily could provide and would wander from the provisions side to the grocery, pausing to examine the displays of new items. A new biscuit one week, offers of exotic tinned fruit another, or even a table filled with several cheeses from which bite-sized tasters were offered.

There were two bent-wood chairs close to the two counters and these were used by those intending to recite a long list of requirements to be
delivered
later in the day. The seats were well polished and Waldo was frequently asked to provide more, but he declined. Two chairs close together would encourage people to stay and chatter and once they had given their order he wanted them out and on their way to make room for others.

The shop was quite noisy. The machine for grinding coffee was a frequent rumble as customers bought the beans from the sacks on display and waited while they were ground. The raisin-stoner was another grinding rumble that the assistants hated, the machine being a tedious one to clean but which was in frequent use. Knives being sharpened and the whirring of the overhead wires sending money across to the cash desk near the door, together with the hum of a dozen conversations, gave the shop a special symphony of its own.

Waldo loved it. He worked in an office through the window of which he could look down on the shop floor, but he frequently left the paperwork in the capable hands of his two clerks and walked around his empire, as he jokingly called it, talking to customers and encouraging the busy assistants with a kind word.

Below the shop were other rooms, sparsely fitted out but a hive of activity. Down there grey-coated figures kept the shop supplied, boning bacon and hams, preparing the large blocks of butter and removing the hard, encrusted muslin from the huge rounds of cheese. Two boys spent a part of each day cutting sugar paper to wrap dried fruit or rice or dried peas, which were sold with a steeping tablet and the muslin bag in which to cook them.

Foodstuffs were weighed and placed in the centre of the piece of paper and carefully folded with the ends tucked in. Then they were carried up to the shop to replenish the shelves, each product in a different colour so needing no labelling.

One morning, Waldo had just returned from the bank when he was greeted by a voice he always tried to ignore. He quickly hid the scowl that threatened and said, politely, ‘Hello, Dorothy.’ He gestured towards the counter. ‘Is someone looking after you?’

‘Oh, yes, thank you, Waldo. I only want some decent bacon for Owen’s breakfast. I have to do some shopping at Cecily’s, being family, but Owen is very fussy about his bacon and there’s none as excellent as yours.’

Waldo smiled inwardly. Considering he supplied Cecily and Ada with their bacon, he could hardly agree, but he nodded politely. ‘Not at work today?’ he asked. ‘Not ill, I hope?’ He began to move away, tactfully suggesting he had things to do, but something made him stay.

‘A day off,’ she explained. ‘I’ve been into Cardiff to check on something. Something personal.’ Lowering her voice she added, ‘It was about a birth certificate.’

‘A birth certificate?’

‘Yes, Waldo. I couldn’t find out what I want to know and now I have to write to London.’

‘Well, good luck with whatever you’re doing.’ He frowned as he moved away, then braced himself for another of his least favourite customers. ‘Mrs Price-Jones, how nice to see you. How are you?’ he asked, hoping she wouldn’t tell him.

‘Worried, Mr Watkins. I’m worried.’

He only half listened, trying to edge away from her as she explained about her son’s intention to marry Cecily.

‘I admire the woman, Mr Watkins, but Gareth and she aren’t suited. A mother knows these things.’

Dorothy hadn’t left the shop and she heard the words, eavesdropping without difficulty in spite of the general hubbub. She waited for Gareth’s mother and Waldo watched then as Dorothy led the woman out to have a
cup of tea and discuss it. He was frowning, wondering uneasily what Dorothy was planning.

He spent the rest of the day in his office but did little work. When he left at closing time he was still anxious and two spots of colour on his cheeks made him look almost feverish. He drove slowly to his house overlooking the sea and, after greeting Melanie, went into his study and poured himself a whisky. ‘Damn Dorothy and Mrs Price-Jones with their long, quivering noses,’ he muttered angrily.

‘Ada,’ Cecily said one morning, ‘we are going to buy a van.’

‘Are we? Is this something to discuss or have you already decided?’

‘What d’you mean?’ Cecily looked startled seeing the tightness of her sister’s lips and the warning glitter in the grey eyes. ‘Of course we’ll discuss it. I only said it that way thinking aloud.’

‘Oh, I see. So you meant what do I think of the idea of buying a van?’

Cecily put a hand on her sister’s arm and looked at her apologetically. ‘It came out wrong, that’s all. I saw Waldo yesterday when you were out. He and Melanie came to take Myfanwy to the park. He suggested we buy a van to save Willie’s time and provide a better service.’

‘Who will drive it?’ Ada sounded slightly mollified.

‘Willie.’

‘Perhaps Phil could teach him? They live near each other and Phil has been driving for a while.’

‘Yes, we’ll ask him.’ Cecily had already asked Peter Marshall to both sell them a van and teach Willie to drive it, but she thought this wasn’t the time to mention either. She felt guilty. She should have discussed it with Ada before telling Peter to go ahead and get a vehicle. ‘Is it all right, then? Shall I ask Peter to find a good van for us?’

‘If Waldo thinks our finances are secure, I agree we should. But I want to drive too. We could use it on Wednesdays and Sundays sometimes to take Myfanwy out. She loves the beach and trips out into the country and we rarely take her.’

‘She has plenty of trips with Waldo and Melanie as well as Bertie and Beryl. We shouldn’t feel guilty at not taking her ourselves. We work long hours and trying to fit in more outings would make it harder to manage it all.’

‘You’re right, we do work hard. It seems an age since we had a really good night out. What d’you say we ask Beryl and Bertie to have Van on Wednesday? Not a night out, but there’s a tea dance and they can be fun.’

‘Oh yes! We’ll go! Just the two of us.’

‘Won’t Gareth mind?’ Ada asked.

‘Of course not. He isn’t jealous like – some would be.’ She was thinking of Danny and felt a stab of pain. ‘Gareth will be pleased I’m having some fun.’

‘We do need a change,’ Ada said excitedly, ‘and we won’t be late back.’

‘And first we can talk to Peter Marshall and see about us buying a van!’

In many ways it was the wrong time to buy a van. Willie was constantly busy as trade on the beach was working up to its height and it was enough for him to do to keep their customers supplied and manage the routine work around the yard and the shop. He finished very late most days, then went with either Peter or Waldo and occasionally Phil Spencer for
instruction
on driving. To add to his problems, Waldo and Peter agreed on the way the vehicle should be driven but Phil confused him with advice. He began to accept most of Waldo and Peter’s teaching but with a few of Phil’s tricks for getting through a congested area.

‘If you shout and sound the horn, and look scared stiff as though your brakes have failed, and drive an erratic course threatening to slice off a few legs with your mudguards, it usually results in people forgetting any
arguments
about who has right of way and make room for you – fast!’ Phil advised with a laugh.

They still kept the horses, and were looking for a field in which they could spend their days. Willie, as a very young man, had started by using a bicycle to deliver locally and then been promoted to the horse and cart. Now he was driving a motor vehicle. He loved it, although he missed the warm friendly animals, and was soon confident to drive on his own. Their customers now had an excellent service with phoned orders delivered in minutes. Peter Marshall seemed pleased to help too and even delivered a few orders to rival cafe owners in his Riley. It was a summer they all enjoyed.

Peter had become very friendly with the sisters but had not let slip about the regular meetings between Willie and Annette. One day, when he called to pay his account, he told them he’d bought a second cafe at the other side of the beach.

‘Extra business is fine but it’s damned hard work.’ He smiled at Cecily, who he thought looked tired. ‘You look as if you could do with a day out. What about me taking you to Porthcawl? I want to size up the beach trade there to see if it’s worth me renting a place next year. What about next Sunday? And young Myfanwy, of course.’

‘I’m going out next Sunday,’ Ada said. ‘I’ve been invited out to tea.’

‘Oh? And what lucky man would that be?’ It was a demonstration of his acceptance as their friend that she told him.

‘It’s that daft Phil Spencer. He’s only gone and told his mother I’m
coming, so she’s bought lots of food and made some of her special butter cake. I can’t disappoint her, can I?’

Peter smiled, his loose cheeks quivering as he pursed his lips and said, ‘By the look on your face, Miss Ada Owen, it’s you who’d be disappointed.’

‘Go on. That’s enough cheek from you!’ Smiling and with a blush enhancing her cheeks, she went into the back kitchen to start preparing food. It had become more and more her job to cook the evening meal and for once she was glad to get away from Peter’s teasing.

She was excited about visiting Phil and his mother. He was such good fun and always in a good humour. Their occasional meetings had increased until now it was a regular thing for him to pull up outside the shop and whisk her off somewhere for the evening. She hoped Peter would leave before Phil came to collect her tonight. Teasing still made her tense. Although Phil repeated his offer of marriage often, she was not yet certain of her feelings and raillery was difficult to cope with.

Peter waited until Ada was in the kitchen then asked, ‘What about it, then, Cecily? Oh, it’s all right, I know about Gareth, the dancing barber. This is just a friendly invitation and I’d be glad of your opinion of the place that’s for rent. You’ve got a good business head on your shoulders—’

‘For a woman?’ she finished for him.

‘I wouldn’t be so condescending! You could teach a few local
businessmen
a thing or two. You have a flare for forgetting traditional ways and going for something fresh and unusual. I haven’t forgotten how we moved my cafe a little to improve its site. Remember?’

‘Thank you, Peter. Van and I will love it.’

‘I know, I’ll ask Gareth myself. I’m going there now for a trim. Got to look my best if I’m escorting a couple of beautiful ladies.’ He patted his greying head. ‘I’m not too old to enjoy that.’

‘You don’t have to ask Gareth. Thank you for inviting us.’ The thought of having to ask Gareth touched something inside her and made her feel rebellious. Ask Gareth indeed!

‘We aren’t married yet!’ she said to Ada when she mentioned her
acceptance
.

Peter Marshall left the Riley outside the shop and walked up to the main road. He had been shaken by Cecily’s willingness to go out with him. He had hoped both sisters would accompany him but it was more than he’d dreamed of for Cecily to come on her own. The Wedge was closing for the day and the tobacconist’s half already had blinds pulled down. He went into the barbers and waited for Gareth to be free. Fortunately, when the customer Gareth was dealing with had paid, no one else entered.

‘Just a trim, if you please. And I would like a word.’ He thought for a moment that it might have been wiser to wait until his hair had been cut before telling the man with the scissors that he wanted to take his girl out! He was polite and cautious with his explanations. ‘I’m a customer of the Owens,’ he began, ‘and they’ve been helpful in increasing my business over at the Pleasure Beach.’

‘Cafe, is it, Mr … er …’ Gareth looked at the short nails, the
work-stained
hands and wondered how he could possibly serve teas.

‘Yes, among other things. The sisters are very good about delivering, on occasions making special trips to bring me something I urgently need.’

‘Wonderful thing, the telephone,’ Gareth said vaguely. His mind was already on the meal waiting for him. Lovely cook Mam was. He hoped she’d give Cecily some lessons one day soon.

‘So, I’d like to take Cecily with me when I go to Porthcawl on Sunday. Just for a look around, see what the competition is. You know, get the feel of the place. Cecily would be a great asset while I’m thinking of a possible business there.’

‘Cecily go with you? Why?’ The scissors stopped their snapping, and leaning towards him, Gareth stared at the man and demanded, ‘What’s Cecily got to do with you?’

‘As I’ve just explained, I value her advice.’

‘No, no, we’ve made arrangements for Sunday.’

‘That’s funny, she told me you’d be busy decorating this place.’

‘That’s right, yes, then I was going there for dinner.’

Peter wasn’t the kind to argue but in this instance he looked at the
petulant
expression on the man’s face and said, ‘Sorry, but she’s accepted my invitation, her and Myfanwy. You’ll have to find food somewhere else.’ He sat nervously as the scissors continued their snipping and hoped Gareth was serious enough about his reputation to do a neat job. He paid, gave a generous tip and left, still making reassuring noises to an irate Gareth.