Swansea Summer (35 page)

Feeling well and truly chastised, he nodded to her as he left.

‘Sorry I didn’t come back at lunchtime, Katie,’ John apologised, as he walked into the warehouse office.

‘I was just about to telephone your house to see if you were there.’ She picked up her notepad and left her desk.

‘There’s been no problem, has there? The knitwear rep …’

‘I sat in on the meeting and stopped the floor supervisor from doubling our normal order.’

‘Thank you.’

He seemed so distracted that she asked, ‘Helen isn’t any worse, is she, Mr Griffiths?’

‘It’s a long story but she’s all right now, or as all right as anyone can be when they’ve just come out of hospital.’ Not daring to look at her, he opened the door to his office. ‘Thank you for seeing to everything here. As I have some confidential work calls to make, you and Ann can leave early.’

‘I’m behind with the mail because of the meeting. There are still two letters to suppliers that need typing.’

‘They can wait until tomorrow. You will be in tomorrow?’ he asked anxiously.

‘It is my last day.’ Katie opened her drawer and removed her typewriter cover. Sliding it over her machine she tidied her desk, then picked up her handbag.

‘See you in the morning, Ann, Miss Clay.’

‘Goodnight, sir.’ Ann left before Katie but Katie didn’t linger.

‘Goodnight, Mr Griffiths.’

‘Goodnight, Miss Clay.’ John waited until Katie had closed the door, then checked the time on his watch. Picking up the telephone he dialled his solicitor’s number. As he’d hoped, the secretaries had left for the day, but Mark was still working. ‘Mark, John Griffiths here … that matter we were discussing the last time I saw you … Yes, something has happened … No, not over the telephone. I’ll meet you at the Mackworth in twenty minutes. We’ll discuss it then.’

Chapter Nineteen

‘Has my mother gone?’ Helen asked fretfully as she opened her eyes to see Jack sitting reading in a chair beside her bed.

He set aside his book. ‘Your father put her into a taxi seven hours ago.’

‘I’ve slept that long.’ She turned on her side and looked at him. ‘I can’t believe I spent my first afternoon at home sleeping.’

‘You obviously needed the rest.’ Jack omitted all mention of the sedative the doctor had given her, as he uncovered a tray on her bedside cabinet. ‘Doctor’s orders, you’re to eat little and often.’ Shaking a towel over the front of her nightdress, he plumped the pillows behind her head, helped her sit up and put the tray on her lap. ‘Chicken rolls Mrs Jones made specially, so you’d better finish them all. The bread’s fresh, I bought it this morning in Eynon’s before we picked you up, and there’s a trifle Mrs Hunt brought for you.’

‘Aren’t you eating?’

‘Mrs Jones made me a meal earlier.’ What he didn’t tell her was the meal consisted of sandwiches he’d eaten while watching her sleep because he couldn’t bear the thought of her waking up alone.

As she cut one of the rolls into two, a tear fell from her eye and hit the tray. She dropped the knife. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with me.’

‘You’ve been ill, you’re weak, it’s going to take time for you to get well.’

‘And you can stop being so bloody nice. I can’t stand it.’

‘Language.’ He grinned.

‘I mean it, Jack,’ she snapped. ‘You didn’t marry me for this.’

‘For better for worse,’ he reminded her.

‘And all you’re getting is the bloody worse.’

‘Hey, I meant it about the language.’

‘You’ve turned choirboy all of a sudden?’

‘Swear all you like with me.’ He steadied the tray as she fumbled under her pillow for her handkerchief, ‘but if Mrs Jones or Mrs Lannon hears you, it will be all over town that Jack Clay has brought that nice, well-brought-up Helen Griffiths down to his level.’

‘I couldn’t give a damn.’

‘Eat your rolls,’ he prompted as she found her handkerchief and blew her nose.

‘No.’

‘I want you to get better and you won’t do that until you start eating.’

‘I’m too skinny for you now.’

‘No, sweetheart.’ He took a deep breath as he looked her in the eye. ‘But you have lost a lot of weight.’

‘And you wanted me to be fat. Fat with our baby …’ Anger melted into misery as her tears began to fall again. He lifted the tray from her lap and removed it to the bedside table. Sitting next to her on the bed, he opened his arms but she shrank away from him. ‘You would never have married me if it weren’t for the baby and now there won’t be any. Ever!’

‘I would have married you no matter what.’

‘No, you wouldn’t have,’ she contradicted fiercely.

‘I love you.’

‘How can you? I’m ugly and skinny and I’ll never have any children …’

‘We can adopt.’

‘And they’ll be queuing up to hand over a baby to an ex-Borstal boy like you.’ Tired of him and her father trying to make everything come right for her when it couldn’t – not ever again – she wanted to hurt him and she succeeded. She saw it in the tense lines that appeared round his mouth and the way he clenched his fists.

‘Helen, we have so little time …’

‘And whose fault is that?’

‘You think I want to do my National Service?’

‘I think you can’t wait to get away from me.’

Biting his lip he looked towards the window.

‘See, you can’t even deny it,’ she taunted.

‘There’s no point in trying to talk to you when you’re in this mood.’

‘I’m tired. I want to sleep.’

‘You should eat first.’

‘I don’t want to.’ Wriggling back down into the bed, she turned her face to the wall.

‘Helen …’

‘Go away and take the tray with you.’

‘I’ll sit with you.’

‘You’d disturb me. I’d rather be alone.’

‘Mrs Jones won’t be happy that you didn’t even take one bite of her rolls.’

‘Tell Mrs Jones to go to hell.’

‘The luscious Lily brushed you off again. So, what’s new.’ Robin sat back, nursing his pint of beer in the bar of the Antelope Hotel in Mumbles.

‘I shouldn’t have telephoned her at work.’ Angry at his tutor’s criticism of his essay and angrier still with himself for giving her cause for complaint, it had taken more persuasion than usual for Robin to get Joe to join him for a drink after college.

‘She hung up on you?’ Robin asked.

‘She couldn’t talk,’ Joe answered evasively.

‘Is she still seeing that other chap …’

‘I told you, it’s just a ploy to get me jealous.’

‘Then give her a taste of what she’s dishing out. Take another girl to the graduate ball,’ Robin advised. ‘I know half a dozen who’d throw over their dates if they thought they had a whiff of a chance. And that’s without bringing Angie, who would dance naked on hot coals for you, into the equation.’

‘I’ll see Lily tonight.’

‘You’ve made a date with her?’

‘We live next door, for Christ’s sake.’

‘I remember,’ Robin murmured softly in an attempt to defuse Joe’s irritation. ‘So, what are we doing tonight?’

‘Studying.’ Joe drank half the beer in his glass.

‘You don’t need to.’

‘I most definitely do.’

‘Come on, Joe, you got one C grade in three years. Big deal. Everyone’s aware you know as much as the lecturers,’ Robin consoled. ‘Besides, that old adage about swotting too close to an exam is right. You’ll risk addling your brains. My father had the pool cleaned out and filled last week. It’s a bit cold but perhaps a swim in chilly water is what you need to clear your head.’

‘Of what?’ Joe asked suspiciously.

‘Extraneous information superfluous to exam requirements.’

‘And where did you get that phrase from?’

‘Thompson.’

‘He’s an ass,’ Joe dismissed.

‘An undisputed ass,’ Robin agreed, ‘but unlike some, he’s not putting the cart before the horse.’

‘And that means what, exactly?’

‘There you go, dusting off your righteous indignation again.’ Robin finished his whisky chaser. ‘All I’m saying is you’re worried about which girl to invite to the graduate ball before we’ve even sat the examinations.’

‘I know who I want to invite.’

‘And you’re going completely the wrong way about getting her.’ Throwing his head back Robin went into Shakespearean declaiming mode, and quoted, ‘“The art of life is the avoidance of the unattainable.”’

‘That’s Saki – and Lily is not unattainable.’

‘I never said she was, and Saki got it wrong. Women flock around men they consider beyond their reach. Take Uncle Robin’s advice, become unattainable and Lily will come running so fast she’ll bowl you over.’

‘I’ve already invited her to the ball.’

‘She hung up on you.’

‘How did you …’

‘You just said.’ Robin slipped his hand into his inside pocket and brought out his cigarette case. ‘What you have to do now is put her out of your mind and concentrate on your exams. Before we’ve sat the last one she’ll be pulling her hair out by the roots thinking you’ve forgotten all about her and the invitation to the ball. And by then I guarantee she will have bought the dress, matching shoes, stole, jewellery and booked a hair appointment.’

‘Not Lily.’

‘Then she’s like no other female I’ve ever met.’

‘And you, of course, have met them all,’ Joe said caustically.

‘I hope to God not.’ Robin thumbed open a packet of cigarettes he’d bought along with the drinks and began to transfer them to his case. ‘Lighten up. It will happen for you, just as it did me with Emily. I chased her for …’

‘A whole hour.’

‘It took a couple of days for me to get her naked,’ Robin divulged.

‘And now you’re crowing that you’re set for life as well as the ball. Well, bully for you.’

‘Wrong on both scores.’

‘You’re not taking Emily to the ball?’ Joe turned to his friend in amazement.

‘I haven’t decided.’

‘You bought two tickets.’

‘That doesn’t mean Emily’s coming with me.’ Crumpling the empty packet into the ashtray, Robin offered Joe a cigarette.

‘You two have been going out together – for what?’

‘Long enough for her to take me for granted and I don’t like it.’ Robin lit his cigarette before tossing his lighter to Joe.

‘So, if you don’t take Emily, who’s the unlucky lady?’

‘There’s a hot little redhead in second-year History.’

‘Thompson’s girl.’

‘As was.’

‘You’ve made a play for her.’

‘Gave her the full Robin experience last night.’ Robin sighed theatrically. ‘She loves the car, but then all girls do. Take another tip, get one like it and the gorgeous Lily will be the one doing the fawning.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘She wears pale-pink knickers.’

‘You got into the redhead’s knickers on the first date?’

‘Her, out of them,’ Robin clarified. ‘She is a natural redhead. You can take my word for it.’

‘Does Emily know she’s history?’

Robin glanced around, ‘Keep your voice down. Emily’s not history.’

‘You can’t go out with two girls at once.’

‘Says who?’ Robin challenged.

‘Decency.’

‘God, stick a broad-brimmed black hat on your head and you’d make a perfect Puritan.’

‘But two girls …’

‘They complement one another. Thanks to my expert tuition, Emily’s experienced in servicing a man’s needs. The redhead’ – he shook his head fondly – ‘is ripe, fresh and a quick learner if last night is anything to go by. I’d forgotten just how grateful a sweet little virgin can be when you take the trouble to relieve her of that particular handicap. Tell you what, if you need to take a break in the next couple of weeks and want pleasure without involvement, go for Emily. She needs it and she won’t be getting enough from me.’

‘You’re disgusting.’

‘But not frustrated. Back to my place for that swim?’

‘No.’

‘Angie and Em will be at college. I really do mean a swim.’

‘I need to study.’

‘We’ll do it together. Isn’t the first paper on the metaphysical poets?’ Robin questioned artfully.

‘Don’t you even know that much?’

‘You know me and poets.’

‘And metaphysics.’ Joe picked up his briefcase. ‘A couple of hours, no more. I need to get back in time to talk to Lily.’

‘When will you ever learn to take advice?’ Robin followed Joe out through the door.

‘When will you?’

‘When I’m old and have nothing better to do with my time. Will you look at that blonde.’ Robin whistled at a girl who was walking along the pavement. ‘I’m in love,’ he shouted. ‘She’s turned her head, quick, you get her arms, I’ll grab her feet and we’ll kidnap her.’

‘I think not,’ the blonde drawled.

‘Theatre, you and me, Saturday night.’ Robin beamed.

‘Only if I can bring a friend.’

‘Will she suit him?’ He pointed to Joe.

‘We’re about to start our examinations …’

‘So we’ll brush up on our knowledge of theatre. Quarter to seven, foyer of the Grand. Don’t be late.’

‘I don’t take orders.’

‘I’m an expert girl tamer.’ Reaching for her hand, he kissed the back of it. ‘You’ll be there.’

‘Turn up and you’ll find out.’ She walked away, swishing her skirts, showing a couple of inches of white lace petticoat.

‘Did you ever see legs like that?’ Robin stood, mesmerised, watching her.

‘Yes, and Emily’s are better.’

‘Alas, they’re also no longer a challenge.’ He flipped a coin. ‘Heads you drive, tails me.’

‘I didn’t expect you still to be here,’ Helen mumbled contritely as she stumbled out of the bathroom to find Jack remaking her bed.

‘Mrs Jones has left for the day and your father rang to say he’ll be late.’

‘I don’t need looking after.’

‘I know, but I need to feel useful.’

Helen tripped over a rug and fell against him as she made her way to the bed. Her limbs felt heavy and numb, her mouth swollen from the sedative the doctor had given her.

‘I was horrible to you earlier.’ She could feel tears pricking at the back of her eyes.

Damned tears! Would she never stop crying?

‘I noticed.’

‘I didn’t mean to be. It’s just …’

Jack lowered her on to the bed and gathered her into his arms. His kindness coupled with the guilt she felt after deliberately hurting him earlier was too much for her to bear. She burst into tears but her sobs were unmarred by the hysteria of the morning. Jack continued to sit and hold her, stroking her hair and murmuring soft words of comfort, until the shadows lengthened and he realised that although her eyes were wet, she slept.

‘I said presentable, I didn’t expect eye-bogglingly glamorous,’ Adam complimented Judy as she emerged from the Ladies cloakroom in a strapless silver taffeta ball gown with matching stole.

‘It’s my mother’s,’ she whispered. ‘She wore it to last year’s Chamber of Commerce Christmas ball. I only hope no one recognises it.’

‘As no one here is a member of the Chamber of Commerce I think your secret is safe.’ He offered her his arm. ‘We’re sitting at a table with a few people I work with. How would you like to be introduced?’

‘As a friend.’ She glanced back at the crowd milling around the cloakroom. She was grateful that her mother had offered to lend her the evening frock, as nothing in her own wardrobe came up to the standard of the gowns most of the other women were wearing.

Adam led her to a large circular table laid for twelve in the middle of the room.

‘Wendy.’ He smiled at a middle-aged woman who was already sitting down. ‘I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Judy Hunt.’

‘That is a lovely dress, Judy,’ the woman gushed enthusiastically. ‘Wherever did you buy it?’

‘I’ll get us some drinks, Judy, what would you like?’ he asked before Judy had time to reply.

‘A Babycham, please.’

Adam went to the bar; it took him a few minutes to push his way through the crush to the front. Leaning forward when it was his turn to be served, he collared the barman. ‘A pint of best, please, and a double vodka and Babycham – in the same glass.’

‘Em, come here, quick. You won’t believe it if you don’t see it for yourself.’ Angela Watkin Morgan stood at the door of the conservatory and stared at her brother and Joe, stretched out side by side on matching rattan chairs and footstools surrounded by piles of books.