Swansea Summer (39 page)

The lilting strains of a string quartet drifted out as Robin opened his front door.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t want to intrude …’

‘You’re not.’ Robin pulled Joe into the hall.

‘But you’re having a party.’

‘Mums and Pops have some Arts Society thing on, complete with real musicians. It’s boring as hell. Angie, Em and I have holed up in the billiard room.’ He opened the door just as Emily took a shot and skidded a cue across the baize.

‘You want Pops to kill me, Em?’ Robin shouted.

‘Let’s face it, Robbie, I’m just bloody hopeless.’ She smiled inanely.

‘Only at some things. Whisky?’ Robin waved his father’s decanter under Joe’s nose.

‘I came to get my book.’

‘Book!’

‘I left my John Donne here. Have you seen it?’

‘I haven’t looked at a book since our brainstorming session. The housekeeper dumped what she called “your rubbish, Mr Robin” in the corner over there.’

Kneeling beside the pile of odds and ends, Joe extracted his textbook.

‘You’re not going.’ Angie waylaid him as he went to the door.

‘I have a lot more studying to do.’

‘We’ve just persuaded Robin to take us away from this mausoleum to a party.’

‘Who’s having a party this close to the exams?’ Joe asked.

‘Our art class. A midnight swim on the beach in Oxwich.’

‘We picked the wrong subject, Joe, we should have studied art,’ Robin observed cryptically.

‘You can’t draw,’ Emily protested.

‘Neither can you.’

Instead of being furious at Robin’s observation, Emily giggled.

‘It’s almost time to go.’ Angie lifted her skirt above her knees as she sat on a stool. ‘Why don’t you come with us, Joe? It’s going to be fun.’

‘Puritanical Joe doesn’t understand the concept of fun.’

Robin took the cue from Emily and replaced it on the rack.

Joe hesitated for the barest fraction of a second. ‘I haven’t a costume.’

‘Borrow a pair of my trunks,’ Robin offered.

‘Thanks.’

‘That’s settled, then.’ Angie smiled.

‘It’ll be a good night,’ Robin confided as they went upstairs to his bedroom to fetch swimming costumes. ‘The last one of these Jeremy went to, all the girls stripped off and went skinny-dipping.’

‘And the boys?’

‘Enjoyed the view.’

‘You’ll keep an eye on her for me?’ Unbuckling the belt on his jeans, Jack sat on a chair and struggled to peel a fourteen-inch jean leg over his foot.

‘That goes without saying.’ Martin sat on the bed and waited for his brother to undress. There wasn’t room for both of them to move around at the same time. ‘And the girls will be in Helen’s house every five minutes, even before they move out to Limeslade. You know what they’re like.’

‘They will all be working during the day.’

‘Did Mr Griffiths ask Mrs Jones …’

‘To work a couple of extra hours and keep an eye on her? Yes. But she’s no real company for Helen,’ Jack observed. ‘She’s an interfering old bat like Mrs Lannon.’

‘From the way Helen was talking earlier, she’s going to be too busy to be lonely. All those plans she has for moving out to Limeslade and redecorating the house.’

‘I don’t want her doing too much.’ Jack dropped his shirt and underwear into their laundry bag. ‘She’ll make herself ill and land herself back in hospital.’

‘There’ll be enough people round her to make sure she doesn’t.’

Jack pulled on his pyjama trousers and stepped past Martin towards the bed. Pausing for a moment, he extricated his wallet from his jeans pocket and opened it. ‘Present for you.’ He handed Martin a small, thin packet wrapped in brown paper.

Martin turned it over suspiciously. ‘What’s this?’

‘Something I should have used and didn’t until it was too late and won’t have a use for again.’

Martin unwrapped the brown paper. ‘French letters.’

‘As you recognise them I won’t embarrass you by telling you how to put them on,’ Jack teased.

‘I saw enough of them in the army.’

‘And used them.’ Martin’s silence told Jack what he wanted to know. ‘I got a couple … after – talk about locking the stable door after the horse had bolted. One of my mates said the best place to get them is in the barber’s in the Uplands. Unlike the chemist, there’s only blokes serving in there.’

Embarrassed, Martin pushed them into his underwear drawer.

‘I thought with the way things are between you and Lily …’

‘She’s a decent girl.’

‘And Helen isn’t.’

‘Of course she is. It’s just that …’

Jack started to laugh.

‘What’s funny?’

‘You, me, this conversation. Little brother giving big brother tips on how not to get his girlfriend pregnant. “Don’t do as I did, do as I tell you.” It sounds like one of those father-son conversations from a sentimental film, where the kid gets it all wrong because the father’s too strict. And about you and Lily …’

‘Some things I don’t talk about,’ Martin broke in curtly.

‘I don’t want to know. But just in case you’re too thick to work it out for yourself I saw the way she looked at you tonight. And if you’ve any sense you’ll use those’ – he nodded to the drawer – ‘before someone else moves in on her. She’s a good-looking girl and what’s more important, nice, and for some peculiar reason she likes you.’ Turning back the bedclothes, he climbed into bed.

‘I love her,’ Martin confessed.

‘I noticed when you were six years old. But it’s got a lot worse in the last ten years or so.’

‘I’ll never be able to give her the life she deserves on a mechanic’s wages.’

‘So you’re going to hand her to some rich guy because you’re poor?’ Jack asked.

‘No, but …’

‘Go forward one step at a time, Marty.’

‘And getting her into bed is one step?’ Martin questioned seriously.

‘Yes.’

‘A girl like that wants marriage.’ Martin sat on the chair and unfastened his shoelaces.

‘Eventually.’

‘Before she gets into bed with a man.’

‘Not necessarily.’

‘It was all so easy for you, wasn’t it,’ Kicking off his shoes, Martin pushed them under the bed. ‘You got Helen pregnant and there you were, new job, flat, wedding …’

‘And no baby and a sick wife.’

‘Helen will get well, there’ll be other babies.’

‘There won’t.’

Martin whirled round and stared at his brother, wondering if he’d heard him correctly.

‘Helen can’t have any more children.’

‘Are you sure … there’s other doctors …’

‘It’s definite.’

‘Oh God, Jack … I’m so sorry.’ Martin felt the words were totally inadequate. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘My National Service.’

‘When you’re ready, you could adopt …’

‘Perhaps.’ Jack didn’t want to discuss John’s offer to arrange a private adoption for him and Helen because, despite all the assurances he’d given Helen about ‘the right baby for them’, he wasn’t at all sure how he felt about taking on someone else’s child. ‘But that’s one of the reasons it’s important to me that you and Lily work out. I won’t make a father but I might make an uncle when the time comes. And there’s Katie, if she ever gets round to noticing boys.’

The misery etched on Jack’s face convinced Martin it wasn’t the right time to break the bombshell about their sister and John Griffiths.

‘You won’t tell anyone about Helen,’ Jack urged. ‘Not even Lily.’

Martin shook his head. Sometimes it felt as though his life was nothing but secrets, and always other people’s.

Joe stood on the beach, staring at the moon as it painted a shimmering silver path across the sea towards the horizon. Oblivious to the squeals of Angela’s and Emily’s classmates as they ran in and out of the waves in half-hearted attempts to evade the boys chasing them, he concentrated on conjuring Lily’s image. Her eyes shining with reflected light as they danced in the Pier ballroom – the sad smile on her face when he had asked her to marry him in the churchyard at Oxwich – she and Martin in her kitchen, mouths glued together, Martin’s hand fumbling beneath her sweater …

‘You should go in, Joe. The water’s fabulous. It’s always warmer at night than during the day.’ Shaking out a towel, Angela threw it round her shoulders as she stood beside him.

‘I may do, later.’

‘Thinking of your examinations?’ she probed.

‘Yes,’ he lied.

‘Robin says you’re bound to get a first.’

He glanced at her. She was wearing a gold two-piece swimsuit, splattered with tiny white flowers that glowed silver in the moonlight, the waist cut snugly into her slim figure, highlighting her slenderness, and the top plunged low, revealing the valley between her well-rounded breasts.

‘Like what you see?’

‘I only have to look down there to see a whole lot more.’

Following his line of vision, she saw Robin running after a nude Emily, brandishing her one-piece swimsuit.

‘That girl strips at the drop of a hat.’

‘Only Robin’s hat that I can see.’

She gazed coolly at him. ‘Robin’s right, you are a Puritan when it comes to sex.’

‘If by that you mean I think it should be special between just two people who keep their bodies for one another, I’ll agree with you.’

‘You’re only young once.’

‘Angie, save me.’ Emily ran up behind her. Unhooking Angela’s top, she tossed it to a boy behind Robin.

‘Rules of engagement. Lose your top, you lose your bottoms.’

‘Help, Joe.’ Angela flung a towel round herself and ran ahead of him up the beach.

He followed, conscious of a couple of boys running behind them but when they reached the dunes they were alone.

‘I’m freezing. Dry my back for me.’ Stripping the towel from her shoulders, she tossed it to him before turning round.

‘You are cold.’ He touched her shoulders.

‘I said I was. Ow, not so hard. I’d like to be warm
and
keep my skin if possible.’ Turning back, she faced him. ‘It’s too dark for me to see your blushes.’

‘Or me you.’

‘But you can feel.’ Taking his hands, she opened his fingers and clamped them over her exposed breasts. ‘Still coy, Joe? You can call it heat treatment if you like.’ When he didn’t remove his hands, she kissed him and as her cold, damp body pressed against his, he first caressed, then pinched her nipples, all the while wondering if that was what Martin had been doing to Lily under cover of her sweater.

‘So you’re not a Puritan after all,’ she murmured, moving her head away from his.

‘We should be getting back.’

‘We should. There is nothing quite as uncomfortable as making love in sand. It gets in all the wrong places.’ Wrapping the towel round herself once more she took his hand and led him back towards the sea.

‘You’re catching the ten-o’clock train?’ Helen knew the answer to her question but she felt she had to say something to fill the silence that had fallen between her and Jack.

‘That’s the time on the warrant.’ Jack paced to the window and looked out over the vista of gardens, backyards and the backs of the houses fronting Mansel Street.

‘You’ll write?’

‘As soon as I have an address.’ He turned to face her. ‘You?’

‘I’ll start a letter tonight and send it the minute I get your address.’

He sat on the bed beside her. ‘Six weeks’ training will soon pass …’

‘It already feels like a lifetime.’

He hugged her. ‘You knew I hadn’t done my National Service when we married, sweetheart.’

‘To be honest, I didn’t even think about it. There was … were’, she corrected herself, ‘so many other things to think about.’

‘I might not be stationed too far away.’

‘And you could be sent abroad.’ She shivered at the thought of being separated from him by hundreds of miles.

‘If I’m not, it might be possible for you to come and rent somewhere close by where I’m stationed.’

‘Really?’ She tried to smile at him.

‘I’ll look into it. And in the meantime you have to concentrate on getting well. If you’re up to it we’ll have a second honeymoon after my training. According to Marty I’ll get a couple of days, maybe even a week. But for now’ – he glanced at his watch – ‘I have to go.’

She lifted her face to his and kissed him fervently.

‘Take care of yourself.’ Gently he unwound her arms from round his neck.

She nodded as she looked down at her hands, not trusting herself to answer him. She hadn’t cried that day – yet – but she sensed it was only a matter of time.

‘I’ll write as soon as I get there and telephone if I can. Promise me you won’t overdo it moving into the house in Limeslade before I come back on leave.’

She nodded again.

‘I love you, Helen, don’t ever forget it.’ He went to the door and hesitated. On impulse he turned back and, sitting beside her on the bed, wrapped his arms round her. When he released her she buried her head in the pillow. She knew he was looking at her; then she heard the door opening and closing softly, and he was gone.

Chapter Twenty-two

Handing over a penny for a platform ticket, Martin took Jack’s case and led the way along the platform to the third-class carriages. Opening a door, he waited until Jack stepped in, then handed him his case. ‘Don’t worry about Helen. We’ll all make sure she’s fine. Think of yourself for a change. You’re not going on a picnic. All that square-bashing takes it out of you.’

‘I’m fitter than you ever were,’ Jack retorted.

‘I guarantee you won’t be feeling fit a week from now,’ Martin warned. ‘And resist the temptation to answer the sergeants back, it’s not worth it.’

‘The voice of experience speaks.’

‘All you’ll get is punishment and cancellation of leave. And how will you explain that to your wife?’ The guard blew the whistle. Martin stepped back and closed the door.

Jack opened the window and leaned out. ‘Do yourself a favour.’

‘What?’ Martin called out as the train began to move up the platform.

‘Hold on to Lily. You two were made for one another.’ He shouted something else, but it was lost in the noise of the train rattling over the tracks. Martin waited until the last carriage rounded the curve before walking back down the platform to Lily.

Martin rode Jack’s motorbike up the gentle slope that led from the town centre, through the Uplands shopping centre, along Sketty Road to the suburb of Sketty and on to Gower Road.

He was aware of Lily’s arms round his waist and her head resting on his shoulder as they left the villages of Killay and Upper Killay behind them and reached Fairwood Common. The wind caught his hair, blowing it back from his face as they swept past grazing Gower ponies, sheep and cattle. The road ahead was straight and clear. Turning his head, he smiled at Lily, before rounding the curve of the high stone wall that closed off the gardens of Kilvrough Manor and headed down into the wooded valley of Parkmill.

Turning right, he drove up a narrow lane that led through the woods to Giant’s Grave, a favourite picnic spot for school outings. He recalled sitting cross-legged on the grass, while his elderly teacher droned on about ancient burial practices. Slowing to walking pace, he stopped the bike alongside a fence that enclosed the flat-bottomed grassed valley that held the chambered stone tomb. He stepped off and held out his hand to Lily. ‘You all right?’

‘I survived.’ She pushed her hair back behind her ears.

‘You didn’t like it.’

‘Better than I thought I would,’ she answered ambiguously. ‘Helen and Judy told me they were both terrified the first time they rode on the back of Jack’s and Brian’s bikes.’

‘I tried to go steady.’

‘I’m not used to sailing through the air at thirty miles an hour with nothing but a jacket between me and disaster.’

‘You thought we’d crash.’

‘Once or twice.’

‘I’ll go more slowly on the way back.’ Unbuckling the pannier, he took out the picnic she had packed for them. ‘What kind of sandwiches have you made?’

‘Wait until lunchtime and you’ll find out.’

‘And where are we going to have this picnic?’

‘The perfect spot, which is about six miles that way.’ She pointed up the valley.

‘You’ve got to be kidding.’

‘Follow me and see.’

‘It is good of you and Judy to spend the day with Helen.’ John watched Katie preparing a tray in the kitchen.

‘She is my sister-in-law, Mr Griffiths, and a very good friend to both Judy and me,’ she replied.

‘All the same, this is your one day off a week, you must have things to do.’ The conversation was outwardly innocuous – the look he gave her anything but.

‘Helen, Judy and I have a lot of catching up to do.’ She looked away from him as Joe entered the room, unwashed, unshaved, with his hair on end.

‘You look like something the cat dragged in,’ John said. ‘Was it rough picking up those books?’

Joe instinctively checked the flies on his pyjamas were closed and his dressing gown wasn’t open when he saw Katie. ‘I didn’t realise we had company.’

‘You haven’t, Joe.’ Katie picked up the tray. ‘Helen has. Excuse me, Mr Griffiths.’

‘Allow me.’ John opened the door for her.

‘Was it something I said?’ Joe asked, as John closed the door behind her.

‘What?’

‘Didn’t she seem spiky to you?’

‘Spiky?’

‘Spiky – hostile – frosty -’

‘Not so I noticed.’

‘I forgot, she’s your secretary. You’re probably used to her.’

‘I suppose I am.’ John was careful to keep any inflection that could be misinterpreted from his voice.

‘Last night – I really did need those books.’

‘I didn’t say you didn’t, Joe.’

‘It’s just that …’

‘You’re entitled to let your hair down once in a while. You have been working very hard. Just don’t let it down too close to the exams.’

‘I won’t.’ Joe looked after John as he wandered into the dining room, cup of tea in hand. He seemed to be behaving oddly, but on reflection no more oddly than him. And last night had been rough. If he hadn’t known better he would have called Angie a tease. She knew just how to get a man going and then switch off. Had it been as she said – the sand – or was it something more? Something wrong with him that turned all girls off when he allowed them to get close. Lily – and now Angie, who he didn’t give a tuppenny damn for.

‘I refuse to walk one more step.’ Martin pulled off the leather jacket he had borrowed from Jack along with his bike, spread it on the grass and sat down, leaving enough space for Lily to sit next to him.

Lily breathed in deeply. They were in a grassy copse, enclosed and sheltered by silver birch, their branches a luxuriant green that hadn’t yet quite reached the full leafy splendour of summer. Above them the sky was a deep cerulean blue, marred by a few wisps of cloud. It was a beautiful and peaceful scene until a bird called to its mate in a raucous cry that was more like the screech of a saw than birdsong.

‘I can’t believe we’ve finally made it,’ Martin said as she sat beside him. ‘We’re on the Gower, miles from anywhere and completely alone.’

‘I feel guilty just being here.’ She leaned back on her hands.

‘Why? You know Katie and Judy will take care of Helen.’

‘You didn’t see her yesterday when she insisted on visiting her house in Limeslade.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve seen Helen wound up before, but it was as though she was possessed.’

‘Mr Griffiths and Joe are at home, so it’s not as if Katie and Judy are alone with her.’

‘That doesn’t make me feel any the less guilty – or selfish.’ She opened the food bag. ‘Are you hungry?’

‘No, but I could murder a lemonade.’

‘It’s going to be warm,’ she warned.

‘Are you telling me you can’t make everything perfect?’

‘A perfect world might be a boring one.’

‘I could handle boring’ – he stared into her eyes ‘provided you were there.’

She gave him one of the enamel mugs she’d packed and the bottle of lemonade. Setting them aside, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently and lovingly. As she responded, he pulled her down on the grass, moving his body alongside hers.

‘I’m not comfortable,’ she complained as her elbow hit a rock.

‘Remind me to pack a mattress on the back of the bike the next time we manage to get away.’

‘A double.’ Sitting up, she slipped off her short jacket and cardigan, rolled them into a makeshift pillow and pushed it under his head.

‘I have to admit that is better.’ He wrapped his arm round her shoulders as she rested her head on his chest. ‘But it’s doing nothing for my thirst. Mark the spot I was lying on, so we can get back to it.’ Reaching for the lemonade, he opened it. ‘If you don’t want me to tip this over you you’ll have to move.’

‘Spoilsport.’ She took the mug he handed her. ‘It is horribly warm.’

‘But wet.’ He levered the top back on the bottle. ‘Now, where were we?’

‘Lying nice and peacefully until you decided you had to have a drink.’ She waited until he stacked the mugs and lemonade behind them before moving back on to his chest.

‘Last night you said we had to talk.’

She fingered one of the buttons on his shirt, absently opening and closing it. ‘We do.’ Lifting her face to his, she stole another kiss.

‘That is the kind of talking I understand.’

‘But not the kind I had in mind.’

‘You want to know if I’m serious about you.’

‘No.’

‘All girls want to get married …’

‘Not this girl,’ she interrupted.

‘Not ever?’ He was unaccountably alarmed at the thought.

‘I wanted to fall in love, Marty, I have. It’s better than I dreamed it could be and for now it’s all I want.’

‘How long is “for now”?’ he ventured.

‘I’m enjoying the present, especially this present, too much’ – she hugged his chest – ‘to want to look too far forward.’

‘You must have some plans for the future.’

‘Beyond making you drive more slowly on the way back into town, not many,’ she joked.

‘Tell me about them.’

‘There’s my uncle’s wedding. I’m looking forward to seeing him and Mrs Hunt getting married at last. And then there’s moving into Helen’s house in Limeslade and swimming every day if it’s warm enough without having to take a bus out to one of the bays.’

‘And you and me?’

‘I’m here with you now, Marty.’ She left the button unfastened and started playing with the one below it.

‘And tomorrow?’ He suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

‘I’ll get up early, eat breakfast, walk to the bank, and spend the day taking dictation from Mr Collins and watching my step with Miss Oliver who’s in charge of all us girls and … Bother, it’s bad enough having to work in the week without thinking about it on the weekend. Why did you make me do that?’

‘I didn’t and I thought you liked your job.’

‘I do, but I like this better.’ She snuggled closer to him. ‘What about you, do you like your job?’

‘When I’m working on an engine with a fault that I can put right.’

‘What about the ones you can’t put right?’

‘They remind me how much I still have to learn.’ The blood coursed headily round his veins as she unfastened a third and fourth button on his shirt and slipped her hand between it and his vest.

‘You don’t mind the grease and the dirt?’

‘All boys like playing in dirt and the job’s not bad. I only wish the pay was better so I could save some real money.’

‘To open your own garage.’

‘You remember me telling you that?’ he questioned in surprise.

‘I remember everything you tell me.’

‘I’d like to work for myself, but it would cost a bomb to set up. Even if I managed to rent the right premises, I’d have to buy all the tools and spares and if the customers didn’t start rolling in right away I’d be in serious trouble. Lily …’ He grabbed her hand as she tugged at his vest, freeing it from his jeans. ‘You know I love you.’

‘Yes.’

‘And you know I’d ask you to marry me if I had enough money to support you.’

‘That I didn’t know.’

‘I thought I’d made it obvious …’

‘Only that you love me and there’s a world of difference between love and marriage. As you said yourself about Jack and Helen, it’s a lot of responsibility; if anything, more so for a boy than a girl. A wife and possibly children to support, your whole life mapped out for you …’

‘You do remember everything I say.’ He sat up and looked at her.

‘You’d prefer me not to?’

‘Sometimes. I behaved like an idiot that night. It’s just that I want you to know if I could support you I’d ask you to marry me tomorrow and if you’re worried about anything …’

‘What should I be worried about?’

‘Ending up in Helen’s predicament,’ he blurted out, conscious of the blood flowing into his cheeks.

Hugging her knees to her chest, she faced him head on. ‘And I won’t end up pregnant and unmarried like Helen because you don’t want to make love to me, or because you’ll take precautions?’

‘What!’

‘There’s no need to look outraged. I know all about birth control, or at least as much as Auntie Norah knew.’

‘She talked to you about it?’ He couldn’t have looked more stunned if she’d told him she could speak Swahili.

‘And sex,’ she added. ‘Auntie Norah told me that she made love to her husband before they were married, but she made sure he used a French letter so she wouldn’t get pregnant.’

‘She told you that!’

‘Why so surprised? You knew we were close.’

‘Yes, but parents don’t talk to their kids about things like that.’

‘They do if they don’t want them to get into trouble. Auntie Norah’s husband was ten years younger than her and as she was over forty and, according to her, pretty inexperienced when they met, she wanted to be sure she could cope with every aspect of married life. So she decided to have the honeymoon before the wedding. It must have worked because Uncle Roy told me they were very happy before her husband was killed in the war.’

‘I never thought I’d hear a girl talking like this.’ He reached for his cigarettes so he could conceal his embarrassment in the ritual of lighting one.

‘You think two people in love shouldn’t discuss sex?’

‘No – yes … I …’

‘You’d prefer to just do it.’

‘It might prove less embarrassing,’ he replied honestly, regaining his composure.

‘I’m not embarrassed to be discussing it and you shouldn’t be after what you tried to do last night with our friends in the next room.’

‘Perhaps I did what I did because I knew with everyone around it couldn’t go too far.’

‘And now?’ She looked around at the deserted countryside.

‘I haven’t tried anything on,’ he remonstrated.

‘Yet.’

‘Is that an invitation?’ His voice was strangely hoarse.

‘What you said about me getting pregnant, I would hate it, Marty. It would hurt my uncle who deserves the very best from me, as well as being disastrous for us. If we make love – and that is an “if” – I’d want you to use a French letter and be very, very careful because Auntie Norah told me they are not infallible.’

His hands began to shake and he tossed his cigarettes aside. ‘Do you want us to make love?’