Broken Rainbows (26 page)

‘But it still doesn't solve my problems with your mother. In spite of this,' he looked around the room, ‘and everything else that's happened over the years, I can't help feeling that I'm the guilty one. I had no right to marry her. Not feeling the way I did about Phyllis.'

‘It happened, Dad. You're happy now with Phyllis.'

‘And your mother? Don't try telling me she's happy.'

‘Sometimes I wonder if anything could have made her happy.'

‘Her father's at fault. A God-fearing chapel minister who saw fun and laughter as the work of the Devil.'

‘She didn't have to adopt his beliefs, or make our lives quite so miserable.'

‘No. But we owe her our understanding, Beth, if nothing else. And,' he smiled wryly, ‘when all's said and done, she did give me four quite remarkable children.'

‘Come on, honey, just a couple of drinks with the boys?'

‘I don't know, Richard. Going to the New Inn is one thing, but the White Hart has a reputation for attracting people who aren't quite respectable.'

‘It'll be fun, honey.' Taking Anthea's hand he tucked it into the crook of his elbow. ‘The New Inn is so stuffy,' he declared, glossing over the real reason for not taking her there – the upmarket prices. ‘And both George and Kurt go to the Hart.'

‘Don't mention Kurt. He's hardly said two words to me since we got engaged.'

‘Only because he's jealous, honey. And who can blame him? He lives in your house, sees you every day, and knows I've beaten him to the post. He obviously wanted you for himself.' Richard pushed the door open and ushered her in. As she walked down the dingy passage towards the back room, the stench of sour beer, stale tobacco smoke and male sweat crowded in on her, making her even more uneasy.

‘It's full and noisy,' she complained, retreating as he opened the door.

‘Lively, not noisy, honey. Hi, fellows.' He waved to Kurt, Jenny, and George Rivers who were sitting at a round table in the centre of the room. ‘Can we join you?'

‘Can we stop you?' Kurt enquired drily. The quiet drink he'd hoped for with Jenny hadn't materialised. George Rivers and his floozie, Vera, had parked themselves at their table less than five minutes after they'd arrived, rendering any serious attempts at conversation impossible, and now Richard and Anthea had appeared, it was hopeless. He would have made for the door if he and Jenny hadn't had full glasses.

‘Hello, Anthea. How are you?' Jenny reached for the gin and pep Kurt had bought her.

‘Quite well, thank you, Jenny,' Anthea replied primly, blanching when Vera Collins appeared and sat next to George. Barely eighteen, Vera was married to the middle-aged owner of a dairy stall on the market. Anthea had heard that he'd thrown her out for consorting with American servicemen, but assuming officers to be gentlemen, she hadn't realised that one of the consorting servicemen was George Rivers.

‘Hello, Anthea.' Vera took the cigarette George offered her. ‘How is your mother?'

‘Quite well.' Anthea looked to Richard, who studiously ignored her as he went to the bar.

‘You're engaged, Anthea?' Jenny was amazed to find that she actually felt sorry for the girl. Just like her mother, Anthea was a stuck-up snob, but as she saw her blush and squirm, she realised she lacked the courage to ‘cut' Vera and didn't know how else to deal with Vera's new-found notoriety.

‘At Christmas,' Anthea gushed. ‘Would you like to see the ring Richard gave me?' She held out her hand.

‘Very pretty.'

‘So, when's the wedding?' George winked broadly at Vera as though they shared a secret joke.

‘Just as soon as Uncle Sam gives us permission.' Richard laid a tray full of glasses on the table. ‘Drinks all round, boys and girls?'

‘We have to go.' Kurt downed the remainder of his half-pint and picked up Jenny's coat from the chair.

‘But I've just bought you two drinks.'

‘And if I have another on an empty stomach, I won't be able to stand up straight.' Jenny allowed Kurt to help her on with her coat.

‘Who wants to do that?' Vera giggled.

‘Some of us have to stand up to work, Vera,' Jenny said coolly, tired of her innuendo. ‘See you, Anthea.'

‘Remind me never to go into the Hart again when Vera's there,' Jenny said as Kurt led her outside.

‘I'm sorry, I didn't even know George had a pass tonight. Can I buy you dinner?'

‘I've stew at home. If you're hungry you can eat with me.'

‘I am hungry.'

‘Kurt, I meant what I said about me being the kiss of death.'

He helped her into his Jeep. ‘For a home-cooked meal, I'm prepared to take my chances.'

‘Do you still work for your father in the bank?' Vera asked Anthea as Richard and George disappeared into the Gents.

‘Yes.'

‘Cushy number.'

‘It may not look as though I'm contributing to the war effort, but by working, I've freed a man to go to the front.'

‘Whoever he is, I bet he's grateful,' Vera observed snidely.

‘Do you work?'

‘Of course.'

‘What do you do?'

‘Vera's in charge of morale-boosting for American servicemen, aren't you, sugar?' George beamed as he returned.

‘Drinks?' Richard plonked two more gins and two more beers on the table.

‘It's getting late, we should be going,' Anthea said primly.

‘It's not that late.'

‘It is in my book.'

‘Is anything the matter, honey?'

‘She can't wait to get you on your own, Richard,' Vera suggested. ‘And if your talents run in the same direction as George's, I can understand why.'

Anthea gathered her handbag and coat from the chair. ‘I'm going.'

‘Can't we finish our drinks?' Richard asked.

‘I don't want to stay.'

‘Boy oh boy, it's easy to see which one of you wears the pants,' George commiserated.

‘When they have them on. I know all about engaged couples.' Vera wagged her finger at Anthea.

It was one remark too many. Holding her head high, Anthea stalked out through the door.

‘When you get it from her, it must be so bloody refined I wonder you recognise it.'

‘And what would you know about refinement, Rivers?' Richard polished off Anthea's gin as well as his beer.

‘About the same as you I guess, after comparing Anthea's snaps with Vera's here.'

‘Shut your mouth, or …'

‘Or?' George rose unsteadily to his feet.

‘I'll see your name on the first list of combat troops to ship out of here, Lieutenant.' He fingered his captain's insignia.

‘Gentlemen, please.' The landlord left the bar and walked over to their table. ‘Is there a problem?'

‘Lieutenant Rivers and his companion have had a few too many, Mr Hunt.' Richard buttoned on his greatcoat. ‘I wouldn't serve them any more before the MPs do their rounds if I were you.'

The landlord looked down at Vera. ‘You, out of here.'

‘Come on …'

‘I warned you, one wrong move and you'd be out. Well, you've just made it.'

Richard took advantage of the altercation to slip out through the door. It had been a mistake to bring Anthea to the Hart. Broke or not, he should have taken her to the New Inn. If she caught a whiff of the way the boys were talking about her, he'd have a lot more than her displeasure to contend with.

Never mind Rivers; perhaps it was time to put his own name on that list.

‘How could you?' Anthea ranted as Richard caught up with her outside Woolworth's. ‘Whatever you think of me, I'm not that naive. I understood what Jenny said about standing up to work. Vera Collins is nothing more than a common prostitute.'

‘I didn't know, honey. I swear it. Until this evening, I just assumed she was George's girlfriend.'

‘You've met her before?'

‘Once or twice.'

She whirled around to face him. ‘You've been with her?'

‘I'm a one-woman man, honey. You know that.' Grabbing her arm, he tucked it into his own.

‘Let go of me.' She struggled free.

‘Please, you're making a scene.'

‘I don't want you near me.'

‘It's hardly my fault if one of my fellow officers likes the common type.'

‘We don't have to socialise with them.'

‘No we don't, and I'm sorry, honey. My mistake. I'll never take you there again.' He walked her quickly round the corner along Bridge Street towards the park gates. ‘Come on, don't be mad,' he pleaded.

‘Go away.'

‘Honey, please, don't let's quarrel.' He pulled her close to a gap in the park railings. ‘It's not that late, let's go somewhere and make up.'

‘I want to go home.'

‘And I refuse to let you go anywhere until you've calmed down.'

A mixture of anger, irritation and frustration seethed inside Anthea as he fondled pressure points that he knew aroused her. ‘Chuck's in your rooms,' she reminded him peevishly.

‘But not in the park.'

‘It's closed.'

‘Only to those not in the know.' He looked up and down the rapidly darkening street before pushing aside a railing that had been sawn through. Ducking his head, he stepped through the gap and dragged her after him.

‘Richard …'

‘Ssh, quick, before anyone sees us.' Pulling her by the hand he led her through the trees to a secluded, covered seating area that he'd marked out earlier. ‘Our very own private place.' Sitting on the bench he drew her down on to his lap and slid his hand beneath her skirt.

‘Richard, we can't. Not here.'

‘No one can see.'

‘But here, in the open air!'

‘It's not that cold.' Hooking his hand into her knickers he tugged them down to her ankles.

‘Someone could come.'

‘They won't see anything in this light.'

‘No …' the protestation died in her throat as he kissed her, ‘… we should wait.'

‘I can't, honey. I've told you men aren't built like women.' Pushing her down on to the bench he unbuttoned his trousers. ‘A quick one, honey, just to tide me over until tomorrow lunchtime. Oh boy, do you know how to turn a fellow on.'

‘That was good.'

‘It was terrible.' Jenny piled her own and Kurt's empty bowls on to a tray. ‘The meat was tough and stringy, there wasn't enough of it, there was too much barley …'

‘I could get you extra food from the canteen.'

‘No. Thank you, but no.'

‘Why not?' he asked as he picked up the bread plate and followed her into the kitchen.

‘Because I'd rather not be tarred with the same brush as Vera and Anthea.'

‘I like you. I …'

‘Want me to be your girl?'

‘You remembered?'

‘You don't have to pay for sex with food, Kurt. Not with me.'

‘I wasn't trying to.'

‘Come to bed?'

‘Now?'

‘Don't you want to?'

‘Yes, but …'

‘But what? You want it prettied up with visits to the pictures and walks in the park? Some women have the same needs as men. I thought you would have realised that the night of the dance.'

‘I don't want it to be like this between us, Jenny,' he said slowly, wary of blowing his chances with her.

‘Like what?'

‘Cold, calculating sex.'

‘You want hearts and roses, love and romance?' she mocked.

Taking her hand he drew her towards him and kissed her. She reciprocated with a warmth and passion that told him she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her, but for all her talk of no emotional ties, when he finally released her he saw that her eyes were wet.

‘How about we go back to your living room, sit down, talk and get to know one another?'

‘What's the point when you'll soon be dead?'

‘I have no intention of dying.'

‘Neither did Eddie or Alex.'

‘Why don't you tell me about them?'

‘No.' She shook her head violently and turned away from him.

‘Then tell me about yourself?'

‘There's nothing to tell.'

‘In that case you've no excuse for not allowing me to monopolise the conversation. I've led an extremely interesting life and you're going to hear all about it, in great detail, starting with the day I was born in my mother's hairdresser's with a full head of hair and one tooth.'

‘You're being absurd.'

‘Maybe, but if that's what it takes to get you to smile, I'm prepared to carry on making a fool of myself.' Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he kissed her cheek. ‘The living room and my life story?'

‘All right.'

‘And tomorrow, if you're good, I'll meet your train again and take you to the movies.'

‘I don't want a courtship.'

‘We'll make it a quick one.' He kissed her again.

‘Very quick or I might move on,' she threatened as he led her towards the sofa.

Chapter Fifteen

‘Hello, stranger,' Alma called out as Bethan walked into the kitchen of her shop early one mid-June morning. It was already warm, and the long-sleeved, blue uniform dress Bethan was wearing looked prickly and uncomfortable. ‘Tea?' She lifted the teapot from the back of the stove where it had been warming.

‘Please.' Bethan sank into one of the chairs. ‘The last two days have been horrendous.'

‘Finding it hard to get back to work?'

‘Harder than I thought after being part-time for three months, although why six days a week feels like ten times more than three is beyond me.'

‘Possibly because you're trying to run your home and look after your father in one day instead of four?'

‘Dad's no trouble,' Bethan protested.

‘Who are you trying to kid?'

‘He's been much better since Mr Williams offered him a position covering safety in the pit. Mind you, we had the devil's own job convincing him that management wasn't just being kind. Even now, he's not sure that he'll be doing a real job.'

‘When does he start?'

‘Next Monday.'

‘Then why don't you go on holiday? A real one,' Alma suggested, concerned by Bethan's pallor. ‘Your in-laws have still got that summer place on Gower, haven't they? Steal some petrol, drive down there with Rachel and Eddie and let the world go by for a week or two.'

‘And you'll come with me?'

‘I can't leave the business.'

‘And I can't expect everyone else to keep covering for me. I should never have cut down on my days after my father's accident. We're rushed off our feet at the surgery. Half the town seems to be down with summer colds and sore throats. There've been more accidents than ever in the munitions factories and pits the last month, and every other woman I meet seems to be pregnant.'

‘Courtesy of the Yanks?'

‘I refuse to calculate back to husbands' last leaves.'

‘It's a good job accents aren't inherited.'

‘If they were, there'd be a lot of men disowning their children when this is over. But is it any wonder?' Her brown eyes clouded over as she took the tea Alma handed her. ‘Haydn hasn't been home in six months, William for nearly two years …'

‘Andrew for over three and Charlie for two years and four months. How is Jane coping?'

‘Why Jane especially?'

‘Something she said to Maggie the last time they were in here. She almost bit her head off when she mentioned Haydn and chorus girls in the same breath.'

Bethan frowned. ‘She hasn't said anything to me, but then she's hardly mentioned Haydn since his last leave. Like the rest of us she seems to be marking time until the war's over.'

‘And that may come sooner than you think.'

‘You know something I don't?'

Alma looked into the shop and closed the door before moving her chair closer to Bethan's. ‘Most of the Americans are moving out tonight.'

‘Tonight!'

‘Ssh. Not so loud. Chuck told me in absolute confidence, but I know you won't tell a soul and tomorrow everyone in town will have noticed that they've gone.'

‘Colonel Ford hasn't said a word to me.'

‘He's staying. Someone has to train the next lot.'

‘Is it France?'

‘Do you think Chuck would have told me that?' Alma took a packet of cigarettes from her apron pocket. ‘I doubt even Chuck knows where they're going, but now we've pushed the Germans out of North Africa, and the Russians are driving them out of the Soviet Union we can hope.'

‘They still control most of Europe.' Bethan's hand shook as she took the cigarette Alma offered her.

Bracing herself to hear an unpalatable truth, Alma asked, ‘Are you thinking what I'm thinking?'

‘That if we land troops in France they'll take it out on the prisoners. Line them up and shoot them?' Once Bethan had put her fears into words she unaccountably stopped trembling. Lighting the cigarette with the match Alma struck, she sat back and inhaled deeply.

‘The British POWs are protected by the Geneva Convention. The Germans wouldn't dare harm them, not when we're holding so many of their men prisoner here.'

‘But you're concerned about the Russian prisoners?'

‘I've always thought that Charlie could be hiding among the Russians in a German prison camp. And the papers are always full of some new atrocity that the Nazis have committed against the Poles, the Jews or the Russians. I couldn't bear to have him survive this long only to get shot now, so close to the end.'

Like everyone else who knew Alma well, Bethan had long since given up trying to convince her that Charlie was dead. She took her hand and held it tight. ‘Charlie is far too sensible to do something as stupid as die at the end of the war.'

‘I couldn't bear to live without him. I simply wouldn't want to. And there's Theo …'

‘And plenty of friends to take care of both of you until Charlie does come home.' As a district nurse, Bethan had seen several women succumb to nervous breakdowns during the last three years. Women whose husbands had been killed in action or the pits, or died slowly and painfully of lung disease, inflicting lingering mental torture as well as grief on their families. Some of the most traumatic cases she'd had to deal with had been those whose husbands had simply run off, leaving them in rented rooms with no means to provide for themselves or their children.

Despite all the hysterical protests and suicide threats, most eventually allowed themselves and their children to be carted off quietly to the workhouse. But Alma was different. She had no financial worries, proving the old adage that money wasn't everything. But her absolute conviction that she couldn't go on living without Charlie terrified Bethan. There was a quiet composure and finality in her words that held more menace than any hysterical threat.

‘And here's your ma.' Chuck Reynolds flung open the door and walked into the kitchen with Theo perched high on his shoulders, baby no longer but grave-faced toddler, outwardly as serious and solemn as his father had been. Placing both hands on Theo's waist Chuck swung him down on to Alma's lap. As Alma's hands closed around her child, Bethan saw Chuck watching them and realised that he too was aware of Alma's desperate state of mind.

‘Don't suppose there's a cup of whatever you're drinking going spare for a man who's bushed? Junior here dragged me around the park twice this morning. And that's without all the pushes he had to have on the swings and lifts on to the slide …'

‘You didn't let him go on that slide by himself?' Alma broke in anxiously.

‘Of course not. We went down together didn't we, buddy?' He made a sweeping motion with his hand and Theo chuckled. ‘So now you've got one more thing to write to my wife about to prove I'm a good father.'

‘I've been writing and swapping photographs with Chuck's wife,' Alma explained. ‘His son is only three months younger than Theo. They seem to be doing all the same things.'

‘And, in gratitude for convincing my family what a fine father I'll make when I get a chance, they sent you a parcel of tinned goodies. I've left it on the stairs to your apartment.'

‘There was no need.'

‘Oh, but there was. I had visions of Marilyn keeping me away from Chuck junior when I got home, at least until I relearned my manners. Living with men sure does roughen up the edges. I'm glad you were around to polish them off, Mrs Raschenko.'

‘I hope Charlie has had a chance to make friends with someone with children. But then, he didn't even know I was pregnant when he left.' Alma gripped Theo so tightly, he prised open her fingers and wriggled off her lap.

‘Then he sure is going to be one surprised man when he gets back here.'

Sensing that Chuck wanted to say his final goodbyes to Alma, Bethan took her cup to the sink and gathered her nurse's bag and handbag. ‘Goodbye, Major Reynolds.' She held out her hand.

‘And goodbye to you, Nurse John.' He lowered his voice. ‘Look after these two for me until Charlie gets home? I may never get a chance to meet him, so tell him from one happily married man to another, he sure is one lucky guy.'

‘Where's the fire, honey?' Richard Reide slid into the booth alongside Anthea. They were in a café they'd never visited before, principally because it had been adopted by the enlisted men.

‘I need to talk to you.'

‘Then how about we go to Ronconi's restaurant? I could buy you a proper meal there.'

‘I haven't time. I have to be back in work in three-quarters of an hour.'

‘Come on,' he nodded towards the door. ‘This place is too public. Let's pick up a couple of pies and I'll walk you round the park.'

Alma had no pies left, she never did after ten o'clock in the morning, and as the bright summer sunshine had brought out the crowds, Anthea didn't dare take up his suggestion that they visit his rooms. Not in the middle of the day. There were too many people who would like nothing better than to carry tales to her father before she even got back to work.

Hungry, and slightly queasy, she allowed Richard to lead her past the Park Cinema, through the park gates and down to the river. They left the path and moved into the shrubbery. There was a small, secluded area behind a copse of bushes that screened it from the path, but the flattened state of the grass suggested that it was known to other courting couples besides them. As soon as they sat down, Richard started fumbling with the buttons on her blouse.

‘Please, don't.'

‘Come on, honey, no one can see us and one glimpse isn't going to hurt.'

‘Please, Richard,' she snapped. ‘I have to talk to you, and I can't while you do that.'

Miffed by her refusal, he locked his hands behind his head and lay back on the grass. ‘You want to talk. OK, talk.'

‘I'm going to have a baby.'

‘You're what!' He spat out the piece of grass he'd been chewing.

‘I'm sorry.' She started to cry when she saw the look on his face.

‘You can't be sure?'

‘I've been sure for weeks. When it … something … something didn't happen last month … I thought it was that cold I had. I even put the sickness down to it. But it's gone on too long. It's been awful, Richard. I'm sure my mother suspects. I've tried to hide it, but she's heard me being sick, and I've caught her watching me.'

‘Your mother knows you've missed your period?'

She stared at him, horrified that a man should know about such things.

‘Come on, honey, I have three sisters. What I don't understand is why you waited until now to tell me?'

‘I didn't want to worry you. You've been working so hard lately, and you've been expecting permission to come through any day for us to get married. I hoped it would have happened by now and then we could have arranged the wedding quickly using the excuse that you could be sent overseas at any time. That way no one would have had to know… and now… now … everyone is going to know … and I won't be able to wear white or have a big wedding …' She burst into tears.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. ‘Leave everything to me, honey. I'll sort it out.'

She drew away from him. ‘How can you?'

‘Dry your tears, go back to work, and tell your father that I'm taking you out for a very special dinner tonight and you'll be home late.'

‘And the special dinner?'

‘I'll meet you after work. Six o'clock outside the bank.'

‘But I'll have to go home to change.'

‘You won't need to. Just be there, honey. And wait for me.'

‘Mr Ronconi to see you, sir.'

‘Show him in, Lieutenant Rivers.' David Ford left his chair and walked to the window. Summer had finally arrived and most of the people in the town who weren't working had turned out to enjoy it. Taff Street was crowded with mothers with babies, women queuing at the doors of half-empty shops, workers using their lunch break to bask in the sunshine, all of them simply enjoying life. He only wished he was free to do the same. He heard the door opening.

‘You sent for me, Colonel Ford?'

‘Sent is a strong word.' He turned to Ronnie. ‘But please, sit down, Mr Ronconi.'

‘When someone calls me “Mr” it usually means they want something I'm reluctant to give.'

‘I have no power to make you give me anything, Mr Ronconi.' Sitting behind his desk, David opened a file. Ronnie started in surprise when he saw his photograph pinned to the right-hand corner of the topmost sheet. ‘Correct me if any of this is wrong. You were born in a small village outside the town of Bardi in northern Italy. You lived there with your mother and paternal grandparents until you left with your mother at the age of six to join your father who had opened a café in Pontypridd. Until then, Italian was your first language?' He looked up, and when Ronnie gave no indication either way, he returned to the file. ‘You worked alongside your father, building up his businesses in the town until 1936 when you married Maud Powell. She was suffering from tuberculosis, so you took her to Italy in the hope that the climate would improve her condition, and there she made a partial recovery. You worked on your grandfather's farm until Mussolini conscripted all able-bodied men, at which point you and your wife took to the hills and joined the partisans. After her death you agreed to guide two downed RAF pilots through the Alps into Switzerland, suffering severe injuries as a result of a skirmish with German troops you encountered on the way.'

‘I'd argue the severe. I've made a full recovery.'

‘Back in Britain you drew maps for the RAF before returning to Pontypridd. Last year you took a job in a munitions factory. You married your first wife's cousin eight months ago, you have a two-year-old stepson, and your wife is expecting your first child any day.'