‘Tea, coffee, hot chocolate?’ she prompted.
‘Yes, please.’
‘All three?’ she smiled in amusement.
‘Tea please,’ he stammered awkwardly.
‘Sugar and milk. We have to put the sugar as well as the milk in now that it’s rationed,’ she explained.
‘Two sugars and milk please.’
‘You’ll get one sugar and like it,’ Tina told him as she asserted her authority over her younger sister.
‘I’ll have a tea too please, Tina.’ Diana opened her purse.
‘Please, let me get them.’ Alexander pushed his sore and swollen hand into his pocket and attempted to close his fingers over the change nestling in the bottom.
‘Tea for you?’ Gina asked, taking one look at Alexander’s expensive clothes and unshaven face, and deciding she didn’t like what she saw.
‘I’ll have a coffee please.’ He gave her the benefit of his most devastating smile, but to no avail.
‘We’ll sit in the front, Gina.’ Diana and Alexander walked over to a table set in the corner behind the door away from the draughts, but Luke lingered at the counter studying everything so he could write to his younger brothers and sisters about the novelties in his new life. He had never been in a café before for the simple reason that even if his strict Quaker father had approved of his children visiting such places, there weren’t any within walking distance of the tiny hamlet they lived in.
By Pontypridd standards the second-largest café the Ronconi family owned and ran in the town was average, by Cardiff standards it was poky and rudimentary, but to Luke’s naive eye it was an awesome wonderland.
The long side wall was mirrored and shelved, the space in the centre dominated by an enormous mock marble fountain. Even now after rationing had begun to bite, the shelves were crammed with confectionery, more dummy than real, but all wrapped in glittering swaths of silver and coloured paper. The aromas of coffee, hot chocolate, tea and raspberry ice-cream sauce vied for supremacy in the warm, smoky atmosphere, with the splendidly appetising fragrance of coffee winning by a margin.
‘Would you like anything with your tea?’ Gina asked Luke, as Tina took the coffee and two teas from the counter to join Diana and Alexander at their table.
‘No, thank you,’ he faltered.
‘The cakes aren’t up to our usual standard.’ She gestured to the glass stand where a few tired-looking pastries were set amongst an array of cinnamon-dusted custard tarts, ‘but we have some biscuits, and there’s a couple of teacakes in the kitchen that I can toast for you if you’re hungry.’
‘I’ve just eaten an enormous meal.’ He’d consumed double the amount his mother could afford to feed him at home, and it hadn’t just been the liver casserole, mashed potatoes and vegetables. There had been an enormous rice pudding afterwards, rich and creamy, sprinkled with nutmeg, and made with scrapings from the butter dish and the top of the milk; luxurious touches Phyllis had warned everyone to make the most of, because they weren’t going to last.
‘You’re lodging with the Powells?’
Lost in admiration of the dark velvet of her eyes, it was as much as he could do to nod assent.
‘Then you’ll be all right for food. Evan and Phyllis believe in setting a good table, unlike some around here I could mention.’
‘You know the Powells?’
‘Diana’s a good friend, her brother Will is engaged to my sister, Tina. That’s her, sitting next to your friend, Alexander.’
‘Alexander’s not really my friend. I never saw him before yesterday.’
‘But you’re both conchies.’
‘Yes,’ he conceded as he stirred the tea she put in front of him.
‘Two of my brothers joined up with Diana’s brother. Strange, isn’t it?’ She stopped to take money off a tram crew who were leaving. ‘They leave, then you come into Ponty.’
‘Perhaps that’s why people hate us, they think we’re trying to take their place.’
‘Who says anyone hates you?’
‘There were men at the station …’
‘The railway station?’
‘Yes.’
‘You don’t want to take any notice of anything they say.’
‘But they’re right. We are here because we refused to fight.’
‘I don’t see any of them in khaki.’
‘But they’ve probably registered for the army.’
‘And they’ll fill their pants if they get called up.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Sorry, crudeness comes when you’ve been brought up with brothers like mine. If you don’t mind me asking, why did you register as a conscientious objector?’
‘Because it was what my father wanted.’
‘And you always do what your father wants?’
‘Don’t you?’ he asked as though it had never occurred to him to hold, or voice, an opinion of his own.
‘When I have no strong feelings one way or the other.’
‘And if you do have strong feelings?’
‘I don’t tell Papa what I’ve been up to. Why didn’t your father want you to join the army?’
‘We’re Quakers.’
‘Don’t they wear funny hats?’
‘Not any more.’
‘You must have worked before you came here,’ she probed.
‘Weaving baskets in between helping out on the land. The farmer my father works for didn’t mind me assisting at busy times, like harvest, but he wouldn’t put me on the books because he had no real call for me. When we were told to register, I had to tell them I was unemployed.’
‘Times have been hard for everyone,’ she commiserated. ‘You think you’re going to like the pit?’
‘As Mr Powell says, it’s work.’
‘And Pontypridd?’ she asked archly.
‘From what I’ve seen so far it seems like a very nice town,’ he answered without taking his eyes off her.
Gina’s laugh, light, silvery, echoed across the café.
‘Little sister’s flirting,’ Tina commented acidly.
‘With Luke?’ Diana looked up in surprise. ‘He’s just a boy.’
‘Which suits her, seeing as how she’s just a girl, and a lucky one at that. As he’s just got here he won’t be going anywhere.’
Diana glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘Time I was off.’
‘You’re not staying?’ Alexander asked, disappointment evident in his voice.
‘I promised my boss I’d help him close up the sweet shop in the New Theatre.’
‘You’ll be back?’
‘Later perhaps. See you later, Tina.’
‘Do I detect romance in the air?’ Alexander asked as Diana disappeared behind the curtain.
‘Romance?’
‘Diana and her boss?’
Tina burst out laughing. ‘You’ve picked the wrong pair there.’
‘He’s married?’
‘Of the other persuasion. “One of those”, as my mother would whisper. A queer,’ she explained as the expression on his face remained bemused.
‘Then Diana’s not going out with anyone?’
‘She was courting my brother, Tony, but they quarrelled before he went away. Why do you ask?’
‘I was just wondering. She’s a pretty girl.’
‘And you’re thinking of making a move in that direction?’
‘I think I have enough to get used to at the moment without adding any more complications to my life.’
‘It’s obvious you’re not used to hard work,’ she said bluntly as she looked down at his hands.
‘I was working in a museum. It’s closed for the duration.’
‘What did you do, in the museum I mean?’
‘Arrange displays, study artefacts and documents as they came in and categorise them for the archives.’
‘It sounds like thrilling work.’
‘I enjoyed it.’ He ignored the sarcasm.
‘Well, much as I’d like to, I can’t sit here all night. I have a sister to supervise, and a café to run.’
‘Can I help?’
She looked down at his raw and bleeding hands. ‘You could wash the dishcloths out in washing soda.’
The answering expression on his face was so peculiar, she burst out laughing again. ‘I was joking.’ She walked to the counter. ‘Honestly.’
‘Myrtle’s asking if you can come to tea again on Sunday?’
‘Won’t that rather reinforce the wrong impression we’ve given your father?’ Diana asked Wyn as she helped him bag the copper he’d taken.
‘I think that’s why she’s asked. He’s been a lot quieter and easier to manage since last Sunday.’
‘You should tell him it’s going nowhere between us, Wyn.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s the truth.’
‘I’m not so sure it is going nowhere between us, Diana,’ he countered quietly.
‘Come on …’
‘No, listen. I’ve been thinking. We get on incredibly well. You’ve already said you like me. Why shouldn’t we set up something more permanent than a business arrangement?’
‘A business arrangement suits me fine,’ she answered swiftly.
‘What I’m trying to say, and very badly, is that I trust you totally, Diana. And not only with the day-to-day running of the business. You’re very special. I’m fond of you and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather live with …’
Doors banged upstairs and down in the theatre, and noise flooded the corridors as the audience spilled out into the foyer. ‘ … so why shouldn’t we get married,’ he blurted out abruptly.
‘You know why,’ she whispered, turning away from him.
‘Marriage to someone like me would be very different to marriage to Tony.’
‘Wyn …’
‘Please, just think about it.’
‘You sure you’re not asking me to marry you because your father’s threatening to cut you out of his will if you don’t silence the gossips by finding a wife?’ she challenged.
‘That is the one thing I am sure of. If anything happened to my father, Myrtle would hand over half of his estate whether I wanted it or not. I know my sister, she’d never be able to live with herself if she did otherwise. But to be honest, as far as I’m concerned she’s welcome to the shops. My mother had her own money and she left it in equal shares between Myrtle and me. It’s not a fortune, but it’s enough to set me up in a business of my own if ever I’ve a mind to try.’
‘Then why haven’t you done so?’
‘Because I couldn’t bring myself to leave Myrtle to cope on her own. My father’s difficult, but he is still my father, and Myrtle deserves a better life than the one he’s been giving her of late.’
‘Marrying me wouldn’t solve Myrtle’s problems, or yours.’
‘I didn’t ask you to marry me to solve my problems, but because I thought we might be able to make one another happier than we are now. It doesn’t take much to see that you’re as miserable as sin, and with good reason, and I can’t bear the thought of carrying on the way I am now for the rest of my life. Always having to look over my shoulder, always having to be careful who I talk to in case it’s a policeman out to book me. I’m lonely, Diana. I’d like a home of my own, to live with someone I can talk to, someone I care for …’
‘While having someone to go out with like that boy you told me about?’
‘Not if we were married. There are other things in life besides sex,’ he argued with an honesty that startled Diana. ‘I’d try to be content with what we had. We’re good friends …’
‘There’s a world of difference between being good friends and living with someone.’
‘It was just a thought,’ he murmured apologetically, rebuffed by her refusal to even consider the idea.
‘And a sweet one. Thank you,’ she said firmly, wanting to put an end to the conversation.
‘You’ll think about it?’ He found it difficult to give up, even now.
‘It wouldn’t work, Wyn.’ She tried to deflate the fairy-tale world he’d dreamed up as gently as she could.
‘I was afraid you’d say that.’
She pushed the last pile of coppers into a small paper bag and dropped it into the large canvas bag he was holding. ‘But I’d still like to be friends, good friends. And I’ll stand you a tea at Ronconi’s so you can meet our new lodgers.’
‘The conscientious objectors?’ he asked, accepting her change of subject – for the present.
‘You’ve heard?’
‘No one can sneeze in Pontypridd without your uncle knowing, and he was in here earlier buying his ration of pear drops.’
‘Good old Uncle Huw.’ She opened the door in the side of the kiosk as he pocketed the bag. The crowds had gone, the foyer was in darkness.
‘I’ll never get used to this absolute blackout,’ she said as he joined her on the step.
‘You will. It’s going to be here for some time.’
‘You think the war’s going to last more than a few months, too?’
‘I wish I could say otherwise.’ He turned up his collar and tucked the ends of his white scarf inside his coat.
‘Haven’t you read your blackout advice? You should leave those dangling, and pull your shirt tail out of your trousers.’
‘There’s no point when I’m wearing an overcoat.’ He led the way up to the crossroads on the Tumble. The sound of a man and woman arguing floated across from Station Yard.
‘Streetwalkers are hard at it tonight.’
‘I didn’t know young ladies knew such words.’
‘Who said I’m a young lady?’ Stepping off the pavement she walked confidently into the middle of the road.
‘Diana!’
She froze at his cry. Turning her head she looked back, but all was pitch darkness. Something large and heavy bowled into her. She fell on to the road, hitting the crown of her head painfully on the kerb. A heavy weight pressed her on to the tarmac. The soft purr of an engine was close, too close. She could smell the petrol, see the outline of the single headlamp almost, but not quite, obliterated by the cardboard hood. She screamed as the white lines painted on the running boards loomed above her; there was a nauseating crunch that she knew – simply knew – was wheels crushing bone. The screech of brakes drowned out her cry. Then a terrible silence settled over the Tumble, broken seconds later by the reverberation of feet running towards her.
‘You all right?’ She recognised the voice of the manager of the New Theatre. A circle of torchlight shone down into her face. In a ridiculous moment of clarity she noticed that the lens wasn’t covered with tissue paper.
‘I think so,’ she stammered uncertainly.
‘Just lie still while I get help.’
‘But I’m all right.’ She moved her right leg gingerly, then her left. Apart from whatever was on top of them, they seemed fine.
‘You might be, Miss Powell, but the poor devil with you isn’t.’
More running feet thundered over the pavement.