Authors: Catrin Collier
Slowly, tantalisingly, his hands slid from her breasts to the waistband of her pedal pushers.
‘Jack,’ she protested, as he flicked the side button, slid down the zip and caressed the flat of her stomach.
‘Take them off,’ he demanded hoarsely.
‘I ...’
‘Are you my girl or not?’
Wanting to prove how much she loved him, she kicked off her pedal pushers and knickers beneath the blankets.
‘I want to see you.’
Before she could stop him he tossed the blanket aside. Sliding his fingers between her thighs, he forced her legs apart. As his jeans joined her pedal pushers at the end of the sofa he eased himself on top of her, taking his weight on his elbows.
‘Jack ...’ she protested, terrified of what was about to happen.
‘Look at me.’
Obediently she gazed into his eyes.
‘You said you loved me,’ he challenged.
‘I do.’
‘You don’t have to be kind. I don’t need charity or pity ...’
‘I
need
you,
Jack.’
‘After this I won’t ever leave you, or let you leave me. You know that.’
‘Yes.’ She held him tight as he pierced her body. She cried out in pain, but lost in passion he didn’t stop, not until her cries had subsided into soft moans and by then he’d taken her to a place she’d never been before – and never wanted to leave.
‘It will be all right, won’t it, Jack?’ Helen pleaded, as he moved away from her.
He didn’t answer as he sat up on the side of the sofa. She grabbed the blanket and pulled it over her but not before he saw the blood that had spread from her thighs to the blanket beneath her.
‘Jack ...’
‘It’ll be all right,’ he muttered unconvincingly, reaching for his jeans. Searching the pockets, he extracted his cigarettes and matches. This time she didn’t try to stop him lighting up. Inhaling deeply, he blew smoke from his nostrils and handed her the cigarette. She puffed on it and burst into a coughing fit.
‘What’s the time?’
She looked at her watch. ‘Just gone three.’
‘I’d better get back before Martin and Brian call out a search squad.’
‘I’ll see you again?’ she asked anxiously.
He kissed her briefly on the mouth. ‘What do you take me for?’
‘You seem so distant. You haven’t said ...’
‘My mother’s dead, I’ve had the most bloody awful day of my life. Then you give me the best present a woman can give a man. I don’t know how I feel, Helen. I only know I’ll never let you go. Not now.’
She lay back watching as he pulled on the rest of his clothes. ‘Jack?’
He turned back, as he was about to walk through the door.
‘I’ll get another key cut for the basement door, but until I do, keep the wire.’
He smiled and she suddenly felt that no matter what happened it was going to be all right. ‘I love you.’
‘Love you back,’ he whispered. Then he was gone.
‘Ashes to ashes ...’
Desperately trying to emulate the impassive, fixed expression on his brother’s face, Jack stood stiffly next to Martin. He braced himself as the vicar stooped, took a handful of earth from the mound behind them, and dropped it into the open grave, but he shuddered uncontrollably when the clods hailed down on to the casket lid. Much as he didn’t want to, he couldn’t stop himself from looking downwards as he struggled to absorb the reality that his mother was dead, her body in the coffin at the bottom of the pit, and even as he looked he felt himself falling ...
Someone stepped forward and caught him as he began to sway. He saw Martin turn his head, but half carrying, half supporting him, Roy Williams drew him away from his brother, back through the crowd of sober-suited men towards a bench overlooking the site.
‘I’m all right ...’ Even his voice sounded distant.
‘Just sit for a moment, Jack.’ Roy pushed him on to the seat and placed his hand on the back of his neck, forcing his head down to the level of his knees.
‘I was all right ...’
‘There was no air with that crowd pressing round.’ Roy sat beside him and looked across towards the vicar and Martin. ‘I felt faint myself.’
Jack knew he was trying to be kind, he also knew he was lying. ‘I want to see ...’
‘We’ll go back when the service is over. Then you and Martin will be able to say your goodbyes in private.’
Jack leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. ‘Is Dad in prison, Mr Williams?’
‘In the station for questioning.’
‘You arranged it.’
‘There were some things that needed to be straightened out. It seemed a good time to do it.’
‘Thank you. He would have come here otherwise, and Martin and I ...’
‘You don’t have to explain how you feel about your father to me, Jack. And you have my word that I’ll do everything I can to make sure that he doesn’t bother you, Martin or Katie again.’
‘But you can’t lock him up and throw away the key.’
‘Unfortunately not. Much as I’d like to.’
Opening his eyes, Jack stared bleakly at his brother, white-faced, hands clenched into fists in front of him. ‘What’s going to happen to us, Mr Williams?’
‘If you mean you, Martin and Katie, nothing much, if I have my way.’
‘You’ll still rent us your basement?’
‘Why shouldn’t I?’
‘Martin and I talked it over; we thought you wouldn’t want any of us near you after Dad ... after the way Mrs Evans died. And there’s Katie ...’
‘You’ve been listening to the gossips.’
‘People are saying it’s not right for Lily and Katie to be living in a house full of men.’
‘I know and that’s why I intend to do something about it.’ Roy rose to his feet as the mourners began to line up in front of Martin and the vicar to shake their hands. As he led Jack up the path towards the open grave he mulled over the wording of the question he intended to put to Joy Hunt tomorrow – just as soon as he’d buried Norah.
‘Martin, Jack, can I have a word?’ John Griffiths stopped the boys as they were about to step into the leading funeral car. ‘I know Katie was disappointed at not being allowed to come to her mother’s funeral...’
‘Men only,’ Jack muttered touchily, sensing criticism.
‘I’m not saying you should have allowed her to come, Jack, but I wondered if you’d like to bring her back now. By the time we get to Carlton Terrace and drive out here again they will have filled in the grave. Katie can see where it is, look at the flowers and read the cards for herself.’
‘Thank you, Mr Griffiths, that would be very kind of you,’ Martin accepted gratefully. He’d been dreading the funeral ‘tea’ back at Roy’s house almost as much as he had another bout of Katie’s rage at not being allowed to go to her own mother’s funeral.
‘I’ll see you there.’ John climbed into his car and unlocked the passenger door for Joe. ‘Perhaps you’d like to do the same for Lily tomorrow?’
‘Yes, I would, thank you for suggesting it, Dad.’
‘You and Lily ...’
‘I’m serious about her,’ Joe broke in as John turned the ignition. ‘I’m going to ask her to marry me.’
‘You’ve only been out with her a couple of times.’
‘I’ve known her most of my life.’
‘Marriage is a big step to take and an enormous leap from friendship. Are you absolutely sure?’
‘Absolutely sure,’ Joe repeated emphatically. ‘And with her future being so uncertain now Mrs Evans is dead, I intend to ask her as soon as I can and buy her an engagement ring. That would make my feelings clear and give her something settled to look forward to. Depending on my degree, which I should get, although I’m not sure about the first my tutor’s tipped me for, I’ve a job lined up with the BBC in Llandaff ...’
‘You never said,’ John interrupted.
‘I didn’t want another row with Mum.’
‘Who wants you to teach.’
‘Precisely. You’re not angry with me for accepting it?’
‘Anything but. It’s an excellent opportunity in a well-respected organisation. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy, Joe, and it seems to me you’re going the right way about it.’
‘I thought Lily and I could marry when I graduate. I’ll be twenty-one by then so I’ll have full access to my trust fund. I checked the figures and there’s more than enough money to buy a house and a car.’
‘So you’ll be engaged for what – a year?’
‘Ten months. It’s a long time but I’d prefer to put our relationship on a formal footing.’
‘Because you’re afraid Roy will send her away, or someone else might snap her up?’
‘Frankly, yes.’
‘What about Robin’s sister?’
‘It was never serious between us.’
‘That’s not the impression I had when she left for London at the beginning of the summer.’
‘It was just a passing fancy. Lily is the real thing.’
John wasn’t as convinced as Joe that Lily was the girl he should marry, especially after such a short courtship, but he also realised there was no way he could stop Joe asking Lily to marry him, or giving her an engagement ring if she accepted his proposal. And if his misgivings proved right, and Joe was more in love with the idea of Lily and marriage than Lily herself, a ten-month engagement would give him time to find out.
‘I’m glad you feel that way, Joe, but you’d better be prepared for some argument, because your mother won’t be very happy when she finds out.’
‘You don’t mind?’
‘Like your job at the BBC, I don’t mind. In fact, I’m pleased.’
‘Pleased enough to argue my case with Mum?’
‘I’ll try, but you know as well as me that I can’t promise you anything there.’
As he’d hoped, the number of mourners had dwindled in Roy Williams’ house by the time John returned from his second trip to Morriston cemetery with Martin, Jack and Katie. Mindful of the coffin in the parlour that awaited burial the next day, he made his excuses to Roy who met them at the door and went into his own house. To his surprise, Esme was sitting alone in the lounge.
‘I thought you were helping next door.’ He went to the cocktail cabinet and poured himself a whisky.
‘Not many came back after the funeral.’
‘A lot more will turn out for tomorrow’s.’
‘Norah had a wider circle of friends,’ she agreed.
‘Where are the children?’ Taking the glass, he sat opposite her.
‘With Lily and Judy next door. Helen told me you’d given her permission to go out again.’
‘I told you I would.’
‘She’ll never learn discipline ...’
‘Let’s agree to disagree on that subject, Esme. I think we have more important things to discuss.’
‘More important than our daughter?’
‘I want a divorce.’
‘I’ll never divorce you,’ she said flatly.
‘I saw a solicitor this morning. It will be easier with your consent, but if you refuse to give it, I’ll still press ahead, Esme.’
‘I won’t leave you, or this house.’
‘Not even if I bring a court case against you for restoration of conjugal rights?’
‘You wouldn’t dare. You ...’
‘Wouldn’t go into the witness box and say that you and I lead completely separate lives and you haven’t slept in my bed for eighteen years? Try me, Esme.’
‘You want me to move back into your bedroom, risk getting pregnant ...’
‘You’re missing the point. I want a divorce, not you in my bed. And if you give me no choice but to use the courts to get one, I will.’
‘And if you do succeed in divorcing me? What then? Where do you expect me to go, what do you expect me to do? I ...’
‘I’ll give you the shop in Mumbles. It’s freehold, a profitable concern, and there’s a flat above it that I’ve just refurbished.’
‘You forced me to live here after I was used to a detached house in Langland but you can’t force me to live above a shop. I won’t do it.’ Her voice rose hysterically. ‘I simply won’t.’
‘You can sell the shop, run it, or live there as you please. I’ll also continue to give you half your present allowance.’
‘Last time we spoke you said I could have the full amount.’
‘If you prefer, you can have that and I’ll keep the shop. Think about it, Esme, because one way or another I intend to get on with my life and I can’t do that while I’m tied to you.’
‘There’s someone else, isn’t there?’
‘I only wish there were. If there had been I might have come to my senses and done this years ago.’
‘I can’t believe you’re putting me in this position. You know perfectly well that no woman’s reputation can survive the scandal of a divorce.’
‘Not even if her husband leaves her for another woman?’
‘Then there
is
someone else.’
‘Not in my life.’ He studied her, but if there was anyone else in hers she gave no indication that he could read. ‘The solicitor suggested the quickest and simplest solution is I book into a hotel and hire a girl and a photographer. For about a hundred pounds they’ll furnish me with all the evidence you’ll need to divorce me for adultery.’
‘You’d be prepared to go to bed with a total stranger to divorce me?’
‘Pretend, Esme, like you on stage.’ He couldn’t resist making the comparison. ‘It would leave your reputation intact.’
‘Except with the people who’ll blame me for forcing you to look elsewhere for what you couldn’t get at home.’
‘Now that would be nearer the truth.’
‘And the business?’
‘There isn’t another warehouse like mine in Swansea. I’m prepared to take the risk that it will survive any gossip about my private life.’
‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’ Finishing his drink, he left his chair. ‘I’m going to the warehouse. If anyone wants me I’ll be there. In the meantime I suggest you see a solicitor.’ He walked out quickly so she wouldn’t see how much effort it had cost him finally to confront her.
‘Katie, what on earth are you doing here?’ John asked, as he walked into the office and saw her sitting at her desk.
‘Working.’
He took the invoice ledger from her hands and laid it on the desk. ‘Not today, you’re not.’
‘But I want to, Mr Griffiths. I can’t stand it ...’ She burst into floods of tears and Rosie took her in her arms.
‘Help her to the sofa. I’ll get one of the girls on the shop floor to make some tea and bring up a couple of aspirins.’ Walking into his office, he picked up the telephone and ordered tea. It arrived a few minutes later. Shortly afterwards, Katie’s sobs subsided and he could hear the soft murmur of Rosie’s voice. He glanced up at the clock: half past five, half an hour to go. It had been a long day.
‘Mr Griffiths, it’s six o’clock.’
‘So it is, Rosie. Time you were off home.’
‘Katie’s fallen asleep on the sofa. Shall I wake her?’
‘No, there’s no need. I have another hour or two’s work here. I’ll telephone her landlord and he’ll tell her brothers where she is.’
‘See you in the morning, Mr Griffiths.’ Rosie picked up the post. John telephoned Roy and followed Rosie downstairs to supervise the closing of the warehouse. When he returned at half past six, Katie was still fast asleep. Reluctant to disturb her, he settled back in his office with the account books. He had been meaning to update them for some time and it suddenly seemed as good a time as any.
It was half past eight when John made the last entry. Telephoning Roy again, he told him that he was waking Katie and would take her for a meal to save Lily the trouble of cooking her something. He walked into the sitting area and looked at Katie while she slept. Her hair was tousled over the cushion Rosie had placed beneath her head, her cheeks wet with tears. He wondered if she was even crying in her sleep.
As he watched, she suddenly opened her eyes; panic-stricken, she stared up at him.
‘You’re safe, Katie,’ he murmured reassuringly. ‘You’re in the office. You were upset, Rosie helped you here and you went to sleep.’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Griffiths.’
‘There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. I’m only sorry that I woke you, but I thought you’d better eat. It’s half past eight, the restaurants will stop serving in half an hour or so. I told Roy and your brothers that I’m taking you out for a meal,’ he explained in answer to her quizzical look.
‘There’s no need ...’
‘I’m hungry too, Katie. Go and wash your face and brush your hair. I’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes.’
John drove Katie to the Mermaid Hotel in Mumbles. It had an upstairs dining room that Esme had liked visiting in the first months after their marriage but he had been too self-conscious of his disfigurement in those days to enjoy eating out. It was strange how much time he had spent worrying about his appearance then and how he hardly ever considered it now.
‘I’ve never eaten in a restaurant,’ Katie confided as she sat tensely in the front seat of John’s car. She had been in the car several times but only when Joe had been driving and always in the back seat with Judy or Helen or both of them, and much as she respected and admired her boss, the intimacy of the front seat made her uneasy.
‘Then I hope this will be the first of many meals out you’ll enjoy.’ He parked the car in front of the hotel, helped her out of her seat and walked inside. Nodding to the receptionist in the office on the right, he led the way up the stairs and along the corridor. The waitress met them with menus at the door but as he stepped into the room he froze. Esme was sitting in the corner at a table for two. She had her back to him, a man he’d never seen before opposite her. As he memorised his features, the man reached across the table and placed his hand over Esme’s in an intimate gesture that confirmed every suspicion he’d ever had about her late-night absences.