The Quality of Love (11 page)

Outside he kissed her on the cheek; a parting that was more like brother and sister or good friends, it certainly didn't have the passion she expected him to show towards her after their holiday together.

‘Probably the best thing is for me to write and let you know when I can next manage to be here in the afternoon,' he told her.

‘Yes,' she agreed reluctantly. ‘I suppose that
will be all right. I'll try and make sure I pick up the letters before anyone else does.'

‘Don't worry, my letter will be quite safe. I'll sign it “Gwyneth” and then you can tell them that I am a friend and perhaps we can meet more often. Surely you'll be able to get away one evening a week or at the weekend if I let you know in good time?'

He was gone before she could answer and she felt close to tears of disappointment as she watched him disappearing down St Mary Street. Even when he briefly turned and waved to her it did little to quell the feeling of des ertion that overwhelmed her.

She turned over in her mind his suggestion of writing to her and wished she'd told him not to do so. If her father did read Gwyn's letter, he was bound to be suspicious because she'd told them that Gwyneth was her friend at university. She'd been so confused after Gwyn had made that suggestion that she hadn't been thinking clearly. What she should have done, of course, was ask him for his address and then she could have been the one to write to him. As it was, she didn't even know where he was living, although she was sure that it must be in Cardiff now that he was working there.

After a restless night she was up early, feeling sick with worry as she listened for the sound of the letter box, even though she realised that Gwyn wouldn't yet have had time to arrange anything or write a letter to her.

The same thing happened the next morning but when her mother placed a plate of sausage and egg on the table for her she had to struggle to eat it and only did so to avoid her mother asking questions. She was sure it was the stress of waiting for a letter that was making her feel unwell, and had no idea how she could explain that to her parents.

The moment she'd finished eating she hurried up to her room on the pretence of getting ready. She felt so bilious that she lay down on her bed for a while and tried to reason with herself that she was being silly and that she was imagining it. She couldn't go on making herself feel ill like this every day. It might be a week before Gwyn wrote to her.

The weekend came and went and no letter arrived and Sarah felt even more tense and unwell.

As soon as they met again she'd have to tell Gwyn that this arrangement was no good at all because all the worry was upsetting her. She not only felt physically sick but also so disorientated until mid-morning that the lectures in the early part of the day simply passed over her head.

A letter arrived on Monday morning and because, once again, Sarah was up so early she was able to retrieve it and secret it away without either of her parents noticing it. She still felt sick but this time she attributed it not to stress but to her tremendous feeling of relief.

The moment she was clear of Cyfartha Street Sarah pulled out the letter that she'd pushed into the pocket of her skirt and eagerly read it. It was so innocuous that she could easily have opened it in front of her parents. All it said was:

Can you come to the cinema with me Wednesday night? Meet me there at 7 p.m. Gwyneth

She almost laughed out loud with relief. She'd show it to her parents tonight, she decided, and see what they said. Then she realised she could hardly do this because then they'd know she'd collected it in the morning and hidden it away from them.

Why did everything have to be so complicated, she wondered? She thought about it all day, reading the few lines over and over again, deriving comfort from the fact that they'd been written by Gwyn. In the end she thought the best thing to do would be to wait until they were eating their evening meal and then tell them she wanted to go to the pictures with Gwyneth and see how they reacted.

‘I think that's a lovely idea,' her mother agreed. ‘You've been working so hard lately that you look quite washed out. An evening out will do you good.'

Lloyd was not so certain. ‘Is it going to interfere with your studies?' He frowned. ‘Those
sorts of outings should be undertaken during the holidays, not in term time; I thought I had made that quite clear.'

‘One exception isn't going to hurt, surely,' Lorna insisted. ‘I think it will do her good to have a night off.'

Sarah stayed silent, concentrating on the food in front of her and letting them argue it out between them. If her mother approved of the idea then she knew that, with a little persuasion, her father would do so as well because he never denied her mother anything. Usually she felt jealous about this but on this occasion she realised that it was going to be to her advantage.

Sarah thought Wednesday would never arrive. When it did she felt so sick that she couldn't touch her breakfast.

‘You must eat something,' her mother protested. ‘You'll only have a snack in the canteen at midday so if you are meeting your friend and going straight to the pictures, you'll be absolutely starving by the time you get home.'

‘We can always have something at a milk bar before the pictures start,' Sarah told her.

‘Fair-do's; I suppose you could do that, but it's not the same as sitting down to a proper meal,' her mother protested. ‘Still, I don't suppose it will matter for once.'

As she was leaving her mother pressed a half-crown into her hand. ‘Now mind you buy
yourself a bun and have a milk shake before you go into the pictures. Come straight home afterwards because your dad will have an eye on the clock and if you turn up late he's bound to say you shouldn't have gone out and that you mustn't do it again.'

Sarah nodded, ready to agree to anything now that she knew she would be seeing Gwyn in a few hours' time.

‘What did you say was showing?'

‘I . . . I don't know. It must be something good because my friend particularly wants to see it.'

‘You are a dreamer, cariad; you've always got your head in the clouds. Fancy not knowing,' her mother scolded lightly.

‘Sorry, Mam. I never thought you'd be interested.'

‘Well, just remember what you see because we'll want to know all about it when you come home,' her mother said, smiling.

Although her visit to the pictures with Gwyn was enjoyable and Sarah found it was wonderful to sit there with his arm round her, cuddling her close after the lights went down, somehow it had none of the magic of Porthcawl.

Afterwards, she was worried about getting back because she knew that if she was late she would have to face questions from her father about why she hadn't come straight home. This annoyed Gwyn because it meant that there was only time for a brief goodnight kiss.

‘There's not much point in us going out if
you have to dash home in such a hurry afterwards,' he said irritably.

‘If I'm late the first time I'm permitted to go to the pictures with a friend then I won't be allowed to do it again.'

‘This is stupid,' he argued. ‘You're eighteen now and if you didn't live so near to the university you would have left home ages ago and would be standing on your own two feet. They'd have no idea at all about how you spend your evenings.'

‘I know that just as well as you do,' she retorted, her cheeks flaming. ‘I don't like all these restrictions either but as long as I have to live at home then I have to do as they ask.'

‘I keep telling you, you must stand up for yourself. Tell them you need to have friends of your own and to go out with them occasionally. It's not as though you are going to be out every night now, is it?'

‘When are we meeting again?' she asked softly, trying to quell his anger.

‘If this is how things are going to be then there's not much point in us doing so,' he said churlishly.

‘Don't be like that, Gwyn. Like I've already said, if I get home in good time tonight then they might relax. If I don't, then they'll think I'm not to be trusted.'

‘Well, you're not, are you? If they knew about where you went and who you were with the other weekend they'd probably throw you out
and tell you never to darken their door again. Perhaps I should tell them?'

‘You wouldn't!' She stared at him horrified. ‘Promise me you will never do anything like that?'

‘Why? Don't you trust me?' he questioned.

Her heart was thumping because she wasn't completely sure whether she did or not. Determined not to let their argument develop into a row she put her arms round his neck and pulled his face down so that she could kiss him.

‘When are we meeting again?' she asked again. ‘Next time I'll tell them in advance that I'll be late home.'

‘Make that very late home and I might consider it,' he murmured as he returned her kiss.

‘Very well, I'll tell them I will be very late. So when is it to be?'

‘I'll write to you. Look out for a letter from Gwyneth,' he told her as they separated and she hurried down Cyfartha Street already later than she'd intended to be.

Although Lloyd Lewis looked very pointedly at the clock on the mantelpiece when Sarah arrived home he made no comment. She didn't offer any excuse, although she had already planned what to say if he challenged her on how late she was.

The evening hadn't had the sparkle she'd expected so she said very little to her parents, refused her mother's offer of some supper, and went off to bed right away.

She was late waking next morning and had to rush so much that she had no time to sit down to have what her mother called ‘a proper breakfast'. Grabbing a piece of toast and gulping down a cup of tea she promised her mother she'd make up for it with a good meal in the canteen at midday.

‘Well, mind you do, cariad,' her mother said worriedly.

About twenty minutes later she was feeling quite sick and wondered whether it was because she'd missed out on breakfast or because of the ice-cream she'd eaten in the pictures the night before when she'd been with Gwyn. As she
reached the university building she felt so dizzy that she thought she was going to faint.

The feeling wore off during the morning and she certainly felt better after she'd eaten at lunchtime. The next morning, however, she felt queasy again and this time her mother overheard her being sick and asked her what was the matter.

Although she dismissed it as merely something she'd eaten her mother didn't seem completely satisfied. ‘I think you'd better go and see the doctor. I've noticed you've not been looking well for a couple of weeks,' she said worriedly. ‘Perhaps the doctor can give you a tonic or something.'

‘You're making a fuss about nothing,' Sarah told her. ‘I'll be fine in an hour or so, I usually am.'

‘Do you mean that you've been sick before and said nothing about it?' Her mother frowned.

‘A couple of times. It's nothing. Like you keep saying, I have been working very hard.'

Lorna refused to let the matter drop. That night, when Sarah was going upstairs to bed, her mother followed her saying she wanted a quiet word with her.

‘I'm going to make an appointment for you to see the doctor. Now don't worry, I'll come with you,' she added quickly when she saw the look on Sarah's face.

‘I can't do that because it means I'll miss out on an important lecture. I tell you what I'll do,'
she went on quickly before her mother could start to argue about it, ‘I'll report to the sick room and see the matron at the university.'

‘When?'

‘I'll do it today, I promise.'

‘Well, mind you do and when you come home I'll want to know what she said.'

‘Probably exactly the same as you; that I've been working too hard.' Sarah smiled as she kissed her mother goodnight.

It was mid-afternoon before Sarah remembered her promise to her mother and dashed along to the sick room. She hoped there would be no one else there and that she could get away again in a matter of minutes so that she wouldn't be late for her next lecture.

Matron was a plump middle-aged woman with grey hair pulled back into a fat bun. She was neatly dressed in a dark blue dress and a white starched apron, and she had a fob watch to which she referred every few minutes as if timing how long her patient had been there.

She took a minute or so to find the card with Sarah's details on it, then she listened in silence as Sarah explained that she didn't really feel ill and that it was only because her mother had insisted she had professional advice that she had come to see her at all.

‘She made an appointment for me to see our doctor but it would have meant taking the morning off and I didn't want to do that,' Sarah finished.

Matron nodded understandingly. ‘I'll know better if it is anything to worry about after you've told me your symptoms,' she said in a kindly voice.

‘I feel sick first thing in the morning. That's all, really.' Sarah smiled. ‘It always wears off by mid-morning, though, and then for the rest of the day I feel fine.'

‘I see!' Matron picked up her pencil, asked a few pertinent questions, then made some notes on the card in front of her. When she looked up the smile was gone from her face.

‘I think that perhaps you will have to go and see your own doctor, my dear,' she said gravely.

‘Why?' Sarah looked alarmed. ‘Do you really think I've got something wrong with me, then?'

For a moment Matron didn't answer. She looked down at the notes she'd made, tapping her pencil thoughtfully. ‘I think you may be pregnant,' she said in an expressionless voice.

‘Pregnant?'

Matron was quick to notice the dismay in Sarah's voice and she gave her a piercing look. ‘Is there any reason for you to believe that you might be?' she asked in a rather severe voice.