Broken Rainbows (29 page)

‘Who cares?'

‘I care about your reputation.'

‘My reputation won't matter when we're all dead.'

‘Will you stop talking about death! We have a lot of living to do first.'

‘Perhaps, perhaps not. Do you want to move in or not?'

He knew he should check out her offer with Colonel Ford before accepting, but the thought of sleeping in a damp basement that stank of unwashed underwear, socks and male sweat as opposed to between the clean, white sheets, thick blankets and eiderdown on Jenny's bed, made the decision for him. It wasn't just the comfort and warmth, or even her soft, willing body. It was the prospect of living with her, seeing her every day, perhaps even the hope of persuading her that he really did love her. He gazed into her blue eyes, wanting to hold on to her and the way she made him feel.

‘Yes.'

‘Move in whenever you like, as long as you understand nothing's changed between us. I'll make up a bed in the front room over the shop. You'll close the blackout in there every night for appearances' sake, but if you want, you can share my bed. You know me, or you should by now. I'm game for a good time, but this arrangement means nothing more than that. And when it's your turn to be shipped out, I'll expect you to recommend another officer to take your place.'

‘Jenny …' he laid his hand over hers. She shrugged it off.

‘And as I'm putting myself out by having you here, you can start by assembling the bed.'

*……*……*

He screwed the bed together, fetched his things from the vestry, and shared a scrap meal of dried egg and tinned beans with her, but he couldn't help but notice that as soon as he'd agreed to move in with her, she'd fallen unusually quiet.

He helped her wash up after they'd eaten, then he moved his clothes into the wardrobe in the front bedroom that had once held her husband's things. She didn't offer to help. By the time he'd finished she'd gone to bed.

He joined her, and their lovemaking was as good and adventurous as it had ever been. Afterwards she rolled away from him, and when he heard her breathing steady to a quiet, even pace he assumed she was asleep.

It was later, much later, when he was dozing in a half-drowsy, half-awake, state that he heard a catch in her throat. He realised then that she was crying. He put his hand on her shoulder and whispered her name into the darkness.

‘Leave me alone,' came the angry reply.

For the first time he ignored what she said. Drawing her close, he held her, letting her tears fall on to his chest. And eventually, exhausted, they both slept.

Chapter Seventeen

Jane walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. Picking up the bundle of letters Maisie had collected from behind the door, she flicked through them. There was one envelope addressed to her in Haydn's handwriting. Leaving it on the table, she lifted Anne into her high chair, and reached for the saucepan to make porridge.

‘I'll do that, Mrs Powell. You read your letter,' Maisie offered as she bustled in from the pantry.

‘I could save it until break time in the factory.'

‘Why, when you're early for once? Sit down while I make the breakfast. If there's any news from your husband, Mrs John will be pleased to hear it. She worries so much about everyone.'

Sitting down at the table, Jane took a knife from the drawer and slit open the airmail envelope.

Dear Jane,

The tour will have finished by the time you read this, and I'll be on my way back to Britain. I'm heading for Bristol again, and I intend to go straight there and sort out rooms suitable for all of us so you can bring Anne down to stay for a few days, that's if you want to. As soon as I've done that, I'll try to wangle a couple of days' leave.

We have to talk,

Love, Haydn

‘From Haydn?' Bethan asked as she walked in with Eddie and Rachel.

‘His tour has finished and he's on his way back to Bristol.'

‘Will he get leave?'

‘He doesn't know yet.'

‘Let's hope he can manage it. My father was only saying yesterday that it seems like years, not months since he was home.'

Jane stared down at the plate of porridge Phyllis had placed in front of her, remembered the kiss Tomas had given her only yesterday, and didn't know what to hope for.

‘I don't think you should go into work.'

‘I'm not ill, Mother. Just jilted.' Anthea handed her untouched breakfast plate back to the maid.

‘I do wish you wouldn't talk like that in front of the staff,' Mrs Llewellyn-Jones reprimanded as the maid carried the plates out of the dining room.

‘Why? If they don't know Richard's left me by now, they will soon enough. I must be the talk of the town.'

Her mother reached out and stroked her hair in a rare maternal gesture. ‘You don't look at all well to me. It's a pity Fiona's left London for Scotland. You could have gone to stay with her until all this has blown over.'

‘London's a bomb site, not the hub of social life it was before the war. Besides, I'm needed in the bank.' She looked to her father for support.

‘We can manage without you for a day or two, Anthea.'

‘Will you both stop fussing,' she snapped. ‘I'll be fine.'

‘You won't be fine. Not while you're still wearing Richard's ring.'

Anthea removed it and stuffed it into her pocket. ‘Satisfied?' she demanded of her mother.

‘I'll take care of it for you, Anthea.'

‘We may need it as evidence, for the breach of promise action,' her father explained.

‘Richard gave it to me, and I intend to keep it.'

‘Anthea …'

‘I'll see you in the bank, Daddy.' Running into the hall she grabbed her cardigan and opened the door. The sooner she solved her immediate problem, the sooner she could get on with living the rest of her life and leave Richard Reide's desertion and betrayal behind her.

Anthea knew that all the staff were talking about her and the American captain who had duped her and her parents. There was an inordinate amount of whispering going on, and whenever she or her father approached, everyone fell silent, offering her sympathetic glances that set her teeth on edge. But swallowing her pride, she took her colleagues up on their suggestion that she visit the White Palace with them after work. Realising that his wife wasn't making the situation any easier for their daughter, Mr Llewellyn-Jones was only too delighted to see her go.

As they entered the cinema Anthea excused herself, pleading a headache. Two of the girls offered to take her home, but she refused. Insisting all she needed was fresh air, she waited in the foyer until they went in, then she left.

After glancing up and down the Tumble to make sure no one was watching her, she made a bee-line for the White Hart. At that time in the evening the back room was almost deserted. Two Negro soldiers were sitting at a table in the corner, eyeing four girls who had commandeered the central table.

The girls were wearing too few clothes and too much make-up, and one had instantly recognisable curly brown hair. Weak with relief at finding Vera so easily, Anthea went to the bar and asked for a lemonade. The barman stared at her as though she were a German spy, but he served her without comment. Taking her drink, she walked over to the girls' table.

‘Lost your Yank?' Vera asked as she stood awkwardly beside them.

‘He left with the others.'

‘I heard. Want to join us?' Vera pushed out a chair, and Anthea took it gratefully. ‘I know what a dirty trick he played on you. I'm sorry.'

Anthea looked into Vera's eyes. There was compassion not mockery in them. ‘I was hoping to find you here.'

‘You, looking for me? Don't tell me, your mother's thrown you out and you're desperate for advice on how to play the field?' Vera nudged Anthea with her elbow as she hooted with laughter.

‘You want me to throw you out again, Vera?' the landlord warned sternly from behind the bar.

‘Sorry, Fred, bad joke. Just got carried away. I'm only having a quiet drink here with my friend.'

‘You know Vera?' he asked Anthea sceptically, eyeing her bank ‘uniform' of blue serge skirt and high-necked white blouse.

‘We were in school together,' she lied.

He moved out of earshot, but continued to watch them from a distance.

‘Seven o'clock train's due in, Vera.' The other three girls left the table.

‘Got to go, duty's calling.' Vera finished her drink.

‘Please, stay. I really do need to talk to you.'

‘Look, love, if you think I can get George Rivers to tell me where that rat of a boyfriend of yours has gone, forget it. George never tells me anything… well, anything important.'

‘It's not that.'

Vera studied her for a moment. Anthea looked ill as well as shell-shocked, and she kept glancing at the door as though she was terrified of seeing someone she knew walking through it. ‘See you over there, girls,' Vera called as her companions left. ‘I can't stay long,' she warned Anthea. ‘Time is money. And I meant what I said about George. I haven't seen him in days.' She sat back, hitching her skirt higher for the benefit of the two Americans she knew were watching her every move. ‘So, you've joined the pudding club?'

‘How did you know?'

‘It's obvious, isn't it? Girl like you coming in here, looking for me.'

‘I'm desperate.'

‘I bet you are. Well don't worry. Auntie Vera will sort you out, but it's going to cost. Did that bastard leave you any money?'

‘No.'

‘I don't know why I even bothered to ask. George said his wife has expensive tastes.'

‘His wife?' Anthea gripped the table as the room whirled around her.

‘He's married with four kids and from what the boys told me, you're not the first girl he's pulled that engagement stunt on. He reckons it's cheaper to fork out for a ring than pay a professional for services rendered. Tight bugger. According to George he finds himself a nice, willing virgin wherever he goes, and Bob's your uncle. For him, but not for you. You're the one left holding the baby. Literally.'

‘You knew he was married that night we met in here?'

‘It was obvious. I can spot them a mile off'

‘Why didn't you tell me?'

‘Would you have listened?' Vera offered her a cigarette. ‘Look, love, I'd like to stay and chat, but as I said, time's money.'

‘But you will help me?'

‘At a price. A tenner for the room, and fifty for the operator.'

‘Fifty -'

‘Not so loud. If word of this gets around we'll all be for it. Besides, what's the problem? You can afford it?'

Anthea swallowed hard. ‘I have some jewellery I can pawn.'

‘When do you want it done?'

‘Now?'

‘Don't be stupid. You haven't got the money, and it won't be like having a tooth pulled. We're talking about an all-night job.'

‘I can't stay out all night, my parents wouldn't let me.'

‘All right, all day. When?'

‘I have next Wednesday off. I'll tell my mother I'm going shopping in Cardiff.'

‘Whatever.' Vera glanced at her watch and left her seat. ‘Just be at this address with the money.' She whispered in Anthea's ear. ‘Got that?'

‘Yes.'

‘Ten o'clock, no earlier. I hate mornings, and don't forget the cash. No money, no deal.'

Two days later Anthea took her father up on his offer of time off and went into Cardiff. Believing shopping to be a cure for all ills, especially a broken heart, her mother would have liked to accompany her but she had a committee meeting. Anthea already knew. She had studied her mother's diary and deliberately picked a day when she would be busy.

There were plenty of pawnbrokers in Pontypridd, but she didn't want to run the risk of her parents recognising the ring Richard had given her in one of their windows. She fingered it as she walked up to the platform to wait for the train. She was loath to sell it. It was the only proof she had that a man had desired her enough to ask her to marry him, even if he hadn't really meant it. But after what her father had said about needing it as evidence for a breach of promise action, she knew she had to get rid of it. She could never go to court and publicly expose the humiliation of Richard's deception and desertion for the benefit of the
Pontypridd Observer
and her mother's friends and acquaintances. Especially now, when she knew he'd been married all along. And there wasn't any other way to raise the money. If she withdrew it from her bank account her father would see the transaction on her statement. Then again, perhaps there was something fitting about Richard's ring paying for the operation. When they reached Cardiff, she ignored a request for help from a woman burdened with a pram, a toddler and a baby, and walked briskly towards the arcade that housed the best-known pawnbroker in the city. She had to keep thinking about what was going to happen as a surgical operation. A quick, clean procedure no different from the removal of an appendix. She simply had to.

‘Sorry, miss, I don't want it.' The wizened old man removed the eyeglass he'd used to examine the stones, and handed the ring back to her.

‘I'd settle for less than the full value.'

‘I bet you wouldn't, miss. That's worth about one pound five shillings.'

‘It's gold set with diamonds and sapphires.'

‘What you've got there, miss, is what's known in the trade as paste. Glass, to the uninitiated. Some clear, some coloured a very pretty blue, set in a gold-plated mount. Probably a copy of a valuable original the owners had made rather than risk taking the genuine piece out of the vault for the lady of the house to wear.'

‘You don't understand. I need sixty pounds,' she pleaded.

He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I could give you fifty off that watch.'

She wrapped her fingers around it. ‘I couldn't possibly. My grandmother left this gold watch to me when she died. It's been valued at a hundred and fifty pounds.'

‘All right, seeing as how I've got a soft heart, sixty, and I'll throw in a passable copy for free. You won't get better than that anywhere in the city. What do you say?'

*……*……*

Bethan smiled and murmured ‘Good morning' to the queue of Negroes snaking out of Alma's shop as she called in for her mid-morning tea. Opening the kitchen door, she crouched down beside Theo and kissed him, before straightening her back and looking at Alma.

‘You're busy?'

‘I'm not complaining.'

‘Any problems?'

‘With the Negroes? None. If anything, they're more polite than the white GIs.' Alma tipped a pile of cold mashed potato into a pie filling she was mixing.

‘You've talked to them?'

‘The two sergeants and a few of the boys staying in the chapel. Theo's never been so spoilt. They love him.'

‘Everyone loves Theo.' Bethan tickled him, then joined Alma at the table.

‘I did see Mrs Llewellyn-Jones scurrying into the bank with an extremely indignant look on her face the day they arrived, possibly because she can't view any of them as a replacement bridegroom for Anthea, poor girl.'

‘My father-in-law was telling me this morning that the Llewellyn-Joneses have visited a solicitor. They're threatening to sue Richard Reide for breach of promise. Like you, I feel sorry for Anthea. It must be hard enough to lose a fiancé without going through all the embarrassment of a court case.'

‘They'll have to catch Richard Reide to sue him. And the Americans are refusing to give out any addresses.'

‘How do you know?'

‘Captain Reide wasn't the only one to love, leave and disappear. Mrs Lane told me this morning that there's four other girls in the same position as Anthea. Two of them pregnant. She also said that Richard Reide is married with four children, but don't ask me if that's true. I've no idea where half the stories going around the town come from. And I only repeat them to you in the hope that you'll either confirm or deny them.'

‘I wish I could help Anthea,' Bethan mused.

‘After all the things the Llewellyn-Joneses have said and done to you over the years?'

‘That's just the trouble, if I go to her now, she'll think I'm trying to get back at her, and it's not like that. She and Andrew were good friends when they were children.'