Nothing is Forever (23 page)

‘Cathy, d’you know where the Yeomen’s Arms is?’ Blodwen asked.

‘I think it’s the one near the prison. Why? Not taking to drink are you, Blod?’

‘No, I just heard the name somewhere and wondered where it was, that’s all.’

She patted her friend’s arm. ‘Thanks for not being miffed about me changing my mind. I’ll go and tell Ruth I’ll be there on Christmas Eve with my little overnight bag.’ As she fastened her coat and shut the door behind her, she stopped and went back inside. Taking the creased envelope and letter from the litter bin, she smoothed them again, re-read them and with a frown, put them in her kitchen table drawer, hidden by a chopping board and the clutter of letters that she never managed to sort out. The Yeomen’s Arms near the prison? Who can it be and why choose that place?

Ruth went to the shops after speaking to Blodwen and came back loaded with food. Tabs and Aunty Blod. Abigail and Gloria. It wasn’t the same as having the family filling the house but it made the days ahead manageable. Pushing aside thoughts of all the Christmases to come, when Tommy and Bryn would have their babies, and their own celebrations to plan, she began filling tins with cakes and pastries, topping up the dishes of nuts and sweets, and making lists of things to do. It was the same as she always did but this year it had an air of artificiality. She was playing a stupid game of make believe, pretending that this Christmas would be a family time just like the rest. Defiantly, she opened the boxes of crackers and spread them around the room.

Henry went with a large beribboned box of expensive chocolates and left it in Lillian’s porch. Leaving the van parked on the road nearby, he went for a walk. The weather was cold and a gusting wind made him hurry to keep warm. At the point overlooking the beach, he stepped down and found a sheltered spot to sit and watch the birdlife at the tide’s edge below him. He took out a notebook and added names to the list he had previously made, making a note also of the date of the entry. He had been filling notebooks like this for years, helped by Ruth. Flowers, animals, insects and birds had been a life long interest for them both until she had become so obsessed with caring for her family she no longer had the time. When he returned to Lillian’s house, her dog, Sally, was sitting beside his van, watching the road and when she saw Henry, she jumped up and came to greet him.

Lillian waved from the doorway and he called to her, inviting her to go with him and have some lunch. As they sat enjoying the warmth of the restaurant watching the increasingly wild wind outside, he told her of his plan.

‘There’s a house I’ve decided to buy,’ he began. He described the house to which he had taken Ruth and added her reaction to it. ‘But now she knows she really has to leave Ty Gwyn and perhaps will think more positively about what she wants,’ he added. Lillian waited silently for him to continue.

‘Behind the house is a long garden and beyond it a small woodland with a stream running through it. If I buy the lot, it would make a wonderful place for people to come on holiday. I’d need to take on one extra knowledgeable person, and between us we can take them on walks to see the variety of wildlife and flowers that many pass without noticing. Experts too would love visiting such a place, with Gower on our doorstep and so many beautiful places to visit.’

Lillian didn’t say anything and he asked, ‘So, what d’you think of the idea?’

‘Where does Ruth fit in? You have discussed it with her?’

‘I’ve tried but she’s not in a very receptive mood at present.’

‘But you want her aboard?’

‘Definitely. I hope she will be housekeeper and cook. Feeding people is what she likes best.’

‘If she goes into the thing whole-heartedly, you can’t fail. It’s a wonderful, exciting idea. But you have to talk it through with her now, before everything is underway or she’ll feel like an afterthought. Don’t wait until it’s all arranged and then be surprised when she isn’t exactly enthusiastic.

‘Difficult,’ he said ruefully. ‘I’ve already bought the house and land.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘It was taking Ruth on her country round and visiting the farmers that gave me the idea. Some of the people I met have agreed to help with expertise and advice. In fact I have already ordered some bird nesting boxes and feeding stations and mapped out some of the walks.’

‘Henry. You can’t fail!’

Christmas Day was strange, with episodes of lively chatter as her brothers and sisters-in-law came and went, interspersed by miserable silences with Geraint sitting at the table and eating, then disappearing upstairs to his room. He appeared briefly when his brothers came to exchange gifts and managed to smile as he handed Ruth a parcel containing three hand-embroidered cushion covers. They were beautiful and Ruth was delighted, until he spoilt it by saying, ‘I thought they would be nice for your new home.’

None of them stayed long, and Blodwen put on some records of favourite music, Tabs showed them some card tricks and brought out the draughts board. Ruth built up the fire and drew the curtains early, to try and create a cheerful atmosphere but she found herself watching the clock, longing for the day to end.

She thought it was much the same for Abi and Gloria. Christmas was just an interlude before moving into their flat and returning to the life they had lost. Not with as much money, but from what she had been told by Abi, that had been criminally wasted anyway. Every time she glanced at them she had the feeling they were ready to spring up and go. Whereas for her, she wanted to tie herself to the couch and refuse to move.

Each time she passed through the hall she glanced at the parcels still sitting beneath the Christmas tree. They seemed to be glaring at her with disapproval. One from Henry and one for Henry. They could be there until Easter, she thought, although if Geraint had his way she and the parcels would be long gone before that.

As one record ended and Blodwen rose to select another, they became aware of a strange sound. Ruth went upstairs and was angry to discover that Geraint was removing wallpaper from his bedroom ready for re-decorating.

‘What are you doing? It’s Christmas Day! Are you in so much of a hurry to sell my home?’

‘Sorry, but I can’t sit and do nothing. Hazel wants everything settled. She and this Eddie Collins are buying me out of the business and it seems she can’t wait to get me out of her life.’

‘Just like you can’t wait to get me out of this house!’ Ruth stamped down the stairs and told the others what Geraint was doing.

‘Terrible hurt he was, with that wife of his carrying on and having to get out of the business an’ all,’ Blod said. ‘I don’t agree with the way he’s rushing you, but you have to feel some sympathy.’

‘Do I?’ Without warning, Ruth burst into tears. ‘Everyone has an excuse for behaving badly except me! I’m Ruth, everyone’s shoulder to cry on and I don’t count!’

‘I’d better go,’ Tabs said. She put her arms around Ruth and hugged her. ‘Can I come again tomorrow?’

‘Sorry about this display of temper, but my brother is so selfish.’

Tabs gathered her coat and her gifts. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow and thanks so much for today.’ Abigail and Gloria went to their room.

Upstairs the scraping sound continued.

There was no friendly greeting when Tabs walked in to see Martha sitting beside the fire and her father handing her a cup of tea.

‘Threw you out, did she?’ her father muttered.

‘No, I thought I’d spend the rest of the evening with you.’

‘Glad I am to see you,’ Martha said. ‘You’ll make the casserole for tomorrow, won’t you? I’m that tired you wouldn’t believe. There’s a lot of chicken left and plenty of vegetables.’

‘I thought you were going out for Christmas dinner?’

‘Changed our minds. Your father wanted to make our first Christmas together special.’

So the day out had been nothing but an excuse to get rid of me, she thought. Without a word she went into the kitchen where used dishes were spread over the table and draining board. Her father followed and nodded towards the bread bin.

‘There’s plenty of bread, you can make a bread and butter pudding, too. Martha’s favourite that is. We’re just popping next door for an hour.’ He stopped at the door and said, ‘There’s tea in the pot if you want a cup.’

She thanked him with exaggerated emphasis but her sarcasm was wasted.

At eleven o’clock when the food was cooked she went to bed and tried to read. Like Ruth, it was time for her to rebuild a life for herself. Knowing Ruth and Henry had made her a bit stronger, a little more confident, but the thought of stepping out into the world and soon to have a child to look after, was nothing less than terrifying. She knew nothing would change unless she left this house where was treated like a servant, where she seemed unable to resist their demands. But what alternative was there that might not be worse?

She had reread a page for the second time, forcing herself to concentrate, when there was a knock at the door. Apprehensively she went down, her dressing gown held tightly against her.

‘Who is it?’ she demanded.

‘It’s me. Jack. Please don’t walk away, I have to talk to you.’ As Tabs made no move to open the door, he whispered, ‘Tabs, I have to talk to you, I need your help.’ Still no movement. ‘Tabs, I love you, please open the door.’

The key turned and before she could work out what to say, how to act, she was in his arms and he was moving her towards the stairs.

His love-making was exciting and she succumbed without hesitation, or guilt. His lips worked their magic and even when she heard the door open and Martha call, she didn’t react, so wrapt in the happiness of belonging to the man she so desperately loved. His explanations of the conversation she had overheard didn’t enter her mind until long after passion faded and a quiet perfect calm filled her with content.

They were silent, smiling like conspirators in the poor light from the street outside, uncomfortable in the narrow bed now their need of each other had eased. They heard Martha and her father come upstairs and go into their own room and they waited a while before Jack whispered, ‘I’m sorry about the mess I’ve made of helping Abigail, but remember, Tabs, it’s you I love.’

‘Jack, we’re going to have a baby.’ She felt the jerk as his body reacted to the shock. ‘I wanted to tell you before but I waited in case I was mistaken. But now it’s definite, I’ve seen the doctor and it’s true. Jack, I’m so happy. You and a child of our own. It’s a dream come true.’

‘Tabs, that’s wonderful.’ If his voice sounded flat she wasn’t aware of it, so joyful did she feel, with Jack here holding her in his arms and telling her he loved her.

‘One of the best parts is being able to walk away from this house where I’m treated like a stupid servant,’ she told him. She talked dreamily of their future for a while with Jack adding a word occasionally, holding her close, kissing her cheek but staring into the darkness with panic-filled eyes.

‘Tabs, I’m so happy being here with you, holding you in my arms. Listening to your wonderful news was a dream come true for me too, but I have to go. I don’t want you having to face your father if he finds me here.’

‘Stay. I wake early and I’m always the first to get up. I’m expected to take tea in for Martha. Please, Jack. Let’s spend a night together.’

Jack hugged her. ‘Darling, I’d love to, but if I sleep for six or seven hours on this damned uncomfortable bed, I won’t be able to make my escape in the morning!’

He pretended to succumb to her whispered pleading, promising to stay until morning and lay there wide awake, trying to think of a way out of the mess he had created, until she was asleep. Then he gradually eased himself away from her. He felt his way downstairs and into the kitchen but couldn’t find the key to the back door. He tried the front door but that was also locked and the key hidden. Eventually he opened a window, slipped out and pulled it down after him.

Ruth dismantled the tree and pulled down the trimmings on the day after Boxing Day, far earlier than usual. She had always left them up until Twelfth Night then they were parcelled up and packed away carefully ready for the following year. This time she pulled them down roughly and stuffed them carelessly into flour sacks given by the baker. then she went outside and tipped them into the ash bin. So far as her family was concerned, Christmas was no longer a family celebration.

The rooms looked so bare without the artificial brightness. She always hated the moment when the house was stripped of its temporary splendour. Dusting surfaces untouched since the first cards were placed was always the first job but she threw the duster aside and sat listening to the hollow emptiness of the house. Upstairs, Geraint was painting skirting boards and window frames. The wallpaper he had bought was in the smallest bedroom ready for the next stage. She picked up a duster to begin polishing surfaces that had been covered with greenery but again she threw it aside. She couldn’t do this. Not today. Tabs was back with her parents, Aunty Blod had gone home to spend New Year with her neighbour. Abigail and Gloria were at their new flat. She was alone apart from Geraint, who came down occasionally to make tea and hardly spoke a word.

She put on her warmest coat and a new scarf she’d been given and went to see Henry. The shop was closed, although most businesses opened for the period between Christmas and New Year. She knocked on the door of the flat but there was no reply. She didn’t feel able to go to his mother’s home so she walked dejectedly through the park.

Most windows were still lit with coloured lights and occasionally doors opened and laughing groups of people emerged, calling greetings to everyone, including herself. She responded, but believed that the coming year would be the worst year of her life.

It wasn’t particularly cold but she snuggled down into her scarf, bending her head as though fighting a chill wind, so she didn’t see Henry until she almost bumped into him. ‘Henry!’

‘Where are you off to?’

‘I’ve just called at the flat but you weren’t there and I’m, I don’t know, just walking off some of the excess food, I suppose.’

‘The van is round the corner; come and see Mum. She’ll be pleased to see you and to thank you for the musical box you gave her.’ She hesitated almost from habit and he said softly, ‘Unless you have some people to feed?’