Paint on the Smiles (4 page)

‘Danny knows nothing about this,’ Annette assured her, fingers crossed against the part truth.

‘All right. I’d be a fool not to, wouldn’t I?’ She sat on the edge of the table. She hadn’t invited Annette to sit. ‘You’re right, I do need to get away, be my own person for a little while. Thank you. Can I ask why? Sorry for me, are you?’

‘How could I be sorry for someone with such a beautiful daughter?’ She smiled at the dark-haired girl watching them solemnly. ‘I just think that when life is good to you – as it’s been to me – it’s nice to pass on some of your good fortune. But you won’t tell anyone, will you?’ She spoke earnestly. ‘I mean, passing on good luck isn’t so people will tell me how generous I am. People knowing would spoil it.’ She handed her a ten shilling note, part of the money Willie had given her to buy what she needed for the holiday. ‘This is for the train fare.’

Victor began to rouse and Annette wanted him out of there. She promised him an ice cream if he stayed in the chair a little longer. She hurried him away, hoping he wouldn’t mention the visit to Willie, or worse, to Danny.

They called to see Peter Marshall but he wasn’t there so she caught the bus home. There were letters to write, and postal orders to send. She didn’t know what she’d do if the hotel had no other vacancies!

Phil Spencer looked an old man. His hair, always thin, was cut very short and was a yellowish grey. The yellow was caused by the cigarettes he now smoked. He spent most of his day, apart from work and exercise, in the small cell shared with another burglar and, although the man wanted to compare notes and share knowledge and past errors, Phil refused to discuss his criminal ‘career’. All he wanted was to get out and see if Ada meant her promise to be there waiting for him.

Yet as the time approached, he was frightened. Prison had been a completely new world and he’d had to learn its rules and esoteric laws.
Returning to the old world, facing people who had been friends, noticing changes that had happened while he’d been away, would again be entering a strange world, its rules needing to be relearned. The prospect kept him awake at night. When he had hit the guard, he’d felt shame but also a relief that the day he went out had been delayed.

There was a letter on his bunk from Ada and as usual he stared at it without opening it for a long time. Afraid to read that she was leaving him, saying goodbye. As his fingers touched the envelope flap, his eyes blurred with panic and he couldn’t read the words for several minutes. It was only when he had skimmed through it, and found nothing but concern and love, that he would settle and absorb every precious word.

The routine of each day was a torment. They would see an eye through the peephole, then the key would turn in the heavy lock and they were allowed the artificial freedom of walking down the catwalk with the night soil, all in a line, trying not to look at the filth they carried. They shuffled along at a regimented speed between the cell wall and the wire mesh covering the open area between the cells and those opposite. The walls were brick, painted with so many coats of paint over the years the joins hardly showed.

Even in the exercise yard there was nothing to see but bricks, and his mind often wandered to pretend he could see people on the other side, going about their normal, perhaps boring, lives. Passers-by were so used to the gaunt buildings with the high, windowless walls they hardly noticed them and certainly never gave much thought to the men inside.

He knew he would never forget the smell. It permeated his clothes and oozed from his skin, a part of him forever. How could he go back to Ada, his sweet-scented wife, and share a bed with her, touch her, kiss her, make love, smelling like this? There were times when, if the wire hadn’t prevented it, he would have jumped, hoping to end the painful sojourn in death. The railway line wasn’t far away; perhaps, when he was released, he could end his life there?

He fiddled with the most recent letter, thinking of Willie and his family going on holiday. If he got out with his mind intact he would never want to go away. He was lost in the agony of his situation, staring at the wall, behind which was that other world. His thoughts became distorted, with fact and imagination becoming confused.

Ada was huge and he was small, then Willie was shouting at him for upsetting the sisters, then he was down in a well, the water rising and Cecily looking over the top and laughing. Voices all around him were
chanting ‘worthless, worthless’ and he was agreeing with them when the man sharing the cell shook him awake and he hit out at him, just as he had when the guard had done something similar. His companion sat him on the edge of the bunk and, wiping blood from his face, urged him to calm down.

When he heard the small metallic sound that told him the eye was there, he watched and waited for the rattle of the key and jerked his troubled mind back to the present to eat yet another prison meal.

C
ECILY AND
A
DA
had asked their cousin Johnny Fowler to help them while Willie was on holiday. He was unemployed apart from an occasional evening on the taxi and was delighted to be asked. He still looked the same gangling youth who, eight years before, had helped carry their father’s coffin and walked ahead of the funeral cortege, Cecily thought. His thin brown hair was still plastered down and sticking out in a stiff fringe over his ears, refusing to follow the contours of his bony dome.

‘It’s stuck there like a piece of badly woven cloth,’ she whispered to her sister. ‘Poor dab, you’d think someone would tell him.’

‘Best if he goes to Gareth for a decent haircut. He’d give him a bit of style if anyone can,’ Ada suggested. ‘Gareth is good with difficult hair.’

Cecily felt the remnants of regret at the mention of Gareth Price-Jones. If she had been honest and told him that Van was her daughter, they might be together now. They had been happy days: building the business, dancing and planning her wedding. She stopped then, remembering Van’s unkind remark that only unhappy people looked back and said the past was good. Nonsense, of course, but.…

‘I said we should suggest it,’ Ada said, obviously not for the first time.

‘Suggest what?’

‘Suggest that Johnny goes to Gareth for a decent haircut.’

‘Yes, that’s a good idea, but how do we tell him he looks a sight?’

Johnny came in from the beach deliveries, having called into the fish market on the way home. He smelled strongly of fish although he had only carried the wooden boxes.

‘We’ll make you a cup of tea before you go out again, while you wash your hands.’

‘It’s not my hands that stink of fish,’ he groaned. ‘It’s leaked all over my coat, and there’s me going out this evening straight from work!’ His Adam’s apple wobbled in indignation.

‘Where are you going?’ Ada asked.

‘To Cardiff to see a show. Taking a girl I am and now I’ll have to meet her stinking of fish!’

‘Tell you what, Johnny, there’s an old coat of Dadda’s in the wardrobe and we’ll treat you to a smart haircut at Gareth’s.’

‘It was as easy as that,’ she told Cecily later.

They persuaded him to leave before the shop closed, insisting they could manage for the last hour, and watched him stride up the hill to the main road, his long skinny legs looking more spider-like than ever in the too-tight trousers and the too-large coat. It was raining and they were glad to close the shop. The rain darkened the buildings, bringing them closer and making the night oppressive, and they were glad to block out the dull, chilly evening.

‘Imagine those people still working at the beach.’ Cecily shuddered. ‘They stay open for as long as there’s a chance of a customer. Lucky we went last week with Peter, there might not be many more days left for bathing this summer.’

Waldo arrived at 7.30. He’d been asked to call by the sisters, who had a plan to put to him. He looked ill. Waxy faced, but with spots of high colour on his cheeks that made the pale skin even more alarming. Fatigue showed in his eyes but he seemed cheerful and full of enthusiasm, as always.

‘We want to buy the shop next door,’ Cecily told him. ‘We can’t carry the stock we’re selling in large enough quantities to get the best price. Everything goes so fast we even have to collect from the wholesalers on the way to make deliveries sometimes.’

‘An extra few rooms would make it easier, specially as you advise us to carry greater stock,’ Ada added. ‘What d’you think?’

Waldo looked doubtful. ‘I can see the sense in what you’re saying, but there are other points to consider. Everything goes up. Rates, heating, insurance, and why pay to hold stock that the wholesalers will hold for you for nothing? Use the stable, leave the van outside if necessary; that will cost nothing extra.’

‘We thought of renting out the top floor to cover the extra expenses,’ Cecily explained.

‘More responsibility, and you two have enough already. Phil will be home soon, Ada, and he’ll need more of your time, not less. And you, Cecily, will be on your own, with Van. No, I think you should expand but not like this. If you open another, separate, shop, get someone to run it as a business, then if there’s a war you’ll be in a stronger position.’

‘You really think we’ll fight against Germany again?’

‘Hitler became chancellor as far back as 1933. He announced the intention of destroying or driving away all the Jewish people and developing a one-party system and no one attempted to stop him when he became dictator in 1934. Earlier this year he took control of the army and still no one tried to hold him back. He’s all set to take on the rest of Europe and his country is behind him. His promises are impressive and his people look upon him almost as the finest leader they had ever had. I can’t see anything less than full-scale war stopping him now.’

It was a long speech for Waldo, and Cecily found it distressing, not because of the contents but for the way Waldo had to keep stopping to take a breath. She hardly heard what he actually said.

‘Won’t Chamberlain talk him round?’ Ada asked.

‘Maybe, for a time, but don’t underestimate the danger. Yes, I think you should invest in a second shop, diversify if you can. This business is bound to suffer.’

The sisters were gloomy as they made tea and offered Waldo some of his favourite cakes. Then Waldo seemed to cheer up and asked, ‘And how is young Van? Where does she fit into your plans?’

‘Van is fine. She and Edwin planned to play tennis this evening but the weather changed that to table tennis,’ Ada told him.

‘She doesn’t want to stay on at school,’ Cecily said. ‘We’ve tried to persuade her. She was wrong to take a place at the grammar school if she had no intention of staying. There were others wanting her place, girls who’d make better use of it.’

‘She’s talking about working with Dorothy and learning about fashion. Such a waste of her qualities.’

Waldo shook his head. ‘Not necessarily. She’ll succeed at whatever she does. Perhaps the world of fashion will interest her even if she does stay on.’

‘If you’re right about there being a war,’ Cecily said gloomily, ‘how much fashion will there be in khaki uniforms?’

They were both waiting for Johnny the next morning to see his haircut. Ada saw him first and she groaned. ‘It’s like a smaller piece of badly woven cloth,’ she reported. ‘Poor dab. There’s one who’ll benefit from premature baldness!’

Johnny had something on his mind. He wanted to tell the sisters but
was afraid of putting it badly and upsetting them. He compromised by telling Van.

‘I saw your gran last night,’ he told her.

‘Where? Have you found out where she lives?’ Van was excited. ‘Oh, I’d love to see her. D’you think she wants to see me? If I went without telling Mam and Auntie Ada?’

‘I know where she’s living but I can’t decide whether or not to tell the sisters.’

‘Not!’ Van was emphatic. ‘Please, Johnny, tell me and let me see her on my own before the others find out. Please, Johnny.’

‘That boyfriend of hers was with her,’ he said, giving himself time to think, ‘and his son.’

‘Happy is she? Without us?’

‘She seems different. The son, Paul Gregory, was about twenty and looks a bit of a handful. Tough as a mad gorilla he was, with sinews like steel hawsers. He’s been in the army since a young boy, so Auntie Kitty – your nan – told me. They asked us to go back for supper, me and my girlfriend, Cleo.’

‘Cleo? Cleo Robbins? Is she your girlfriend, Johnny?’ Van chuckled at the thought of her cousin courting. He’d always been a source of amusement and it was hard to imagine him taking a girl out, especially one she knew.

‘We’ve been going out for a couple of months, until last night. Now she’s going out with a big, bull-necked bloke called Paul Gregory!’

‘You let this Paul Gregory steal your girl?’

‘Glad I was really. She started looking at furniture shops and jewellery.’ His Adam’s apple went into top gear and a faint blush drifted across his angular features. ‘Hey, what am I telling you all this for? Not old enough yet, you aren’t, Myfanwy Owen.’

‘Neither are you by the sound of it!’

After a great deal of pleading, Johnny agreed to take Van into Cardiff to see her grandmother and also not to tell the sisters. Johnny was not completely happy about this but Van was hard to argue with when she wanted something really badly.

When they reached the small house in a road near the canal, Johnny knocked and insisted Van waited around the corner while he asked Auntie Kitty if she would see her. When she knew her granddaughter was near, Kitty ran to greet her and almost lifted her off her feet in a wild hug of joy, although Van was taller than her.

Johnny walked along the canal bank, looking down into the greenish, glutinous water while they talked. When they caught the bus with their story of a visit to the museum well rehearsed, Van sat silently gloating over the secret which she intended to keep from her mother and aunt. Finding Gran was her secret, something to be cherished, a private possession safe from interference, Johnny her unwilling accomplice.

‘It’s Gran’s wish that they aren’t told,’ Van told him several times on that bus journey. ‘You’ve got to promise not to tell.’ So he promised and the secret remained intact, and Van kept in touch with her grandmother without anyone else finding out.

Outside the holiday cottage in the little village in west Wales, Danny was checking on the fishing. He had driven most of the way to the hotel where Willie had booked a week’s stay and, leaving Willie and Annette to unpack and settle Victor in, he’d taken his rod and set off to explore the river running alongside the delightful property.

There was no one else staying at the hotel, although the manager had told him another booking had been made but not yet filled. He wondered idly if there would be another child for Victor to play with.

He walked slowly, looking around him, enjoying the peace and quiet, listening to birdsong and the occasional slap as a fish jumped out of the water after a fly. At thirty-five he was still a handsome man, and he kept that carefree gypsy look that women found so fascinating. His figure had thickened a little but the dark hair was as black and curly as ever. The earring with which he showed defiance of convention glinted in the sun.

This week had been a good idea on Willie’s part and already he felt the tension easing from him. The shock of Jessie’s divorce and her initial refusal to keep Cecily out of the notoriety had been a nightmare. This week was the perfect opportunity to forget it and refresh himself. Willie’s family were good company even if they were a constant reminder of his solitary state. They made him aware that he was alone, with no one who cared a pig’s bristle for him.

He walked for several miles along the bank of the river, noting the deep pools where large fish might lie and seeing from the pattern of worn grass where feet had walked and fishermen had stood, casting hopefully into the dark waters. Further up, where the river ran through woodland, the river was deep and wide. In a small clearing he came across several coracles lying upside-down, the smell of tar evidence of their recent maintenance. There was a smell of rotting bait too. He could see where unused
worms had been thrown carelessly towards the water, some getting caught on the branches.

A water rat scuttled through the grass and stopped to chew at a freshly discarded morsel. The water ran swiftly past, sleek and smooth, its surface hardly showing a ripple as the rat slipped in and headed for its home in the bank.

Danny left the coracle station, having decided to return in the early morning to watch them set off. He would love to try and manage one of the fragile craft but thought it unlikely they’d agree.

‘Caught any fish, then?’ Willie called as he walked back into the hotel.

‘No. Nice walk though. I think I’ll go down early tomorrow and see if one of the fishermen will let me try one of the coracles.’

‘My brother is one of the coracle men,’ the landlord told them. ‘In fact, he caught the lovely Sewin you’re having for dinner tonight. Shall I have a word with him?’

So it was arranged for Danny to have an early call, an early breakfast and maybe a trip on the river.

He went to bed but didn’t sleep straightaway, allowing the sounds of the strange house and the nearby river to settle around him. Muffled voices from the room next door gave him moments of self-pity, in which he felt envious of Willie, his plump wife and small son.

Cecily should be here with him. Cecily with whom he shared a love neither would accept. She was independent and he couldn’t help wishing her father had left the shop to that brat Owen, the son of the unpleasant Dorothy. There would never be a time when Cecily would settle for a quiet life; she would always want a new challenge, a goal to achieve. He believed he could learn to cope with all that, though. It was the easy way she had with men, flirting and driving him to anger, that he found so difficult.

Perhaps he should have settled for Jessie. She was the antithesis of Cecily: quiet, submissive and patient. But she was so irritating he found himself wanting to hurt her deliberately by being sarcastic – something she couldn’t cope with – and treating her unkindly when she didn’t deserve it. Best he stayed away from her, but now, lying all alone, he wished she were with him. Darkness is a large space to fill when you’re lonely.

The friends ate separately, Danny rising early to meet the coracle men and leaving before Willie and Annette came down, although he heard the lively chatter from their room, reminding him of how early three-year-olds awoke. A stab of jealousy trapped in his thoughts from the previous
night jolted him as he passed their room with his rods and the box of tackle. He sighed it away. A good day stretched out before him.

He was welcomed by a young man who earned a precarious living from the river and after a lot of wobbling, and two soakings, he managed to sit in one of the wildly bobbing boats and find the point of balance. He was glad he was attached to the bank by a strong rope. There was no possibility of fishing!