Such Sweet Sorrow (10 page)

‘I shouldn’t have told you as much as I did about my friend.’ As soon as their meals were back on their laps Wyn switched off his torch.

‘I won’t tell anyone.’

‘It’s not that. You’ve enough worries of your own without listening to mine. I don’t even know why I told you. I’ve never talked like this before to anyone who wasn’t … like me, if you know what I mean.’

‘I know what you mean.’ She gazed at his silhouette outlined against the half-moon. ‘I’d be happy to listen to your problems, any time. I can’t help, but after all you’ve done for me it would be nice to be able to do some small thing in return, if only listen.’

‘You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Diana,’ he declared suddenly. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

‘You’d be all right. It’s me who would be broke and in the workhouse.’ She reached over and squeezed his hand. It was good to talk to and touch a man who would never want anything from her in return. Not in the sense that Tony and any other normal man would.

‘More jam roly-poly, William?’

William shook his head as he scooped the last of the custard-coated roly-poly from his bowl. His stomach felt as though it was on the point of bursting, like a balloon pumped too full of air.

‘We’ve all finished, Mama,’ Alfredo, the oldest and boldest of the younger Ronconis, ventured. ‘Please may we leave the table?’

‘And please may we listen to the radio?’ Theresa asked.

‘Not until the table’s cleared and the dishes washed,’ Mr Ronconi decreed.

‘Would you like a cup of tea, William?’ Mrs Ronconi asked.

William shook his head again, not trusting himself to open his mouth in case he burped.

‘You can bring a pot into the parlour for us, Mama.’ Mr Ronconi rose from the table and felt in his pockets for his pipe. ‘It’s time William and I had a smoke.’

‘Thank you very much for the meal,’ William said politely as he eased himself out of his chair.

‘Come along, young man.’

William looked helplessly after Tina, who had bolted through the wash-house door with a pile of dishes. Feeling like a sacrificial lamb, he followed Mr Ronconi from the passage into the front parlour.

The room looked and smelt differently from any he had been in before. He sensed that he had stepped not only into another culture, but into Italy itself. The pictures on the wall were a mixture of turn-of-the-century sepia tinted photographs and highly-coloured landscapes captured in vivid primary colours and shades of light that spoke of warmer summers than Pontypridd with its damp, cool climate would ever know. As he studied them, his cousin Maud’s letters came to mind and he realised that the pictures had been hung to remind the Ronconis of the sunny land they had left behind.

The furniture was highly polished mahogany of a quality found in any comparatively well-heeled Pontypridd home, but the ornaments and china were not. Standing on the round table that dominated the centre of the room was a plaster cast Madonna, dressed in a gown that matched the brilliant blue sky in the paintings on the walls. She was holding a plump toddler wearing a sleepy, contented expression that reminded William of Brian. There were framed texts on the wall in Italian that he couldn’t read, and a large glass case that held many photographs of small black haired girls and boys with enormous rounded dark eyes. The boys were dressed in sober suits with white shirts and ties, the girls in multi-layered, white lace communion dresses. He thought he recognised a diminutive Tina amongst them, but he couldn’t be sure.

‘Sit down.’ Mr Ronconi offered him a seat opposite his, next to the fire that flamed high, but which the temperature in the room suggested had been lit only a short time before.

‘Thank you, sir. Cigarette?’ William sat forward to offer Mr Ronconi his packet. The older man set his pipe on the mantelpiece and took one. Rolling it between his fingers he sniffed at the tobacco as though he disapproved of the brand.

‘Tina said you wanted to speak to me?’ Mr Ronconi moved on abruptly from polite preliminaries.

Glad to be finally confronted by what he had come to do, William nodded before lighting Mr Ronconi’s cigarette then his own.

‘Yes, sir.’ He leaned back in the chair and desperately tried to look at ease. ‘I’d like to get engaged to Tina.’

‘So she tells me.’

William shifted uneasily on his seat, uncertain whether Mr Ronconi expected him to continue or not. The seconds ticked on into a full minute that he counted off on the mantel clock.

‘I overheard Tina telling her mother that you’ve bought her a ring.’

‘Tina saw one she liked in Cardiff. An old one.’ ‘Old’ sounded better than second-hand, and not as pretentious as antique. ‘I was afraid it would be sold if I didn’t get it for her there and then.’

‘You could have put a deposit on it.’

‘It might have been sold by mistake, and if someone else had bought it we might never have found another that Tina liked as much …’ William’s voice trailed away. He was conscious of gabbling about trivia.

‘Sure of yourself, aren’t you?’

‘Not at all, sir.’

‘Tell me then, what are you going to do with the ring if I don’t give Tina permission to get engaged to you?’

‘Give her the ring as a present. It doesn’t have to be worn on the third finger of her left hand.’

‘And if I refuse to allow her to see you again?’

‘I’ll live in hope that you change your mind before the war is over.’

‘So, you intend to wait until the war is over before marrying my daughter?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘That will give you plenty of time to take instruction. You do intend to convert to the one true faith?’ he asked sharply.

‘Catholicism, sir? I haven’t given it much thought.’

‘I’ve had one son married in a heathen Church. I’m not about to allow a second child of mine to make the same mistake.’

‘As you say sir, I’ve plenty of time to take instruction,’ William echoed, feeling that conversion was a small price to pay for Tina.

Mr Ronconi puffed on his cigarette without making any further comment.

‘I know everything’s unsettled at the moment, sir, but that’s why Tina and I want to get engaged, so we both have something to look forward to at the end of the war.’ He looked expectantly at Mr Ronconi and when no reply was forthcoming, he said the first thing that came into his head. ‘If Charlie’s shops are still open at the end of the war, he’ll give me my old job back …’

‘And if they’re not?’ Mr Ronconi broke in swiftly.

‘I’ll go back down the pit.’ William concealed one hand beneath the other and crossed his fingers. A pithead was one place he was certain he never wanted to see again from the bottom of a shaft. ‘I earn good money now,’ he insisted, anxious to prove himself a dependable prospect. ‘And I’ve saved some. More than enough to buy furniture and set up a home.’

‘Tina has some money of her own too.’ The old man glowered at him as though he suspected William of having designs on it.

‘She told me, sir, but I think it’s a husband’s place to support his wife.’

‘Do you, now?’

‘It’s not as though we’re too young to know what we’re doing. We’re both over twenty-one –’

‘Only just,’ Mr Ronconi snapped.

‘I promise you, sir, I’ll do everything in my power to make Tina happy.’

‘You could start by getting killed.’

‘Pardon?’ William blinked, uncertain whether Mr Ronconi was joking, or not.

‘You’ve joined up. Soldiers get killed.’

‘Not me,’ William protested indignantly.

‘That’s just what Tony and Angelo are saying. It makes me wonder if you boys know what you’ve got yourselves into.’

‘We’ll take care of one another.’ Anxious to get back to the topic of Tina, William risked pushing his case again. ‘Sir, about Tina and me …’

‘As she insists she can’t live without you, I suppose I’d better let you get engaged.’

‘Thank you very much, sir.’

‘We’ll have a party in the Taff Street café on Sunday. It can be a goodbye party for the boys as well.’

‘That’s very generous, sir, thank you,’ William enthused, scarcely daring to believe he’d met with so little opposition.

‘Don’t thank me too much; a lot can happen in a war, boy.’

‘I hope you’re not banking on me not coming back?’ William smiled anxiously.

‘I might be, and then again, with all the hotheads out of the way, the steady fellows who think and test the water before they jump in with both feet will be left with a clear field. Your going away will give Tina time to reflect, and who knows –’ Mr Ronconi tossed the end of the cigarette into the fire and reached up for his pipe – ‘she may do better for herself yet. Particularly as you won’t be around to interfere.’

‘Time to take you home.’ Wyn screwed the paper that had been wrapped around the fish and chips into a ball and flicked it into the back of the van.

‘I suppose so.’

‘Don’t you want to go?’

‘I’m fed up with pitying glances and silences whenever I walk into a room.’

‘Once Tony has gone it’ll soon be forgotten.’

‘By everyone except me.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I’m the one who should apologise. I’m turning into a right Minnie moaner. You deserve a medal, and not just for buying me supper.’

He started the engine and inched back to where he thought the road might be, eventually picking it up from the markings the council had painted down the middle of all the roads when the blackout regulations had been enforced. Peering through the windscreen at the faint glow that escaped the cardboard hood over the single headlamp, he followed the line down the hill, over the new bridge that flanked the arched old bridge that had become Pontypridd’s landmark, and up Taff Street. As he drew alongside the New Inn a policeman stepped in front of the van. Wyn slammed on the brakes and Diana was thrown forward, banging her head against the windscreen.

‘Bloody fool,’ Wyn shouted angrily. ‘You all right?’ he asked Diana anxiously, ignoring the constable who was hammering on the door.

‘I think so,’ Diana replied in a dazed voice.

Wyn wrenched down his window. ‘You could have killed her,’ he shouted furiously.

‘Her?’ The policeman shone a torch inside the car.

‘Miss?’

‘Diana, Diana Powell,’ she answered faintly.

‘I hope you had a good reason to stop us?’ Wyn demanded indignantly, knowing full well why the rookie had picked on his van. The arrogant young constable had taken exception to him one night when they’d both been training in the gym and hadn’t missed an opportunity to harass and belittle him since.

‘I thought you were showing too much light.’

‘I had the covers checked in the garage on Broadway. If there’s anything wrong I’ll go back to them.’

‘No, now that you’ve stopped I can see they’re fine.’

‘Problems?’

Diana recognised the deep baritone of the oldest constable in Pontypridd, her mother’s brother, Huw.

‘This idiot stepped in front of us,’ she complained through Wyn’s open window.

‘Diana?’

‘A sore and aching Diana.’ She rubbed her head as her uncle shone his torch inside the car.

‘I suggest you get your young man to drive you home so you can put some cold water and vinegar on that bruise before it starts to swell.’

‘I’ll get her home now.’ Wyn started the engine and began to wind up the window, but not quickly enough to cut out the conversation between the two officers.

‘But he’s a bloody pansy!’

‘Language, lad, and I’d be very careful what I’d say if I were you. Particularly about one of the town’s retailers and employers. You could get caught with a massive fine for repeating slander of that nature.’

‘Looks like you’ve done wonders for my reputation.’ Wyn turned the wheel and followed the road up the Graig hill.

‘Any time you need a girlfriend you know where to come,’ Diana replied flippantly.

‘You mean that?’

‘I’d be only too happy to be of some use to a man,’ she replied, unable to keep the irony from her voice.

‘Then how about coming to tea on Sunday?’

‘Tea? In the New Inn?’

‘At home with my father and sister.’

‘I’d like to if I can.’

‘You don’t have to.’

‘I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that Will might be getting engaged.’

‘To Tony Ronconi’s sister?’

‘Now that’s an idea. I’ll make a deal with you. If there’s no party I’ll have tea in your house, and if there is, you come to it with me. That way no one can shower me with sympathy over Tony.’

‘Is that what you want?’

‘That’s most definitely what I want,’ she answered firmly.

Chapter Six

‘Early for chapel, aren’t you?’ Wyn’s father carped from the depths of the bed set in front of the fire.

‘I’m not going to chapel.’ Wyn walked in from the passageway. When his father had become bedridden, he had insisted on taking up residence in the ‘middle room’ of the comfortable semi-detached he shared with his son and daughter. Wyn would have preferred him to have moved into the rarely-used front parlour because it could be shut off from the rest of the house; Myrtle the largest bedroom because it was close to the upstairs bathroom, but he insisted on the middle room because in addition to serving as living room it also acted as the sole passageway between the kitchen and the hall, a distinct asset when his only interests in life were monitoring the comings and goings of the household and eliciting sympathy from visitors.

‘Then why are you all prettied up like that?’ the old man enquired scathingly. Wyn was wearing a white boiled shirt and starched collar, his favourite dark red tie and his best suit which had been brushed and pressed to pristine condition.

‘Going out.’

The invalid lifted his head from the pillows Myrtle had plumped up for him and looked out of the window at a vista of grey skies and gathering stormclouds. ‘Can’t go for a walk in the park on an afternoon like this.’

‘I’m going to Ronconi’s.’

‘To sit with the tram crews?’

‘There’s a private party in the restaurant they’ve opened in Taff Street,’ Wyn said evenly, ignoring the gibe about the crews.

‘And you’ve been invited?’

‘A girl asked me to go with her.’

‘Girl? You with a girl?’

‘Diana, the one who works in our High Street shop.’

‘Our? There is no “our”, boy. It’s all mine and don’t you forget it.’

Wyn walked into the back kitchen where his newly polished shoes lay where he’d left them, outside the wash-house door. ‘If you’ve no objection, I may bring her back for supper,’ he murmured casually as he carried them through.

‘Objection! I’ve been waiting for you to bring a girl into this house for ten years.’ For the first time since his father had taken to his bed, Wyn actually saw a smile on his face. ‘It’s serious then?’

‘Diana’s a friend. A good one.’

‘But she could be more?’

‘Don’t push, Dad.’

‘If I don’t, you never will.’ His father settled back on the bed.

‘Is there anything I can get you before I go?’ Wyn asked when he’d finished lacing on his shoes.

‘Myrtle can see to me when she gets back from the Troop Comforts Fund meeting.’

‘That might not be for hours. You know how committees go on, so if you want anything, ask now.’

‘Just the radio on low, perhaps.’ Wyn obliged. ‘Not that low,’ he snapped, ‘and not that loud either.’

Eventually Wyn hit a sound level that elicited no criticism. ‘Do you want a cup of tea, Dad?’ he asked.

‘So soon after my dinner? You want me to die of indigestion?’

‘You might get thirsty. How about I bring you a bottle of lemonade?’

‘That would be fine if I had the strength to lift it.’

‘I’ll pour you a glass.’

‘And let it get flat before I drink it? You know I can’t abide flat lemonade. No, you go off and have a good time. Don’t worry about me, Myrtle will see to me when she gets back.’

Wyn counted silently to ten in a desperate effort to ignore his father’s air of whining martyrdom. ‘Here –’ he propped a cane his father used to rap on the dividing wall between their house and next-door, against the bed. ‘I’ll warn Mrs Edwards I’m going out and you’ll be alone for an hour or two.’

‘There’s no need to bother the neighbours,’ his father interrupted sharply.

‘Would you rather I waited until Myrtle came back?’

‘As your social life is obviously more important to you than my health and comfort, just go, will you.’

‘Well if you’re sure you have everything you need, I will,’ Wyn answered smoothly, knowing full well that the last thing his father wanted was to be taken at his word. ‘See you later.’

‘With the girl?’

‘If she’s not too tired.’

It wasn’t hard to walk away from the cantankerous, manipulative old man. It was only later, after Wyn had crossed Gelliwastad Road and was halfway down Penuel Lane, that he remembered the strong, upright, proud man his father had been. He almost turned back before recollecting that man had gone for ever. The whining invalid who ruled his and Myrtle’s every waking minute with a rod of iron had supplanted him, transforming their lives into a never-ending routine of tedious, joyless duty. The last thing he could afford to do was yield to the tyrant’s demands any more than he already had. For Myrtle’s sake as well as his own.

Diana had been too busy on Saturday and Sunday morning to visit Ronconi’s café even if she’d had the inclination to do so. Saturday was taken up with work, and Sunday morning went in helping Phyllis and her mother bake for William’s engagement party. As Evan had invited her Uncle Huw and Charlie and Alma up for Sunday dinner to celebrate Megan’s homecoming, the house was full of noise and high-pitched brittle laughter that accentuated the tension caused by the war and the imminent departure of William. Everyone was being far too cheerful, especially her mother, but for a few hectic hours she managed to relegate all thoughts of Tony to the back of her mind; however, when she found herself packed alongside her mother, Bethan and the baby in Andrew’s car on the way down the Graig hill to the Ronconis’ Taff Street restaurant, she remembered, and wished she’d had the sense to plead illness – any excuse rather than face Tony after the embarrassment of that night.

Wyn was waiting for her outside Penuel Chapel. He smiled when he spotted her climbing out of the car with a pile of biscuit tins balanced in her arms.

‘You’re early.’ She forced a reciprocal smile as he came to greet her.

‘Mrs Powell, Mrs John, Doctor.’ He lifted his hat to Megan, Bethan and Andrew.

‘You must be Wyn Rees, I’ve heard a lot about you.’ Andrew, the only one with a free hand, extended it to Wyn who shook it vigorously.

‘Allow me, Mrs Powell.’ Wyn relieved Megan of the pile of tins she was carrying.

‘Seems I have a lot to thank you for, Mr Rees.’ Megan looked Wyn up and down, anxious to form her own opinion of Diana’s boss, after listening to William’s less than flattering description.

‘I’m lucky to have found Diana, Mrs Powell. She’s a good worker.’

‘Are you lot going to stand outside all day gossiping?’ William was waiting in the open doorway, Tina wearing an enormous smile and a new, red and green crepe dress, hanging on to his arm.

‘Do I get to kiss my new cousin-in-law?’ Without waiting for a reply Andrew kissed Tina on the cheek.

‘Hey, John, layoff, there’s no such thing as a cousin-in- law,’ William protested.

‘Looks like there is now,’ Bethan laughed, shifting the baby to a more comfortable position in her arms.

‘You look far too gorgeous to be with him.’ Determined to give no one cause to pity her, Diana nudged Tina with her elbow as she carried the tins into the restaurant towards a long table that was already groaning with sandwiches that must have taken up the whole of the Ronconis’ ham and butter ration for a month. Besides the ham, cheese and chicken sandwiches, there were pies, pasties, sausage rolls, biscuits and a multitude of cakes of every sort, size and description, including a selection of fancies spread with icing that had attracted crowds of sugar-starved children. Diana opened her tins and moved the plates around in a futile attempt to make room for her family’s offerings.

‘You’re going to need another table,’ Wyn advised as he hovered at her elbow with the tins he’d taken from her mother.

Diana looked around the crowded room for someone to help them. Charlie and Alma were standing talking to Bethan and Andrew, the baby’s tiny hands curled around Charlie’s powerful fingers; William and Tina were still at the door surrounded by friends, Tina half buried beneath a mounting pile of parcels that had been presented to them. There was no sign of Tony, but she spotted Angelo filling the tea urn behind the counter and called to him.

‘You’ve met Wyn Rees.’ She effected the introduction as Angelo and Alfredo brought another table to join the bank against the wall that held the buffet.

Angelo nodded as he set down the table. Alfredo spread a cloth and Wyn and Diana moved plates on to it. The boys left them and returned to the counter with a cursory nod, but Diana looked up in time to catch Angelo’s eye. She wished she hadn’t. There was condemnation and anger in his fleeting glance, and something else, something she suspected wouldn’t have been there if she’d brought anyone other than Wyn to the party. She looked back to William and Tina. Her brother’s arm was wrapped around Tina’s waist and there was a subdued look about him she hadn’t seen before.

She wondered if Tina had ‘volunteered’ to sleep in the café one night so she and Will could experiment as she and Tony had done. If they had, it must have ended more successfully than her episode with Tony.

‘Isn’t that your uncle?’ Wyn asked as Evan walked in with Phyllis and their small son Brian, Huw Davies trailing behind them.

‘Both uncles.’ Her heart missed a beat as Tony walked up the stairs from the basement kitchen with lipstick smeared over his cheek and collar and Judy Crofter, a short, incredibly silly blonde from Leyshon Street in tow. ‘Doesn’t Uncle Huw look odd without his uniform?’ she babbled, scarcely knowing what she was saying.

‘That’s Constable Davies?’

‘His helmet hides his bald patch and what’s left of his ginger hair. Come on, I know you’ve met him, but he’ll sulk if I don’t formally introduce you.’

Wyn gripped her fingers reassuringly as she slipped her hand into his. ‘You all right?’ he whispered as he saw Tony staring at them.

‘Perfectly,’ she gushed.

‘I don’t think I should have come.’ Tony’s gaze made him feel like a gatecrasher. ‘It looks like this is a family occasion.’

She gave him as close an approximation of Tina’s adoring look at William as she could manage. ‘Don’t be a silly goose, and thank you,’ she said in a voice designed to carry to Tony. ‘I’d love to have supper at your house.’

William wound up the gramophone Trevor Lewis had brought down in the back of his car while Tina turned the pages of the record book carefully so as not to chip the delicate edges of the fragile records.

‘I’m amazed you’re still with us, Laura,’ Andrew declared tactlessly as he carried his daughter over to where Laura was sitting.

‘It’s not through choice.’ She patted her swollen abdomen. ‘Tina?’ she called to her sister, ‘put on a rousing jazz piece. A whirl with Andrew round the floor just might be the kick-start I need to get young Laura going.’

‘Oh no you don’t.’ Andrew took the vacant chair next to hers, and clutched his daughter close. ‘If anyone’s going to be responsible for that, it has to be Trevor.’

‘But he can’t dance.’

‘No one’s perfect.’

‘And you are?’ Bethan raised her eyebrows as she joined them.

‘Far from it, but I’m not foolhardy enough to foxtrot with Laura.’

‘Are there no brave men left?’ Laura wailed theatrically.

‘Only in the army,’ William crowed.

‘I’ll speak to you after you’ve met your first Sergeant Major,’ Andrew responded.

‘No one will be able to resist this piece,’ Tina set the needle down on the rousing refrain of ‘I can’t dance, don’t ask me’. Glan Richards made a beeline for Tina’s sister, Gina. Alma dragged a reluctant Charlie on to the square that the Ronconi boys had marked out for use as a dance floor in the back room, Wyn Rees and Diana joined them, and soon they were lost to sight behind a dozen other couples.

‘I think your parents must have invited half the Graig,’ Andrew commented to Laura as he looked around the crowded restaurant.

‘Just family and friends, plus everyone who has boys leaving in the next week or two.’

‘All these boys have joined up!’ Bethan exclaimed.

‘Let’s hope they all come back,’ Trevor said as he carried a tray of orange juices towards them.

‘Why is Diana with Wyn Rees?’ Tina asked as she bounded up to change the record. ‘I know she and Tony have had a spat, but someone should tell her she’s picked the wrong sex to make Tony jealous.’

‘I’m not sure she is trying to make Tony jealous. She always has been rather fond of Wyn,’ Laura answered in a flat tone that she intended as a warning to Tina to drop the subject.

‘But he’s a –’

‘Exceptionally nice chap,’ Andrew broke in speedily, as Wyn and Diana walked towards them. ‘And a fair and decent boss, from what Diana says.’

‘Boss? He’s a … ow!’ she exclaimed as Laura kicked her ankle. ‘What did you do that for?’

‘Testing to see if movement can make junior here budge. I’m fed up of carrying her around, it’s time someone else had a turn.’

‘You’re that sure it’s a her?’ Andrew said.

‘She wouldn’t dare be anything else. I need reinforcements to keep Trevor in check. Tell you what, Tina, put on “Begin the Beguine” and I’ll get lazybones here,’ she rose majestically to her feet and took the tray from Trevor’s hands, ‘to take a turn around the floor.’

‘I’ll start the car engine and keep it running,’ Andrew joked.

‘Laura in labour?’ Diana asked as she joined Bethan.

‘Not yet, but she’s hoping.’

‘Would anyone like some buffet?’ Wyn was anxious to be of service. He felt uneasy surrounded by people he sensed would never willingly have chosen his company.

‘I’d love a sandwich,’ Bethan said as she took Rachel from Andrew, ‘if you really don’t mind getting them?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Make it a plateful, please,’ Andrew called after him.

Diana stood against the wall and watched the dance floor. Half the girls on the Graig seemed to be there and Tony was in the middle of an adoring group of them. Reason told her she should be pleased that he had recovered so well from his disastrous experience with her. She loved him, she wanted him to be happy, but all the well intentioned good wishes in the world couldn’t put her in a reasonable frame of mind. It was unbelievably painful to stand back and watch him flirt and laugh, especially with Judy Crofter, whom he had always dismissed as an empty-headed ninny. But Diana didn’t doubt that she was a virginal empty-headed ninny and that was the one thing she had learned really mattered to men, and the one thing she no longer had to give.