Winners and Losers (31 page)

‘And we wouldn't actually be committing ourselves to anything if we looked around for a suitable property that we could turn into a branch of Gwilym James.' Mr Jenkins appeared thoughtful as he considered the idea. ‘Tonypandy is a sizeable town, not as large as Pontypridd, of course, but then, a store there wouldn't need to be as commodious as this one. Or even necessarily stock the same extensive range of goods.'

‘Then may I put forward the proposal that we brief the solicitors among our members to begin searching for properties suitable to be converted into a department store in Tonypandy?' Mr Owens tapped his pen on the table.

‘I will second the proposal.' Mr Richards' deputy in his solicitors' firm, raised his hand.

‘All in favour?' Mr Jenkins looked round the table. Sali noticed that the last hand to be raised was her brother's.

‘As Harry's mother and legal guardian, may I make another more general suggestion?' Sali ignored Geraint and leaned forward on her elbows, looking to Mr Horton senior at the opposite end of the table. ‘I believe that the largest investments made on my son's behalf should be in the immediate locality. Gwilym James' and the Market Company's prosperity was founded and built on the custom and goodwill of the people of Pontypridd and the Rhondda. It was my late Great-Aunt Edyth's policy to invest her money in the area and, until Harry is old enough to make his own decisions and control his own interests, I think we should continue as I believe my aunt would wish. Perhaps we could hold a vote on the suggestion?' She looked around the table. Mr Jenkins was the first to raise his hand, but the others were quick to follow suit. However, she couldn't fail to notice that yet again, Geraint was the last to concur.

‘Master Harry.' Mari caught and hugged Harry as he charged through the door and ran up to her. ‘I've made your favourite chocolate cake for tea, but you can't have a slice until you've eaten at least two egg and cress sandwiches. And there's a fire lit in the nursery, so you can go straight up to play.'

‘Dad said we could look at the books and if I see any I like, we might be able to borrow them.' Harry wriggled out of his coat and handed it to her.

‘Would you like something to eat or drink?' she shouted after him, as he ran up the stairs.

‘We had tea and scones with Mr Richards in the tea shop in the arcade.' Lloyd handed her his own coat and trilby. He looked around the spacious wood-panelled hall with its magnificent red-carpeted sweeping staircase and couldn't help but contrast it with the poky passage and narrow staircase in his father's house.

‘Miss Llinos and Master Gareth are out, Mr Evans.'

‘You don't have to make excuses to me for Sali's brother and sister, Mari. I didn't expect them to wait for our arrival.'

‘It's the least they could have done, seeing as they didn't go to your wedding.' Mari opened the door to the drawing room. ‘Shall I ring for tea?'

‘No, thank you.' Lloyd walked to the fire and stood in front of it, warming himself. ‘I'll give Harry a few minutes to look through the books before joining him. He prefers books to toys and as we've worked our way through most of the ones we have at home, Sali thought we could borrow some from the nursery.'

‘As if Master Harry can borrow what's his!'

‘You do know we haven't told Harry that he owns this house,' Lloyd warned.

‘Yes, and although I've no right to put my oar in, I think you and Miss Sali should tell him before someone else does, Mr Evans.'

‘The someone else being Geraint?' Lloyd enquired drily.

‘If Mr Harry, my old master that is, could hear some of the things his son has been saying lately, he'd be out of his grave and giving him the hiding he never gave him when he was alive. You and Miss Sali should be very careful around Mr Geraint, Mr Evans.'

‘Couldn't you call me Lloyd, Mari?'

‘It wouldn't be proper,' Mari replied briskly. ‘It's bad enough that Miss Sali insists I sit down and have tea with you and Mr Richards without getting any more familiar. I'm a servant and you're' a -'

‘Collier?' Lloyd interrupted.

‘Miss Sali's husband.'

Lloyd sat in a chair beside the fire. ‘What has Sali's brother been saying that's upset you?'

Mari walked to the window and straightened a perfectly hung curtain.

‘You can wait until Sali gets here, if you'd rather speak to her.'

‘No, I wouldn't. But I'm not sure what to do for the best, Mr Evans. I heard Mr Geraint talking to Mr Jenkins.'

‘The butler?'

‘The butler who is chairman of the trustees,' she reminded him. ‘Mr Geraint was trying to persuade him to sign a statement saying that Miss Edyth didn't know what she was doing when she made out her will in Master Harry's favour.'

‘And what did Mr Jenkins say?'

‘Nothing.'

‘Nothing,' Lloyd repeated.

‘Nothing at all. He just sat there listening to Mr Geraint, then someone rang the front doorbell and he went to answer it. If Mr Geraint has spoken to him about it since, I haven't heard them.'

‘Heard or overheard?' Lloyd enquired astutely.

‘I happened to be cleaning the pantry when they were talking in the kitchen. It's not my fault they didn't see me.'

‘Do me a favour, Mari?'

‘Anything I can, Mr Evans.'

‘Don't mention this to Sali until I have had a chance to talk it over with Mr Richards.'

‘Of course, Mr Evans.' Mari looked relieved. ‘If anyone will know how to deal with Master Geraint's scheming and conniving, it will be Mr Richards.'

Chapter Sixteen

Victor clasped Megan's slender waist and lifted her up and off him. ‘I didn't hurt you, did I?' He set her down on the eiderdown beside him.

‘Only a little.' It was the truth. She hadn't known what to expect from lovemaking, especially when Victor had refused to rest his weight on her, but the sharp pain had been brief and quickly supplanted by the most intense feeling of intimacy and passion she had ever experienced.

‘I'm sorry.'

‘I'm not. I'm glad it happened. But I was terrified of hurting you.' She checked that the old towel they'd laid over the eiderdown was still beneath them before snuggling down next to him.

‘If that's pain, give me more,' he whispered. He gripped her fingers when she ran her fingertips lightly over his bruised chest. ‘Sorry, love, I have to leave you, but don't move an inch, I'll be back as soon as I can.' He unlocked the door that led to the passage and padded up the stairs. She heard the clink of china and realised he was washing himself and the French letter he had used. When he returned he was wearing a woollen dressing gown.

‘I should wash too.'

‘Not for a moment.' He tossed his dressing gown aside and lay back beside her.

‘You're cold,' she complained.

‘Then warm me.' He pulled her close to him. ‘I never realized how wonderful your bare skin would feel next to mine.'

‘I'm glad we've had this first time together. No matter what happens to us in the future, no one can take it away from us.'

‘You're talking as though we aren't going to be married, Megs. This is just the beginning -'

‘I know it is, Victor,' she broke in quickly. ‘It's just that my twenty-first birthday seems so far away.' She tried to sound positive, although the premonition she'd had in her uncle's old house returned, frightening her yet again.

‘Not that far,' he said forcefully. ‘And then, just think what it will be like. Going to bed and sleeping together every single night ...'

‘Making love every chance we get ...'

‘Waking up beside one another every morning.'

‘But for now, I really must wash.' She rolled away from him and picked up the old towel they had used.

‘Leave that, I'll burn it. Take my dressing gown and use my bedroom. It's the first left at the top of the stairs. My towel is the green one. Don't dress,' he pleaded, as she picked up her clothes.

‘I can't stay naked.'

He glanced at the clock. ‘There's hours to go before Lloyd and Sali get home, and they'll be the first. Let's lie here and hold one another for a little longer.'

‘Perhaps just for half an hour,' she capitulated.

‘Then I'll be the one to warm you. Don't be long. I'm missing you already,' he called after her, as she ran lightly up the stairs.

The gas lamps hissed and glowed in the darkness. It had stopped snowing during the late afternoon, but the temperature had dropped sharply and it was bitterly cold when Lloyd and Sali left Tonypandy Station and made their way to Dunraven Street. They wound their mufflers around as much of their faces as they could and pulled their hats down to protect their heads, but their noses and the skin around their eyes remained exposed and raw. Snow crunched beneath their boots, freezing their feet even through their thick soles. Only Harry, who had fallen asleep on the train and was tucked, still sleeping, inside Lloyd's coat, was warm.

‘You didn't really expect Geraint, Gareth and Llinos to sit down and have tea with us in Ynysangharad House, did you, sweetheart?' Lloyd asked.

‘Yes, I did,' Sali said crossly. ‘They could have made the effort and just for once recognized that you are my husband and, as such, accorded you some respect.'

‘Apart from hurting you, I couldn't care less what they think of me, my family, or colliers in general.'

Sali looked at Harry's face peeking out between the lapels of Lloyd's coat. ‘I care because we each have a family, yet mine won't have anything to do with us.'

‘Except to take Harry's money.' Lloyd shifted Harry higher in his arms. ‘Have you considered that they might be too embarrassed to have tea with us because they feel guilty about living off Harry's estate?'

‘I know you're only trying to make me feel better about them, but I think snobbishness not guilt is keeping them away.'

Lloyd recalled the hurried words he'd exchanged with Mr Richards after the old man had seen Sali and Harry into the carriage that had taken them to the station. Mr Richards had promised to speak to Mr Jenkins about his conversation with Geraint, but the solicitor's assurance hadn't made him feel any easier. And knowing Sali would only worry about Geraint's plotting if she knew about it, he decided not to mention it to her until he had to. ‘Now that we're almost home, you can forget about your brothers and sister.'

‘For another month.' Sali looked across at his face, shrouded in shadows as they left the pool of light generated by one gas lamp and entered another. ‘I'm not concerned about myself, Lloyd. They can ignore me, and for that matter you, all they like. But there's Harry.'

‘He has enough people to love him, don't you, Tiger?' Lloyd smiled, as Harry moved his head and looked around the street in wide-eyed amazement. ‘We're home, sleepyhead.'

Sali opened the door. ‘Hello, anyone in?' She unwound her muffler from her face and neck and hung it together with her coat in the hall.

Lloyd stepped in behind her and took off his coat.

‘Leave Harry's,' Sali said, when she saw her son shiver. ‘I'll take him down to the ty bach and it's cold out there.'

Lloyd walked down the passage and opened the kitchen door. A gust of welcoming warmth blasted out to meet him. He stepped inside and burst out laughing. Sali looked over his shoulder.

‘You've woken them,' she reproached. Megan sat up rubbing her eyes, Victor moved next to her, the knitted blanket falling from his shoulders, and Sali stepped back in embarrassment when she realized both of them were naked.

Lloyd closed the door. ‘Are your clothes in there with you?' he shouted through the keyhole.

‘Yes,' Victor yelled back.

‘Let us know when you're dressed. But hurry up. It's colder than the inside of Bracchi's ice cream cart out here.'

‘I could die of shame,' Megan declared, as she and Victor scrambled into their clothes. ‘You and your “only another half hour.”'

‘The last time I looked at the clock it was four o'clock.'

‘It's a quarter past eight now.'

‘You decent?' He tucked in his shirt and buttoned his braces.

‘Almost.' She rolled on her second stocking and fastened it with her supporter. Shaking her hairpins into her hand, she slipped her feet into her boots.

Victor opened the door.

‘Good evening, Victor, Megan.' Lloyd strolled in, set Harry down on a chair and beamed at both of them. ‘Did you have a good day?'

‘Not one word out of place, Lloyd,' Sali warned, seeing Megan blush crimson as she gathered the cushions and eiderdown from the floor.

‘Don't feel you have to move those on our account, Megan,' Lloyd said lightly.

‘Stop teasing!' Sali spoke more sharply than she intended because she was finding it difficult to keep from laughing herself. Victor took the cushions and eiderdown from Megan and stumbled awkwardly up the stairs.

‘I'll just go up with Victor, wash my hands and face and do my hair.' Megan ran after him.

Sali set the kettle on to boil and opened a second hob to heat up the stew. By the time Victor and Megan returned, both kettle and saucepan were gently steaming. ‘Supper's almost ready.' She gave Megan a smile.

‘I don't know what you must think of me,' Megan blurted uneasily.

‘That Victor's a lucky man.' Lloyd lifted his eyebrows suggestively.

‘That's enough, Lloyd,' Sali reprimanded. ‘We think the same of you we always did, Megan. Not another word. Let's just enjoy what's left of the evening, shall we?'

‘Please don't tell Joey, he'd never let me live it down,' Victor muttered to Lloyd, when Megan went to help Sali lay the table.

‘My lips are sealed,' Lloyd agreed solemnly, but his eyes sparkled with mischief.

‘Can I say the absolute last word on the subject?' Sali asked, overhearing them when she set cutlery and soup bowls on the table. ‘It says something for the state of Victor and Megan that they fell asleep on Megan's only afternoon off. Both of them are exhausted.'

‘Megan has an excuse the hours she works.' Victor lifted Harry, who was still sleepy, on to his lap.

‘I'd say you have an excuse too, the battering you've been taking lately. Have you seen his bruises?' Lloyd asked Megan thoughtlessly.

‘Lloyd!' Sali admonished.

‘I meant on his face.'

‘She could hardly miss them.' Sali gave Megan a sympathetic glance as she checked the stew. ‘Another few minutes and I'll pour this out.'

Lloyd looked down at Harry, then winked at Sali. ‘I don't think Harry's the only one who should have an early night, sweetheart. After the day we've both had we should go up with him.'

‘I feel dreadful ...'

‘Please, Megan, stop thinking about it.' Victor started laughing.

‘It's not in the least funny,' she hissed, as Betty Morgan's door opened.

‘Evening, Mrs Morgan,' Victor said to his neighbour.

‘Evening, Victor, Megan. Something funny?' Betty enquired suspiciously.

‘Life, Mrs Morgan,' Victor answered.

Betty looked up and down the street before closing her door on them. It had started snowing again and large flakes drifted lazily downwards into the hushed street. Everything seemed suddenly and unnaturally silent.

‘If nothing else, it will teach Lloyd to knock on the kitchen door before he walks in on us again.' Victor wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

‘I'll never be able to do ... what we did in the kitchen again.'

‘Then we'll have to use my bedroom.'

‘I couldn't possibly ...'

‘Yes, you could,' he contradicted. ‘I'll issue my family a warning to stay well away in future.'

‘Then they'd all know that we ... we ...'

‘They've assumed we've been making love for years. Why else do you think they rearrange their entire Saturdays around your days off?'

‘They do?' she questioned in amazement.

‘Of course.'

‘I hate the thought of them putting themselves out for us. And,' she closed her eyes, ‘what happened ...'

‘I told you to forget it. And it could have been much worse. Because you forgot to lock the door when you came back downstairs, Joey or even Betty Morgan could have walked in on us. Now
that
we would have had difficulty living down. And remember, when Sali and Lloyd saw us, all we were doing was sleeping.' He hugged her when they reached the back door of the lodging house. ‘We could have been doing a whole lot more, Megs.'

‘But we were both naked,' she whispered.

‘A memory I'll cherish until my dying day,' he smiled.

‘See you tomorrow?'

‘Yes.'

‘You don't really want to go to chapel, do you?'

‘I didn't go last week, or the week before,' she reminded him.

‘All right, chapel it is. And our house next Saturday afternoon.' He lowered his voice. ‘The bedroom this time. And don't worry, there is a lock on the door.'

‘You're not coming in for tea?'

‘It's almost eleven. Time you were in bed.' He glanced at the darkened kitchen window. ‘It appears Mrs Palmer already is.'

‘I doubt I'll sleep after this afternoon.'

‘You'll sleep and I order you to have sweet dreams about us. Very sweet dreams.' He gave her one last kiss and walked away.

She put her hand on the doorknob but before she could turn it a man stepped out of the shadows between the coalhouse and wood shed. The knob slipped between her fingers and she cried out.

‘Miss Williams. I didn't mean to startle you.'

‘Sergeant Martin, what are you doing there?'

‘Waiting for you. I never have a chance to speak to you in private inside the house.'

‘It's late, I have to go to bed.' She fought to get a grip on the doorknob.

‘What I have to say to you will only take a minute, Miss Williams. I would be honoured if you would accompany me to the Empire Theatre in Cardiff next Saturday. I know a local girl wouldn't want to be seen with a police officer in Tonypandy ...'

‘I keep telling you that I am engaged, Sergeant Martin ...' Megan faltered when she recalled her conversation with Victor. What if the sergeant had eavesdropped, heard her say that they had both been naked?

‘You must realize that your liaison with Mr Evans is totally unsuitable, Miss Williams. He is a common criminal. My intentions towards you are honourable.'

‘Sergeant, I am engaged to Victor Evans,' she repeated forcefully.

‘Engagements can be broken, Miss Williams.' He advanced towards her.

Megan pulled off her glove in the hope that she'd be able to turn the slippery doorknob. The metal burned, ice cold in her hand.

‘I have heard that your father will not give you permission to marry Mr Evans.'

‘Sergeant, please go away!' The door finally opened inwards and Megan fell forward on to the floor of the dark kitchen. The sergeant stepped into the doorway behind her. She tried to scream but failed to make a sound. He leaned over her. She could smell the tobacco and whisky on his breath, the heavy, sickly scent of his pomade. Finally finding her voice, she shouted, ‘Mrs Palmer.'

A door opened in the hall and the nauseating scents faded as the sergeant melted into the shadows that shrouded the yard.

‘Megan, is that you?' Mrs Palmer lifted the lamp she was carrying and saw her sprawled on the floor. ‘Whatever are you doing down there?'