Goodbye to Dreams (6 page)

‘Where will we go if we have to leave here?’ Van asked.

‘Don’t worry, lovey.’ Ada smiled. ‘We can’t talk about it yet but as soon as we’re on our own, we’ll talk about everything that’s happened today. Right?’

The men returned and Cecily poured water into the waiting teapots, four of them. That should be enough for a start. The murmur of
conversations
filled the air and the sound of people running up and down to the bathroom. The house had a fullness that at any other time would have been pleasing, but today was alien and unwelcome, an intrusion into their grief.

‘All ready, love?’ Beryl Richards called as she went up with Myfanwy’s coat over her arm. ‘Coming with us, you are, just for a while. Coming to play with our Edwin.’ Beryl and Bertie had been friends of Cecily and Ada all their lives and Myfanwy and Edwin were used to spending time in each other’s home. Beryl and Bertie lived in a large house with servants to keep it the way they wanted it and Van loved spending time there with Edwin.

Beryl went off, Myfanwy holding one hand, her eight-year old son Edwin holding the other. She was a large woman but today she looked larger than usual in a fur coat which, like so many others, left the smell of mothballs in its wake.

‘I hope there’s plenty to eat,’ Waldo Watkins called through the passage. ‘I’m starving.’

‘That’s no surprise,’ Cecily laughed. ‘When are you not?’

Carrying food and teas on trays, they went upstairs to the large living room above the shop. There was a piano there, draped with black material in deference to the occasion. Black crepe bows were fastened to the curtains with ends hanging almost to the floor. Two bows hung over the
mantelpiece
, and the wall gas-lights were lit. A fire burned cheerfully in the hearth, yet inside, the drawn curtains and the darkly dressed figures filling the room gave the impression of night time and defied the clock telling them it was the middle of the day.

The wallpaper in the heavily furnished room was dark, with cherries and roses interspersed with dull green leaves on a black background. The ladies had lifted their veils but hadn’t removed their hats. The men in suits were like white-breasted blackbirds with the white shirts picked out by the
flickering
gas-lights. An elderly man entered and sat in a corner. Several recognized him as the local solicitor.

Cecily and Ada greeted him, then continued walking through the few people still there, offering food and drinks. A few stood to leave.

‘No, please stay, all of you,’ Cecily and Ada pleaded.

The two sisters-in-law, Dorothy and Rhonwen, sat together with their children huddled near them. In their different way they had prepared
themselves
for what was to come, Rhonwen with little interest, and Dorothy smiling in confidence. Cecily felt a shiver of apprehension.

‘Shall we begin, Mr Grainger?’ Ada asked the thin, elderly solicitor. Cecily looked at her sister then down at her hands. What would they say when they knew?

‘Would you prefer that I go?’ Waldo asked. As he was not a relative he had no right to be present at the reading of the will. But he and Melanie were their closest friends and they were asked again to stay.

Mr Grainger stood up, producing a fold of papers. He placed them on
the piano, straightened his wire-framed glasses and coughed to gain
attention
.

‘On this sad day,’ he began, ‘it is my duty to bring to your notice the will and last wishes of my dear friend, Owen Owen, who had lived in this house since his birth. As the vicar said in his sermon “he wearied of life and God took him for rest”.’

‘It was an accident not a disease,’ Johnny muttered.

‘But God’s will,’ the solicitor admonished gently. ‘God’s will.’

‘What happens now?’ Dorothy asked.

‘You have helped Cecily and Ada through the difficult weeks since Mrs Owen … er left us,’ he went on. ‘Family meetings to discuss every change in the running of the shop have been an enormous help to the sisters left holding the reins, as it were, of the family business. Now, with the death of their father, things must change.’

‘Right too,’ Uncle Ben’s booming voice agreed. ‘Can’t expect two young women to handle a shop like this on their own.’ His voice was deep and slow and with an air of importance that hinted at his solo work with the choir.

‘On the contrary,’ Mr Grainger replied. He swallowed nervously glancing around at the faces staring at him and felt a strong urge to throw the papers in the air and run for it. ‘On the contrary,’ he said, looking at Dorothy in terror. ‘The two sisters are to be in sole possession of the shop, house and the business.’

‘Sole possession? You mean a temporary responsibility, surely?’ She yanked her fat son to his feet. ‘I’m the widow of Victor, the eldest son.
My
son should be the one to inherit. Owen Owen he’s called, named for his grandfather. The shop is his by right!’

Voices murmured then rose as opinions varied. The room was soon humming with attacks, counter attacks and general disapproval. Only Cecily and Ada sat in silence, not even defending themselves against the abuse that came their way. It was Waldo who succeeded in silencing the irate family. He stood up and thumped a few chords on the piano.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, let’s have some hush, shall we?’ Uncle Ben helped by using the same words, only singing them in a voice so powerful it all but deafened those sitting close to him.

‘It was Owen Owen’s wish,’ the solicitor continued after rubbing his ear, ‘his wish, that his daughters, Cecily and Ada, should jointly own all he had to leave with the exception of a few personal items which I will now list.’ He read to a silent room a list of the man’s treasures: a stamp collection, a couple of watches, walking sticks, his bicycle. There was something for every member of the family but the gifts did not please.

In the discussion that followed, Cecily saw Dorothy’s shy daughter slip out and run down the stairs. Dorothy was too involved in protests on behalf of her son to notice her daughter’s disappearance.

Dorothy insisted, and threatened, and warned that she would go to the law if necessary to regain her son’s inheritance.

‘Mrs Owen, I represent the law,’ Mr Grainger said mildly. ‘I can tell you there is nothing wrong with the will, and no ambiguity about Mr Owen’s intentions. We discussed it just a few weeks ago to make sure there would be no such doubts.’ He sighed and added, ‘As if the poor man had a
premonition
of his demise.’

‘God works in mysterious ways,’ boomed Uncle Ben.

‘There is something wrong with it!’ Dorothy insisted. ‘My son is the son of the eldest son and named for his grandfather. It smacks of coercion and undue influence to me. Someone put pressure on him.’

Rhonwen looked at the sisters, smiled sympathetically and gave a shrug as if telling them to shake off the abuse.

‘Come on, Ada,’ Cecily said. ‘We’ll go down and make another pot of tea while the relatives hear the rest of the will.’

‘There’s more?’

The sisters linked arms and left the babble of voices behind them and went downstairs to the back kitchen. Once inside the cold room Ada closed the door and they both danced around, laughing with joy.

‘It’s over! The news is out! Once Mr Grainger has told them firmly that the shop is not their business, we’ll be free to do with it what we want.’

The kettle had been simmering on a low jet and they quickly made tea, washing the cups while the tea steeped. Then, completely serious-faced, they returned to where the family now sat in subdued silence. Mr Grainger had finished speaking and the silence his words had invoked remained almost intact when the tea was drunk. Then people began to rise and Ada went downstairs to hand out coats and assist their guests to depart.

Waldo and Melanie Watkins stayed, obviously wanting to discuss
something
with the sisters. Dorothy also delayed leaving.

‘Where’s Annette?’ she demanded. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with the girl but she’s never where I want her to be. Never doing what I want her to do.’

‘She’s in the stables with Willie, Auntie Dorothy,’ Ada told her.

‘What?’

‘Feeding the horses. I went with them but I came back in because they were talking to each other not to me.’

Dorothy bustled down the stairs and as she opened the back door,
Annette and Willie came in. ‘What have you been doing?’ she demanded. ‘I’ve been waiting this ages for you to come home.’

‘You needn’t have waited, Mam. I can find my own way, I am sixteen, remember.’ The girl spoke quietly with no intention of giving offence. Made anxious by the disapproval on her mother’s face, she added, ‘Sorry if you waited.’ She lowered her head and followed her mother back upstairs.

Willie hesitated, wondering whether to stay and ask if he was needed any more that day, or sit in the stables until everyone had gone. The
decision
was taken from him.

‘Wait there a minute, will you, Willie?’ Waldo called. ‘I want a word when Dorothy has gone.’

Willie waited, clutching his cap in nervous fingers as Dorothy and Annette came down again and out through the shop. Ada and Cecily
beckoned
him to go upstairs as they closed the door after them with relief.

Waldo sat in the wide leather armchair near the fire. Melanie was adding coals and stirring the ashes with a brass-topped poker. ‘You young ladies will be needing some assistance,’ Waldo said, gesturing for Willie to sit. Willie remained standing against the wall just inside the door.

‘Yes, it’ll be difficult for a while but we’ll manage. With Willie to help with the heavy work.’ Ada smiled at the boy. ‘We couldn’t manage without Willie and that’s a fact.’

Willie relaxed; he had been expecting the sack. ‘I’ll do anything you want me to do. Just tell me.’

Ada motioned for him to sit and this time he moved forward and sat on the edge of a chair, ill at ease in such comfortable surroundings, and angry with himself for feeling so. He was jangled after the time spent with Annette, who had spoken to him with admiration and a respect for his skills and knowledge as she questioned him about the care of the two horses and the trap and the cart. He wanted to go home and lie on the bed and think about her.

‘First of all,’ Waldo began, ‘I think you should learn how to bone and joint bacon, if you’re going to continue selling it?’ He looked at Cecily for confirmation.

‘Yes. We want to increase our lines not lose some. If you could teach us to bone and prepare bacon we’d be grateful, wouldn’t we, Ada?’

‘I’ll come on Wednesday afternoon when the shop is shut.’

‘Sir,’ Willie interrupted. ‘Can I learn too? I mean, if I’m to help, the more I know the better.’

‘Thank you, Willie.’ Cecily and Ada smiled.

‘There’ll be plenty for you to do besides boning bacon,’ Waldo warned. ‘There’ll be the wholesalers early in the morning, lifting the bins in and out
and other heavy stuff, besides deliveries. But I’m sure you’ll sort out a scheme between you on hours and wages.’ He again looked at the sisters.

‘You’ll be paid extra, of course,’ Ada said after a nod of agreement from Cecily. ‘We won’t put on you too much. I’m capable of bringing sacks of potatoes and boxes of fish from the wholesalers.’

Cecily chuckled. ‘I can remember having a ride on the sack truck, sitting on the potatoes on the way back, laughing as we bumped over the cobbles in the yard.’ The memory saddened her. Their childhood had been a happy one. Now Dadda was gone and Mam hadn’t even come to say goodbye.

How could Mam have not known? They had placed notices in all the local papers asking her to get in touch and had even gone to Cardiff and put postcards in several shops. Perhaps she was no longer living in Cardiff? It seemed unlikely they would ever see her again. If she had not even come to her husband’s funeral to support her daughters, there was no hope of any future contact.

When Waldo and Melanie left, promising to do anything they could to help the sisters over the first difficult weeks, Willie left too. He went via the back door and the stables, where he paused and stared through the
darkness
at the place where he and Annette had stood and stroked the smooth warm coats of the horses.

Ada locked the door when Van was safely home. She looked at Cecily and gave a sigh of relief but Cecily was crying.

‘I know it sounds ridiculous, Ada, but I am overwhelmed with guilt.’

‘About what?

‘People say that it isn’t wise to want something really, really badly as you might get your wish. We’d wished so hard for Dadda to leave us alone and let us get on with running the shop our way, and now we’ve got our wish, but Dadda had to die for us to get it.’

‘I think there’s always guilt when someone dies so suddenly and
unexpectedly
,’ Ada said. She talked about their father, remembering all the happy years of their childhood and soon Cecily felt better. As they talked about the will and the reaction of Dorothy, excitement returned.

‘What’s wrong with me?’ she said, hugging Myfanwy who was listening in silence. ‘Tears and remorse for wanting so much one minute and the next I feel so excited I could dance.’

‘There’s a dance at the Royalty,’ Ada said wickedly.

‘We daren’t!’

‘No, but there’s a lovely thought.’ Ada began to sing, moving in time with an imaginary partner. She was joined by Cecily dancing with Van. ‘Come on and hear, come on and hear, Alexander’s ragtime band …’

When they fell back into chairs, hot and laughing, Cecily said, ‘Dancing’s
out for a while, at least for us to go together. There’s no one to mind you, little Van.’

‘I hadn’t thought of that!’ Ada gasped. ‘It all happened so quick! Four days ago we were getting ready to go out, me to the dance with Beryl and Bertie and you to Cardiff with Gareth. Dadda was here to stay with Van and now—’

‘We’ll take it in turns to go dancing but everywhere else—’ Cecily hugged Van, who was solemnly listening to them. ‘Everywhere else, Van will come with us!’

‘Best for you too,’ Van said primly, ‘or I’ll sulk like silly cousin
Owen-Owen
-named-for-his-grandfather.’ She was hugged again.