Copper to Red (The Dillwyns' Stories)

Copyright © 2012 by Ceri Bladen

Image Copyright © 2012  Kim Sen

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Acknowledgements

A
big and loving thank you to my wonderful family and friends, who have supported
and encouraged me.  Thank you Daniela, for inspiration with the title.

A
thank you to some of the people on TLF (Turkish Living Forum), who allowed me
to ‘pick’ their brains about life and public houses in the 1960s.   

Also
thanks to Ozlem and Claire (Altinkum’s self-defence classes for women) who have
shown me some ‘moves’ to use on unsavoury people!

Special
thanks to Swansea for having such a rich history that I am able to select from!

“When one door of happiness closes, another
opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one
which has been opened for us.”
 
―
 
Helen Keller

Tom Dillwyn
adjusted his tie.  It felt like a noose on the verge of strangling him.  He stared
straight ahead at the pulpit, vaguely aware of the hushed whispers of family
and friends behind and to the side of him. 

Abruptly the
organist started playing and he nearly jumped out of his skin.  The bridal
march reverberated around the small chapel. 
Much too loud,
Tom dimly
thought.  He stood straighter, trying to get his varied thoughts into order. 
Just nerves, just nerves, he repeated silently to himself. 

Tom rocked
gently, heel to toe, trying to calm his increasing anxieties.  He wondered how
many other men felt like this on their wedding day.  Michael, his brother and
best man, placed a hand gently on his arm to soundlessly warn him that the
church doors had opened.  Tom slowly turned towards them to greet his bride.

Four months
earlier…

“I’ll get
these boys.  It’s my round.  Same again?”  Standing, Tom waited for the replies,
or grunts of agreement, grabbing the empty glasses in his large hands.  The
men, his friends, crowded around the table had already lost interest and were
back playing dominoes. 

Glad for the
break from losing, he casually walked towards the bar in his local pub, the Red
Lion.   Tom Dillwyn was never in a rush, life was too good to let it pass by
quickly.  He smiled to himself when he noticed that the sawdust, which was
thrown on the floor to catch spillages, had shifted and made a pathway all the
way to the bar.  It was a path well-trodden tonight!  He was having an
enjoyable night with his friends; they regularly got together for a pint and a
game of darts or dominoes at the local.  Even when nobody had arranged to meet,
there was always someone sitting at one of the tables to talk to.  The Red Lion
was like a community centre to many of the locals, with the bonus of serving
alcohol!

Some of Tom’s
mates worked with him at the market and others he had known since they were in
school together.  Living and working in a small community for twenty eight
years, it was impossible not to know nearly everyone.  To be honest, anyone
that wasn’t local, had to work hard to get accepted, but once accepted, you
were a ‘friend’ for life. 

Tom, at
nearly twenty nine, was content with life.   Family, good friends, work that he
enjoyed and some spending money, yes, life was good.  To top it all, he was
meeting Jane a little later on at her father’s butcher shop.   His mouth curved
when he thought of Jane, a bit of a live-wire and she sure was foxy to go with
it.  There was certainly never any dull moment when he was around her, which
was just what he wanted after just coming out of a two year relationship with
Sarah Davies.  No, he certainly didn’t want have any strings attached to him
for a while and Jane was just the tonic he needed.

Willow, who
was serving behind the bar, watched Tom as he sauntered over towards the bar,
hands full of empty beer glasses, and a wicked smile playing on his mouth.  She
was half-heartedly in a conversation with Dai, an elderly regular who always
sat in the public bar, alone.  As she pulled Dai’s pint, she pushed down the
sensation she always felt when Tom approached the bar.  It rolled slowly
through her as she silently accepted that most women had the same reaction to
him.  He was easily six feet tall, broad, with black hair which grazed his
collar and a wicked smile, which just made you melt. He was handsome alright,
but the cleft in his strong jaw and dark stubble, made him just a little
dangerous looking at times, a heady combination.  Willow smiled at him, she was
amused, not threatened, by her reaction to him.  She had just been through a divorce
and even though she enjoyed feeling something towards a male again, she
certainly had enough of men for a while.   

Tom’s handsome
face split into a grin, when he saw Willow acknowledge him with a nod and a
friendly smile.

“Same again,
Willow. The boys are thirsty tonight!”  He placed the glasses on the mat and
leaned against the bar, one elbow resting, while he looked back towards the
card game.

“All you
boys busy in the market today?”  Willow enquired, nodding towards the group of
men that Tom had just left.

“Ay, the
weekends are always busy.  It has been chaotic since the new market reopened a
couple of years ago.  But we are not complaining.  Keeps the money rolling in
for us to spend here!” Tom laughed, patting his pocket.

“Yes, my
parents are pleased about that.”  Willow finished pulling the first pint and
placed it on the bar.  Tom flashed his breezy smile, which lit up his face,
Willow’s heart fluttered slightly; she silently smirked at her reaction.

“Where are
your parents tonight?”  After taking a brief look around, Tom picked up the
pint and took a slurp. A satisfied grin lifted the corners of his mouth, while
a little bit of foam covered the dark stubble on his top lip.  His tongue shot
out to lick it away.

“They have gone
to the cinema to watch the new film,
Dr Zhivago.
”  She saw Tom’s
eyebrows pucker in confusion.  “You know, the new one staring Omar Sharif and
Julie Christie?”
 

“Ah yes, my
sister has been going on about it all week.  Well, Omar Sharif anyway, she thinks
he is the best thing around!” Tom laughed. 

Willow
chuckled, remembering briefly what it was like to be a teenager, in love with
everyone.  She shook her head, no she wouldn’t want to go through that again. 

“Teenagers!”
She gave a husky laugh and a pretend shudder.  “How old is Anne now?”

“Seventeen.”
Tom answered while watching Willow pour the last pint.

“Wow, seems
like yesterday that she was only a little girl!  Where does time fly?”  she
mused. 

“Yep, we are
all getting older.”  Tom grinned, not really bothered about age.  To him, it
seemed as though women worried more about getting older than men, his sister,
Ria, did anyway.

“You
wouldn’t think that about my parents at the moment.” Willow interrupted his
thoughts.  “Since I have come back to live here, my parents are romancing each
other again!”  Willow laughed more to herself.  She was secretly delighted that
her parents were still in love with each other after years of marriage.  She
sighed, it was just what she wanted, but couldn’t achieve with Robert. She
pushed the thought quickly out of her mind and gave a husky laugh and a pretend
shudder.

Tom looked at
Willow, while thinking briefly of his own parents, a little confused by the
brief sadness he witnessed in her soft brown eyes.  His parents were always
hugging and kissing even after years of marriage, he was definitely comfortable
with seeing affection as it was so ingrained into their family life. 

“Anyway, they
are going away to my Aunty’s farm for two weeks.  She lives in North Wales.  So
I’m in charge for a change.  It will be
me
kicking you out at closing
time.”  She wagged a finger at him, but with a smile on her mouth. “So no lock-ins
for anyone.”

Tom placed a
look of mock horror on his face.  “Ah.  Don’t be a spoil sport!  I would like
to see you try…”  He pointed towards his table.  “…and you will have to break
the news to that lot.  I won’t be held responsible for their reactions.”  He
quipped back.

Tom enjoyed
having a little banter with Willow at the bar, she was like one of the lads as
you could have a good laugh with her.  Tom had noticed that she was around much
more lately, since her marriage had ended. From recollection it had ended a
while ago, but she had only recently come to live with her parents.  He knew
from the gossips that she had come to live back in the Red Lion with her father
and mother; he had also heard that her husband had cheated on her.  Tom took
another sip of his pint and coughed quietly, feeling a little awkward. “Mmmm,
by the way, I know you have been back a while now, but it’s nice to see you
behind the bar again.  I am sorry your marriage didn’t work out.”

Willow
averted her hazel coloured eyes, while she wiped the spills on the bar down. 
“Yes well.  Rob didn’t turn out to be the ‘one woman’ type of husband
unfortunately.  But we live and learn.  ‘What doesn’t kill us make us stronger,’
isn’t that the saying?”

“Ay, that’s
one way of looking at it.  Still he shouldn’t have treated you like that. How
much do I owe?”

Tom pulled
out the right amount from his back pocket, gave her a wink and made his way
back to his friends, hands full with four pints.  Willow was all but forgotten,
as the chorus of friends started shouting; “You took long enough!”, “I’m dying
of thirst here!”

After a busy
couple of hours serving, Willow took her well-deserved break. Her feet were
killing her, even though she had worn flat, sensible, leather shoes.  Not that
she ever needed to wear heels, she towered over most people.  Sometimes she
cursed having her father’s ‘tall’ gene; what she wouldn’t give to be small and
petite at times.  Still, her height was handy behind the bar; at least she
could reach the glasses without stretching! 

Her height
was the reason she ended up with the nick name Willow in school, which still
stuck now.  Her real name, Janet, seemed like a distant memory which only her
parents used.  She shifted on the stool, watching her glass as she swirled
lemonade around in it.   She caught her breath as her throat constricted
slightly.  She wasn’t even Mrs Janet Evans now, she was back to Miss Janet
Dawkins.   Tears misted her eyes and she desperately tried to swallow the
familiar lump that clawed at her throat.  No, Robert Evans didn’t turn out what
she expected, which still hurt her right down to the bone.

Willow
heaved a sigh when she thought back to when she first met the
new
boy
when he arrived at her Comprehensive school.  Blond, tall, good looking and
with an English accent, he had all the girls falling at his feet.  But to
Willow’s surprise, he had been interested in her.  He had pursued her relentlessly.