Swansea Girls (37 page)

‘Joe?’ Helen knocked on his bedroom door.

‘It’s late and I’m trying to study.’

‘I won’t leave you alone until we talk.’

Setting aside
The Mayor of Casterbridge,
he climbed out of bed and reached for his dressing gown. Slipping it over his vest and pyjama trousers, he opened the door. ‘If this is about you and Jack ...’

‘Shh, keep your voice down, Dad might hear.’

‘I doubt it. He’s fallen asleep on the sofa downstairs. Heaven only knows how, it’s about as comfortable as a bed of nails.’

‘He did have rather a lot of whisky.’

‘Can you blame him?’

‘No.’

‘Right, you’ve disturbed me, taken me away from my book and set me back by about three hours’ concentration time. What do you want?’

‘Your solemn promise that you won’t tell a soul about me and Jack.’

‘He’s into sneaking around, is he?’

‘Of course not, but Mum ...’

‘Isn’t here, Helen. And if you ask Dad he may let you go out with Jack, but he may regard you sleeping with him another matter.’

‘I ...’ She choked on her denial.

‘I didn’t think the underclothes Jack was holding were his.’

‘I hoped you hadn’t seen them.’

‘I couldn’t miss them. You didn’t waste any time in jumping into the sack with him.’

‘There’s no need to be crude.’

‘How would you phrase it, Helen?’

‘I love him, we ...’

‘Want to get married?’ he suggested caustically.

‘Why not? I’m older than Lily.’

‘By two months, but Jack isn’t as old as me, doesn’t have prospects, or earn enough money to keep you. Think about what you’re doing for once in your tiny life.’

‘I have thought about it and I do love him,’ she countered adamantly.

‘Then there’s nothing I can say.’

‘You won’t tell Dad.’

‘Not unless I have to.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I’ll tell him if he’s in any danger of finding out about you two from someone else. But I’d much rather you told him yourself.’

‘Everything?’

‘You could make a start by asking his permission to go out with Jack.’

‘I’ll think about it.’

‘And if you get pregnant?’

‘I won’t.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Because Jack’s careful,’ she flung back at him as she flounced off to her own room.

After Helen left, Joe tried to return to his book but his concentration had gone and the words on the page were simply so many meaningless symbols. Taking off his dressing gown, he returned to bed, switched off the light, and attempted to banish all thoughts of Jack and his sister from his mind and focus on Lily, the cottage they would buy, the life they would share. When sleep finally came he dreamed he was in the bedroom he had created and making love was even more wonderful than he had imagined it would be. It was only when he drew away from the woman lying beside him that the nightmare began: Angie was in his bed, not Lily, and Lily was standing in the doorway, watching them.

Chapter Twenty

‘Angie’s complaining like mad because you didn’t come to the pool party. She wants to know if you’re avoiding her, or me and Emily because of that stupid business with Larry,’ Robin said to Joe as they headed for the university cafeteria after their tutorial.

‘It’s nothing to do with her, you or Larry.’

‘She thought because I was with Emily ...’

‘It’s nothing to do with the Murton Davieses,’ Joe reiterated impatiently.

‘I’m glad to hear it.’

‘Although Larry had better stay out of my way when he does come back.’

‘Haven’t you heard? He’s not coming back, not this year. His father persuaded a friend of his who owns a hotel in Italy to give him a job. The official version is Larry is taking a year out to improve his Italian, the unofficial that his parents are hoping the incident with your sister will be forgotten by next September.’

‘Not by me.’ Joe strode through the door, picked up a tray and joined the queue at the counter.

‘So, you coming?’ Robin joined him.

‘Where?’

‘Our next party.’

‘I don’t have a spare minute these days, between studying and ...’

‘Why do I get the feeling my sister isn’t going to like that “and”?’

‘I’m getting engaged.’

Robin burst out laughing.

‘I’m serious.’

‘Now if it were me and Emily I could understand it.’

‘You two still ...’

‘Does the sun go down every night? And you and your ...’

‘Lily. You’ve met her.’

‘I have?’

‘I suppose I can excuse you, seeing as how you were drunk at the time. The Pier Ballroom.’

‘The small, dark girl; the looker?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘Lucky you and poor Angie. When we going out in a foursome?’

‘You, me ...’

‘Lily and Emily.’

‘Given that Emily and Angie are best friends, I’d say never.’

‘I’m not the sort to allow my sister’s disappointment to get between me and my friends. How about showing her off on Saturday night? My parents are throwing a birthday bash for Angie. She’d love to see you even if you won’t give her the one present she really wants. And don’t give me that excuse about studying, no one studies on Saturdays.’

Joe thought for a moment. ‘OK,’ he agreed, deciding it was time that Lily met some of his university friends if only to prove they were no more intelligent than her, ‘but only if you tell Angie I’m engaged and bringing my fiancée.’

‘Tell her yourself. She’s sitting over there. She and Em came up this morning to see something in the history department, history of art and all that, so I arranged to meet them for lunch.’

‘A Mr Thomas of Thomas and Butler’s called while you were out, Mr Griffiths,’ Katie greeted John as he returned to the office from an expensive and substantial lunch with a grateful bank manager anxious to keep the holder of one of his star accounts happy. Business was booming as John had never known it. It was as though the government’s lifting of the last rationing restrictions had prompted people to rush out and spend every penny of their savings on all the consumer luxuries that had been denied them for so many years.

‘Did he say what he wanted?’ John asked, hoping that Esme had finally instructed her family solicitor. He hadn’t heard from her since she’d walked out on him over three weeks before, long enough for guilt at asking her to leave to turn to relief that she hadn’t returned. A few days after she’d left, he’d walked into the house to find her bedroom door open and her wardrobe and dressing table cleared. As a set of matching luggage had also disappeared from the boxroom, and he hadn’t heard anything to the contrary, he assumed she was still with her mother and didn’t want to keep contact with him. He knew she telephoned the children on a regular basis but as to their conversations – or meetings between them – Joe and Helen hadn’t volunteered any information and he hadn’t asked, on the principle that the situation was difficult enough for them as it was, without him piling on any extra pressure.

He, Helen and Joe had slipped into an easy routine. Mealtimes were noisier than when Esme had been home, the food simpler and more substantial. Her elegant ‘contemporary’ rooms had lost their pristine image as he had allowed Joe and Helen to spread their mess, and he’d even begun to toy with the idea of calling in a decorator to reverse the effects of Esme’s modernising and bring the old furniture up from the basement.

‘Mr Thomas didn’t say, Mr Griffiths, but he left a number and asked if you could telephone him as soon as you came in.’

‘Thank you, Katie. Get him on the line and put the call through to my office, please.’

‘Yes, Mr Griffiths, and would you like a coffee?’

‘That last brandy the bank manager pressed on me that obvious?’

‘No, Mr Griffiths, I hope you didn’t think ...’

‘I didn’t think anything, Katie, and a black coffee without sugar would be perfect.’

He went into his office, closed the door, sat at his desk and waited for the call. Feeling heartless and callous, he hoped Esme hadn’t decided to deny him a divorce. So much had changed since she’d left: Helen had the girls round nearly every evening, Lily split her free time between them and Joe, talking to him after he’d completed his studying for the day, and Jack Clay visited.

Grateful as he was to Jack for rescuing Helen from Larry Murton Davies, he couldn’t approve of his liaison with Helen and had told her so. Not knowing who else to turn to, he’d gone to Roy Williams for advice – not that it was easy to get Roy alone since he’d asked the widowed Mrs Lannon to live in and be his housekeeper. She had been only too delighted to oblige, popping between her own house and Roy’s during the day and taking possession of the spare bedroom on the same floor Lily and Katie slept on at night, and, incidentally, as much of Lily’s, Katie’s and Roy’s lives as she could interfere with. But all Roy would say on the subject was ‘forbidden fruits are always the sweetest’. The inference was obvious – if he didn’t allow Helen to see Jack she’d only go sneaking behind his back. Unable to come up with a better solution, he and Helen had settled for an uneasy truce. But it wouldn’t only be Jack’s visits that would be curtailed if Esme returned. Joe was happy with Lily ...

The telephone rang and he picked it up. ‘John Griffiths.’

‘John, it’s Richard Thomas. I’ll cut straight to the chase. Esme has instructed me to handle her divorce and you needn’t worry about your daughter seeing the files. I’ve told my secretary to mark them confidential for her and my eyes only.’

‘Fine, I ...’

‘I need the name of your man.’

‘Martin Davies.’

‘A wise choice.’ John instantly hated him for being patronising. ‘Esme says you’re prepared to admit adultery.’

‘To speed things up, yes. There isn’t ...’

‘I’ll contact Martin today and fix a date for us to thrash out the details of the settlement. Tell him to pass on the evidence as soon as he has it.’

The line went dead. John stared at the receiver in his hand, scarcely daring to believe that it was going to be so simple.

‘Congratulations.’

Joe, Emily and Robin studied Angela, looking for signs of sarcasm or insincerity, but there were none. Her smile was open, her eyes sparkling with warmth. Then Emily recalled Angie’s performance in the sixth form production of
Macbeth
and remembered what a consummate actress she could be when she chose.

‘Thank you,’ Joe said, grateful Angela had taken the news so well after their last meeting.

‘I’ve invited Joe and ...’

‘Lily,’ Angie supplied, widening her smile.

‘Lily, to your birthday bash, sis.’

‘How marvellous. You will come?’ Angela asked Joe.

‘If it’s all right with you.’

‘I can’t wait to meet her. It will be quite informal; Pops has hired this new skiffle group everyone is raving about. Well, Em and I must be off if we’re going to make our life-drawing class. We’re still looking for a male model to volunteer for a private showing,’ she teased.

‘I hope you find one.’ Joe returned her smile.

‘I’m sure I will.’ She kissed his cheek as she left the table. ‘And that’s one I’m sure your Lily won’t miss, seeing as how she got her man.’

‘You tidied the salon quickly.’ Joy noted the neatly folded towels and scrubbed sinks. ‘Have you done the trolley?’

‘Yes, and sterilised all the curlers, hairbrushes, combs and scissors, and washed as well as swept the floor.’

‘You’re going out with that boy again.’

‘His name is Brian and yes, I am.’

‘Do you have time for a cup of tea and a sandwich?’

Judy glanced at the clock. ‘No. I’ve arranged to meet Brian at two and it’s ten to now.’

‘You get these half-days off to study, not to go out with boys.’

‘I get them to make up for the hours I spend in night school,’ Judy corrected.

‘It’s important I talk to you.’

‘Brian’s shift starts at eight, I’ll be home before then.’

Joy watched her daughter walk out of the door. It had taken her weeks to decide that Judy had a right to know her father was alive. She only hoped she wouldn’t lose the courage to tell her before Judy gave her a chance to talk, because if she and Roy were ever going to get together again, she knew it would only be when she could go to him with the news that she had finally laid all her lies – and ghosts – to rest. And it had taken the emptiness generated by Roy’s absence for her to realise just how vitally important he was to her life and happiness.

‘Come in, Miss Griffiths.’

Nerves stretched to breaking point, Helen entered Richard Thomas’ office. He rarely bothered with any of the office staff, leaving day-to-day administration to the senior secretaries and Philip Butler, but when she saw Mr Butler, wearing an uncharacteristically sombre expression, sitting alongside Mr Thomas she feared the worst.

‘Miss Evans said you wanted to see me, sir.’

‘Mr Thomas, not “sir”, Miss Griffiths, you have been with us now for one month. It is time for your review. Come closer.’

‘Yes, Mr Thomas.’ As no chair had been placed for her, she continued to stand, feeling just as intimidated as she had done when she’d been sent to the headmistress’ study for punishment in school.

Richard Thomas flicked through the papers on his desk. ‘I see you managed to misplace several clients’ files.’

‘That was only in the first week ...’

He glared at her above his half-moon reading glasses. ‘I am not unaware of your misdemeanours, Miss Griffiths, no matter what the rest of my staff have led you to believe. I am also neither blind nor deaf, not even to the efficiency or otherwise of the office junior. And as this is a review of your performance in Thomas and Butler, procedure dictates that you will answer either yes or no to my questions, not one word more. You will be given an opportunity to speak when I have finished. Understood?’

‘Yes, Mr Thomas.’

‘To continue, you misplaced several clients’ files?’

‘Yes, Mr Thomas.’ She wondered how he had found out. Isabel had assured her that no one would tell him, as everyone else in the office knew juniors needed time to settle in.

‘You jammed the switchboard when you relieved the telephonist during her lunch hour?’ He fell silent, evidently waiting for an answer. Mr Butler gave her a sympathetic smile but after four weeks in Thomas and Butler she knew Mr Butler carried no weight in the firm. She also realised that if Mr Thomas had been cataloguing her errors, that particular one could have been picked up by anyone trying to contact the office.

‘Yes, Mr Thomas.’

‘The senior secretary has had occasion to reprimand you several times about dirty teacups. I overheard her speaking to you,’ he added, in case she should dare to try to contradict him.

‘Yes, Mr Thomas.’

‘There are other misdemeanours mentioned in your file, but the ones I have outlined are sufficient to give you a formal reprimand. We will review your situation in two weeks. If you have made no effort to improve your performance during the intervening time we will have no option but to let you go.’

‘Yes, Mr Thomas, but ...’

‘But?’ He glared as he interrupted her.

‘I have been making a real effort this last week, Mr Thomas.’

‘Evidently not enough for us to notice, Miss Griffiths. Have you anything else to say in your defence?’

She racked her brains, but all she could come up with was that her father would be disappointed if she lost the job and she could imagine the sneering comment Mr Thomas would make if she tried that one. ‘Only that I will try harder, Mr Thomas.’

‘Seeing is believing. Miss Griffiths. You may go.’

‘Yes, Mr Thomas.’ Helen closed the door behind her as she left the room.

‘You didn’t give her an opportunity to defend herself,’ Philip Butler remonstrated, as he rose from his chair and carried it to its customary place against the wall.

‘There is no defence against sloppy work, Philip.’

‘It’s her first job.’

‘And you’re a sentimentalist.’

‘Perhaps I could ask Isabel to keep a closer eye on her, help her ...’

‘And waste Isabel’s valuable time, that we pay dearly for, to supervise the lowest-paid member of staff in the organisation? I think not, Philip. If you are to succeed in this highly competitive profession it is not enough to merely know the law and win in court; you also have to think like a businessman. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a heavy workload.’

Leaving the stack of files unopened in his ‘in tray’, Richard continued to sit, staring into space, after Philip left. One of the first things he had discovered on becoming a solicitor was the pleasure to be gained by studying the office girls and, to use the colloquial term, young Helen Griffiths was a ‘ripe little piece’, much the same as her mother had been at that age. He had always been attracted to the type – blue-eyed, well-built blondes with a healthy outdoor look about them – and he’d enjoyed seeing her around the office. But a totally unexpected pang of conscience after calling in on Esme to discuss her divorce and finding Joseph visiting her had led him to reconsider the situation. Afterwards, he’d decided it would be better for everyone concerned if Helen Griffiths left Thomas and Butler, not least because she was his son’s half-sister and her presence reminded him of his affair with Esme and – although he was loath to admit it even to himself – because it made him feel uneasy, as though he and the girl were related – he was even beginning to dream about seducing her.