The Quality of Love (13 page)

Lloyd shook his head, his mouth set in a grim line of disapproval. ‘She's disgraced us, so there's no place for her here.'

‘It's the middle of winter and I've nowhere to go so what do you think I am going to do?' Sarah asked in a frightened voice.

‘She's right, Lloyd; we can't turn her out, not in this weather, it would be inhuman to do so.'

‘She has to go and go now before anyone realises what has happened; think of the gossip there will be once people do find out,' he interrupted sharply.

‘You mean you're more worried about what the neighbours might say than you are about what happens to me?' Sarah challenged. ‘So where can I go?'

‘That's up to you. You should have thought about that in the first place. Try your friend Gwyneth,' he said sarcastically. ‘Or ask that boyfriend of yours to provide for you and his little bastard.'

Anger bubbled up inside Sarah. ‘He will, but it all takes time. Surely I can stay here until we have made some arrangements? Remember, Dad, the little bastard, as you call it, will be your grandchild,' she told him boldly.

It was the first time that she'd ever dared to answer her father back and stand up for herself. All her life she'd been meek and obedient, desperately trying to win his love and affection yet never really managing to achieve it. Now, as she saw the look on his face, she felt a strange feeling of freedom because she realised that there was no longer any point in trying.

‘Mam,' Sarah looked over at her mother. ‘I think Dad is being unreasonable. I know I've let you both down and I'm sorry it has happened, but I've no money and no one else I can ask to help me.'

She waited for her mother to intervene, to take her side or at least suggest again that they should let her stay until after the baby was born, but Lorna gave her a brief, frightened look, and remained silent.

For the first time in her life Sarah no longer felt jealous of the closeness between her mother and father. It wasn't love that united her parents and made them so close; it was power on one side and fear on the other.

‘Twenty minutes,' her father said harshly. ‘There's the door; you have twenty minutes to collect your belongings together and then I want you gone,' he told her coldly.

As she stared at his grim, unrelenting face Sarah realised that there would be no reprieve for her. She'd expected them both to be angry, to reproach her about what had happened, but she'd never expected them to react like this.

‘Think of what the neighbours will say if you throw me out into the street in my condition,' she challenged.

‘We've talked long enough. I want you out immediately, with or without your belongings,' her father barked. ‘That's my last word. You've already wasted five minutes of your time.'

Putting a hand firmly on Lorna's shoulders he began forcefully propelling her along the hallway towards the living room, ignoring the agonised look on her face.

‘Please, Lloyd,' she pleaded. ‘Can't we talk about this and think it over?'

Sarah stood where they'd left her; she couldn't hear his reply. Even though she knew that he meant every word he'd said she was still shocked and undecided as to what to do.

She felt both saddened and angry. On
reflection she knew she shouldn't have argued with her father. What she should have done was shown humility and appealed to his honour and his responsibility as her father to take care of her and look after her. He would have probably have liked that because he would have felt confident that from then on she'd do exactly as he told her, she thought bitterly.

She felt disappointed to find that her mother was letting him send her away. She had always turned to her when she was in trouble. Although Lorna always told her that what her dad said was the end of a matter, and that she couldn't intervene, somehow Sarah had expected her mother to do so over this and to be on her side, even though she realised that her mother was hurt and probably felt let down.

A feeling of desolation swept over her. What was she to do? She didn't even know how to contact Gwyn at this time of day. Would he still be at the
Western Mail
offices or would he have gone home? And where was home? She always had to wait for him to contact her. She had no address, so she couldn't even write to him.

She felt despondent and her legs seemed to be as heavy as lead as slowly she made her way upstairs to her bedroom to collect her clothes together.

As she piled everything up on her bed she realised that the small suitcase she'd used when she'd gone to Porthcawl would be nowhere
near large enough to take all her clothes and things. Going out on to the landing she called down to her mother to ask if she could use one of their bigger suitcases.

As she waited for her mother to answer she could hear her father voicing his protest and she wondered if he was going to refuse to let her have one.

Her mother came out into the hallway, sniffing back her tears, but before she could speak Lloyd came out and pushed her to one side.

Without a word he came up the stairs, reached down a suitcase that was on top of the landing cupboard, and thrust it towards her. Sarah tried desperately to think of something to say; something that might perhaps make him change his mind about her leaving.

She hesitated to take the case because it made it all seem so final. She truly did feel sorry that she had messed everything up and she was willing to try and put things right if it was possible. There was surely some way she could salvage the mess she was in.

‘Can't we talk things over, Dad?' she begged. ‘I don't have to leave university, not yet anyway. I could carry on with my studies, get my degree and even—'

‘You've three minutes left to pack your bags and leave,' he interrupted coldly looking at his watch and not at her. ‘I meant what I said, Sarah; you've brought disgrace on us all. Your mother
is as ashamed of you as I am.' And with that he returned to the living room.

As she struggled down the stairs with the suitcases her mother was still standing in the hallway. She looked so forlorn that Sarah felt a lump rise in her throat.

When she went to put her arms round her to kiss her, Lorna stiffened, looking over her shoulder nervously to make sure Lloyd wasn't watching.

As Sarah hugged her and tried to tell her she was sorry about what had happened and for making her so unhappy, her mother pressed a small package into her hand.

‘Ssh, say nothing. This will tide you over for a couple of weeks,' she whispered. ‘I only wish there was something I could do to make your dad change his mind but you've broken his heart, Sarah.'

‘Hurt his pride, more likely,' Sarah said bitterly. ‘He's always thought himself better than anyone else.'

‘He's a good man, Sarah. He had such high hopes for you,' her mother said sadly, reaching up and stroking Sarah's face. ‘I hope this young man of yours is as good to you as Lloyd is to me,' she added tearfully.

‘What's going on?' Lloyd had come out into the hall and stood there with his hands in his trouser pockets looking questioningly at his wife. ‘I've made my decision and I expect you to uphold it.'

He made no effort to open the door or help Sarah in any way as she picked up the cases and struggled through the door with them.

As she stepped outside on to the pavement she heard her mother pleading with her father to think again and she heard his angry refusal before the door crashed shut behind her.

There was a cold, drizzly rain falling and she had no idea what to do or where to go. She still couldn't believe that it was happening; that her parents would do something like this and actually turn her out. She knew they were close, she had always felt excluded, but she'd hoped that at the last minute her mother would persuade her father to relent and let her stay.

Getting pregnant had been foolish but surely she ought to be able to expect her family to stand by her, she thought angrily. If they wouldn't, then who would?

For a fleeting moment she wondered if she could go and stay with Rita and her family in Newport, even if only for a short while until she had managed to track down Gwyn and let him know what had happened.

Then the thought of having to tell Rita about the disgrace she'd brought down on her own head deterred her. She still had her pride . . . and Gwyn. Gwyn was the only person left who could help her – that was, if she could find him.

Gwyn Roberts gave a sharp tug to the dark blue and grey striped tie that set off his crisp, white shirt and smart dark blue suit and tried to hide his yawn behind the brochure that had been handed to him when he'd arrived at the showroom. He endeavoured to look alert as the press officer began speaking and also to appear interested in what was going on all around him.

Although he tried to concentrate and made notes as they were told factual details about the wonderful new packaging system that the company had developed and which he'd been sent to report on for his paper, a lot of it seemed to wash over his head.

The reason for his lack of attention was that for some time now he'd had some very disturbed nights. Sometimes he hardly slept at all because of the many problems that were churning around all the time in his mind.

The full implication of what Sarah had told him hadn't really hit him for a while. Then it had sunk in that the many problems it raised for both of them were almost insurmountable.

For a start, he was pretty sure that she wouldn't agree to a back-street abortion or to
having the baby adopted, so that meant she was going to have to leave university. He could imagine what her father's reaction would be, not to mention how enraged he would be to discover that she was pregnant.

Sarah's mother would be upset, too and he was sorry about that because he'd liked her the one time he had visited and had appreciated the way she'd made him welcome, despite her husband's antagonism.

His own career might also possibly be in jeopardy. He didn't want to remain a run-of-the-mill reporter while waiting to step into a dead man's shoes in the hope of one day becoming Editor; he wanted to aspire to a much more significant role than that. It would mean not only hard work but flair and grasping at every opportunity that came his way.

He had his sights on being a special correspondent or foreign correspondent. That would involve not only travelling widely but also being sent overseas into areas that might be physically dangerous. In order to participate in that sort of life you needed to be free of all encumbrances and most certainly not have the responsibility of a young family dependent on you.

Then there were his personal feelings in the matter to be considered. He'd become extremely fond of Sarah and had even told her he loved her. He'd found the chase both challenging and exciting partly because she was so naïve
and also because she was so much under her father's thumb.

Since their brief stay in Porthcawl, when he'd achieved what he was after, his desire had waned somewhat. Their affair had cooled because there were far too many complications. Her father was such a disciplinarian and allowed her so little freedom that even when they did manage to meet she had to be home again at such an early hour that it was very restrictive.

Gwyn had toyed with the idea of writing to Sarah and telling her that they were finished and that he wouldn't be seeing her again. She'd be upset, possibly even heartbroken, and certainly would never want to speak to him again – which, in one way, would suit him fine.

Yet because she was such a sweet girl, he mused, and so very innocent about life, he would feel like a complete heel if he did that.

Then there was the question of the baby. Its future welfare was partly his responsibility. Doubtless she was expecting him to marry her, but so far he had managed to avoid that topic. He was quite sure that sending her a few bob every week to help bring it up wouldn't be acceptable even if it did manage to salve his conscience.

Pushing the problem to the back of his mind, as always, he tried to focus on the job in hand. As he asked what he hoped were intelligent questions, made the relevant notes and then
went back to the office to complete his report, he managed to keep his mind on what he was doing.

The moment he'd handed in his copy to the Editor, though, it all came rushing back. Countless hare-brained ideas crowded into his mind, none of them the least bit suitable.

He reached into his pocket for his cigarettes, selected one, lighted it and inhaled deeply, hoping it would steady his nerves and help him to come to a decision about what he ought to do.

He wondered if it was worth asking if he could be sent overseas right now but since he was still not even on the permanent staff he thought that would be highly unlikely. Perhaps he could be transferred to one of their outlying offices, somewhere up in the Valleys where Sarah wouldn't be able to find him.

The trouble was she seemed to have such trust in him that even the thought of running away compounded his feeling of guilt. He couldn't simply desert her; it was his problem as much as hers.

She knew that he came from Aberdare and if she was really desperate she might go looking for him there. Or, worse still, her father might.

He wasn't sure how his own family would react if that happened; not that he cared all that much. Ever since he'd started at university he'd seen very little of them because these days he held such differing views from them that he'd become almost a stranger at home.

Although to the outside world they appeared to be proud of his achievements, he was well aware that deep down they disapproved because he'd refused to become a miner. Even all his talk that he wanted to be well educated so that he could speak up for the miners and ensure they had better conditions had cut little ice with them.

Even so, he knew that his father talked proudly to other people about the fact that a son of his had been to university. His mother simply threw up her arms in resignation and concentrated on making her other sons comfortable at home.