The Quality of Love (29 page)

Sarah hadn't the heart to argue with him. She suspected that even thinking about domestic matters only brought back memories of her mother and that was why he couldn't do it.

For a while she struggled to do everything
herself, not only because it was easier but also so that the home her mother had loved so much stayed pristine. She got up an hour earlier, usually so that she could prepare their evening meal before she went out in the morning. That way it took very little time to cook in the evening. If she was able to cook it the night before so that all she would have to do would be to heat it up when she got in, then she'd spend the extra hour in the morning cleaning and doing other domestic chores.

The one task she couldn't do in the morning was the washing because it took too long to heat up the copper, boil the clothes and then rinse them and hang them out to dry. Occasionally she did wash them the night before and then hang them out before she went off to work.

Eventually she began doing the bulk of the household chores at the weekends. Although she knew her father hated her doing the washing on a Sunday, it was really the only day when there was enough time to do so.

It also meant that after shopping and cleaning on a Saturday she was far too exhausted to want to go out with Owen in the evening and although he was very understanding she could see that he was beginning to get very perturbed by her constant claim that she was too tired to even go to the pictures.

Lloyd spent his evenings and weekends slumped in his armchair and although the
newspaper was on his lap more often than not his eyes were closed, and he completely ignored what was going on around him.

‘You really should get him to help you,' Owen told her. ‘There're quite a lot of jobs he could be doing around the house to give you a bit more time for yourself.'

To prove his point he drew up a list, dividing up everything that had to be done each week between what Sarah should be responsible for and what Lloyd should be doing.

When Sarah studied the list she started laughing. ‘Can you see my dad peeling potatoes and scraping carrots? Or cleaning the windows,' she gasped.

‘I don't see why not. There are men who make their living cleaning windows so surely there's nothing wrong with him doing them on the inside?'

‘Some of the neighbours might spot him.'

‘I really don't see how that would matter. They'd admire him for pulling his weight.'

‘I don't think that either of us could convince him of that.' Sarah smiled.

‘Well, he could lay the fires and clean out the grate every day; he used to do that for your mother. He could also do quite a lot of the preparatory things in the kitchen as well as help with the washing-up. Anything is better than for him to be sitting there brooding.'

‘I know,' Sarah agreed. ‘It worries me to see him looking so depressed and unhappy.'

‘Then why not encourage him to do some cooking. You never know, he might discover that he has hidden talents and that he actually likes doing it.'

Although all Owen's suggestions were good ones they simply didn't work. Lloyd had been brought up to consider running a home as women's work. Nevertheless, he did agree to light the fire and clean out the grate. When it came to the other tasks in the kitchen that Owen had listed he did them so badly, and had so many accidents, that Sarah was glad to take over again.

She decided to stop trying to do all the washing and ironing at home and to send everything except her own personal items out to the laundry.

At first her father strongly disapproved of this but when he found that it meant he always had clean clothes and well-ironed shirts he stopped objecting and accepted that there had to be changes in the way the household was being run.

Sarah also arranged for one of the neighbours to come in two mornings a week and do most of the cleaning. She decided not to tell her father and if he noticed that things were being organised better he made no comment at all.

Gradually she was able to resume her nights out with Owen. Sometimes she felt quite guilty about going out and enjoying herself, especially when she went out on a Saturday night and
left her father slumped morosely in front of the fire, listlessly turning the pages of the newspaper on his lap.

Owen still came to tea on Sundays and occasionally her father would join in their conversation. For brief spells as he engaged in an argument about something the old Lloyd would shine out and Sarah would feel hopeful that perhaps at last he was pulling himself out of the doldrums and would soon be his old self again.

One Sunday they had an unexpected visitor. As her father went to answer the door Sarah thought it was Owen arriving a little early and rushed upstairs to finish getting ready. As she came back down again a few minutes later she realised that although it was a man's voice talking to her father, it wasn't Owen's.

‘Surprised to see me again?'

Sarah stopped in the living-room doorway in surprise. ‘Gwyn, what are you doing here?'

‘I came to say goodbye; I'm going to America. I've landed myself another new job, this time as Editor on the
New Hampshire Echo
.'

‘So you've made it; you're going to be an editor at last,' Sarah said with a beaming smile. ‘Congratulations!' Impulsively she walked over and kissed him on the cheek. She felt she could be magnanimous now she knew he would be leaving the country.

‘It's an important stepping stone but don't worry, I'll still be back here in Cardiff the
moment the top job becomes vacant on the
Western Mail
,' he said, grinning.

A second knock heralded Owen's arrival so Sarah went to let him in, leaving Gwyn talking to her father about his new job.

Owen seemed rather taken aback to see him there and barely congratulated him on his achievement. His mood became even darker when, to their great surprise, Lloyd invited Gwyn to stay and have tea with them.

Even Owen's brusque, withdrawn attitude couldn't stem Gwyn's garrulousness. He was absolutely bubbling over with enthusiasm about how much he wanted this job in America and what tremendous opportunities it would provide for his journalistic skills. He even regaled them with all the changes he was planning to make on the paper once he took over.

‘So you've more or less reached the pinnacle of your ambitions,' Owen commented dryly.

‘Oh no, I'm not quite there yet.' Gwyn smiled. ‘There are one or two more important things that I still intend to do,' he said, looking directly at Sarah.

‘And those are?' Owen challenged, eyeing him grimly.

‘Well, for a start, I am determined that one day I'll come back here to Cardiff and be Editor of the
Western Mail
.'

Gwyn stayed the entire evening, making it quite obvious that he was waiting for Owen to go home. Eventually, since Gwyn was in deep conversation with Lloyd, he decided to do so. Sarah went to the door with him and after he'd kissed her goodnight, he muttered, ‘I don't like that fellow. I was hoping he'd leave before now.'

Sarah's inward smile at his obvious jealousy quickly vanished when she came back into the room and found Gwyn and her father discussing her. Sarah had been amazed that her father had invited Gwyn to stay let alone converse with him so amicably. He had definitely mellowed in his old age. However, she didn't like the fact that the conversation had turned to her. It was one thing for them to have been discussing Gwyn's career prospects but she didn't want things to get too personal.

‘I was just telling your dad all about what I've been doing since we last met and how this job in America is a stepping stone to even greater things,' Gwyn said, turning to her.

‘I rather gathered that from what you'd been telling us all evening,' Sarah commented.

‘Yes, but there's a lot more to it than what I
said in front of that Owen chap. We don't want him to know too much about our private business, now do we?'

Sarah struggled to keep back the sharp retort she wanted to make and before she could think of an appropriate answer Gwyn was already in full stream.

‘I've been telling your dad that the time has come for us to get together again – only properly this time. I want us to be married and for you to move to New Hampshire with me.'

Sarah stared at him in astonishment. ‘Are you out of your mind, Gwyn? I haven't seen or heard of you for years and now suddenly you come storming back into our lives and expect everything to be as if nothing has changed. Can I remind you that I am engaged to be married – to Owen.'

‘I know all about that, but I've been travelling, all over the world, see, so how could I have time for writing letters and such like?' he blustered. ‘The only writing I've done is what I've been obliged to do and damned hard work it has been, I can tell you. Well, it's paid off, cariad, and now I'm not only back home again but I have fine prospects and I'm in a position to offer you marriage.'

‘And you think I am going to change all my plans and accept, just like that? You spring up from nowhere and expect me to fall at your feet again as if nothing has ever gone wrong between us?'

‘Come on, Sarah, it's not like you to hold a grudge. The pair of us were just kids and we rushed into things because we were too young to know what we were doing.'

‘We're older now, though, and have a great deal more sense,' she said coldly.

‘Of course we are, that's what I'm trying to say. We're old enough to know we are right for each other. We'll have a good life together, I can promise you. I'll be earning good money and I'll be able to provide you with a fine home and everything you want from life.'

‘Everything?'

‘You have only to name it. I'm leaving from Liverpool in three weeks' time. That gives you plenty of time to work out your notice and to pack your bags. From now on the world will be your oyster, my lovely. Isn't that right, Mr Lewis?'

Lloyd looked from one to the other of them, shaking his head in bewilderment.

‘The choice is hers, of course, but from what you've been telling me you're certainly a very enterprising fellow. You seem to have your future well mapped out.'

‘I always have had, Mr Lewis. It's just that I was so eager to get started that I rushed things at the very beginning. I admit I made a bit of a mess of our lives when we were at university, but it's different now. I won't be letting Sarah down this time.'

‘No, you certainly won't,' Sarah told him firmly. ‘You won't be letting me down because I won't
be going with you. I'm not interested in your proposal and I think it is high time you left.'

‘Sarah!'

The hurt in Gwyn's voice and the look of surprise on his face almost made her smile as she stood up and opened the door into the hall indicating she wanted him to leave immediately.

‘You cleared off and left me to grieve on my own after I lost our baby,' she reminded him as her father pushed past them and walked up the stairs saying that he was off to bed. ‘I had no one except my family and even though I'd broken their hearts by going off with you, and living down in the slums of Tiger Bay, they took me back and forgave me. Now you want me to desert my dad and leave him on his own.'

‘No, of course I don't. He can move with us, I'm sure we can find him a place nearby.'

Sarah shook her head. ‘I've no intention of coming with you or of leaving him on his own. I'm marrying Owen and I'm pleased to hear that you are moving so far away from Cardiff because that way I shan't have to worry that someday I might bump into you again.'

‘Sarah!' There was rasping anger in his voice and a look of fury on his face.

Before she knew what was happening he had grabbed hold of her and was holding her in such a tight grip that she couldn't even struggle. As his mouth came down hard on hers she was left so breathless that she couldn't even scream or protest.

His embrace was savage and possessive. It was as if he intended to force her into submission and it revived vivid memories she'd thought she'd managed to forget about the turbulent life she had endured in the squalid rooms in Tiger Bay. Now it came rushing back in such frightening clarity that she couldn't stop shaking.

Owen's warning words before he'd left drummed inside her head. Not that she needed them; never would she contemplate going back to Gwyn. All she wanted now was to get free from the stranglehold he had on her and to see him out of the door.

Gwyn had no intention of letting her do any such thing. Roughly he backed her up against the wall and, oblivious of the fact that her father was upstairs, he began fondling her intimately, all the time keeping his mouth glued down on hers so tightly that she was unable to make a sound.

Sarah fought wildly, struggling and kicking at his legs but they were like solid rock and her feeble attempts to hurt him made no impact whatsoever.

She felt terrified about what the eventual outcome was going to be. She knew from the past that Gwyn had no compassion or tenderness. As he struggled to get her down on to the floor he stumbled against the chiffonier. The impact dislodged all the glasses, vases and ornaments displayed on it causing everything to crash to the ground with such a horrendous noise that it roused her father.

‘Duw anwyl! What is going on down there?' he demanded in a startled voice.

Sarah was unable to answer; she was pinned down on the floor by Gwyn's bulk and she felt terrified. Memories of his brutish ways came flooding back into her mind; horrendous experiences that she'd tried so hard to forget since they'd parted.

She tried desperately to call out to her father, to ask him to make Gwyn release her, but her face was pressed so hard against Gwyn's chest that her words were muffled.

Gwyn seemed to ignore him completely, intent on one thing and one thing only. As his hand slid up under her skirt and she felt his fingers kneading her bare flesh she struggled even more frantically.