Winners and Losers (23 page)

Joey reached for the soda crystals to disinfect the bowl. ‘Jane tonight –it got really nasty.'

‘I was sorry when I heard that you'd taken up with her. She's a devious young lady. No one thought she'd get Emlyn to believe her lies enough to take her as his wife, but there's none so foolish or gullible as an old fool.' He rose from his chair. ‘Not that you've asked my advice, but if you did, I'd warn you to be wary. You might think, after what she did to you tonight, that you've finished with her. But she might not have finished with you.'

Megan discovered that when it came to lodging houses, the designated day of rest wasn't that different from the other days of the week for all that Joyce had said it was the day with the lightest load of housework. Although there were no beds to strip, the fires still had to be laid downstairs before six o'clock, the three sittings of breakfast prepared and served, the vegetables cleaned and the Sunday dinner cooked. And they still had to make the lodgers' beds and tidy their rooms at intervals throughout the day to suit the officers' shifts.

Sergeant Martin came down for the last breakfast at eight o'clock. When Megan saw him walking into the dining room, she went into the kitchen and persuaded Lena to wait on the table while she helped Mrs Palmer with the washing-up. At ten o'clock the sergeant left to patrol the town. Shortly afterwards she and Lena started cleaning the bedrooms, leaving Mrs Palmer to cook the Sunday dinner.

Tidy and scrupulously clean by nature, Megan found it difficult to ignore mess. But following Mrs Palmer's stern advice, after she'd spent too much precious time on the daily bed-making, as opposed to the thorough clean every bedroom received once a week, she'd learned to concentrate on the beds and washstands. So, she and Lena made beds, emptied slop buckets, and did the minimal cleaning of toilet ware. The sergeant's room, as usual, took the least time, and the room next to it, an hour just to clear the beds so they could make them.

Impatient to move on to the next floor, Megan grew irritable with Lena, as the girl seemed even more dreamlike than usual. The more she tried to hurry her, the slower Lena became. Minutes ticked by relentlessly, as Lena tucked in the sheets and blankets on her side of the beds at half Megan's pace. When they finally finished, they hauled the slop buckets downstairs and while Megan emptied them down the ty bach, Lena filled the big jugs they used to carry water.

Mrs Palmer was laying the dinner table for the first sitting when they went up to make the beds on the second floor. Megan waited until Lena was busy cleaning a particularly filthy washstand in an eight-bedded room, before making the excuse that she needed a clean handkerchief. She raced up to the top floor without giving Lena a chance to remind her of Mrs Palmer's rule that they were never to be left alone in any of the lodgers' bedrooms. Exchanging her handkerchief for another, she picked up the chocolates she had hidden in one of her drawers. Creeping down the narrow staircase, she held her breath as she stole past the open door of the bedroom Lena was working in.

She reached the first floor landing and mentally counted off a full sixty seconds. Only when she was certain that no one was watching her, she dived into the sergeant's room, left the chocolates on his bedside table, backed out of the door, closing it as she did so; and stopped dead when she sensed someone standing behind her.

Hands clamped tightly around her waist, and she froze. ‘Miss Williams, you've cleaned my room, I presume.'

Colour flooded into her cheeks. She turned her head to see the sergeant standing behind her.

‘Why the guilty look, Miss Williams? You were cleaning my room, weren't you?'

‘Yes, sir. Please, let me go?'

He released her and opened the door of his room. As he looked inside, she darted up the stairs, running breathlessly towards the room where she'd left Lena working. The door was open but it was empty, the beds still unmade. She heard a noise in the room next door and wondered why Lena had moved on without finishing the room or waiting for her. She turned the knob, opened the door and stood transfixed.

Lena was lying on her back on top of a rumpled bed, her apron, skirt and petticoats pushed to her waist, her bodice unbuttoned, her drawers pulled down to her feet. Constable Wainwright was on top of her, one hand between her legs, the other beneath her bust shaper.

‘Megan!' Lena struggled to sit up.

Constable Wainwright gave Megan a look that sent a chill down her spine.

Megan blurted out the first thing that came into her head. ‘I shouldn't have left Lena alone.'

Constable Wainwright left the bed, buttoned his flies, straightened his uniform and walked towards her without a backwards glance at Lena who was struggling into her drawers. ‘One word to anyone about what you've just seen, and you'll be sorry.'

‘Sir.' Megan lowered her eyes and bobbed a curtsy.

‘And so will your young man and his family. They could be put away for a long time. So long, the warder will throwaway the keys. Now, we don't want that. Or Lena losing her job here, do we?'

Megan shook her head.

‘We understand one another.'

‘Sir.' She stepped aside so he could walk past her, but as he did so he briefly cupped her breast.

‘Sir!' she protested angrily.

‘Shipton's right. All you women are the same, begging for a man to give it to you.'

Laughing he left the room and ran down the stairs.

Chapter Twelve

‘I'm sorry I can't give you any more time off this evening, Megan.' Joyce wrapped the ham sandwiches she'd cut for the officers' supper in scalded cloths and set them on plates in the pantry. ‘But with this being Lena's afternoon off, I'll need you back here at eight o'clock sharp to help serve first supper.'

‘I'll return as soon as chapel is finished, Mrs Palmer.' Megan's hands trembled as she jabbed her hatpin into her black Sunday winter hat and straightened the lace collar on the brown wool dress she'd had made for church three years before. Despite the pressing with a cloth soaked in vinegar, it was shiny in places. She fingered the material anxiously. If it should go into holes it would be months before she'd be able to replace it, but the chapel elders had given her a warning when she had worn her only other good winter dress to a service because it was a colourful, and in their opinion, highly unsuitable green.

‘That'll be your young man.' Joyce opened the door. ‘My, oh my, your young man and his brother. Does Father Kelly know that he's lost you both to chapel?' she enquired.

‘It's by nature of a family outing, Mrs Palmer.' Joey's experience with Jane didn't prevent him from removing his cap and giving Mrs Palmer an appealing smile. Flirting with women, young, middle-aged or old, had become a habit he could no more relinquish than he could stop breathing.

‘All of you are going to chapel? Even your father and older brother?' Joyce's late husband had been a fellow Marxist and friend of Billy Evans and she couldn't visualize either father or son sitting in a chapel pew.

‘They're waiting with Sali at the end of the lane. If you're ready, Megan, we should go,' Victor prompted.

‘I'm quite ready, Victor. Don't worry, Mrs Palmer, I'll be back on time.'

‘Enjoy the service.' Joyce looked after their retreating figures and wished she could leave her lodgers to their own devices for once, and join them. Not because she had any pangs of conscience about missing chapel. But she had a feeling that this was going to be one service the Baptists wouldn't forget for a long time.

‘Where's Harry?' Megan saw Sali, Lloyd and Mr Evans waiting at the end of the lane, but there was no sign of Sali's son.

‘Connie, Annie and Tonia invited him to high tea.' Victor offered her his arm and she took it.

‘A tactical high tea?'

‘Harry loves going to Connie and Tonia's for tea; they don't mind him cheating at snap,' Joey said from behind them.

‘Is it possible to cheat at snap?' Megan asked Victor doubtfully.

‘Joey's done his best to teach him.'

‘I heard that,' Joey said.

‘You were meant to.'

Megan smiled at Lloyd, Sali and Mr Evans. ‘Good evening.'

‘I trust it will be for us –and everyone else.' Mr Evans lifted his bowler hat, as Ned and Betty Morgan walked down the hill towards them. ‘Ned, Betty, dry evening for once, even if it is a bit cold,' he added, in an attempt to force a reply.

Ignoring the pressure of his wife's fingers digging into his arm, Ned agreed. ‘It is that, Billy.'

‘We must be going. Billy, Lloyd, Sali, Joey, Victor, good evening.' Betty deliberately omitted Megan's name.

‘Have you heard that Victor and Megan are engaged?' Billy stood in front of Betty, preventing her from walking on. ‘Would you like to see the ring, Betty? It was Isabella's but she didn't wear it very often.'

Drawing strength from the presence of Victor and his family, Megan dared to speak. ‘As my father won't give his permission for me to marry Victor, Mrs Morgan, we'll have to wait until I'm twenty-one. And even then the wedding will be small because it's unlikely he will allow any of my family to attend.' She removed her glove and held her hand in a pool of lamplight.

‘We were hoping that when the time comes, you'd help us to arrange the wedding, Betty,' Sali broke in, taking advantage of Betty's surprise at the news.

‘Megan's only eighteen so she has three years to go, and in my experience it doesn't take anywhere near that long to arrange a wedding,' Betty replied to Sali while continuing to ignore Megan.

‘I'm nineteen, Mrs Morgan, so it's less than two years,' Megan corrected shyly.

‘With this strike -'

‘Are you suggesting that we have to starve for another two years before management capitulates to our demands, woman!' Ned exclaimed.

‘No -'

‘We'd better get along to chapel or we'll be late,' Billy broke in. Ned and Betty's arguments could be long and noisy, as he had discovered after years of living in the same street.

Lloyd tipped his hat to Betty and walked ahead with Sali.

‘Does the minister have friends in the Swansea Valley who know your father?' Victor asked Megan, as they followed.

‘Everyone knows everyone else in the farming community in the Swansea Valley.'

‘So your father is likely to find out that you've been to chapel with me and my family.'

‘Almost certainly.'

‘And what happened in the theatre last night?'

‘I hope not.' Megan said, ‘Good evening,' to the crowd outside the chapel door but just as she'd expected, they ignored her.

Mr Evans acknowledged the people he knew, adding, ‘You all know Megan Williams, my son Victor's fiancée.'

‘Victor, engaged? You do surprise me, Mr Evans.' Betty Morgan's sister Alice Hughes joined them, hoping to hear some juicy gossip.

‘Megan is engaged to your son, Mr Evans?' The minister stood before the chapel door, dressed in an old-fashioned black frock coat and tall hat.

‘Yes. Mr Walker, isn't it?' Billy offered the minister his hand. ‘I hope you have no objection to my sons, Mrs Jones and I attending the service this evening?'

‘None of you are Baptist.' The minister's disapproval was evident.

‘No,' Lloyd agreed equitably. ‘But we are all thinking of converting.' He looked Mr Walker in the eye, daring him to call him a liar.

‘God's house is open to all, isn't it, Mr Walker?' Ned challenged.

When the minister didn't offer a reply, another voice cut through the crowd. ‘That's what it says in the Bible. Isn't that right, minister?'

Everyone turned to see Sergeant Martin in full uniform standing on the steps flanked by half a dozen constables.

‘It does, Sergeant Martin,' Mr Walker agreed hastily, overawed by the sight of so many officers heading into his chapel.

‘Even police officers, and assistant housekeepers who run their lodging houses?' The sergeant stepped up alongside Megan and she shrank closer to Victor, who guided her towards the chapel door.

The minister hesitated for a split second. ‘Of course, sergeant.' He stepped aside and allowed Victor and Megan to enter.

‘You'll thank your father, brothers and Sali again for me. I would have never found the courage to go to chapel on my own tonight.' Megan halted outside the kitchen door of the lodging house.

Victor pulled her towards him. ‘Yes, you would have.'

‘Not without you.'

‘Much as I hate to admit it after the man arrested me and Joey, Sergeant Martin helped. You don't like him, do you?'

‘How do you know?'

‘From the way you avoid looking at him.' He slid his hand beneath her cloak.

‘He gives me the creeps. I don't know why,' she added in the hope of allaying any suspicions Victor might have. She was all too aware that Sergeant Martin could make even more trouble for Victor and his family than Constable Wainwright if he chose to. And she didn't dare mention the chocolates.

‘He's never said or done anything to you?' Victor questioned after he kissed her.

‘You've seen him, he's always polite.'

‘Too polite,' Victor qualified. ‘Even when he arrested me and Joey he did everything by the book, unlike the sergeant who arrested Lloyd and half killed him. All the same, you'll stay out of his way?'

‘I don't need you to tell me to do that.' She wrapped her arms around his waist. ‘I felt like part of your family tonight.'

‘You are. Pick you up at twelve o'clock next Saturday?'

‘Yes, please.' Megan stood on tiptoe and raised her head to receive another kiss, which tasted salty since he had forgone tooth powder for block salt to economize.

Although both of them were aware of his father, brothers and Sali waiting for him at the end of the lane, she clung to him, burying her head in his shoulder, luxuriating in the scents she had come to associate with him. The clean, antiseptic tang of carbolic soap, the oily odour of his woollen overcoat, the smell of his leather gloves, but even more than the scents, she revelled in the sense of security she felt whenever his arms were around her.

‘You'll take care of yourself, until next week, Megs.'

She knew that he was as reluctant to leave her as she was to let him go. ‘I will, if you promise to keep yourself safe.'

‘You don't have to worry about me. I have too much to live for to risk my neck.' He gave her one last smile, turned and walked quickly away.

She watched him join his father, brothers and Sali. When they moved out of sight, she depressed the latch on the kitchen door, walked in, removed her gloves, cloak and hat, hung them on the stand and washed her hands.

The crockery and cutlery for supper were ready, stacked on trays, waiting to be taken into the dining room. She glanced at the clock. Half past seven. The first supper sitting was at eight, the last at nine. She wondered which one Sergeant Martin would opt for.

‘Good, you're here nice and early, Megan. Everything all right in chapel?' Joyce walked in, newspaper in hand, her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose.

‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Palmer.'

‘You look tired, but little wonder the way I work you. As soon as the last sitting of supper is over you can go to bed.'

‘Thank you, Mrs Palmer.' Megan attempted a smile but she couldn't help feeling that it was only the beginning of a long and tiring evening.

At half past ten, Megan climbed the stairs to the top floor and went into her bedroom. Feeling slightly foolish she checked the wardrobe and looked under the beds before locking the door. She undressed, washed and changed into her nightdress. A quarter of an hour later Lena still hadn't come up and she could hardly lock her out of their room. Hoping that Lena would turn up soon, she turned the key, checked that the door would open, moved the candle as far away from the curtain on the window sill as possible and dived into bed.

She sat up watching the door, fully intending to wait for Lena so she could ask her to lock the door behind her. But, as the minutes ticked by she rested her head on the pillow and closed her eyes, only for a moment ...

She woke with a start. The candle had burned low and the flame was guttering in a draught.

‘Lena?' Pulling the bedclothes to her chin, she sat up and looked around. There was no one in the room. She picked up the bracelet watch Victor had given her last Christmas. The hands pointed to eleven. Lena had to be in the house. She wouldn't dare come in later than half past ten. Perhaps she had come in the bedroom when she'd been asleep and gone back downstairs for something she'd forgotten. Then she saw the box of chocolates on the chest of drawers. One thing she was certain of. They hadn't been there when she had prepared for bed.

‘Sorry I'm late. I didn't wake you, did I?' Lena crept into the bedroom at midnight.

‘You didn't come up earlier?' Megan asked urgently.

‘No. I came in at half past ten and helped Mrs Palmer with the washing-up. It seemed to take for ever.'

Megan picked up her watch and glanced at it again in case she had misread it. She often helped Mrs Palmer with the supper dishes and they always finished them by eleven o'clock. ‘Did you have a good time?' she asked suspiciously.

‘The best.' Lena sat on her bed and unlaced her black leather boots. They had cost her entire first week's wages, and although she had bought herself two dresses, a skirt, blouse and underclothes since, they remained her favourite possession.

‘You're sure you didn't come up earlier?' Megan pressed, half hoping that Lena had found the chocolates outside the door and brought them in.

‘No, why do you ask?'

Megan had put the chocolates out of sight in her drawer and had already decided not to return them to Sergeant Martin again but to throw them away. ‘No reason.'

‘Fred –Constable Wainwright took me to a hotel,' Lena gushed, high on excitement. ‘I've never been in one before. We had a lovely meal, and a maid waited on us. I had brown soup, roast pork, roast potatoes, parsnips, spinach, gravy, apple sauce, a glass of wine and for afters we had iced cabinet pudding. Have you ever had iced cabinet pudding?'

‘Yes, once,' Megan replied shortly. ‘Which hotel did you go to?'

‘The White Hart. Do you know they have private rooms upstairs?'

‘Yes, they rent them out to travellers.' Megan also knew from indiscreet hints dropped by her uncle that the landlord wasn't averse to renting out the rooms on an hourly basis. ‘You didn't eat in a private room, did you?'

‘Yes. It was heavenly, just like a posh house. There was a table, two chairs, two easy chairs, a big huge couch and a bed.' Lena had the grace to blush when she reached under her pillow for her nightdress.

‘Lena, ever since I walked in on you the other day I've been meaning to talk to you. You don't really know Constable Wainwright -'

‘Oh, but I do. Look.' Lena unpinned a cheap garish brooch from her winceyette blouse and held it out for Megan to admire. Even from three feet away Megan could see it was gilt and glass. ‘It's the very first present I've ever had from anyone in my entire life.' Lena sat back on her bed and continued to study it.