Read Online Goodbye to Dreams by Grace Thompson - Free Book Online
Authors: Grace Thompson
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thin figure of Johnny Fowler walking ahead, setting the pace for the rest. As the last of the walkers passed the shop, he went back inside to where a slightly impatient Busby Morris – so called because he had once been in the guards – was beginning to shout his complaints. He collected fresh hot water and, apologizing earnestly, finished the shave.
As he worked he only half listened to his customer’s chatter. His mind was at the grocery shop where friends and relations would be gathered to learn the fate of the business. He knew it was impossible for Cecily and Ada to run it themselves. Two young women without a man there? Not possible. They would need a man and there was only Willie Morgan and a fat lot of use he’d be, him only a skinny lad of sixteen.
He wondered how soon he might go and see the sisters and ask them how things would be arranged. He wished he’d gone to the funeral. Mam was difficult at times. Now he’d be uneasy going there, expecting a coolness at his apparent indifference.
He closed the shop early – a small defiance – but walked home the long way round so Mam wouldn’t know.
At Owen’s shop, with everything ready for the meal, Cecily and Ada stood among the black-coated women waiting for the shop bell to ring and tell them the men were back. They went into the back kitchen occasionally to reassure themselves that everything was done. Holding hands with them both, Van went with them.
‘Where will we go if we have to leave here?’ Van asked.
‘Don’t worry, lovey.’ Ada smiled. ‘We can’t talk about it yet but as soon as we’re on our own, we’ll talk about everything that’s happened today. Right?’
The men returned and Cecily poured water into the waiting teapots, four of them. That should be enough for a start. The murmur of conversations filled the air and the sound of people running up and down to the bathroom. The house had a fullness that at any other time would have been pleasing, but today was alien and unwelcome, an intrusion into their grief.
‘All ready, love?’ Beryl Richards called as she went up with Myfanwy’s coat over her arm. ‘Coming with us, you are, just for a while. Coming to play with our Edwin.’ Beryl and Bertie had been friends of Cecily and Ada all their lives and Myfanwy and Edwin were used to spending time in each other’s home. Beryl and Bertie lived in a large house with servants to keep it the way they wanted it and Van loved spending time there with Edwin.
Beryl went off, Myfanwy holding one hand, her eight-year old son Edwin holding the other. She was a large woman but today she looked larger than usual in a fur coat which, like so many others, left the smell of mothballs in its wake.
‘I hope there’s plenty to eat,’ Waldo Watkins called through the passage. ‘I’m starving.’
‘That’s no surprise,’ Cecily laughed. ‘When are you not?’
Carrying food and teas on trays, they went upstairs to the large living room above the shop. There was a piano there, draped with black material in deference to the occasion. Black crepe bows were fastened to the curtains with ends hanging almost to the floor. Two bows hung over the mantelpiece , and the wall gas-lights were lit. A fire burned cheerfully in the hearth, yet inside, the drawn curtains and the darkly dressed figures filling the room gave the impression of night time and defied the clock telling them it was the middle of the day.
The wallpaper in the heavily furnished room was dark, with cherries and roses interspersed with dull green leaves on a black background. The ladies had lifted their veils but hadn’t removed their hats. The men in suits were like white-breasted blackbirds with the white shirts picked out by the flickering gas-lights. An elderly man entered and sat in a corner. Several recognized him as the local solicitor.
Cecily and Ada greeted him, then continued walking through the few people still there, offering food and drinks. A few stood to
As he worked he only half listened to his customer’s chatter. His mind was at the grocery shop where friends and relations would be gathered to learn the fate of the business. He knew it was impossible for Cecily and Ada to run it themselves. Two young women without a man there? Not possible. They would need a man and there was only Willie Morgan and a fat lot of use he’d be, him only a skinny lad of sixteen.
He wondered how soon he might go and see the sisters and ask them how things would be arranged. He wished he’d gone to the funeral. Mam was difficult at times. Now he’d be uneasy going there, expecting a coolness at his apparent indifference.
He closed the shop early – a small defiance – but walked home the long way round so Mam wouldn’t know.
At Owen’s shop, with everything ready for the meal, Cecily and Ada stood among the black-coated women waiting for the shop bell to ring and tell them the men were back. They went into the back kitchen occasionally to reassure themselves that everything was done. Holding hands with them both, Van went with them.
‘Where will we go if we have to leave here?’ Van asked.
‘Don’t worry, lovey.’ Ada smiled. ‘We can’t talk about it yet but as soon as we’re on our own, we’ll talk about everything that’s happened today. Right?’
The men returned and Cecily poured water into the waiting teapots, four of them. That should be enough for a start. The murmur of conversations filled the air and the sound of people running up and down to the bathroom. The house had a fullness that at any other time would have been pleasing, but today was alien and unwelcome, an intrusion into their grief.
‘All ready, love?’ Beryl Richards called as she went up with Myfanwy’s coat over her arm. ‘Coming with us, you are, just for a while. Coming to play with our Edwin.’ Beryl and Bertie had been friends of Cecily and Ada all their lives and Myfanwy and Edwin were used to spending time in each other’s home. Beryl and Bertie lived in a large house with servants to keep it the way they wanted it and Van loved spending time there with Edwin.
Beryl went off, Myfanwy holding one hand, her eight-year old son Edwin holding the other. She was a large woman but today she looked larger than usual in a fur coat which, like so many others, left the smell of mothballs in its wake.
‘I hope there’s plenty to eat,’ Waldo Watkins called through the passage. ‘I’m starving.’
‘That’s no surprise,’ Cecily laughed. ‘When are you not?’
Carrying food and teas on trays, they went upstairs to the large living room above the shop. There was a piano there, draped with black material in deference to the occasion. Black crepe bows were fastened to the curtains with ends hanging almost to the floor. Two bows hung over the mantelpiece , and the wall gas-lights were lit. A fire burned cheerfully in the hearth, yet inside, the drawn curtains and the darkly dressed figures filling the room gave the impression of night time and defied the clock telling them it was the middle of the day.
The wallpaper in the heavily furnished room was dark, with cherries and roses interspersed with dull green leaves on a black background. The ladies had lifted their veils but hadn’t removed their hats. The men in suits were like white-breasted blackbirds with the white shirts picked out by the flickering gas-lights. An elderly man entered and sat in a corner. Several recognized him as the local solicitor.
Cecily and Ada greeted him, then continued walking through the few people still there, offering food and drinks. A few stood to
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