Doorsteps & Dreams

Doorsteps & Dreams

Sian Turner

Copyright 2015 Sian Turner

Cover image and design copyright 2015 Pauline Crouch

Smashwords edition

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This book is inspired by some true events (along with many that are completely fictional). However, the events themselves and all characters have been fictionalized. All persons appearing in this work are, therefore, fictitious (including their actions, characters and motivations). Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Contents

Chapter 1: November 1958

Chapter 2: 1959

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5: 1960

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12 : 1961

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18 : 1962

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24 : 1963

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Dedication & Acknowledgements

Other works by Sian Turner

Chapter 1

November 1958

Carrie Bowen smiled radiantly at her father as they paused in the porch of Llanbach church, waiting for the organist to start playing the wedding march ‒ their cue to begin the slow walk down the aisle. Her dad smiled proudly, sweeping one hand through his thick, wavy hair ‒ which was beginning to turn grey at the temples, she noticed. Her heart fluttered like a wild bird in a cage, but Carrie had never been happier than she was at this moment. Her wedding. At last she was here, on the arm of her wonderful father, about to marry the man she loved.

Back in the churchyard, they had stopped beside her mother’s grave.

Your mam would be proud too, her dad had said.

Mam…

Carrie’s mother had died just before her only daughter’s tenth birthday and the confused child had been sent to live with her Auntie Mary, Uncle Will and Cousin Annie. After her father remarried, she had tried going to live with him and his wife Rhonda. Things had gone badly right from the start and, when she found out that Rhonda was expecting a baby, Carrie had moved out to live with another aunt, Auntie Gladys.

But that was all in the past now – a past she’d rather forget. Today was a new beginning for her: with both her soon-to-be husband Jack Mason and with her father, Gareth.

As she fussed with the edge of her short veil, she heard the gentle murmur of people talking quietly in the pews. The smell of wood, paper, dust and candle wax filled her lungs as she took deep breaths, trying to calm her heartbeat. The voices hushed, and there was a rustling of material and a shuffling of feet as the whole congregation turned for their first glimpse of the bride.

Her heart had slowed just a little, but began pounding again in earnest as the vibrant sound of the church organ suddenly filled the air, resonating around the old building as the guests stood in unison.

It’s time, cariad, said her father, patting her arm reassuringly.

Carrie nodded.

Looking over her shoulder, she winked at her bridesmaids ‒ Annie’s two daughters, five-year-old Eliza and Mary, who was not quite four. The girls giggled softly and Eliza took Mary firmly by the hand. We’re ready, Auntie Carys, she said.

Turning back, Carrie’s eyes met Jack’s as he stood stiffly at the altar end of the aisle. She stepped onto the patterned carpet, taking each pace carefully ‒ she didn’t want to ruin things by turning over on her foot and twisting an ankle. Today needed to be perfect.

Jack stood next to his best man, Ron. A broad smile spread across his narrow face.

Carrie thought she would burst with pride.

When the service was over, the wedding party assembled in the churchyard.

Still elated after being pronounced man and wife by Reverend Pugh, Carrie had almost forgotten that some of the photographs would have to include Rhonda and the two children, nine-year-old Thomas and four-year-old Ian.

She hadn’t met her half-brothers until her father called them over and introduced them to her after the service. She’d watched impassively as Ian clung to her father’s trouser leg and called him Daddy, but when young Thomas strode over and grinned at Ian, his unmistakable resemblance to her father had made her feel unexpectedly jealous.

Now, as the photographer manoeuvred people into different groupings required for the formal pictures, she found it increasingly difficult to keep a happy smile on her face. The two boys ran to and fro in front of the other guests, apparently unwilling to stand still even for the short time required to take a picture.

By the time the photographs were over, Carrie was feeling a little jaded, and was grateful to link arms with Jack as they made their way back to the church gates. As they got nearer, she smiled: the local children had tied the gate closed ‒ as was the custom ‒ and were standing in the road waiting eagerly for the groom to throw them some pennies to untie it.

You’ll need that bag of pennies I told you to bring now, she said, looking at Jack expectantly.

Jack went pale, the smile fading from his face. Ron’s got it.

"And where is he?" she hissed impatiently.

Jack looked around anxiously, finally nodding towards the road.

Following his stare, Carrie saw Ron talking animatedly to her friend Janet’s new husband, David. They were standing about twenty feet past the gate on the other side of the road, obviously having a good laugh about something or another.

Carrie’s face reddened, both through embarrassment and anger.

Can’t we just untie it? asked Jack, hopefully.

"No! This is the custom. I told you to make sure you had some pennies to throw!"

"I didn’t forget ‒ I gave them to Ron for safekeeping."

Well, they’re safely the other side of the gate now, aren’t they? she hissed.

Jack made a half-hearted attempt to catch Ron’s attention, waving an arm at head-level in the direction of his best man. But Ron just kept chatting: He and David had hit it off during the long drive from London, and neither of them noticed Jack’s signalling.

Carrie shot a self-conscious smile at the small group of children waiting expectantly on the other side of the gate. The ringleader, a lanky boy with a knitted scarf tied loosely around his neck, rolled his eyes and sauntered over. As he finished untying the gate, Carrie whispered, I’m really sorry! The best man is over there and he has the money. You can have it; you’ll just have to wait for a moment or two.

The boy shrugged. Don’t bother. It’s too late now, isn’t it? We’ve let you out already.

Jack looked down at his feet and his new wife gave him a disgruntled nudge in the ribs.

Back at Auntie Gladys and Uncle Jack’s house, Meadow Cottage, Carrie was amazed at how many of the wedding guests managed to fit inside. The small front room was not big enough to accommodate them all, however, so several had (with Auntie Gladys’ permission) spilled over into the kitchen, with the children being allowed to play in the back garden.

The bride clung possessively to her new husband as friends and neighbours approached, one or two at a time, to congratulate the couple before making their way to the heavily-laden tables to sample some of Auntie Gladys’ famously tasty food.

Carrie had just decided that it was time to cut the cake when there was a shout from the back of the house. Her uncle’s voice rang out, cutting through the sound of background conversation.

"Oi, you boys – that’s my sprouts you’ve trampled! Get yourselves back here!"

She pulled Jack with her into the hallway just in time to see Thomas, closely pursued by his younger brother Ian, thundering in through the back door – their muddy shoes spewing debris over the clean floor – and running for protection behind their mother’s skirts.

Uncle Jack followed close behind, his face red with anger and his fists clenched. Carrie couldn’t remember ever having seen her gentle giant of an uncle looking so furious.

Rhonda smiled sweetly. Is there a problem? she asked, meekly.

Yes, there is! Your two boys here just trampled right through the middle of my vegetable patch and flattened several of my sprout plants.

Well, accidents happen and I’m sure they didn’t mean to do any damage, did you boys?

Thomas and Ian cowered behind their mother, who didn’t seem intimidated by the huge figure of Uncle Jack.

I saw them do it. They ran straight through the middle and they were laughing like a pair of honking geese.

Boys will be boys, said Rhonda with a tight smile, and mine can be a bit on the clumsy side, I’m afraid.

Auntie Gladys put a hand on her husband’s arm. Calm down, dear, she said quietly. "It isn’t worth arguing over on Carys’ wedding day. You know how important it is to her that everything runs smoothly, don’t you?"

Uncle Jack growled and shot an angry glare down the hall towards the boys’ father, who had just appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

Is there a problem? asked Gareth.

Auntie Gladys squeezed Uncle Jack’s hand.

No, mumbled Uncle Jack. You have to excuse me, I have some… cleaning up to do outside. With that, he turned his back on the naughty boys and their parents and disappeared into the garden.

Ladies and gentlemen, I believe now would be a good time to cut the wedding cake! announced Carrie ‒ unnecessarily loudly, considering the stunned silence in the house. Would you all like to come through to the front room?

Carrie was halfway through her slice of deliciously moist wedding cake when Jack shoved the remaining chunk from his own plate roughly into his mouth. He chewed rapidly, swallowed and sucked the residue from each of his fingers in turn, grinning at the reproachful look Carrie was giving him.

Auntie Gladys was crossing the room towards them and Jack, probably sensing that he was about to be admonished by both of them said, Mum and Dad are looking a bit lost; I think I’ll pop over and have a chat. He handed Carrie his empty plate and was gone before Auntie Gladys reached Carrie’s side.

I’m sorry about the boys trampling Uncle Jack’s sprouts, Carrie said to her aunt, hoping that her new husband’s bad manners had gone unnoticed.

You’re not responsible for their behaviour ‒ that’s their parents’ job, replied Auntie Gladys shooting a withering look in the direction of the boys’ mother, Rhonda.

"I did invite them though. I feel like it’s my fault."

Auntie Gladys sighed. I think I should go and make some tea. Mr and Mrs Mason would probably appreciate some, she said, patting her niece’s arm and disappearing down the hallway into the kitchen.

Left alone for the first time since before the wedding service, Carrie felt strangely tense. She was about to join her husband and his parents when Rhonda sidled up next to her.

Congratulations, Carys, began Rhonda, with a sickly sweet smile. I wonder if I could perhaps have a word with you; in private?

If it’s about the boys and Uncle Jack’s sprouts, there’s no need, blurted Carrie, feeling immediately ill at ease in close proximity to her stepmother.

No, it isn’t that, replied Rhonda, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly. I hoped we could… put the past behind us, you know? Let bygones be bygones?

Oh, that! Any animosity I bore towards you was forgotten a long time ago, she lied.

Really? her stepmother looked at her suspiciously, like a parent trying to establish whether or not their toddler was being truthful.

Caught off guard by her gaze, Carrie tried her best to look genuine. Her knees felt like they were knocking together in trepidation as she held her breath and waited for Rhonda’s response.

Apparently detecting no sign of deceit, Rhonda continued, "I’m so relieved! Your father was miserable when you left after he told you I was expecting Thomas. It took him months to get over it. He spent so much time in his workshop that I thought he was going to move a bed in there too! It only got better after Ian was born, really."

Oh. I had no idea. So, he’d been miserable had he? That was a turn-up for the books.

"Well, you’d gone off to live with Gladys ‒ how could you know?" there was a bitter edge to Rhonda’s voice as she spoke.

Carrie couldn’t think of anything to say. Her mind was lost in a whirl of childhood memories of her mother’s funeral, being sent to live with Auntie Mary, her father announcing his marriage to Rhonda, the unhappy months she’d spent living with her father and his wife and finding out about Rhonda’s pregnancy. The passage of time had not dulled the pain caused by the woman who stood in front of her. She was convinced that it was Rhonda ‒ and Rhonda alone ‒ who was to blame for all the bad things that had happened to her since her mother’s death.

Any animosity she might have harboured towards her father had been swept away today: from the moment she’d arrived outside the church he’d been charming, attentive and thoughtful: He’d remembered that today was her birthday, he had given her away at her wedding and he had said he was proud of her before walking her down the aisle. The only reason she was trying to be nice to Rhonda at all was so that she could continue to restore her relationship with her father.

Now, though, she was completely tongue-tied. She’d forgotten how much of a struggle being pleasant to her stepmother could be.

I think I need a cup of tea, she said, relieved to have thought of a means of escape ‒ albeit an obvious one. Please excuse me.

She turned and hurried out of the front room, leaving Rhonda standing by herself in the corner.

Carys, said Annie, excitedly, come with me ‒ I’ve got some wonderful news to tell you! Her cousin grabbed her arm and whisked her off into the back garden, passing Uncle Jack who was putting his garden fork back in the shed after seeing to the problem with his sprouts.

Is this going to take long? asked Carrie, glancing up at the gathering clouds. It’s quite chilly out here, and I’m not really dressed for cold weather.

No, it won’t take long. Annie was grinning from ear to ear. I’m expecting again! I’m about three and a half months gone now; the baby’s due in May. I wanted to tell you earlier, but I didn’t want to detract from your special day.

Carrie gave a distracted smile, not even registering what her cousin had just said, then glanced cautiously past Annie, towards the back door; she was worried that Rhonda might follow her outside and try to talk to her again.

Is everything all right? asked Annie, the smile melting from her face.

Not really, no. Rhonda just cornered me in the front room wanting to ‘let bygones be bygones.’

"Really?" asked Annie incredulously.

Yes, really.

What did you say?

I lied, of course. I said I’d put it all behind me years ago.

Well, replied Annie cautiously, "perhaps now would be a good time to…"

"Well, it doesn’t seem to me that today is a good time for anything ‒ certainly not for forgiving her."

"But it’s your wedding day, Carys! It’s supposed to be the best day of your life. You look absolutely beautiful, you’ve married the ever-handsome Jack Mason. You’re Mrs Jack Mason now!"

"Did you see what Mr Jack Mason did at the church?" Carrie asked with a sigh.

No…

"He forgot the pennies. After I’d told him a hundred times, he forgot the blasted pennies. The children had to untie the gates without getting their coins. I’ve never been so embarrassed!"

I’m sure he didn’t mean to upset you.

"No. I know. But I wanted everything to be perfect."

You shouldn’t let a few little things spoil your day, said Annie, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Little things? Hrmph!"

Well, let’s go back inside then, conceded Annie, rather gloomily, I think Auntie Gladys was making some tea.

It was early evening by the time the guests had all dispersed ‒ Annie, John and the girls being the last to leave.

Carrie and Jack collected all their things ready to leave: they had arranged to stay overnight in one of the pub’s guest rooms before returning to London the following day.

At the front gate, the newlyweds said their goodbyes to Carrie’s aunt and uncle.

"You treat our Carys well, my boy – or you’ll have me to deal with!" grinned Uncle Jack, clasping the groom’s hand firmly between his own and pumping it purposefully up and down.

He’s only joking, responded Auntie Gladys, nudging her husband in the thigh.

It’s all right, Jack responded. "I have a dry sense of humour too. Carrie’s always telling me that I have much more in common with your Jack than just my Christian name – although you’d never know just by looking at us."

Carrie shook her head silently, her mouth stretching reluctantly into a tight smile as she observed the contrast between her skinny husband and the massive figure of her uncle.

As they got into the car, Jack turned towards her and smiled ruefully.

You’ve been very quiet, Mrs Mason, he said. Penny for your thoughts?

Don’t talk to me about pennies, she grumbled.

Is that still bothering you? The children will have forgotten all about it in a day or so.

"They might. I won’t."

But everything else went perfectly.

She glared at him. Thomas and Ian running through Uncle Jack’s vegetable patch wasn’t perfect. Rhonda asking me to ‘let bygones be bygones’ wasn’t perfect.

Jack took her gently by the hand. Look at me, he insisted.

She sighed, but looked him in the eye.

"Today, I married the most beautiful and amazing woman I’ve ever met. The bridesmaids were a picture, my tie tied perfectly on only the second attempt, we both got our vows right without a single stumble, the food was delicious – and your father walked you down the aisle. He shrugged a shoulder and raised one eyebrow. Seemed perfect to me."

Carrie resisted briefly, but could not hold back a smirk. Realising that she wasn’t going to be able to stay angry, she allowed it to spread across her face into a full-blown smile. I’m Mrs Jack Mason, she said quietly.

Louder, said Jack.

I’m Mrs Jack Mason, she said.

Louder, he encouraged.

"I am… Mrs… Jack… Mason!" she shouted, her grin widening.

Perfect! he said, leaning across to kiss her on the lips. Now, let’s be on our way, or they’ll have closed the pub and we’ll be banging on the window for them to let us in.

He shifted the car into first gear and pulled away from Meadow Cottage.

Oh, my goodness! exclaimed Carrie suddenly.

What’s wrong? asked Jack, slamming on the brakes. Are you all right?

Yes, but I’ve just realised; Annie told me that she’s pregnant and I didn’t even say congratulations!

During the long drive back to London the next day, Carrie kept thinking about her father. Now that they were reunited, she wanted their relationship to grow closer again ‒ like it had been before her mother died back in 1944. She knew that this would be difficult, with her and Jack living so far away, and acknowledged that she would somehow have to reconcile herself to the fact that Rhonda, Thomas and Ian were a permanent fixture in his life too. Now she had actually met the boys (her father had introduced her to them outside the church as their ‘big sister, Carys’), she could no longer distance herself from their existence. If she wanted to be part of her father’s life, she’d probably have to be part of theirs too.

But corresponding by post and the occasional telephone call wouldn’t help her get closer to her father – for things to be how she wanted them, she and Jack would have to move to Wales. Right now, they were living in London and she didn’t want to start married life on the wrong foot by trying to persuade her husband to up sticks and move more than a hundred miles away. In London, they had a house and Jack had a job with promotion prospects, teaching in the local secondary school. From the house, it was just a ten-minute bus ride to where Janet and David lived and a half hour drive to visit Jack’s parents, Sam and Irene. If they moved to Wales, they’d have to find a new home and a new job for Jack. And their regular visits to Janet and David – and to Sam and Irene too – would be reduced to a weekly telephone call or an occasional letter. Jack wouldn’t be happy to move away from his parents, and she would have to give up her proximity to her best friend in the hope that it would pay off by improving her relationship with her father.

What a predicament. If I stay in London, I can have my best friend nearby, but my dad is inaccessible to me, in Wales. If we move to Wales, Jack’s parents and Janet are far away in London.

So she decided that her father would have to wait; for now, at least.

Janet and David had finally managed to arrange a christening for their daughter, Ruthie. The little girl had been born out of wedlock, her parents finally marrying just two weeks before Carrie and Jack.

As an unmarried parent, Janet had been unable to talk the local vicar into christening her infant daughter, but now she and David had finally ‘tied the knot’, she had tried again. This time, the vicar had been happy to agree (although not without first giving her a fifteen minute lecture about the evils of debauchery and the virtues of the holy union of marriage).

The christening was to be held on 6th December and Janet asked a delighted Carrie if she and Jack would become godparents to seven-and-a-half month old Ruthie.

When Jack came home that evening, Carrie told him the news.

Janet has asked us to be godparents to Ruthie, she announced, excitedly as Jack hung up his dripping wet coat.

It’s raining cats and dogs out there! Jack commented, ruffling his wet hair with his fingertips. I just stepped in a big puddle and I think I must have a hole in my shoe – my socks are soaked!

Did you hear me? I’m going to be a godmother! she exclaimed. I’m so happy!

I can tell, said Jack, indulgently.

It’s such an honour to be asked, don’t you think?

I suppose it is, he said, smiling. You certainly look very happy about it. What’s for tea?

Oh, goodness, I haven’t even started cooking yet. Never mind, it’s only bubble and squeak with cold chicken, so it won’t take long at all. It should be ready in about a quarter of an hour.

Who have they chosen to be the godfather? Jack asked at the weekend, while Carrie made a pot of tea and he got out the tea strainer and teaspoons to add to the tray of cups.

She frowned. "What do you mean? It’s you, of course. I told you the other day, didn’t I?"

No you didn’t, he replied solemnly. "You said you had been asked to be godmother, that’s all. Are you certain? I mean, did Janet actually specifically mention to you about me being godfather?"

Yes. She asked us both. And anyway, we’re married now, so it wouldn’t make sense to ask me to be godmother without asking you to be godfather. Janet did tell me that David was going to ask you properly – man to man, you know.

Jack nodded thoughtfully, then shook his head, wrinkled his nose and shrugged. Well, he hasn’t.

Seeing the uncomfortable expression on her husband’s face, Carrie felt a shred of doubt slip into her mind. "You will do it, won’t you? she asked putting a hand on his arm. Janet would be so upset if you turned them down."

"I’ve just got married in church, and now I’m going back to become a godfather? I’ve never been really comfortable with all that religious stuff, you know that."

But it’s such an honour to be asked to be a godparent, she insisted. It isn’t just about turning up in church and saying what you’re told to say.

"Oh, good grief ‒ what do I have to say? I thought I just had to stand there in my wedding suit and try not to cough at the wrong moments."

Well, you have to promise to pray and support Ruthie and help her parents bring her up in the Christian faith.

Pray?

Yes.

I don’t like to say prayers out loud; you know that: I just kind of think things through in my head. God’s supposed to know what you’re thinking, so I figure it doesn’t matter if you say things out loud or not. That’s why I don’t like churches either ‒ you shouldn’t have to be in a particular place to prove your faith.

I know. That’s fine. I’ve explained to Janet how you feel and she said she understands; apparently David feels much the same. But the only way to get Ruthie christened is in a church. If you’re not comfortable with that, then Janet will have to ask someone else.

Jack looked thoughtful, as though he was going to try to wriggle out of it, so Carrie added, You’d be there as a guest anyway, so you’d be going inside the church whether you agree to be Ruthie’s godfather or not.

He was silent for several seconds. Carrie held her breath and hoped that the pleading expression on her face would be enough to tip the balance in favour of agreement.

Oh, all right, he sighed. But this is the last time I want to be coerced into going to church.

What about christening our own children? she asked with a horrified look.

"Our own… well, that’s different, isn’t it? Of course I’d go to our own children’s christenings."

She breathed a sigh of relief.

Well, I’m glad that’s over with. It was stiflingly hot in there considering it’s November, said Jack mopping his brow before stuffing his handkerchief untidily back in his jacket pocket.

Carrie whipped the handkerchief back out and folded it neatly before replacing it, giving Jack’s breast pocket a little pat as she did so.

You did very well, she said, hooking her arm around his. She steered him along the path towards Janet and David, who were standing with baby Ruthie and their parents having some informal photographs taken. They’ll want a picture of us with our goddaughter to go in the baby album we bought them. Then we can probably head home.

Jack moaned. But we both look like over-cooked chickens after being in the church. Can’t we skip the photographs?

Absolutely not! retorted Carrie. "Janet would never forgive me. Besides, you know I take every opportunity to hold my beautiful little goddaughter, and you need all the practice you can get – for when our own children come along."

I thought I’d leave the childcare to you, dear, said Jack with a cheeky smile. After all, you have so much experience. I might do something terrible, like drop them on their heads or something.

Don’t be daft! she grinned. You’re going to make a wonderful father.

Chapter 2

1959

Having resigned from her job before getting married, in the hope of starting a family as soon as possible, Carrie chose to spend at least one afternoon every week with Janet and baby Ruthie.

They enjoyed going for walks in the park together, where the two adults would reminisce about their two-year nursery nurse training course and their respective jobs working as nannies – Carrie to Laura Knight, daughter of actor Robert Knight and his wife, and Janet to banker Peter Galloway’s children.

Are you planning to give Ruthie a brother or sister, or did working for the Galloways put you off having more than one child? Carrie asked her friend one spring afternoon. They were strolling through the park with Janet’s daughter, who lay sound asleep in her pram with her mouth hanging open.

Of course we want more – well, one more anyway. I’d rather Ruthie was a little older first though; she’s never been a good sleeper and I’m still too tired for too much – you know – hanky-panky. How about you? Any exciting news on the baby front yet?

Carrie blushed. No, not yet, but we’ve only been married a few months. She smiled awkwardly. "The