Swansea Girls by Catrin Collier Read Free Book Online

examinations.’
    ‘Only the army ones, I’ve one more to go.’ Martin looked to the door, wondering what could be taking Adam so long.
    ‘Well, the army ones must have been a help. That Mrs Griffiths, do you know what she said. “When boys get university degrees, they shouldn’t be subjected to two years of mindless square bashing with the common herd.” As if you or our Adam are “the common herd.” Of course, she was talking about her precious Joseph. No one else in the terrace can afford to let their children remain idle until they’re twenty-one. And her Joseph wouldn’t be either, if his father didn’t work all the hours God sends in that warehouse to keep him. That boy could do with a bit of square bashing to knock some sense into him. Between you and me, he’s been spoiled.’
    ‘Who’s been spoiled, Mam?’ Adam walked in, his best white shirt flapping over his suit trousers.
    ‘That Joseph Griffiths, that’s who.’
    ‘Joe’s all right. Bought me a pint when I came home.’
    ‘Students shouldn’t have the money to go to pubs and buy drinks but I hope you bought him one back.’
    ‘Course.’ He winked at Martin. ‘Can’t have the Griffithses thinking we’re charity cases, can we?’
    ‘Not now you’re in the Civil Service, we can’t. Come here.’ She took the cuff links he was holding from him. ‘Look at you. Two years in the army and you still can’t dress yourself.’
    ‘Thanks, Mam.’ Adam lifted her off her feet as she straightened his sleeves.
    ‘Put me down. You’re not so big you can’t feel the back of my hand. Go and clear space in your wardrobe and one of your drawers for Marty.’
    ‘It’s all right, Mrs Jordan, really. I’m hoping to sort myself out with something permanent tomorrow.’
    ‘You moving in?’ Adam looked at his friend in surprise.
    ‘For now.’ Mrs Jordan fought to free herself from her son’s grip as he lowered her to the floor. ‘Go on, take Marty’s case up to your bedroom while he finishes his tea.’
    ‘I warn you, Marty, she’s worse than any sergeant. It’s nothing but orders from morning till night.’
    ‘I’ll give you ...’
    ‘What, Mam?’ Adam grinned.
    Martin sat back in the cosy kitchen that was so much more comfortable than his mother’s for all its homemade rag-rugs and patchwork cushions, and listened to the easy banter. He wished it could have been the same in his parents’ basement. The atmosphere in the Jordan’s kitchen was no different when Adam’s father was home. Quiet, easy-going, Mr Jordan’s idea of indulging himself was a radio play or sitting down with a newspaper and his pipe. The only time he set foot in a pub was early on a Saturday evening to buy half a pint of mild and the bottle of sherry that he and his wife took on their weekly visit to Adam’s grandmother. Martin had never seen him drunk or heard him raise his voice to his wife or sons. If only ...
    ‘Another biscuit, Martin?’
    ‘No, thank you, Mrs Jordan.’
    ‘Growing boy like you needs nourishment.’
    ‘You going to Gran’s, Mam?’ Adam asked as he returned.
    ‘If your father ever gets home with that sherry. I’ve never known a man take so long to buy a bottle. I think he must have gone to Cardiff to get it.’ She watched Adam reach for his jacket. ‘Can I ask where you two are going?’
    ‘You can ask.’
    ‘You’re not telling?’
    ‘It’s Saturday night, Mam.’
    ‘Then you’re going drinking.’ She crossed her arms.
    ‘We may have one or two.’
    ‘Not in one of those nasty rough pubs down the docks.’
    ‘Mam!’
    ‘We’ll probably go to the White Rose, Mrs Jordan.’ Martin could understand Adam’s reluctance to submit to his mother’s interrogation after semi-independent army life but he also liked Mrs Jordan.
    ‘As long as you stop after two. But you’d be much better off going to the Pier and meeting some nice girls like Mrs Hunt’s Judy or Lily Sullivan. Boys your age should be courting.’
    ‘No good