MORNING SERIAL
HE drew his arm away from her waist and supported himself on the grass.
“What about yourself, Sally? Seems to me that Mr Griffiths had a lot to say about you. He was on to your mam and dad for taking you away from school, so you told me. And you were at the County, too.” “But I’ve got a nice job, Ieuan. I’m quite happy in it.” “Happy! In Simpson’s the Dyers?” “Yes. But then, I’m a girl. I won’t always be working — that is, I hope I shan’t be stuck behind a counter all my life.” “You want to marry a millionaire, eh?” He smiled. “Well, if you marry me, you won’t have a—” A spasm of coughing shook her. She held a handkerchief to her mouth.
“Sally!” Ieuan caught her hand. “Sally, why don’t you see a doctor about that cough?” he implored. He rose and helped her to her feet. “And here we are, sitting on the grass,” he said, alarmed. “It’s daft, honestly it is. The ground is damp this time of year. I ought to have had more sense.” Her coughing continued and he waited anxiously until it ceased. He looked into her face.
“Do you feel better now?” he asked earnestly. “Shall I take you home?” “No, no, don’t let’s go home yet. I’m all right, Ieuan.” “Sure?” “Yes.” “Would you like to go for a little walk?” “Yes, Ieuan.” They followed the path back to the middle of the park.
The bandsmen finished their piece, and sat down to wipe their perspiring faces. The audience clapped. Hands dipped into pockets as the collecting boxes were passed round.
Flushed, eager-eyed boys and girls ogled each other. Children, unable to remain quiet for more than a few minutes, chased noisily round the bandstand, heedless of harassed parents’ warnings and remonstrances.
The bandsmen rose again. The strains of the National Anthem swelled out over the park, and slowly the people began to make their way towards the exits.
Dusk settled over the playing field, the bowling green and the wide lawns. A chill breeze stirred with a short, sweeping rhythm through the trees.
Ieuan shuddered slightly. Sally looked up. “Cold?” “Yes,” he confessed.