Beggars and Choosers by Catrin Collier Page B

You don’t need me to tell you how delighted your father was when you told him you wanted to marry Mansel.’ As Sali brushed a tear from her eye, Edyth murmured, ‘Have Morgan and your mother been giving you a harder time than usual?’
    â€˜Not really ... but ...’
    â€˜They’ve been trying to persuade you to observe a full year of mourning.’
    â€˜Two.’
    Edyth grasped her hand. ‘Only another six weeks to go. Be strong.’ She opened the door in front of her. ‘Mansel has transformed this room. The last time I was here it was as dark and dingy as a chapel vestry.’
    â€˜It’s light and airy now.’ Sali followed her aunt into a large, comfortable drawing room papered in cream and white striped paper. The green plush-upholstered sofa and chairs were old-fashioned and heavy, as were the round table, upright chairs, and the Turkish rug on the floor was a dismal shade of green, but the scale of the room was forgiving enough to accommodate the furnishings.
    â€˜It smells of paint.’ Edyth wrinkled her nose as she inspected the skirting boards and fire surround. Both had been painted cream to complement the wallpaper. ‘No one has lived here since Mr Lewis retired six months before Mansel took over. When Mansel was in school, he often talked about moving in here himself and living the high bachelor life, but then,’ Edyth gave Sali a sly look, ‘that was before you accepted his proposal.’
    Sali moved to the window and looked down over Market Square. ‘You can see the whole street from here.’
    â€˜And Taff Street, the river and the fields around Ynysangharad House from the window on the other side.’
    Sali crossed the room. ‘I wonder why Mansel never suggested that we move in here?’
    â€˜Probably because I told him what it was like when Mr James and I began our married life here.’ Edyth unpinned her hat. ‘Despite all the builder’s promises our house wasn’t ready, so we lived here for four months when we returned to Pontypridd after our honeymoon, and in all that time we never had a moment’s peace. Even when Mr James gave the staff direct orders not to disturb him, there was always something that needed his personal attention. An important customer demanding that he and no one else wait on them, a wrong delivery that needed sorting, or an errant assistant to reprimand. And if it wasn’t this store, it was the Market Company, the bakery, or one of his provision stores. Believe me, comfortable as these rooms may be, you and Mansel will be better off living in Ynysangharad House.’
    â€˜I am sure you are right.’ Sali helped her aunt to remove her cape and hung it together with her hat on a stand next to the door.
    â€˜But, saying that, despite the constant interruptions, we were happy during the short time we lived here.’ Edyth looked inward as memories flooded back. ‘However, I wouldn’t have been for long. No window or view is an adequate substitute for a garden. Shall we look at what Mansel has done to the rest of the rooms?’
    Sali arranged her own hat and coat on the stand before opening a set of double doors to her left. They entered a dining room hung with the same paper as the drawing room and furnished with similar, old-fashioned, sturdy pieces, designed more for comfort than elegance. Three place settings had been laid at a square table that dominated the centre of the room. A vast sideboard filled half the remaining space. On it were a spirit-fuelled chafing dish from which emanated an appetising aroma of leek and potato soup, baskets of bread rolls and butter pats, a selection of cold meats, chutneys, pickles and mustards, a cold vegetable salad, an apple tart, a bowl of clotted cream and a drinks tray holding bottles of sherry, whisky and brandy.
    â€˜Your Uncle Morgan would disapprove of you eating here if he could see that,’ Edyth indicated the