Heartbreak in the Valleys

by Francesca Capaldi

  An argument. That didn’t bode well. She helped her mother with her needs, going afterwards to Sara’s room, which was to become Mamgu’s. It contained none of her grandmother’s possessions. What was going on? Anwen went down to the kitchen to find the fire in the grate almost out and nothing even prepared for supper. She gave a deep sigh. There wasn’t much food in the house. Whatever was in the larder she’d have to cobble together and make the best of it.

  She’d opened the larder door and was peering in when the back door opened and was knocked shut. Da. He’d clearly washed and changed after his shift, yet he was still somewhat dishevelled. He paused by the scullery table, a sack bag in one hand, in the other a dead chicken, intact and retaining its feathers. He dropped it on the table, the head drooping to one side, its eyes blank.

  ‘See what you can make of that. Struck lucky I did. Bit old but it’s better than nothing. Not become squeamish, have you?’ He was standing straight, his speech coherent.

  ‘No, Da. I’ll put it with the leeks and the couple of potatoes we’ve got in the pantry.’

  ‘Haven’t you been to the shops? I need more than that for my supper.’

  ‘I’ve only a bit of money left. I’m not being paid till Friday next. Besides, the shops were a bit bare yesterday and I’ve been at work since six this morning.’ She didn’t like to mention it was his payday and he needed to provide some money for the week.

  He dug his hand in his pocket, pulling out a few coins and tossing them on the table next to the chicken. There was a florin, a half crown, a threepenny piece and a few coppers. ‘There’ll be more before Monday, if you’re lucky.’

  ‘Thank you, Da.’ She swept up the coins, placing them in her skirt pocket before he changed his mind. ‘Do you know where Mamgu is? She should have been here.’

  His expression darkened as he regarded her. ‘Reckoned she was going to live here, daft old bat. I told her straight, she can come and help with the house and with your mother, but there’s no room for her.’

  ‘What about Sara’s roo—’

  He lurched towards her, causing her to back against the larder shelves. ‘There’s no bloody room, you understand?’

  ‘Yes, Da.’

  ‘I’m sleeping in the little bedroom.’

  ‘How will she help us from Abergavenny?’ She knew she was pushing her luck, but she needed to know what the situation was. If Mamgu could only come to help sometimes, it would make her job at the Big House nigh on impossible.

  ‘She’s gone to find lodgings. She’ll explain. I’ve got to go out again. Just make sure you have that stew ready for when I get back.’

  ‘Yes, Da.’

  He left the scullery, still holding the bag with its mystery contents. She heard him clomp upstairs.

  A minute later he was downstairs again. The front door opened and closed. He was gone.

  * * *

  There was a knock on the back door just after nine. Cadi stepped in before Anwen got there, removing her hat and hatpin, placing them on the dresser.

  ‘You didn’t have to knock.’

  ‘I didn’t want to give you a shock, that’s all. I’m guessing your da is out.’

  ‘Yes. Where have you been? Da said you were finding lodgings.’

  Cadi sat down heavily on the scullery chair. ‘You wouldn’t be so kind as to fetch me a cuppa tea, would you? I’m parched.’

  ‘Where are your things?’

  ‘In Alexandra Street with Florrie Harris, widow, as she was keen to point out on several occasions, as if it were something unusual. I pointed out I was one too, but she wasn’t impressed with that. Anyway, one of her daughters has moved to Aberdare, and she wanted a lodger.’

  ‘How are you going to pay the rent?’

  ‘Same way I paid my sister. By taking sewing in. Dab hand I am, very neat.’

  ‘I know you are.’

  Mamgu had made lovely clothes for her and her siblings when they were babies. They were still in a trunk under Mam’s bed, ready for the next generation. There wasn’t much prospect they’d be used any time soon.

  ‘I can do it here, in between doing jobs, while I keep your Mam company. She must get lonely in the day.’

  ‘I’m sure she does, though she never complains.’

  ‘Not her way. I thought that the first time Madog brought her home. Quiet thing she was, a thinker. She was the heart of this home.’ Mamgu was talking about Enid as if she’d passed on, but in a way she had. ‘Reckon we could get her downstairs more, what do you think? Then when I’m cooking and doing cleaning, I’ll be company for her. And her for me.’

  Anwen flung her arms around Cadi’s shoulders. She leant her face on her soft, salt-and-pepper hair.

  ‘What’s all this, then? Are you going to get an old lady a cuppa tea, or stifle her?’

  ‘I’m so glad you’re going to be nearby. I’ve been so lonely since we lost Sara, and, and…’

  ‘Since Idris broke your betrothal?’

  ‘Yes. Why is life so hard?’

  ‘Don’t ask me, fach, if I had the answer I’d have had a better life myself.’

  Anwen got up. ‘Come to the kitchen. I’ll fetch you that tea and a nice bowl of chicken stew.’

  ‘Chicken, is it? Lead the way.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Idris didn’t want to be here, at the Workmen’s Institute, yet again. He’d had enough at the meeting before Christmas, with all the pointless arguments. He was still a paid-up member of the South Wales Miners’ Federation though, and what they decided affected him, as Da, sitting next to him, had reminded him countless times in the last few days.

  The hall was so full there weren’t enough chairs for all the men to sit on. Their union representative, Philip Hubbard, had already recapped the big meeting for them, one he’d attended on their behalf.

  Edgar Williams was currently standing, his thumbs wedged in his waistcoat pockets. ‘So, what you’re saying is, the union voted unanimously against miners being conscripted.’

  Hubbard stretched his head upwards, puffing out his chest. ‘They voted against the idea of anyone being conscripted.’

  Williams addressed the audience. ‘So there you have it, men: it’s come down from the powers that be that we’re better to stay put than sign up. We’re doing essential work.’

  Idris longed to shout hypocrite. Williams had always made barbed comments about the union. Now, when it suited him, he agreed with them.

  Someone in the crowd stood. It was Gwilym, not sitting with him and Isaiah on this occasion. ‘That’s all very well, the union voting against it, but it’s not up to them. If the government passes a law to bring in conscription, we’ll have to go anyway.’

  A small piece of Idris admired his friend for speaking his mind, though he was no doubt building up to some anti-war sentiment.

  ‘The union has a lot of influence with the government,’ said Hubbard. ‘You mark my words. They’ll sort it out.’

  Isaiah pulled himself up with the help of the seat in front. ‘But what does the union mean when it says it doesn’t want conscription? Hubbard said, “not for anyone”. Mr Williams, you’re implying they just mean essential workers. I’m confused now, see.’

  Idris doubted his father was confused. More likely he’d also spotted Williams’s slant and was using it to stir up a bit of contention.

  ‘Well, I believe—’ Hubbard hesitated.

  ‘And if it applies to all necessary workers, what if they want to enlist? Does that mean they won’t be allowed to?’

  ‘Early days, early days,’ Williams interrupted as Hubbard managed one word in reply. ‘It’s all to be worked out.’

  Isaiah pointed a finger in his direction. ‘In that case, why have you called this meeting at all? Call one when there’s something concrete to tell us, like whether the government’s actually voted one way or the other.’

  Edgar Williams glared at Idris before settling his beady eyes on Isaiah. ‘If I had my way, it would be illegal for
essential workers to enlist.’

  ‘Aye, we all know what you think,’ said Isaiah. ‘But you’re not the government, are you?’

  Williams’s glare of pure loathing came to rest on Idris once more, even though he had not spoken once. Of course the under-manager would blame him again, for inciting his father and friend. If he was going to take the blame anyway, he might as well speak up against this hypocrite. He got to his feet slowly.

  ‘So what do you expect the country to do, then? Sit around while we’re all slowly picked off? Because that’s already started to happen, what with air raids on Kent and eastern coasts of England.’

  ‘Pish!’ Williams flicked his hand, dismissing Idris’s statement as if it were a fly. ‘Just on the edge of Britain, and not much harm done.’

  ‘Don’t you read the papers, Mr Williams?’ Twm Bach’s voice rang out. ‘What about the Zeppelin raid on Staffordshire and Loughborough a couple of weeks back?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Idris. ‘Over sixty killed, and more injured. Those places are not on the edge of Britain. And they’re not so very far from here, either.’

  Isaiah patted Idris on the back. ‘Well said, lad.’

  Twm Bach had warmed to the theme. ‘And they say the kaiser hisself has decided to direct the next attack on the Franco-British Front. And who knows when they’ll be marching our way?’

  The whispers already evident among the men turned to mutterings. Heads were bobbing, fingers were wagging and faces creased with debate.

  Idris raised his voice to be heard over the throng. ‘So don’t talk to us in that complacent manner about how men shouldn’t enlist!’

  ‘This meeting has achieved as much as it can this evening,’ said Williams. ‘I don’t know about you men, but I have a home to go to.’

  Hubbard seemed about to object when he was knocked by someone passing him. He looked on helplessly as men started to vacate the room.

  ‘Wasting our time again they are, Williams and Hubbard,’ said Isaiah, waiting until several people had passed him before he made for the door.

  Idris was about to follow him when he was faced with Gwilym, tapping his shoulder. ‘Good to hear you speaking up, at last. More like your old self.’

  Idris grunted. ‘Just can’t stand his self-serving rhetoric anymore.’

  ‘I’m not sure what that means, but you’re probably right… I was wondering if you’d like to go for a hike up to Carn Stwpa on Sunday. You know, like we used to.’

  The complete change of subject threw Idris, but it was not unwelcome. His head was pounding and he was more than happy to consider something less stressful. They’d enjoyed a lot of walks up on the mountains in the past, him and Gwilym, getting fresh air into their lungs, their legs stretched and moving instead of cramped and immobile in the pit. ‘I suppose I could.’

  Gwilym grinned. ‘That’s great, Idris, great. I’ll call for you after dinner. Are you heading back now?’

  ‘Yes. Better catch Da up.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  * * *

  It was a sunny day, after several days of rain and squalls. Anwen was pleased that the weather had chosen to bless her day off with an unseasonal mildness. She was holding little Clarice’s downy hand as they strolled through the gardens. Gwen was carrying Benjamin. In the middle of them was Violet, free of any children for a change.

  Gwen regarded Violet. ‘Have you heard from Charlie since he was sent abroad? We’ve had a few letters from Henry.’

  ‘Two letters. They’re part of a reserve division at the moment. He asked for some warm socks to be sent. They’re not supposed to tell us much.’ Violet spoke abruptly, unsmiling.

  ‘Henry doesn’t tell us anything much either. Censored, they are.’

  Violet added nothing to the topic, saying instead, ‘Let’s sit on the bench here.’

  They squeezed on together, Clarice sitting on Anwen’s lap and Benjamin on Gwen’s. The gate on the lower side of the garden squeaked. The three women looked round.

  ‘Oh no,’ Gwen whispered. ‘Not Esther Williams and her cronies. She’s been making trouble round the village again.’

  ‘Let’s talk quietly among ourselves,’ said Violet. ‘Maybe they’ll pass by and not interrupt.’ She leant towards them, commenting on the minister’s sermon that morning. The other two listened intently.

  ‘I’m so glad I saw you three,’ came a strident voice. ‘In my capacity as Guardian, I am duty bound to have a word with you about your efforts for the war.’ Her little group of followers gathered behind her, nodding approvingly.

  ‘We three have been working hard all week, Mrs Williams,’ said Gwen. ‘We’re now enjoying a well-earned rest on the Lord’s day. In your capacity as a hardworking Guardian I should think you would like a day in which to gather your energies for the coming week.’

  ‘In my capacity as Guardian I am never allowed to rest, Miss Austin. Our Lord would quite understand that I need to keep vigilant against idleness, which is one of the seven deadly sins. You, for instance, Mrs Jones.’ She gave Violet a hard stare. ‘I notice that you are not working at all towards victory for our country. The mine is always in need of coal screeners and the munitions factory needs workers. Consider Miss Austin here.’ She pointed to Gwen. ‘She has sacrificed her once fair skin in order to do her bit in munitions.’

  Gwen quickly tucked her hands away under her coat sleeves.

  ‘I’m sorry that you think my contribution is not up to your standards, Mrs Williams,’ said Violet, ‘but I have children to care for. Should I leave them at home to fend for themselves?’

  ‘You have a mother, I hear tell, down in New Tredegar. She could care for them while you work.’

  ‘I don’t know where you’ve heard tell of that, but clearly you have not also heard that she is poorly. My father, who still works, struggles to care for the pair of them.’

  ‘Then maybe, Mrs Jones, you should have them living with you, so they do not struggle.’ Mrs Williams stood her ground, a smile of triumph on her face.

  Violet said nothing in reply, though Anwen knew she had suggested this to her parents, who were adamant they were fine and did not need looking after.

  ‘As for you, Miss Rhys. I hear you are working up at McKenzie House.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Six in the morning till six in the evening.’

  ‘Being a maid is hardly essential war work. I advise you to go back to coal screening. And now you have your grandmother close by I see no reason for you to be wasting your time, as your sister did before you.’

  A boiling outrage bubbled up inside Anwen. How could she say such a cruel thing about Sara? Behind Esther Williams, the women took an almost imperceptible step back.

  Anwen got to her feet. She pushed down the most excessive of her thoughts. ‘My sister has just died, Mrs Williams. And I would thank you to show her a little more respect. She would not have lasted a day sorting the coal in the cold, dirty air. It’s a wonder to me more of us aren’t suffering because of it.’ Stop. She was going to go too far, criticising management and the owners.

  ‘How dare you speak to me like that, yet again! Goodness gracious, it’s no wonder your intended cast you aside, with such an opinionated mouth.’

  The deep hot fury, trapped beneath the indignation, was about to spew forth, when she noticed Mrs Williams looking with abundant satisfaction down the path. Anwen followed her gaze. Idris and Gwilym were tramping up towards them.

  ‘Such a fortuitous coincidence. And here’s another one who talks out of turn to his betters.’

  ‘I think you have the wrong end of the stick, Mrs Williams,’ said Idris, coming to a standstill with Gwilym. ‘It was Anwen who broke off our betrothal. Not that it is anyone’s business.’

  ‘I can’t help thinking the pair of you are made for each other. Well, you were no use to the army, and probably no use to Miss Rhys either, don’t you think, ladies?’ She let out a brief, mirthless laugh, which was copied by her followers h
esitantly.

  Gwen stood up and ploughed in with, ‘What about your son, Daniel, Mrs Williams? He must be twenty-one now, since he was at school with us. Why hasn’t he enlisted?’

  Esther Williams blinked several times. ‘Because the bank is essential work, of course! If nobody looks after the money, how will the country pay for the war?’

  Gwen tutted. ‘Not the level Daniel works at. See, you expect us all to do war work, but think your son should be an exception. And why don’t you work sorting the coal on the screens, instead of telling everyone else what to do.’

  ‘Don’t you argue with me! Ladies, it’s time for us to take our leave.’

  Mrs Williams’s cronies spared no time moving away from Anwen and her friends, Esther hurrying after them, her nose in the air.

  Violet got up to relieve Gwen of Benjamin. ‘Well, what a card she is! She could pick a fight with an angel, that one.’

  Gwilym drew nearer to the women. ‘You’ve got that right – hey, where are you going, mun?’

  Idris had started to move off. ‘It was a hike we were going on, wasn’t it? Better get going before the sun starts to set.’

  ‘I guess we had. Good afternoon, ladies. I hope you won’t be bothered by Mrs Guardian again. Who made her that, I’d like to know?’ He lifted his cap in farewell, running after Idris who had already reached the top gate.

  The three women sat back down with the children. Anwen tilted her head slightly, so it was not obvious she was staring in Idris’s direction. Gwilym had caught him up, but there was someone else there too, a woman.

  Polly Coombes. Idris and Gwilym set off once more, in the direction of James Street. Polly followed, taking Idris’s arm.

  Anwen flicked her glance away. It felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach. Tears nipped at the corners of her eyes. And right under her nose like that, it was so cruel.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Gwen looked down on her, her brow creased.