‘Don’t call me a fool, old man,’ Madog growled.
Isaiah stood his ground in front of the pair of them, arms crossed. ‘No need for that.’
Madog spat on the ground. ‘Don’t you talk to me, Isaiah Hughes, with your lump of a useless son next to you. He’s not worth a hundredth what my daughter’s worth.’
Idris was astounded to hear him pay her a compliment. It had been years since he’d shown any signs of respect for any member of his family.
‘If you want that conversation, it’s for another time,’ Isaiah said. ‘Right now you two need to go your separate ways before you wake up the whole village.’
‘Mind your own bloody business.’ Madog stumbled in their direction, the worse for drink. ‘Need sorting out you do, Idris bloody Hughes. Insult my family, would you?’
As he drew nearer, Idris detected the stench of stale whisky and tobacco on his breath.
‘Are you daft, mun?’ Isaiah said. ‘Look at the size of my son compared to you. Insult your family? At least he doesn’t knock them around, like you do.’
Madog was not deterred. He reached Idris, getting too close, staring up into the face of a man who was a good five inches taller.
‘Stop right there, Rhys.’ Samuel Lloyd had his rifle at chest level, pointing it towards Madog. ‘Woman-beater now, is it? I’ve no time for men like you.’
Madog staggered backwards. ‘A bit of a slap don’t hurt them, just shows who’s boss.’ He pointed a stubby, yellow forefinger at Idris. ‘You let my girl down.’
Other people started to vacate the building, peering over the wall at the top of the double steps to see what was occurring. Anwen was among them. Idris wondered how long she’d been there.
Isaiah noticed them too. He lowered his voice. ‘I think you should go home. And don’t let me hear you’ve taken any of this conversation out on Enid or Anwen.’
‘Enid?’ Madog laughed. ‘She’s not in a position to get out of hand, is she?’ He wobbled, then lurched away in the direction of Edward Street. Those at the top of the steps ventured down.
‘Shame Harries the Police isn’t here,’ said the farmer. ‘Must still be inside.’
Hywel was now next to them, Anwen coming up behind.
‘What’s he been doing now?’ Hywel’s voice was sharp. He watched Madog’s retreating back with narrowed eyes.
‘Sounding off just because I told him what I told you lot in the hall. Is that his daughter there?’ Lloyd pointed at Anwen, half hidden from him.
She stepped forward. ‘Yes, it’s me, Mr Lloyd.’
‘I was sorry to hear about Sara, cariad.’ His manner softened completely. It could have been a different man to thirty seconds ago.
‘Thank you, Mr Lloyd.’
Idris recalled his and Anwen’s childhood, playing with the Lloyd children on the farm, only a short distance out of the village. Like Samuel had said in the hall, his sons had enlisted, two of the twenty-nine who’d gone together to join up.
‘It’s just you and your mother now in the house with him, is it, Anwen?’
‘Yes, that’s right, Mr Lloyd. Though Mamgu’s there in the daytime.’
Idris had the urge to wind his arm around her, tell her it would all be all right with him there. Hold her in close and keep her safe.
‘I’m going to come and sleep in Sara’s room for tonight,’ Hywel said. ‘I don’t trust the man.’
Anwen’s sad face tore at Idris’s heart. Madog might be a brute, but he was her father and this whole incident, out in the open, would be humiliating for her. If only he could protect her from such crushing shame.
‘He… he sleeps in Sara’s room now, Uncle Hywel,’ she said.
‘Then I will sleep on the chaise longue. I’ll leave before he gets up tomorrow.’
‘Thank you, Uncle Hywel.’
‘I’m glad someone will be there for her,’ Isaiah said.
Idris wanted to say the same, but he’d forfeited the right to have any opinion on her life. His head thumped at the thought of this reality.
Chapter Fourteen
‘How glorious it is, to get out in the fresh air.’ Gwen took a deep breath as she, Anwen and Violet left the houses of James Street behind and took the path round the pit. She went ahead with little Clarice, singing as they skipped along.
Violet and Anwen were clutching Benjamin’s hand, helping him as he tottered along.
They caught Gwen and Clarice up, on the road below the first terrace of McKenzie Cottages. Leaning over the verge of the path together, they marvelled at the yellow coltsfoot they found, peeping up through the grass.
‘Spring’s on its way!’ There was relief in Gwen’s voice. ‘Longer days and some light left when we get home from work. How I do miss the daylight working in the factory!’
‘At last,’ Anwen said, yet she couldn’t feel the eager anticipation she normally experienced this time of the year. ‘It would be nice to reach the forest, have a little walk through there.’ Nostalgia mingled with regret. ‘It seems ages since we did so. It used to be one of my favourite places when we were young.’
The sun peeping weakly from behind the white fluffy clouds several times this morning had prompted her to suggest the walk. It wasn’t mild, but it was certainly not as cold as it had been. That their destination would be so entangled with memories of her and Idris had only vaguely lit the edge of her mind.
‘I’ve never understood why you favoured it so much,’ Violet said. ‘The walk over the hill behind yours to the woods was always prettier in my opinion.’
‘But the pine forest is more… mysterious,’ she said. Summer or winter, the forest was always dark with leaf cover. On their walks through, she and Idris used to make up far-fetched stories. She didn’t know anyone with an imagination like his. How they’d enjoyed each other’s tales, absorbed some minutes, laughing the next!
‘You and your imagination!’ said Gwen.
Indeed. It worked too much all the time, leaving her longing for what she dreamt of.
Gwen peered up the road. ‘Oh look. I do believe that’s Miss Meredith.’
She was right: Elizabeth, dressed in her coat and hat, a handbag on her arm, was rushing towards them from the direction of McKenzie House.
The three women came to a halt. ‘Maybe there’s an emergency,’ suggested Anwen. ‘Let’s walk up.’
It wasn’t long before Elizabeth reached them, breathing heavily. ‘Hello, ladies.’
Elizabeth studied the children, smiling at each of them. ‘Clarice and Benjamin are growing so quickly… Anwen, I’m so glad I’ve seen you. I was about to call at your home. I’m sorry to curtail your jaunt, but my mother wishes to speak to you.’
‘She wants to see me now?’
‘Yes, it’s rather urgent.’ Elizabeth glanced at the other women. ‘It’s something of a delicate nature.’
‘I see.’ Anwen searched her brain for possibilities, even as she said, ‘You two carry on. I’ll catch you up if I can, or I’ll see you later at Gwen’s.’
‘Of course, you can’t miss my special tea!’
Mrs Austin had invited them on account of it being Gwen’s twenty-first birthday next Wednesday, St David’s Day.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she’s as quick as she can be.’ Elizabeth swung round and hurried off in the direction of her house.
Anwen followed, wondering what could be this important. Then she remembered: last week it had said in the newspaper that well-off families were being asked to give up their servants so they could do war work. She’d feared it would come to this at some point.
Elizabeth opened the gate and entered the garden. Anwen’s chest tightened.
Having not quite reached the front door, Elizabeth spun round to face her. ‘Before we go in, I have to tell you I don’t believe a word of it. But I promised my mother I wouldn’t mention the precise nature of the matter to you. I’m sorry.’ Elizabeth unlocked the door. ‘Come, let’s get this over and done with.’
> This was sounding more daunting by the second.
Sprinting down the stairs was Tom, properly dressed on this occasion, with a collar and jacket added to his usual indoor ensemble. A smile lit his face, a detail that today didn’t lift the burden of her current concern. ‘Good afternoon, Anwen. And to what do we owe this pleasure?’
Elizabeth placed her bag on a small table. ‘If you’d been up earlier Tom, you might already have some idea. I’ll tell you later. Excuse us.’
‘Oh dear. Sounds serious. I’m going out for a while.’
‘Don’t be late for dinner.’ Elizabeth continued to the drawing room, not even removing her coat or inviting Anwen to do so.
The door opened before they got to it, Mr Meredith appearing in the doorway. ‘That was quick, Lizzie. I’m leaving your mother to deal with this. I’m going over to the colliery. There are men doing overtime and I need to speak to Mr Williams.’
In the room, Mrs Meredith put down some needlework, a grave expression marring her otherwise attractive face. ‘I won’t beat about the bush, Miss Rhys.’
Miss Rhys. Not ‘Anwen’ anymore. That did not bode well.
‘Food has gone missing from the pantry and Rose believes that you have taken it.’
A searing heat stole across her cheeks, an occurrence that would surely suggest she was guilty. ‘No, Mrs Meredith, I have taken no food from the pantry. Rose won’t even let me near it. And I’d never steal anyway.’ She realised as she said it that it was no defence.
‘I went in the pantry yesterday after receiving a box of vegetables from the greengrocer. I noticed there were fewer eggs than there should be, and one fewer tins of cocoa. Rose then informed me that certain other items had vanished but she wasn’t sure if someone in the family had simply removed them. Flour, eggs, chicken, bread, butter and two tins of cocoa have disappeared, that we know of. What have you to say for yourself?’
‘I have no means to take them from the house without someone seeing. I don’t bring a basket or a bag with me.’
‘Rose says she noticed your pockets were bulging one day when you left, but she assumed at the time it was your gloves.’
Why was Rose pointing the finger at her? After a shaky start to their relationship they’d been getting on well. ‘Yes, I have put them in my pockets several times. But I promise you, Mrs Meredith, that I have not taken anything from this house that I was not supposed to.’
‘How do you explain Rose seeing you with a bag of biscuits a few weeks ago?’ Anwen’s employer folded her hands in her lap and pinched her lips in.
‘Rose has a very poor memory for someone who is only twenty-three,’ Elizabeth interrupted. ‘For she was present when I gave those biscuits to Anwen, ostensibly for her mother, who is bedridden. I did the same for Rose when her father was unwell.’
Anwen had forgotten about the biscuits, given a couple of weeks after she began work at the house.
Mrs Meredith slumped a little in her chair. ‘This clearly needs further investigation. I really don’t know what to think.’ She composed herself, flattening down non-existent creases in her skirt. ‘For now I will retain your services, but if I find you are responsible for the missing food, you will be dismissed.’
‘I understand,’ said Anwen, who wasn’t sure she did, given that she had done nothing wrong.
‘Now, you may return to your family, or whatever it was you were doing when my daughter fetched you.’ She picked up her needlework and continued sewing.
Elizabeth rushed to the door, opening it for Anwen, who charged through. It was tempting to march straight to the kitchen to have words with Rose. Then she remembered it was Sunday and she went home after lunch.
Elizabeth caught her up at the door. ‘Do you mind if I walk a little way with you?’
Anwen was tempted to say she did, that she’d had enough of the Meredith family today, but the glimmer of contrition and hope in the other woman’s eyes stalled her pettiness. ‘Of course not. I’m going to catch up with my friends, since I haven’t been too long away.’
‘I won’t take up much of your time. I can imagine how much you value your day off from here.’
Imagine would be all she could do as it was unlikely, in her position, she’d ever fully understand.
They’d reached the path before Elizabeth said, ‘I am truly sorry about all this. I did tell my mother that I didn’t believe you would do such a thing.’
‘Thank you.’ Anwen opened the gate and hurried up the footpath, in the direction she’d been going when she’d been waylaid.
Elizabeth matched her quick pace. ‘The shortage of groceries puts everyone under suspicion. Look at Farmer Lloyd and his outburst at the talk. Food is going to become scarcer before this war is over. The farmer is short of help to produce what he already has. I wonder…’
‘What do you wonder?’
‘If we could offer help. But also, we could grow vegetables, together, as a kind of co-operative.’ There was more than a little excitement in Elizabeth’s voice.
‘What do you mean by “we”, exactly?’
‘Whoever wants to join. There’s common land between Lloyd Street and Edward Street, between Alexandra Street and Islwyn Street, and also behind the first terrace of McKenzie Cottages.’ She took Anwen’s hands in hers. ‘You seem a very resourceful woman. Would you help me organise people?’
The pleasure Anwen derived from the compliment fought with the terror of being responsible for something so big. ‘I don’t know. I’ve got work, and home. And choir practice. I’m not sure I could fit it in.’
Her conscience poked her, whispering, go on; you wanted to do something useful for the war effort. Sara was gone, Mamgu was nearby, more than willing to help with Mam. It was getting lighter so there would be more hours to do things outdoors. What would Da think? He was out more and more these days, so let him think what he liked. And there was no Idris to spend any time with, no prospect of caring for him and their babbies. And she was needed, to help her country in time of war.
‘Yes! I will help you with it.’
Elizabeth could barely contain her excitement, bouncing on her heels and clapping the knuckles of her curled hands together. ‘Thank you, Anwen. I am going to speak to Mama about this. Maybe some of your time at work could be spent on this project.’
A touch of reality burst Anwen’s newly swelled bubble of enthusiasm. The business of the stolen food might be hanging over her for a while, apart from other practical considerations. ‘Where will we get the gardening tools? What about seeds and bulbs? How will we recruit people to help?’
‘I have several ideas, but I need to speak to a few people first. As for volunteers, I’ve booked a room at the Institute for Monday week for a meeting. I’ll need help advertising it. Tomorrow afternoon I have an appointment to see Farmer Lloyd. If it’s all right with my mother, I will take you with me. And if it’s all right with you, of course. Two of us putting the case forward might do better.’
A lot seemed to depend on it being all right with Mrs Meredith. Given the mood she was currently in, Anwen didn’t hold out much hope. Still, that was for Elizabeth to worry about.
‘Yes, that would be fine by me. I used to know Mr Lloyd quite well, being friends with his children. What case do you want to put forward?’
‘I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. You being more acquainted with him might be very useful.’
They spotted Gwen and Violet on the path, about to enter the forest, dawdling with the children.
‘I will bid you good day, Anwen, and hope your afternoon with your friends goes well.’ Elizabeth took Anwen’s hands once more, giving them a quick squeeze. Throwing a wave to the others, she did an about turn and marched back towards the house, almost breaking into a run.
* * *
The chapel was full this evening, on the ground floor and up in the gallery, as Idris would have expected on St David’s Day. The chapel was particularly welcoming tonight, warm and scented with both linseed oil fr
om the wood and the soapy aroma of newly laundered clothes. For the first time, Idris had been keen to venture out of the safety of the house. The memory of past concerts on this festival filled him with a sense of being home.
His father leaned across Jenkin to speak to him. ‘Why haven’t you rejoined the choir, Idris, bach? It’s a good tenor voice you’ve got.’
‘I want to get back into the way of work and everything else first.’ It was vague, but they accepted his explanation.
How could he do something that would bring him so close to Anwen? She was in the choir loft in the gallery behind him right now, for he’d spied her there as they’d come in.
The pastor, Mr Richards, arrived at the pulpit. Some of the congregation shushed their neighbours and conversation ceased. He spoke in Welsh, with some concession to those whose first language was English.
‘Tonight, we have a treat in store for you to celebrate this day of our most honoured saint, David. Mr Henry, the headmaster of Upper Rhymney School, will give a talk on The Indomitable Spirit of the Welsh Patriots. Miss Maddox will be treating us to a rendition of several tunes on her harp and our own choir will be singing a number of our old favourites. To start the programme, the choir will begin with “A Delyn Aur”.’
The congregation regarded the choir in their lofty position. Anwen was on the front row. The cherubic smile he’d so grown to love over the years was on full display as the familiar song progressed. They followed up the song with three others, after which it was the turn of Miss Maddox’s harp.
Mr Henry was on next. Idris had been looking forward to the talk, his former headmaster being an eloquent speaker. It started well, as he told the stories of the country’s past heroes. But as he shifted to the pluck and bravery of the current Sons of Wales, who were upholding the honour of the Principality on the battlefields of France, Idris shrivelled within. He wondered what poor, frightened Charlie would make of the sentiment now he’d been there over two months.
His mind wandered to distant days, until at long last the talk was over. Please let it be the choir next. But Idris was disappointed when Miss Maddox started up for another two tunes, melodic as they were.
Heartbreak in the Valleys Page 16
