‘You’ve no need to apologise to me, Mr Wynne. We are certainly better off without him.’
Violet was content to sip the tea and contribute nothing. She wished she could fade and disappear, without anyone noticing, like a snowflake on skin. She recalled a time as a child, standing in the garden of Edward Street, where she’d lived with her parents and sister, her tiny hand held out as the cold, white flakes drifted down. They’d had a dog, Bledig, who’d barked at the snowy intruders. It was an insignificant memory yet filled her with nostalgia. How she wished sometimes she could return there.
‘Isn’t that right?’ she heard her mother say. It was some moments before she realised she was talking to her.
‘What’s that, Mam?’
‘You said what a good lodger Hywel here was. Always produced the rent on time and helped out a lot.’
A voice in her head carried on with, unlike Charlie, though she was certain her mother hadn’t meant that.
‘Yes, that he was.’ She gave Hywel a brief smile, then looked away. He had been most helpful and thoughtful.
Charlie had been like that in their early life together. She’d adored his ready laugh and easy-going manner, the little gifts he’d brought her when they were courting, sometimes only wildflowers from the hillside, but picked with love.
‘And I dare say our Violet could do with a lodger again now that she’ll only have the widow’s pension.’
‘Mam!’ she warned. ‘Hywel doesn’t need lodgings. He has his family, who he’ll need to look after when he’s properly well again.’
‘I’m sure I meant no offence, cariad.’
‘And I haven’t taken any, Mrs Wynne,’ said Hywel. ‘If circumstances were different, I would be more than glad to lodge with Violet once again.’
‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary,’ came a new voice. It was Olwen’s. She looked Hywel up and down with disdain. ‘It’s not seemly, a young widow having a single man as a lodger, especially a young one like you.’
It was true that he was only thirty-seven, being Enid’s youngest sibling, yet still fifteen years older than her. Violet had never really thought of him as being that much older though.
‘It didn’t seem right even when my dear Charlie—’ Olwen stopped to dab her eyes. ‘When Charlie was still with us. If Violet needs financial help, I’m sure she could get work, especially with the war on and the lack of men.’
‘Not with two small babbies,’ countered Doris Wynne, her voice betraying a hint of irritation. The two mothers had never got on together, unlike the two fathers.
‘It’s not going to be an issue,’ said Hywel, his voice light, clearly trying to defuse the atmosphere. ‘For I’m staying at Enid’s for now.’
‘Excuse me,’ said Violet, desperate to leave the strained mood of the group. ‘I want to speak to Ianto Pendry’s wife.’
Violet had spied the woman in question alone by the table, stirring a cup of tea for longer than was necessary.
‘Alison, I’ve not had a chance to say how very sorry I am about Ianto.’
Alison put down the spoon. ‘And I for Charlie’s loss. What made them do it, eh, sign up like that? They’d no need. Even when the conscription came in, they would have been exempt.’
Violet lowered her head. She didn’t want to admit that Charlie had been one of the ringleaders, keen as mustard, encouraging several pals and colleagues to march off to the recruiting office.
‘I blame Lloyd George, with his fancy speeches about defending Belgium,’ she said instead. ‘It’s what Charlie quoted to me the day he enlisted.’ After he’d already done it, giving her no clue beforehand of his intention, let alone any say in the matter.
‘And look now,’ said Alison, ‘Lloyd George is Secretary of State for War. It’s a Secretary for Peace we could do with. Look at them, the poor lost souls.’ She nodded towards a group of eight of the soldiers home on leave, the others being distributed among the congregation.
All fourteen of them had turned up to the memorial, even though some were from different denominations. Tomorrow there’d be another service at the parish church. No doubt they’d all turn up there too. Not Violet though.
The eight men stood silent, all apparently wrapped up in their own thoughts, until Pastor Thomas approached them. He was followed by Gwen, whose brother was among the soldiers. Violet had a longing to join those who’d been with Charlie at the end. Somehow the thought brought her closer to him.
Florrie Harris, mother of Robert, who’d been killed earlier in the year at the Nord-Pas-de-Calais, approached Alison to speak with her, giving Violet the opportunity to escape.
She joined Henry and Gwen as Alun Lloyd, the farmer’s surviving son, said, ‘Reckon you got it right, Pastor, about ravages on both sides. Don’t reckon those poor young Huns want to be there any more than we do.’
Violet hadn’t noticed her mother-in-law coming towards them until Olwen said, ‘How can you say that? Evil they are, led by that mad Kaiser Wilhelm. Hungry for blood and a bigger empire, the lot of them. And him a cousin of our dear King George.’
‘Of course, it’s not quite as simple as that,’ said Pastor Thomas. ‘These things never are. Leaders get embroiled in their own vainglorious conflicts, then drag their subjects into them.’
Olwen pinched her lips in. ‘Don’t you bandy fancy words at me. It’s a conscientious objector you are, is it? My Charlie was a hero. You’re still young, why aren’t you out there, on the front, fighting?’
Olwen’s raised voice had attracted the gaze of many in the room. A knot formed in Violet’s abdomen at the thought of the unwanted attention. She was considering how to silence her mother-in-law when Henry stepped forward.
‘Ministers of the church are exempt, Mrs Jones,’ he said, flatly.
‘But many are out there as army chaplains,’ she countered.
‘And what would we do at home for spiritual guidance if all our ministers went to war?’ Gwen asked. ‘We need them as well, to keep up our spirits, more than ever now. We all have our part to play.’
Olwen’s eyes blinked rapidly as her lips trembled. All at once she let out a howling wail. Tears cascaded down her cheeks. The rest of the soldiers in the group looked in other directions, some taking a step or two back.
Deep inside, Violet was furious with Olwen for making herself the centre of attention, as if no one else’s grief was worth as much as hers. She’d always been inclined to such self-indulgence. But now was not the time to show annoyance at Charlie’s mother. The woman had lost her only son. What would she feel like if Benjy was older and killed at the Front? She didn’t even want to consider such a situation.
Violet went to her mother-in-law, enfolding her in her arms as Olwen sobbed. She tried to shed a few tears in solidarity with her, but they wouldn’t come. The rest of the group fled. It wasn’t long before her father-in-law arrived, taking his wife from Violet’s embrace.
‘I think it’s time we made our way back to your house,’ he said. ‘You don’t need to come yet, if you don’t want to.’
Violet nodded as if with regret, but she was greatly relieved to be rid of Olwen for a while. ‘I will stay a little longer, to speak with the other widows.’
After several muted farewells, Olwen was led away out of the hall.
Elizabeth was first by Violet’s side. ‘Are you alright, cariad?’
Violet put to one side her wariness of Miss Meredith, as she’d still rather call her. What business had she here, intruding on her grief as if she’d known her for years? She swallowed to calm herself.
‘I’m as alright as I can be, under the circumstances.’ She suspected her tone was a little spiky, despite her resolve.
Hywel appeared next.
‘I am fine, Hywel, before you also ask.’ That had definitely come out harsher than she’d intended. ‘I’m sorry, I am tired.’ Her yawn came at the right time.
Hywel, about to speak, was pre-empted by Elizabeth. ‘Of course. You should sit down and hav
e a rest. There are some seats by the wall here. Shall I sit with you?’
She could do with sitting down, so weak did her legs feel. ‘I’d rather you fetched Anwen or Gwen.’ She admonished herself as soon as the words were finished, for she knew they were intended to exclude Elizabeth.
‘Very well.’ She showed no signs of being hurt by the snub, displaying only concern as she fulfilled Violet’s request.
Hywel took her arm. She resisted shaking it off as was her first inclination. He led her to a seat.
‘Can you cope, having Charlie’s parents staying? Do say if you need any help. I might be limping, but I could be of some use.’
Violet had more of an urge to cry at Hywel’s kindness than at Olwen’s grief. What sort of person did that make her? ‘You are a good man indeed, Hywel Llewellyn. You should find a deserving woman to be a good man to.’
He widened his eyes and started to open his mouth to speak. Whatever he was going to say was halted by the appearance of both Anwen and Gwen.
‘I’ll leave you three alone,’ he said instead, and headed off into the throng.
Chapter Five
‘I hope they haven’t got held up anywhere,’ said Elizabeth, taking her grandfather’s fob watch from the pocket of her velvet jacket. She’d decided it would be best to wear something more presentable than her usual work garb today, given that she was meeting a group of representatives from other villages, along with a local councillor.
‘At least it’s not raining,’ said Anwen, standing beside her. ‘It will be a better tour in the sunshine.’
Behind them, Gwilym, Idris and Abraham chatted in a group, the older man pointing at several places on the Alexandra Street allotment in turn. To one side, Mary Jones kept hoeing.
‘Only ten days until your wedding,’ Elizabeth said to Anwen. ‘Are you excited?’’
‘I’m not sure, to be honest. It’s such short notice with so much to do, even if it is a small affair.’
Elizabeth put her arm through Anwen’s. ‘I’m sure it will be lovely, despite that.’
‘Thank you so much for finding that wedding dress at Mrs Bowen’s. With a little alteration here and there, I’m sure Mamgu will have it looking just right. And it’ll be cheaper than Mrs Bowen doing it.’
‘She’s certainly a whiz with the needle, is Cadi. The dress was a good find.’ Though she hoped Anwen had more luck with her marriage than poor Sophia Quinn who’d sold it to the local seamstress. Her husband had run off after only eighteen months of marriage. She suspected the dress had been around a number of brides, as the style was a few years out of date, but it was still pretty.
‘I did think of postponing the wedding, what with Charlie’s passing and all. I didn’t think Violet would feel up to being my matron of honour, but she said she was looking forward to a happy occasion for a change.’
Elizabeth patted her hand. ‘She’s right. There’s been too much sadness.’
‘This looks like them now,’ Anwen called, waving towards a group of people. Men and women of mixed ages were heading up the main road towards them.
‘Nice to know that other villages are catching on to growing their own veggies,’ said Abraham, joining them with the other two men. He lifted his cap and scratched his head. ‘Bit behind the times, they are.’
‘Their allotments will be different to ours, Mr Owen,’ said Elizabeth, ‘as individual families will be renting a small piece of land and growing for themselves.’
‘That doesn’t sound as efficient and fair as our set-up,’ said Mary, coming to a stop beside Anwen, her lips pressed together in disapproval.
‘You’re right,’ said Elizabeth. ‘And there’s been a lot of wrangling about where to put their allotments and whether land should be compulsorily purchased from farmers and the like. We were very lucky that the coal company owned this spare land and saw the merit of us growing food to feed their workers.’
‘That was down to you,’ said Anwen.
‘And my mother, who can be quite persuasive when the mood takes her. Let’s walk over to meet them. You too, Mary.’
The others followed behind, each picked by Elizabeth to represent their little co-operative.
‘Councillor Tallis.’ Elizabeth held out her hand in welcome, presenting a wide smile that she was barely in the mood for.
The soldiers from the Rhondda Pals had returned to the war this morning. She’d been at the station, watching the crying families wave their beloved sons, husbands and fathers goodbye. Who knew if they’d see them again? It had made her think of her brother Tom, who was still training but would be off to war in the next few months. She composed herself. This was not the time for melancholy.
‘Miss Meredith, I presume.’ The councillor took her hand and shook it. ‘These good people are representatives from Rhymney and Bargoed. They are hoping to set up their own allotments, as you know. I must say, it certainly looks quite impressive and industrious from here.’ He swept his hand to take in the scene of the dozen workers.
‘And we have two other areas, over there—’ She pointed past the Workmen’s Institute towards the Edward Street allotments, opposite the houses. ‘And on the other side of the village, behind the cottages and my home, McKenzie House.’ She indicated the other side of the valley, past the colliery that sat in the dip.
The group with the councillor murmured their approval, pointing and nodding as they did so.
‘And these are some more of your workers?’ He nodded towards the people with her.
‘Let me introduce you. This is Anwen, who created the allotment project with me and has been instrumental in attracting so many helpers.’ She pulled her reluctant friend forward, knowing she’d be embarrassed to be lauded so, but convinced she deserved the praise.
Anwen took over, saying sheepishly, ‘This is Idris, who led the men on the far allotment with Mr Owen here. Mary is in charge of the field here and this is Gwilym, who’s set to take over while Idris and I – um – take some time off.’
‘I see,’ said Councillor Tallis. ‘Of course, everyone on our projects will be responsible for their own pieces of land, but I dare say we can learn much from you about planting and cultivation. Perhaps we could split into six groups, with one of you in charge of each, and undertake a little tour?’
‘Just what I had in mind,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Please feel free to ask questions as we go along.’
They divided into groups, Councillor Tallis joining Elizabeth’s, and set off in different directions to begin their excursions. She had absolute confidence that the other five could conduct an informative talk. They had learned so much on their agricultural journey together.
Elizabeth’s group took the longest and so was the last back to the starting point. She’d had to field numerous questions from the councillor, who’d taken up much of her time, allowing few questions from the rest of the group. Despite this, he’d been charming throughout, and what was more, amusing. She wondered briefly if he were married, berating herself for such an uncharacteristic thought.
‘That was most enlightening,’ said Councillor Tallis. ‘Perhaps now we could walk over to the far allotment, as I understand it has its own problems, being on steeper land and more exposed. Some of our land may well have the same issues.’
‘Of course. Gwilym, Idris and Mr Owen will have much to say about that, I’m sure.’
‘How lucky we are that you have all this experience between you.’ He extended his hand. ‘Please, do lead the way.’
Elizabeth treated him to a smile, from the heart this time. Yes, he was a pleasant and thoroughly gallant man indeed.
* * *
Anwen’s heartbeat hadn’t calmed down since she’d woken this morning, convinced that some catastrophe would occur to prevent her marrying her beloved Idris.
‘Come on now, don’t think like that,’ said Gwen, placing a little mattifying powder at the roots of her hair. ‘With all that’s occurred, I think we’ve all got into our minds that only bad things ca
n happen.’
Anwen wriggled on the seat of her mother’s dressing table. ‘You’re probably right. It’s been such a struggle getting to this point, what with Idris making me think for so long that he didn’t love me anymore.’
‘Keep still while I do this next bit.’ Gwen started to roll the mass of Anwen’s umber hair at the back. ‘You know he did it to protect you, because of his illness. He thought he was going to die on you and leave you with a family to bring up. But now he knows what’s wrong, and he can have the operation on his… whatever it’s called… and be well again.’
‘Thyroid, it’s called.’ She’d found a medical book in the library to read as much as she could find on the thyroid lobectomy, how they removed some of the thyroid so the person didn’t produce so much thyroxin. It was making Idris terribly ill, what with the shakes and sweating and being increasingly tired. And his heartbeat was still at around one hundred and twenty beats per minute, as it had been when recorded by the army doctor last November. It was what had got him discharged at the end of his training, before he’d seen any action at the Front. That had been a mercy, at least.
The bedroom door creaked open, revealing Violet and Elizabeth.
‘Your mam’s made us some tea,’ said Violet, as she placed an old wooden tray on the bed. ‘How are you getting on?’
‘I’ve done the roll at the back.’ Gwen held up the comb. ‘I think Elizabeth can take over with the plait now. It’s already nearly quarter to ten. You need to get dressed soon. And do your make-up.’
Anwen screwed up her face. ‘Do I have to?’
‘Just a smidgen of powder, a little rouge for your cheeks and some geranium stain to redden your lips.’
Anwen considered her image in the speckled mirror. Idris had said she was beautiful, so did she have to paint herself? Then again, you only got married once – she hoped – so why not make the best of it?
‘Your eyebrows are dark enough without adding pencil.’
War in the Valleys Page 5
