War in the Valleys

by Francesca Capaldi

  Madog stood, knocking the chair over, hurling several insults at his brother-in-law. Two guards leapt forward, grabbed an arm each and lead him away.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘This is a surprise, to be brought to Monmouth,’ said Elizabeth, as she and Ralph Tallis passed the tall Georgian and Victorian shops on the busy street. She did up the top button of her coat, having just caught the chilly wind of late October. The train journey here had been enjoyable, a change to driving the car. Ralph had met her at Rhymney station and they’d travelled together.

  Shire Hall appeared just ahead. A group of people who’d been strolling across the road rushed out of the way as a black motorcar came along, a little too fast, honking its horn, causing a lot of moaning and a few calls of, ‘Slow down!’

  ‘What a maniac,’ said Ralph, shaking his head. He turned his attention back to Elizabeth. ‘I like getting out of the Rhymney Valley for a while, and this is a fine town.’

  ‘Unfortunately, the last time I was here I was at the courtroom.’ She pointed to the hall they were now passing.

  ‘Not up before the beak, were you?’ he joked.

  ‘No, but sadly I was here to lend support to a friend whose father was up for attempted manslaughter.’

  ‘My goodness, it wasn’t that terrible case with Madog someone, and the men who’d set upon the carts and motorvans to steal the goods?’

  ‘Madog Rhys. That’s right. His family’s relieved he’s been put away.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. I read about it in the newspaper and it was the talk of the council for a while. Terrible thing.’

  ‘I had first-hand experience of the man, and a nasty piece of work he was. Gwen was with us at the court too.’

  He looked greatly confused, almost comically so. ‘Gwen?’

  ‘She was with me at the cinema,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Ah, Miss Austin. My goodness, I’d almost forgotten about her.’

  Elizabeth felt happier than she should have about this. Poor Gwen. She had such a lively personality she should have been memorable. ‘Anyway, the less said about that day at court the better. The family are putting it behind them. Now, where is it we’re heading?’

  ‘We’re here.’ He pointed to a restaurant that took up a corner plot across the side road from the hall.

  ‘The Dorothy Café! I have heard good things about this place from Lady Fitzgerald, a friend of Mama’s.’

  ‘Not Anna Fitzgerald?’ He sounded surprised.

  ‘Do you know her?’

  ‘A little. I know her husband, Archibald, more. We visit the same gentleman’s club.’

  Elizabeth experienced a little disappointment that he was the type of man who, like her father, frequented such an establishment. It was yet another sign of the patriarchy. Still, she shouldn’t judge. Maybe men in his position felt they should join for the connections they could make in business.

  He went ahead to open the door for her.

  Inside, each table was elegantly laid out with a white tablecloth, napkins, cutlery and silver cruets. Ralph spoke to the man in a suit with a bow tie who came to greet them. He’d evidently made a reservation. Their coats were taken away and they were shown to a table beside a large mirror. The waiter pulled out one of the curved back, bistro chairs for her to sit down on. Tallis removed his Homburg and placed it on one of the empty chairs before smoothing his fair hair back and taking a seat.

  Elizabeth looked round the busy café. The large lampshades dangling from the ceiling were like upside-down flowers. ‘I’ve never been in here. It’s very stylish, isn’t it?’

  ‘I suppose it is. All I know is that they do a very good steak and kidney pudding, especially considering the growing food shortages.’ He breathed in deeply. ‘Mm, the wonderful aroma of roasting meat. It’s not French cuisine, but it’s a tasty luncheon nonetheless.’

  The waiter returned with a menu for each of them. She looked down the list. Roast mutton and redcurrant jelly caught her eye, with mashed swedes, sprouts and potatoes. She wondered if the vegetables would be as tasty as the ones they grew in the village.

  ‘How is your quest for creating allotments going?’ she asked Ralph, being reminded of how they first met.

  ‘Slowly,’ he replied, keeping his eyes on the menu. ‘Some landowners are dragging their heels in settling for a price. We don’t want to have to charge too much for people to rent. We could take over land compulsorily for the duration, but it’s not as easy as it sounds.’ He did now look up. ‘It would probably end up costing us more than if we negotiated. You were lucky the land in Dorcalon still belonged to the coal company.’

  ‘Yes, I think we were now I’ve heard the trouble other villages are having. Right, I’ve decided on the chicken broth to start and then mutton,’ said Elizabeth. ‘And a nice cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss.’

  ‘Sadly they’re not doing the steak and kidney today, so I’ll go for the chicken pie.’

  The waiter arrived to take their order. When he left, Ralph gave Elizabeth his full attention.

  ‘Now, tell me what you’ve been doing since I last saw you.’

  ‘Well,’ she said, leaning forward a little as if to impart some secret. ‘I’ve just this morning applied for a job.’

  His eyebrows met as he frowned. ‘Do you need one?’

  ‘No. That is, I’m not being forced to work by my parents. In fact, the opposite is true. At least, where my mother is concerned.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘My mother has always prevented me from going out to work, one way or another. I would like to have gone to university, like my brother, Tom, but she wouldn’t hear of that either. She sees me as a kind of companion, dragging me to some of her endless committees. I think she believes that, if she introduces me to some of the wealthier women, I will find a husband among the titled or the rich.’

  ‘Ah, that kind of mother. Mine was rather like that too.’ He sighed and fiddled with his fork.

  ‘Was?’

  ‘She died last year. Pneumonia.’

  ‘Oh, you poor thing. I’m so sorry.’ Elizabeth took his hand, holding it lightly, but regretted the hasty action immediately. What must he think?

  However, he turned his hand and took hold of hers. ‘Thank you. She could be irritating, but she was still my mother.’

  ‘Of course. I would feel the same about mine should she pass on.’

  They were silent for some moments.

  ‘So, you’ve gone against her wishes and applied for a job?’ He tipped his head and studied her with a slight grin.

  ‘Yes. I’ve had this growing discontentment for a long time. It’s why I started the allotment scheme with Anwen. Mother didn’t really approve but she could see the sense of it. I’ve grown weary of this stay-at-home daughter act. I need more. And I’m tired of relying on the pocket money from my parents and only being able to buy clothes my mother approves of. I thought to myself, something has got to change.’

  She felt so relieved to get this off her chest. It was something she’d have told Anwen, but she hadn’t wanted to burden her friend, who she knew had other things on her mind.

  ‘So, what is this job?’

  ‘I saw an advert in the Monmouth Guardian for a temporary clerk in the overseer’s office at Rhymney District Council. I meet the requirements. I’m over twenty-one and have clerical experience helping my father out at the mine when he lacked a clerk for a while.’

  She’d been disappointed when he hadn’t taken her on permanently. That had been down to her mother as much as anything else.

  ‘Another stipulation was that applicants had to be ineligible for military service. I’m certainly that. Sorry, I’ve just realised I shouldn’t be telling you this, as it also said that canvassing members of the council was prohibited.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry. I won’t tell. And it’s not up to me to interview or pick a candidate. I do think they may be looking for a man, though. Not that I’m saying they should, but the wording
rather suggests that.’

  ‘Yes, I did wonder. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained, as they say. Applications have to be in by the end of November, so it might be a while before I hear anything.’

  The waiter approached and placed the tray with the tea pot, cups and jugs down, before taking his leave of them.

  ‘Well good luck with it,’ said Ralph. ‘In the absence of wine, we’ll raise a cup of tea to your success.’

  She couldn’t truthfully say it was what she really wanted. But then, she wasn’t at all sure what that was.

  * * *

  The train passed Pantywaun Halt and Elizabeth sensed her lovely day with Ralph coming to an end. They had met twice since Bargoed, albeit only for coffee, but each time their conversations had become ever more familiar. They were sitting close to each other now, Elizabeth next to the window, the only people in their carriage.

  ‘I have enjoyed today,’ Ralph said. ‘It’s a shame it’s almost over.’

  ‘At least we have our trip to the concert in a couple of weeks.’

  ‘Yes, I shall look forward to that.’ He took her hand and she enjoyed the warmth of his touch.

  They chatted about this and that, until Elizabeth recognised by the view that they were soon to reach Rhymney station, where Ralph would disembark. Her heart sank. Just an evening with Mama to look forward to, since her father had yet another meeting.

  Ralph stood, drawing her up too. ‘Farewell, sweet maid, until we meet again.’

  The laugh she was about to engage in was stopped short by his lips on hers. She had not expected this and feared that her initial rigid response would put him off. But soon she relaxed into it, relishing the pleasure that coursed through her body as they held each other close.

  It was the train braking that brought their embrace to a halt. Elizabeth wobbled and was caught by Ralph, who helped her back to her seat as he held on to the parcel rack.

  ‘May I ring you during the week?’

  ‘Of course you may. I will look forward to it.’

  The train came to a halt. He kissed his palm and blew it towards her. Her grin was wide at this last gesture as he exited into the corridor. The smile lasted for the journey to Dorcalon.

  * * *

  Anwen shuffled out of the pew after the Sunday service and waited for her mother to do likewise. Idris had already gone ahead to have a word with Gwilym.

  ‘I’ll, um, just go and have a chat with people,’ said Hywel, trying to see above the crowds. He must have spotted someone for he was soon off.

  ‘It’s parky today,’ said Enid, pulling her coat more tightly around herself as she remained in the pew. ‘I wasn’t sure what to make of that sermon.’

  ‘Sounds like Pastor Thomas is a conshie to me,’ said Florrie Harris, leaning forward from the seat behind. ‘Violet’s mother-in-law, Mrs Jones, said as much at the memorial.’

  ‘Get away with you,’ said Cadi, stuck beside her unmoving daughter-in-law. ‘He’s just in favour of a bit of peace, isn’t it? Aren’t we all?’

  ‘Blessed are the peacemakers, he says.’ Florrie clucked her tongue. ‘Not if it means surrendering to the Hun.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s what he was proposing,’ said Cadi. ‘Come on, Enid, are you shifting or staying here all day? I’m gasping for a cup of tea.’

  ‘All right, all right.’ Enid slid across the seat. Anwen held out her hand to help her up but she waved it away. ‘I’m not an invalid anymore.’

  ‘Sorry Mam, I wasn’t suggesting you were, just being polite.’

  Her mother seemed to have got crosser the last couple of months. Anwen had thought her father being sent to prison, out of the way, would lift her up. She yearned for the old Mam, the perky one from before the fall, who’d always had a cheery word for everyone. Not this angry version. No doubt Delyth Bryce turning up on the scene hadn’t helped.

  Florrie chose that moment to leave her pew to follow them across the chapel and into the hall where they were serving refreshments. Anwen hoped she wasn’t going to keep up her tirade about the pastor.

  Collecting a cup of tea each from the pastor’s wife, they settled into a small circle which Florrie did indeed join. Anwen felt guilty about resenting her presence. She’d had the misfortune to lose her son, Robert, in France, back in April, and was already a widow. She was now helping her daughter-in-law look after her seven young children.

  ‘Not sure she’s suitable as a minister’s wife either,’ said Florrie, flicking her head towards Anabel Thomas, as the others drank their tea. ‘Looks a bit delicate to me.’ She blew at her cup and took a sip.

  It was true that she was slight and rather pale-looking, but she had a gentle manner wholly suited to her work, unlike the last pastor’s wife.

  ‘Oh, that is enough now, Florrie Harris,’ said Enid, scowling. ‘I’m sorry to the heart of me for the troubles you’ve had, but this constant gossiping you do, it’s not nice. You never used to be like this.’

  Florrie spilled her tea as she placed the cup back on the saucer. ‘Well at least my husband, God rest his soul, was a good, honest man, not a gaol bird.’

  ‘Florrie Harris, there’s no need for—’ Cadi started.

  ‘And glad to be rid of him, I am,’ said Enid, ‘for he’d been a wrong’un for a long time.’

  ‘While you sat in bed and did nothing,’ squeaked Florrie. ‘No wonder he looked elsewhere for his conjugals.’

  ‘Mrs Harris!’ Anwen chastised. ‘That is not necessary.’

  Inevitably, the chatter in the room had slowly died away as more of the congregation became aware of the argument.

  ‘As you sow, so you shall reap,’ Florrie quoted. ‘And you’ve certainly reaped a situation with that Delyth Bryce.’

  Enid’s face went a deep red – whether from shame or anger, Anwen couldn’t tell.

  ‘Taken lodgings with Esther Williams, she has, and told her how Madog did take advantage of her and now she’s carrying his child. I ’eard it off Esther herself. Says she’s entitled to money but how you won’t give her any.’

  It was clear now by Enid’s widened eyes and gritted teeth that she was livid. They’d hoped Delyth would just go away, thought she’d be too ashamed to make a fuss, despite her words, but clearly she was going to make life as difficult as possible.

  ‘And you think that little trollop’s in the right?’ Enid cried.

  ‘Calm down, cariad,’ said Cadi. ‘At least we know now what she’s up to.’

  ‘Your family seems to have brought a lot of trouble to this village recently,’ Florrie countered.

  Idris appeared through the throng. ‘Mrs Harris, I think you should apologise.’

  ‘Throwing your weight around are you, now you’re well again?’

  Idris’s parents and his brother pushed through the crowds to give Florrie a piece of their minds. When Gwen appeared, the volume went up considerably.

  Anwen looked on helplessly, wondering what on earth she could do. Here they all were, bickering, and the real problem was at number seventeen Jubilee Green. What had Esther been thinking? She no doubt needed the money with Edgar in prison. But more than that: it was a perfect way for her to get her own back on Anwen and Idris, after all the run-ins the two of them had experienced with her and Edgar.

  Elizabeth came up beside her and touched her arm. ‘Are you alright?’

  Still the mayhem raged on, the spellbound audience unmoving.

  ‘Just when you think life has taken an upturn, the devil is always there with fresh mischief,’ said Anwen.

  ‘Humans are quite capable of creating that themselves. It sounds like Esther is at the bottom of it, which doesn’t come as a surprise. I just saw Anabel Thomas scurry off, presumably to find her husband. Ah, here he is. Hopefully he’ll calm things down.’

  The congregation parted as the minister approached the group. His attempts to be heard above the din came to nothing. They didn’t even notice he was there.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Elizabeth. �
��I guess there’s only one thing for it.’

  She passed her cup to Anwen and stepped forward, coming between Florrie Harris and her opponents. ‘Would you all be quiet now,’ she said in a loud, yet unaggressive voice, one that held authority.

  Anwen was surprised when they did all stop talking.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Now I suggest we all go about our business. Florrie, could I have a word with you please. Outside.’

  Florrie nodded, almost dipping her knee. ‘Of course, Miss Meredith.’

  After they’d left, Enid said, ‘I’m not after staying here myself. Just imagine, that Delyth Bryce on my doorstep with her disgrace.’ She tipped her head back to finish her tea and clattered the cup onto the saucer. ‘What are you lookin’ at?’

  Anwen, confused at first, realised she was talking to Mrs Bowen, the dressmaker.

  ‘Didn’t mean no harm, I’m sure,’ she replied, before turning her back and saying something to her husband.

  ‘Mam, Mrs Bowen gives Mamgu work, you can’t be shouting at her.’

  ‘People should look to their own business.’

  ‘I’ll return these empty cups,’ said Idris, taking them from the two older women and stacking them up. ‘Then we can go.’

  Enid stretched her neck to peruse the room. ‘Where’s Hywel gone?’

  ‘Still in the chapel, chatting, I reckon,’ said Anwen.

  ‘Well, he can come when he wants. And you don’t have to be following me around.’

  ‘I don’t feel like staying after that,’ said Cadi.

  ‘We might as well all go,’ said Idris, returning. He raised his eyebrows subtly for Anwen’s benefit. He was probably thinking what she was: that it could be a long day with Mam in this mood.

  It wasn’t until they reached the main door that they spotted Hywel, at the bottom of the steps, talking to Violet. He had Benjamin in his arms, bouncing him up and down. The little boy was giggling.

  ‘Here you are,’ said Enid. ‘Hello Violet. How are you?’

  ‘Not too bad, Mrs Rhys, thank you.’