War in the Valleys

by Francesca Capaldi

  ‘Indeed we have not,’ said Margaret.

  ‘Well…’ Mrs Bowen leaned in conspiratorially to impart the gossip. ‘It seems one of the miners insulted one of the soldiers—’

  ‘And them fighting for their country too,’ Margaret interrupted.

  ‘Yes, but the soldier hit him, and then all mayhem was let loose and the next thing you know they’ve all joined in, soldiers hitting civilians, civilians hitting soldiers, lots of bruises and bloodied noses. I saw that Hywel Llewellyn with a black eye.’

  Hywel? He didn’t seem the brawling sort, thought Elizabeth.

  ‘So uncouth most of them are. Of course, my Tom wasn’t there. He wouldn’t have demeaned himself in that way.’

  ‘Anyway, the police were fetched and several were cautioned,’ said Matilda. ‘Mrs Moss fair did her nut, she did. She’d left old Stephen Thomas in charge and he’d been selling more beer than is allowed.’

  ‘They should close the pubs down completely during the war,’ said Margaret. ‘I can sympathise with the prohibitionists on that one.’

  Matilda nodded her head enthusiastically. ‘I did think of joining one of their protest marches.’

  ‘The men need some kind of pleasure with all their hard work,’ said Elizabeth. ‘As long as they don’t overdo it, I don’t see the harm.’

  ‘Don’t see the harm, Miss Meredith? Didn’t your friend, Anwen Rhys, and her family suffer because of a drunken father?’

  ‘That’s a good point,’ said Margaret, her stern glance a challenge.

  ‘But most of these men don’t beat their wives. I only think—’

  ‘You think far too much.’ Her mother dismissed her with a wave of her hand.

  Well that’s me told, she thought. There was no point discussing it once her mother had made her mind up.

  ‘What a good job your beau is—’ her mother started.

  ‘Mother!’ Although she assumed that Gwen would have forgotten about Ralph by now, she still didn’t want her relationship with a councillor being the talk of the village.

  ‘Sorry, I’m sure.’

  Matilda Bowen looked confused.

  ‘I’m going to carry on with my errands,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I’ll see you at home later.’

  ‘I thought you were helping with the shopping?’

  ‘I’m sure you can cope on your own.’

  She marched across the road, not looking back as her mother said, ‘Well don’t be long.’

  Hopefully she wouldn’t tell Mrs Bowen anything else about Ralph. She should stay to make sure, but she’d had enough of her mother for today.

  Her thoughts returned to Hywel. Surely he hadn’t joined in the fracas? She’d always had him down as a peaceful man with principles. Time to be a bit nosy.

  * * *

  In the end, Elizabeth popped into Anwen’s house on the pretext of a cup of tea and catching up. She didn’t feel too guilty about the ruse as there were presents of preserves to drop off.

  Before that, she’d dropped some off at Violet’s house, receiving but cursory thanks, with the door only partly ajar. She’d likely been in the middle of something, for Elizabeth could think of nothing she’d done to offend her. There were two pots of jam to drop off at Gwen’s later, although she wasn’t sure jam was the right word for the gift: with its lack of sugar it was more like boiled fruit, but hopefully it would be tasty. She was sure of a better reception at Gwen’s at least, which made her feel guilty, given that she had secured Ralph’s affections.

  ‘That reminds me,’ said Elizabeth, taking a cup of tea from Anwen and sitting by the stove. ‘I heard there was a fight at the McKenzie Arms last night.’

  ‘Oh goodness, yes. You’d think the soldiers would have had enough of that in the trenches.’

  ‘Was it them who started it?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Idris, strolling out of the scullery into the kitchen, polishing a boot. ‘David Keir, the union rep, asked Maurice Coombes if his sister’s flyblow, as he put it, had been born yet, and Maurice socked him one. Six of one and half-a-dozen of the other, if you ask me.’

  ‘That wasn’t very delicate,’ said Elizabeth. More guilt was heaped upon her, given that the reason for Polly’s pregnancy was very close to home.

  ‘You talking about the fight at the public house?’ said Hywel, coming in from the hall with a shirt on a hanger. His eye was vivid with shades of purple and pink.

  ‘Oh,’ said Elizabeth. ‘So it’s true you were involved.’

  ‘Ah, you heard. Keir was already intoxicated when he came in. Goodness knows where he’d got that from as he’d only just arrived. And I wasn’t exactly what you’d call “involved”. I was trying to bring it to a close.’

  He perched on the end of the chaise longue. Elizabeth was amused, yet impressed, to see him pulling the sewing basket towards him. He lifted the lid and took out a needle and thread. She could never imagine either her father or brother doing that.

  Idris tugged a chair out from under the table and twisted it round to sit opposite his wife and Elizabeth. ‘Alun Lloyd, of all people, punched Hywel. Not a violent man in the past.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s still angry about his brother’s death,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘Aye, that could be it.’

  ‘So, you were an innocent party,’ Elizabeth said to Hywel.

  ‘I certainly was. Luckily enough some of the men, Alun included, told Harries this, so I wasn’t cautioned.’

  ‘I have to tell you, I’m afraid, that Matilda Bowen is going round the village telling people about it, and is mentioning your name. I swear she is going to be as bad as Esther Williams. Do you think it goes with being the under-manager’s wife?’

  ‘I do hope not,’ groaned Anwen. ‘The village can do without another haughty, judgemental woman traipsing around the village, poking her nose in where it’s not wanted.’

  Elizabeth felt awkward, given her own mother was haughty and judgemental, but at least she didn’t march around the village causing arguments. And she was sure Anwen hadn’t been thinking of her anyway.

  There were more voices in the scullery. Violet came cautiously into the kitchen as they all greeted her. Elizabeth had the feeling, by her brief frown, that she was not pleased to find her there. Perhaps she should have a word with her about the reason. She’d like to put things right if there was a problem.

  ‘Oh Hywel, your eye!’ said Violet. ‘Anwen told me what happened, but I didn’t imagine it would be so bad.’

  ‘I’m all right. It’s not so painful now. Come on, sit down then.’ Hywel pulled the chair out near him. ‘Where are the kiddies?’

  ‘Cadi’s showing them what she’s making.’ She sat but looked uncomfortable.

  ‘Did you hear about William Griffin, Violet?’ said Anwen.

  ‘No. No I didn’t. He hasn’t died too, has he?’ Her face crumpled and it looked like she might cry.

  ‘No, no. I saw him being brought home in an ambulance late this morning. Even though I knew he’d lost his leg in France, it was a shock to see it.’

  ‘Was it the whole leg?’ Violet asked.

  ‘No, to the knee. He has crutches and walked into the house with them quite efficiently. His wife, Joan, was talking to the ambulance driver so I went and had a few words. Said if we could help with anything, you know. White as a sheet, she looked.’

  ‘At least he’s come home,’ Violet murmured.

  Elizabeth felt a profound sorrow for the young widow, but there were no words of comfort that were sufficient.

  They heard the front door close and soon Enid entered from the hall, looking round at everyone. ‘My, there’s quite a crowd gathered here. Could do with a bit a peace and quiet to be honest.’

  Elizabeth was about to rise and suggest she leave when Violet jumped up, eyes wide. ‘I’ll be going now.’

  ‘You’ve only just arrived,’ said Hywel.

  ‘I was only popping by. I’ll leave you to it.’ She scurried back into the scullery and soon the b
ack door was heard shutting.

  Cadi came into the kitchen. ‘Did one of you say something to upset Violet? She left rather suddenly and looked a little distressed.’

  ‘Oh, I only suggested I needed some peace and quiet. I didn’t mean to be rude,’ said Enid.

  ‘You’re quite right,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I’m sure you’ve been working hard today at McKenzie House, as you always do, so I’ll take my leave.’

  She made her goodbyes and left via the scullery. Outside, walking down the back alley, she felt suddenly alone. Yes, there was the trip out with Ralph, but apart from that, there’d be nothing until after Christmas. Tom would be leaving in a couple of days, the day before those in the Rhondda Pals, so even he wouldn’t be there to entertain her.

  It was going to be a dull Christmas, but at least there were things to look forward to. She and Ralph had plenty of plans for the new year. Then there was the interview for the job on Thursday. Things were looking up.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hywel stood in the kitchen drying himself after his bath, yawning. He’d been tired his whole shift, more glad than normal when it was over at two o’clock. He’d not slept well the night before, picturing the expression of hurt on Violet’s face as she’d taken flight after Enid’s abruptness. She’d been such a sad figure recently. It tore at his soul to see her so down. Not that he had any right to such feelings, not even now she was a widow. It would feel like taking advantage of Charlie’s death.

  There was a knock on the door from the scullery and Anwen’s voice calling, ‘Have you finished, Uncle Hywel?’

  ‘Nearly,’ he called back. ‘Just getting dressed.’

  A couple of minutes later he opened the door. ‘I’m done now… Anwen, do you think Violet was upset by your mam’s comment yesterday, about wanting some peace and quiet? The poor woman’s still mourning and looked terribly down.’

  Anwen brought a bucket into the kitchen to empty the bath. ‘Well, I did wonder if there was a specific reason she’d called round. She didn’t look herself when she came in.’

  ‘She might have been needing a favour, or some company, or been worried about something.’

  ‘I’ll go round and have a word with her. She might think she’s not welcome for Christmas dinner anymore, so I’ll make it clear she is.’ Anwen placed the bucket in the bath to sweep up the first of the water.

  ‘No, I’ll go round. You’re busy.’ Hywel did up his top shirt buttons and pulled up his braces, all the while remembering the day Violet had asked him not to go around to hers. But this would be a message from the family about Christmas. Surely that was acceptable?

  ‘Aren’t you going to have your dinner first? Mam managed to get a little bit of ham at the butcher’s to put with the bread and dripping.’

  ‘I’ll go to Violet’s first, make sure she’s all right.’

  Anwen took the bucket to the scullery to empty it down the sink. As Hywel followed her in, she pointed out of the window at the wind and rain. ‘There’s a real squall out there. Do you want to wait?’

  ‘No time like the present.’

  Two minutes later he was out, head down against the blowy shower. The clean jacket and cap he’d fetched from his room were not equal to the weather. He soon turned onto Bryn Road, glad Violet only lived round the corner.

  Knocking twice, he almost gave up, thinking it was a little early for her to be fetching Clarice from school already, when the door opened. Violet stretched her eyes and blinked. Her hair had come a little loose on one side.

  ‘Oh, Hywel. Hello. Sorry, I must have dozed off in the armchair, reading this letter from my father.’

  ‘Can I come in please?’ He pointed up at the sky.

  She hesitated, probably wondering what he was doing there when she’d made it clear he should stay away. It might have been a better idea for Anwen to come after all.

  ‘Yes, all right.’ She stepped back to give him room.

  ‘Benjamin and Clarice are both napping,’ she whispered as she led him to the kitchen.

  ‘Clarice? Oh, of course, it’s the Christmas holidays… You say the letter’s from your father. Is your mother all right?’

  ‘She’s gone down with a heavy cold, he says.’ She sighed deeply. ‘They go straight to her chest since she had the influenza. They’d been hoping to pop over for a couple of days between Christmas and New Year, but it doesn’t look like they’ll be able to now.’ She placed the letter on the table with a further sigh.

  ‘That is a shame.’

  ‘What can I do for you, Hywel?’ It was said in an official way, her neck stretched and her chin jutting out. She stood with her back to the fire. On the stove was a black kettle, steam issuing forth from the spout.

  ‘I’ve come to apologise about yesterday. You’d only just arrived before Enid indicated she wanted people to leave.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘And we never asked why you’d come in the first place. It might have been something important.’

  Violet’s posture slumped a little and he saw her chest rise and fall as she blew out a large breath.

  ‘Sit down, Hywel. I’ll make you a cup of tea.’

  ‘I don’t want to be any trouble.’

  ‘I had the kettle on anyway.’

  She busied herself filling the teapot, placing a knitted cosy on it then fetching two cups. He’d never known Violet have any saucers and there wasn’t one cup without a chip in it. He knew she’d sold much of the furniture in her front room. This made him deeply sad. It also filled him with guilt, for at least his lodging rent had given her a little extra money. He glanced round the room, taking in its shabby appearance. Yet it was always spotless, for all that.

  ‘Have you thought of taking in another lodger?’ he asked.

  She looked at him sharply. ‘I only took you in because of Anwen, and knew you were a decent sort, not about to, to try anything… unseemly.’

  Hywel was tempted to chuckle at Violet’s prim face and pursed lips as she related that. Yet she was right to be cautious, a young woman on her own.

  ‘Anyway, I didn’t visit yesterday for anything in particular. Just for a bit of company, I suppose.’ The prim face slipped a little, betraying a smidgen of hurt.

  ‘I’m sorry, it must get lonely here, even with the children. It’s not like having adult company.’

  ‘I manage well enough,’ she said, the prissy mask back in place.

  ‘Anwen said to tell you you’re still invited to dinner on Christmas day, just in case you thought you weren’t welcome.’

  ‘I hadn’t really thought about it.’ She placed two cups of black tea on the table. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve run out of milk and I don’t remember the last time I had some sugar in the house.’

  ‘Black tea’s fine. I’ve made myself get used to no sugar so the little we have can be used for the odd bit of baking.’

  Violet joined him at the table, sitting at the other end.

  ‘What have you got the children for Christmas?’ he said, trying to find something to say. They’d never been short of conversation when he’d lived here. She’d been good company and he liked to think he had been too.

  ‘A rag doll and skipping rope for Clarice and a spinning top and pull-along soldier beating a drum for Benjy.’

  ‘They’ll enjoy them, I’m sure. I had a spinning top when I was little and played with it all the time.’

  ‘I have to admit I was a little put out by Elizabeth’s presence yesterday. She’s become a good friend of Anwen’s and sees her far more than I do these days. Or at least she did when Anwen was still helping her run the allotments.’

  ‘I can understand that. But I think she’d like you all as friends, Gwen too.’

  Violet picked up her cup but didn’t take a sip. ‘I know that, for Gwen went to the pictures with her back in August, while Anwen and Idris were away. I have wondered why she would bother with the likes of us. She must have much more sophisticated friends.’

  ‘Maybe�
� oh, I don’t know. Perhaps she thinks you’re nicer than them. She’s not snooty like some of the middle classes, so perhaps she doesn’t like snooty people either.’ He was making this up as he went along, not having thought too deeply about it until now.

  ‘You could be right. When she called at my house yesterday, with the jams, I felt ashamed. If she’d been anyone else, I’d have invited her in for a cup of tea.’

  He frowned. ‘Ashamed of what?’

  She lifted her hand and made a circle with it. ‘All this. I have other things I have to spend my widow’s pension on. There’s not enough to decorate.’

  Hywel thought for a while. Should he make this offer? He had nothing to lose. ‘If you need to borrow a bit of money, I have some put by. It’s not much, but it would tidy up the walls a bit.’ She was already shaking her head as he added, ‘And we’re managing all right at Enid’s, what with my and Enid’s wages, Cadi’s bit from sewing and Idris will be—’

  ‘No, Hywel. That is very kind of you to offer, but I couldn’t possibly. I doubt I’d ever be able to pay you back.’

  ‘Then take it as a gift.’

  Tears welled up in Violet’s eyes. ‘You are a good man, Hywel Llewellyn, but you have your own family to think of. When Benjy goes to school, I will find work, even if it’s screening coal at the mine. I’m afraid I’m not much good at practical skills, so it’s not like I can take in sewing, but, there it is.’ She shrugged.

  Hywel was about to tell her about Mrs Jenkins two doors away from them, who took in washing, when there was a knock at the door.

  Violet pulled herself up from her slumped position, sniffing. ‘My goodness, who is that now?’ She rose and made for the door, saying as she went, ‘I am popular today.’

  Soon there was a new voice coming from the hall, much louder than Violet’s. Hywel recognised it from somewhere.

  ‘Well, I told Brynmore, our Violet can’t spend Christmas on her own, can she? But he didn’t want to—’ The door from the hall opened and through it appeared Olwen Jones, Charlie’s mother. In her hands were a purple carpet bag that had seen better days and a large sack bag. ‘Oh! What are you doing here?’ She twisted her head towards Violet, her eyes narrowed in accusation. ‘I thought you’d got rid of your lodger.’