War in the Valleys

by Francesca Capaldi

  Hywel sat forward, hovering between feeling that he’d outstayed his welcome and concern about leaving Violet on her own with this woman.

  ‘I didn’t get rid of him. I told you he’d had an accident and was also supporting his own family.’

  ‘What’s he doing here then? And look at that eye. Been brawling, has he?’ Olwen now had her back to him, talking about him as if he wasn’t there.

  Violet’s hesitation was cut short by Hywel. ‘I got thumped trying to bring a brawl to an end, if you must know. And I came round to ask what we can get the children for Christmas, seeing as they’re coming to us for dinner.’

  Olwen pulled her gloves off and slapped them on the table. ‘That won’t be necessary. I’m here now and so we shall be having our own family Christmas.’

  ‘But I’ve already said we’ll go, and it would be rude—’ Violet started.

  ‘We’ll discuss it when he’s gone.’ She nodded her head to indicate Hywel.

  ‘He hasn’t finished his tea yet,’ said Violet.

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Hywel, stretching the injured leg before standing. It still gave him the odd bit of trouble, especially when it was cold. ‘I need to get back and have my dinner. Wasn’t hungry when I came off shift.’

  ‘If you’re sure,’ said Violet. He fancied he saw an appeal in her eyes, but what could he do? Olwen Jones might well see him as a single man sniffing around a poor young widow woman.

  He walked towards the door, limping ever so slightly. Olwen removed her coat, slung it over the nearest chair and filled his vacant seat with her pencil-thin body. She still had on her hat, a stiff, black felt one with no adornment.

  Before entering the hall, he said, ‘The invitation’s still open, if you change your mind.’

  ‘Goodbye,’ said Olwen. ‘See yourself out.’

  So he did, concerned it was the wrong thing to do but at a loss to know what was the right thing.

  * * *

  Anwen woke up Christmas morning with a weight on her heart. It was a year today that Cadi had found Sara, passed away in her bed. It had been Mumgu’s long lament of grief that had alerted Anwen to something being wrong. Sara had evidently died during a fit of coughing, judging by the blood on the sheets. Anwen squeezed her eyes shut now, trying to dispel the memory of it. Even her father had looked shocked, though he’d disappeared for the rest of the day, leaving them to deal with it.

  Idris emitted a low, rumbling hum and stretched as he awoke. ‘Morning,’ he croaked, pulling himself up to kiss her cheek. ‘What’s wrong, cariad? It’s sad you look. Is it Sara you’re thinking of?’

  ‘Yes. I had such hope for last Christmas Day, to make Christmas special for her.’

  ‘I can understand why it still hurts, but Sara wouldn’t want us to be sad all day.’

  ‘I know.’ Anwen flicked back the blankets and sheet. ‘It’s going to be a very different Christmas here to one we’ve ever had, what with my father gone and you here. And Mam walking and doing things for the first Christmas in a while. And Uncle Hywel here too. What with Mamgu, it feels like a proper family again.’

  There was only one thing that would have made it even better, she thought, and that was a little one of her own. She didn’t share her disappointment at not yet falling pregnant with Idris. She knew what her mother and Mamgu would have said, about it only having been four months since they’d married, but Violet had fallen pregnant straight away with Clarice after her marriage. And look at how many women got pregnant before wedlock, like Polly Coombes and, of course, Delyth Bryce. She was one person she was going to forget today. It couldn’t be too long before she was due. It would be strange, having a half-sibling, one she’d unlikely be allowed to get to know. And would she want to anyway?

  ‘You look miles away,’ said Idris, clambering out of the bed.

  ‘Just thinking how I might have a new brother or sister soon.’

  ‘Let’s put that thought to one side for today, for we don’t want to upset your mother.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I will. I’ll go and fetch some hot water to wash. I dare say Mamgu’s already up and got the fire going.’

  ‘It’s all right, I’ll do that.’

  He got partly dressed, putting only a vest on above his trousers, and left the room. Despite the anniversary of Sara’s death, Anwen felt immensely fortunate at this moment in time. It wasn’t everybody who had such a considerate husband. No, as sad as she felt, she knew she had to count her blessings.

  * * *

  Cadi had put on a large Christmas breakfast, with bacon and eggs and homemade bread. They’d gone without some things the last few days to save up money for them. She now put out the jams that Elizabeth had given them, which they tucked into eagerly.

  ‘I’m so glad to be able to join the family properly this year,’ said Enid, buttering a second piece of toast.

  ‘You could have done last year, if you’d let anybody know you could walk,’ said Cadi.

  ‘You know why I didn’t. I was afeared what Madog would do to me.’ She put down her toast and closed her eyes.

  Cadi took her hand. ‘Aye, I know, cariad, it wasn’t as we’d have wanted it.’

  ‘Are we going to open our presents after breakfast?’ said Hywel, toasting a slice of bread on a long fork by the fire.

  ‘Why, bach, you’re like an excited child,’ said Cadi, grinning indulgently at him.

  ‘It’s only Christmas once a year, isn’t it? And I’ve spotted something under the tree with my name on.’

  Although Hywel called it a tree, it was not much more than a large conifer branch that Anwen had found in the woods behind McKenzie Cottages. It was sitting on an occasional table from the front room, propped up against the wall. She’d decorated it with some old baubles they still had from a childhood trip to the arcades in Cardiff. On the table around it were lots of small presents. Anwen felt a swell of excitement, as much looking forward to seeing everyone else’s faces as their presents were revealed as she was to opening her own.

  ‘We’ll open them after dinner, like we’ve always done,’ said Enid. ‘Then we can do it with Violet and the kiddies, for she’s bringing their presents round. First, we’ve got to clear the breakfast things away and get ready for chapel. If everyone helps, we’ll get it done all the quicker.’

  Cadi rose and filled everyone’s teacups from the pot before filling it again from the kettle. It was then there was a hefty knock on the front door.

  Enid tutted. ‘Who on earth is that on this holy day? And so early too.’

  ‘I’ll get it,’ said Anwen, rising. ‘I’ve finished my breakfast now.’

  She was soon in the hall, almost skipping to the door. Opening it, she was confused to find Esther Williams standing there in a much too long coat, face like thunder. What on earth could she have in mind to spoil their day?

  There were no pleasantries, no Happy Christmas, but she launched straight in with a strident, ‘Delyth has given birth. Had a girl, she has.’

  By this time, Idris was standing behind Anwen, maybe afraid it would be bad news.

  ‘Had it early this morning she did, screaming the house down while Hatty Kelly, the midwife from Walter Street, delivered it. I had to go and fetch her at two-thirty in the morning, mind, so I’ve not had much sleep. Don’t charge enough rent for those kind of services.’ She sniffed and tucked her hands around her coat.

  ‘I’m not sure what you want us to do about it,’ said Anwen.

  ‘The baby’s your half-sister, isn’t it?’

  ‘Strictly speaking, yes, but it’s nothing to do with our family.’

  ‘You can’t even be bothered to come and see her? And look you, I’m not Delyth’s mother, and I’m not about to go fussing over her. She needs a bit of looking after, and it’s not my job.’

  ‘Nor is it our job,’ came Enid’s voice as she stamped down the hall. ‘That harlot has nothing to do with us, and that baby is no part of our family.’

  ‘Well, there’s
heartless,’ Esther huffed.

  Enid pushed past Idris and Anwen. ‘Don’t talk to me about heartless, for it’s not me who tied my son to his bed to stop him enlisting. I didn’t cover for a husband who knocked six bells out of Cadoc Beadle. You want to look to yourself before you go criticising others.’

  ‘Hm! What’s that got to do with a new baby and its poor mother? I should have known better than to expect any sympathy from you lot.’

  She turned to leave, propelling Enid onto the street. ‘Don’t you act the high and mighty with me, Esther Williams, for your husband is in prison, the same as mine.’

  Esther kept walking, offering no retort.

  ‘Everything all right here?’ said Rachael Owen, from her step two doors away. Her son, Gwilym, stood behind her, hand on her shoulder.

  ‘It will be now she’s gone,’ said Enid, turning abruptly to go back inside.

  ‘She came to tell us that Delyth Bryce has given birth,’ said Anwen. ‘Seemed to think we should look after the pair of them.’

  ‘Of all the cheek,’ said Rachael. ‘If she can’t look after herself, there’s always the workhouse. Anyway, Nadolig Llawen to you all. Are you and Idris’s parents still coming over for some supper this evening?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Anwen, smiling. ‘We’re looking forward to it.’

  Rachael hesitated. ‘It, it feels a little odd, the first Christmas, you know, without Earnest.’ She pulled a handkerchief from her blouse sleeve and dabbed her eyes. Gwilym nodded and rubbed her arm.

  ‘I can understand. It does for us, without Sara.’

  ‘Yes of course, it would do.’ Rachael tipped her head to one side and pressed her lips together. She shivered and wrapped her shawl around herself. ‘We’ll see you later.’

  Anwen and Idris watched them go inside. They could hear Enid raving to Cadi and Hywel in the kitchen about Esther Williams.

  ‘I hope she doesn’t keep that up all day,’ said Idris.

  ‘Me too,’ said Anwen, ‘especially with Violet and the littl’uns coming for their dinner. Oh, and Mrs Jones.’ But her eyes were on the disappearing figure of Esther as Rachael’s words about the workhouse came back to her. However much she disliked the situation, she hoped it didn’t come to that for Delyth and the baby.

  * * *

  Violet had known this would be a mistake ever since Enid had popped round to extend the Christmas dinner invitation to Olwen. At first she’d declined, saying they’d be fine on their own, but Enid had gently persuaded her, over a cup of tea, that it would take the work out of the day for them both.

  Violet had been placed next to Hywel, who was at one end of the table, a circumstance that she would ordinarily have been happy with, since she’d always enjoyed his company. But the moment he engaged her in conversation, Olwen peered, narrow-eyed, at the two of them, from her seat at the other end. Hywel seemed unaware of her mother-in-law’s scrutiny, regaling all with tales of his old hewing butty being cautioned by Sergeant Harries.

  ‘You should have seen him, mun,’ laughed Hywel. ‘Could barely stand as Harries the Police dragged him out of the public gardens, brandishing a branch of the one holly tree there. Drunk as a lord he was, whining about how he only wanted to give the house a bit of colour for Christmas, for the kiddies, like.’

  ‘I’ve never seen him get like that,’ said Idris. ‘He’s never been much of a drinker.’

  ‘Maybe that’s why he was three sheets to the wind. It doesn’t take much if you’re not used to it.’

  ‘He should have walked up to the forest, like I did,’ said Anwen, indicating the holly sprigs decorating the table and the mantelpiece. ‘Hope his wife gave him a good talking to.’

  ‘Hmmph!’ said Olwen, poking gingerly at a roast potato. ‘I’d have had him in gaol if it had been up to me. Can’t be doing with his sort, ruffians. Like those miners what striked in July last year. My Charlie wouldn’t never have done nothing like that.’

  Violet noticed a glance flick between Idris and Hywel. A flush crept up her neck and she was glad of the high-necked blouse. Her head went down as she attempted to eat a piece of the beef Enid had managed to get hold of. Glad she was of it, having not had any in over two years, but it stuck in her throat as she swallowed. If only Olwen had stayed at home in Bargoed. What must Brynmore be thinking, left to go to his cousin’s for Christmas on his own?

  She glanced at the children. They were happy and that was the main thing. She should try to cheer up too, for surely this was better than being stuck at home, coping with Olwen on her own.

  ‘This is lovely, Mrs Rhys,’ said Violet. ‘The roast potatoes are particularly tasty.’ She took in a deep breath of the meaty aroma that filled the room.

  ‘I put them under the beef when I roasted it, with some herbs, that’s the trick. I was grateful for you all putting in a few coins towards the meat. And haven’t the allotment workers done us proud with the veggies? They’ve worked hard considering the bad weather we’ve had. Such tasty parsnips and leeks.’

  All the adults nodded and agreed, apart from Olwen.

  ‘Of course, growing up on a farm we had turkey and goose a few times for Christmas,’ said Enid. ‘Much more festive, and a nice change, but a bit expensive these days.’

  ‘If you could even get them,’ said Violet. ‘Haven’t seen them for a few years in the butcher’s here.’

  ‘True enough.’

  ‘Can’t seem to make its mind up out there, the weather,’ said Anwen, leaning back in her chair to peer out of the back window. ‘One moment blue sky, then cloud, then a passing shower. Too mild for snow, sadly.’

  ‘Snow’s no good for man nor beast,’ said Olwen. She placed a tiny forkful of parsnip in her mouth and chewed with her lips scrunched up.

  ‘It’s nice for the kiddies,’ said Cadi, ‘but it does play havoc with the delivery wagons and motorvans, that’s true enough. I’d like it if it came one day and then disappeared overnight. That way we wouldn’t get all the slush, especially when it’s mushed up with the coal dust.’

  ‘I like snow,’ Clarice’s reedy voice piped up. ‘It’s fun to play in.’

  ‘Yes, it fun to playing,’ Benjamin tried to repeat. ‘When we open pressies?’

  ‘Hush now,’ said Olwen. ‘Children should be seen and not heard at the table.’

  Anwen pulled a sorrowful face at Violet, who raised her eyes slightly.

  ‘In my house, children can speak as much as the adults,’ said Enid. ‘And quite often they have far more interesting things to say, in my experience. We’ll open the presents after dinner, Benjy cariad. Now, please excuse me while I see how the pudding’s doing.’ She rose and went to the stove to lift the lid of a large saucepan.

  Hywel knocked Violet’s forearm with his elbow. ‘What’s the matter with you, fach? You’re not eating much.’ He gave her an encouraging smile. Her stomach fluttered, disorientating her for a moment.

  ‘I’m fine, just taking it slowly.’ She started on the beef once again, determined not to let her mother-in-law spoil the meal for her.

  ‘I’m sure I won’t be wanting pudding,’ said Olwen, shoving the rest of her potatoes and parsnips to one side of the plate and placing her knife and fork together in the middle.

  ‘Get away with you,’ said Enid, ‘You can’t miss this pudding. Been saving up the dried fruit for months, and the flour. I saved some eggs and Miss Elizabeth even gave us a little drop of brandy to put in it. There’s not as much sugar as there should be, but I’m sure the fruit will make up for it.’

  ‘And I managed to get a couple of cans of condensed milk to pour over,’ said Cadi. She rubbed her hands together. ‘I’m so looking forward to it. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it, Olwen.’

  ‘My name is Mrs Jones,’ was the only reply she gave.

  ‘This is the best meal I’ve had all year,’ said Hywel. ‘Always look forward to a bit of Christmas pudding.’ He smacked his lips together.

  ‘I’m not a self-indulgent person,’ said
Olwen. ‘In my opinion, this war’s at least been good for stopping people’s gluttony. It’s one of the seven deadly sins.’

  Hywel widened his eyes but said nothing. Violet reflected that pride too was one of the seven deadly sins, and Olwen was brim-full of it.

  ‘Can I have puddin’ too?’ said Clarice. ‘And Benjy?’

  ‘Of course you can,’ Violet said quickly, to get in before Olwen said the opposite.

  ‘Well I can do without,’ she said.

  An idea occurred to Violet. ‘Olwen, if you’d rather go home and rest, I don’t mind. You seem tired. We’ll follow on later.’

  Olwen looked from Violet to Hywel, her lips pinched in. ‘No, I’m not at all tired. I shall stay and partake of a cup of tea instead of pudding. And I want to see my grandchildren undo their presents.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Cadi, rising. ‘I’ll get the kettle on. Though I’m going to have both.’

  When Violet finally put her knife and fork down, Anwen said, ‘Help me clear the plates, would you?’

  ‘Of course.’ Anything to get a moment’s respite from Olwen’s disapproval of everything.

  In the kitchen, as they placed the dirty plates on the table, Violet murmured, ‘I’m sorry about my mother-in-law.’

  ‘It’s not your fault she’s so rude.’ Anwen looked round and lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Delyth Bryce had the baby this morning. Esther Williams came banging on our door, telling us we should come and help out.’

  ‘The cheek of it. What are you going to do?’

  ‘Nothing. Do you think Delyth would even appreciate it if we did?’

  Violet laughed briefly. ‘No, I very much doubt it from what I’ve seen of her. She’s a loudmouth and so offensive to people.’

  Anwen looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘But it did occur to me… I know it’s silly…’