War in the Valleys

by Francesca Capaldi

  ‘Then Ivy went and moved to Hereford anyway, so she wasn’t there to look after Mam when she had the influenza. If only my parents hadn’t moved in the first place.’

  ‘Perhaps they’d consider moving back if you asked them. There’s jobs going at the mine here that’d suit your father.’

  ‘I asked them a couple of years back, but they said they were settled where they were. Come on, eat up your bun.’

  He had no doubt that this was a polite way to tell him to mind his own business.

  After a period of silence, Violet said, ‘I’d rather have had a Victoria sponge, but this is nice too.’

  ‘It is,’ he said, though he’d barely touched it. ‘So, what are your plans for the future?’

  ‘Plans?’ She blinked a couple of times and widened her eyes. ‘What plans do there need to be? I – I have to bring the children up, put food on the table and clothe them. What else is there?’

  Her lack of any hopes depressed him further. ‘Well, take me, for instance. I thought I’d muddle along being a hewer for the rest of my life, lodging in houses. It had never occurred to me to do anything else until the accident. Now I’m a deputy fireman and training up to the job, see. It’s given me the idea that I can do better for myself, train for something else later, maybe afford to rent a small place of my own eventually.’

  ‘You’re an intelligent and hard-working man, Hywel, so that doesn’t surprise me. I’m just a housewife. Or widow, now.’ She looked down at her lap. ‘What are the likes of me supposed to do?’

  ‘All right. Let’s say you could do anything you wanted. What would that be?’

  ‘Well… Sitting in McKenzie House with nothing to do but arrange flowers and have afternoon tea would be nice.’ She smiled to show she wasn’t serious.

  ‘I see, fancy being the manager’s wife, do you? I’m sure Mrs Meredith would have something to say about that.’ He laughed as he shook his head. ‘I can’t say she’s my favourite person, not friendly and easy-going like Elizabeth, but I’ve heard she’s a hard worker on the various committees she sits on.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to be her anyway, having to keep up appearances and boss staff around. I would quite like…’ She stopped to look out of the window, as if deciding what to say next.

  ‘What would you like?’

  She turned her attention back to Hywel. ‘I admire Mrs Bowen, running her own business. I wish I could sew like her and be able to work for myself. Even Mrs Rhys does bits of sewing for money. I could do it at home, with the children, be independent, like.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Oh Hywel, you’ve seen my attempts at darning. I’m ’opeless!’ She covered her mouth as she giggled.

  ‘Mrs Bowen doesn’t only sew. She buys second-hand clothes and sells them on at a profit. Anyone could do that.’

  ‘Usually after she’s mended or altered them though.’

  ‘Then there’s Mrs Jenkins, two doors up, who takes in washing. You’re good enough at that. I was going to suggest it before but didn’t get the opportunity.’

  ‘As if anyone would bring their washing to me. Look Hywel, I’ve got enough on my plate at the moment.’

  ‘Mrs Jones could take in washing while you’re at work.’

  ‘Oh yes, I can just see her doing that.’ She raised her eyes.

  ‘No, I suppose not.’

  ‘Enough of me. What have you been doing with yourself lately, apart from studying? Anwen says you’re hard at it.’

  ‘I’m determined to pass the course. Other than that, I’ve been to a couple of union meetings with our new rep, David Keir. He’s a mad fool in some ways, but a better representative than Philip Hubbard was, God rest his soul.’ Hywel quickly brushed from his mind Idris’s description of finding Philip after the mine explosion, and how he’d died as they were trying to help him.

  ‘You used to like going to talks and concerts when you were lodging with me. Have you been to any lately?’

  He was sure she wasn’t really that interested but was trying to keep the conversation away from herself. Fair enough. ‘Yes. I went to that concert in Rhymney a couple of weeks back, with Twm Back and Mr and Mrs Schenck. Lovely playing and singing there was. And a coupla days ago I went to see Charlie Chaplin at the picture house here.’ He pointed up the road.

  ‘I do envy you,’ she sighed. ‘I was thinking as I passed the Imperial that I’d never seen a Charlie Chaplin film.’

  ‘You’re joking.’

  ‘I’m not. And I don’t remember the last time I went to the picture house. Before the children were born, certainly. And I miss the dramas and operettas at the Workmen’s Institute, like The Bohemian Girl that was on a while back now. And the talks. They were so interesting.’

  ‘I don’t think you’d have enjoyed the last one I went to: “The Humour and Pathos of the House of Commons”.’

  She shook her head in bemusement. ‘Probably not. But if you’re asking what I’d really like to do, I’d say it’s to get out sometimes, without the children, however much I love them.’

  A heavy weight hung on his heart. He had the urge to place his hand on her arm and stroke it, like Enid and Cadi did when people were upset. He daren’t though. He took a bite of his bun instead.

  ‘Well, there it is,’ she said. ‘You did ask.’

  ‘Hmm,’ he replied, his mouth full. When he’d finished chewing he said, ‘Violet.’

  When he didn’t continue, she said, ‘What? What is it? You look serious.’

  He put the bun down. ‘I know you said, back in November, that we shouldn’t see each other…’

  ‘And yet here we are. I actually said you shouldn’t keep popping round because people might talk.’

  ‘Didn’t you think they might talk when I was lodging there?’ He took a long draught of tea.

  ‘That’s different. Lots of men lodge in houses. It’s not the same as popping round for no good reason.’

  ‘I’m sorry if you felt that.’

  Violet looked him squarely in the eyes. ‘Don’t take it the wrong way, Hywel. I’m not saying that your company wasn’t welcome. I missed you when you went back to Anwen’s. You’ve always been interesting to talk to and are good at helping. Charlie was never really either – oh dear. I shouldn’t say that. It’s true, though. We had fun together in the early days, and he liked the picture house like me, but always made fun if we went to a drama. And I couldn’t get him near a talk. Always was more of a man’s man, was Charlie. Women were just silly creatures to him, there to do the, the—’ She took out a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed her eyes.

  Hywel placed his hand on her arm and rubbed it once. ‘Oh Violet, I’m sure Charlie thought more of you than that. He just wasn’t good with words. You mustn’t think he didn’t care though.’

  ‘If he’d cared, he wouldn’t have left us to go off to fight. And he’d have made sure I had more money to buy things for the house, instead of putting it on bets and going to the McKenzie Arms so many nights.’

  ‘I’m sorry he kept you short, Violet. I guess some men think they’re entitled because they’ve earned the money.’ When she looked up sharply he added, ‘Not that I agree. The women work equally hard and usually longer hours. They look after the home which means the men don’t have to worry about it. It’s a partnership.’

  She looked at him in surprise now. ‘I wish more men thought like you, Hywel. You’ll be saying next that women should have the vote.’ She smiled, looking up under her eyelashes.

  ‘Are you bating me, Violet Jones? You know I agree with women’s suffrage. And it’ll happen. Just this morning I read in the paper that married women over thirty or thirty-five are likely to be given the vote soon.’

  ‘Good. But I’ll still be eight years too young to vote, even if it’s thirty. And do widows count as married women?’

  He pulled a face and shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea.’ At least she’d cheered up now. This was the most spirited he’d seen her in ages. He lifted h
is cup to take another drink to find it was empty. ‘More tea?’

  ‘Yes please.’

  He poured the fragrant amber liquid into both cups. ‘It would be nice if we could do this once in a while. I reckon it’s done you no end of good.’

  ‘It is a nice change. I’m not sure how easy it will be to get away in future. Let’s play it by ear, shall we?’

  He nodded, adding a little milk to each cup.

  ‘The sun’s getting low. We’d better not be too much longer,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll walk you back—’ She was about to protest so he said quickly, ‘Just to Mafeking Terrace. Then you can go on ahead and it will be like we’d never met.’

  He’d have liked to have told his family about the chance meeting, being so pleased that it had happened and not inclined to keep things from them. But even though it was innocent, it might accidently get back to Olwen. He didn’t want Violet in any more trouble. His family would wonder why he’d taken so long when he’d only gone out for a haircut. He’d say something vague about wanting to take a walk as it was a sunny day.

  ‘Thank you for being so understanding, Hywel.’

  About what, he wasn’t sure.

  How much did Violet enjoy his company? As a friend or even a kind of uncle? Or was there more to it? It wasn’t appropriate to ask. He’d concentrate on enjoying the rest of their time together instead.

  * * *

  Violet’s trip into Rhymney the day before filled her mind as she strolled up the road to James the Veg. Luckily Olwen had not asked too many questions about the trip, only about whether some products were available. Violet had managed to pick up some fruit gums for the children and a few toffees for her mother-in-law, purchased from Perilli’s before she’d left, since it had slightly more choice than Mrs Davies’s shop.

  As she reached the end of Edward Street, she glanced briefly down towards Hywel’s house before entering the greengrocer’s. The heat of guilt swept over her, afraid as she was of giving herself away. Mr James looked up, as did Molly Prior, the mother-in-law of Harold Prothero, one of the men killed along with Charlie. Violet was tempted to back out of the shop once more, weary of the mutual sympathy and looks of understanding all those who’d lost men in the war gave each other every time they met. She guessed it was comforting to some, but it had never afforded her any solace.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ the greengrocer was saying to Molly. ‘There just isn’t much available now, and certainly not much variety. Most of what we had was bought earlier in the day. That’s when you need to come. I know there’s queues, but better that than missing out. It’s the continual cold, see. Not conducive to even the winter veg…’ He shook his head. ‘So it’s the caulis, potatoes or onions that I can offer you. I dunno, I’ll be closing at this rate. A man can’t keep a roof over his head with such slim pickings.’

  Mrs James’s voice called something from the back.

  ‘What’s that?’ He opened a door behind him to have a brief conversation. ‘Ah, that’s something.’ He turned back to his customer. ‘It seems you’re in luck, Mrs Prior, for Mary Jones has brought down some savoys and a few carrots from the allotment.’

  ‘That’s better, for it’s sick of cauliflowers and onions I am.’

  ‘Who knows, with America cutting ties with Germany now maybe they’ll join in the war soon and help us end it. Anyway, the veg are out the back so I’ll have to go and fetch them.’ He went through the door.

  ‘Oh, hello Violet dear,’ said the older woman, noticing her. ‘Getting tired of these shortages I am, especially the meat, the sugar and bread. All things I like.’

  ‘It is worrying. My mother-in-law was supposed to come earlier, but she’s been coughing today and didn’t feel up to it.’ Violet wasn’t convinced, for she’d found Olwen had quite a lazy streak about her after her initial cleaning spree. Often things around the house were not completed and Violet ended up doing them herself when she returned from work, or on her days off.

  Mrs Prior came towards her, tipping her head to one side and displaying the sad expression Violet knew so well. ‘How are you both, dear?’

  ‘Getting on with it,’ Violet said lightly, in no mood to be maudlin.

  ‘My poor Brenda do pine so for Harold. I don’t know why after what she found out.’ She tutted several times.

  ‘I hear she’s been unwell.’

  ‘Aye, she is, and I need to speak to you about that. I’ve spoken to some of the other soldiers’ wives already.’

  Violet was confused. What had it to do with her and the other wives?

  Mrs Prior looked to make sure Mr James wasn’t returning. ‘This is not to go round the village, but you need to know so you can get tested too.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘She has the pox.’

  ‘What, chicken pox?’ Why would the soldiers’ wives in particular need to know that?

  The older woman’s eyes lifted heavenward. ‘Oh you are an innocent. No dearie, syphilis, you know, what men do get when they cavort with,’ she leaned in and whispered, ‘Whores. Was probably going with French harlots, was Harold, according to Dr Roberts. Not that he put it like that, but that’s what he meant. Then passed it on to my dear Brenda. She might not even have known if she hadn’t just lost the babby. It was the midwife what noticed the ulcer on, you know, her birthing area. And they do say a lot of the soldiers, missing their conjugals, do be going with the ladies of the night. As if we haven’t got enough to contend with in this bloody war. Oh! Excuse me. But it do make me cross.’

  Violet felt queasy. It was an awful thing to happen to poor Brenda, who was a kind soul. And what if Charlie had been cavorting as Mrs Prior had put it?

  ‘I don’t know what to say. Do give Brenda my best wishes. Is there a treatment?’ She knew little about the disease except that it could be fatal. She shuddered.

  ‘One developed a few years ago, the doctor said. Injections. Don’t know what of, but Dr Roberts do give them to her. Make her nauseous they do, but if they cure her, she can put up with that. This is for your ears only, mind, so you can be checked out too.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Prior.’

  Mr James returned at this juncture, which Violet was grateful for. As he served the other woman, she considered this startling news. Charlie had certainly been off with her on his last leave. Had he gone to brothels and been more satisfied with what they’d provided in that way? Or had he been unwell and suffering?

  Her stomach churned with the possibilities. She’d need to see Dr Roberts straight away, and she needed to work out how she could achieve that without Olwen suspecting anything.

  * * *

  ‘So, what is this about?’ Dr Roberts closed the door of his consulting room in the cottage hospital and invited her to sit down. ‘You seemed very agitated earlier.’

  What a fool she’d felt, waylaying the doctor as he’d left someone’s house. At least it had saved her from knocking on his door and trying to keep her concerns private.

  ‘I’m so sorry, doctor, for I don’t want to waste your time, it’s just…’ She took a deep breath. This was highly embarrassing but in his job he’d probably heard most things. ‘I bumped into Brenda Prothero’s mother last week…’ And on she went, at a pace, relating all that Mrs Prior had said to her.

  ‘I won’t lie to you, Mrs Jones, it is true that cases of venereal diseases have gone up dramatically since the war began. We shouldn’t assume that all men on the Front use these… bordellos, though. Do you have any symptoms?’

  ‘No, but Mrs Prior told me her Brenda didn’t either, and that they only discovered—’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know that. Did your husband have anything on his private parts when he returned, ulcers or wart-like growths? A rash on his palms or soles of his feet? Did he complain about tiredness or painful joints, or of being feverish?’

  Violet blushed at the doctor’s reference to Charlie’s private parts. ‘No, in fact I’d say he seemed fit. As for any growths, I, u
m, wouldn’t know. You see, we, you know, we didn’t, he didn’t touch me while he was home, not like that.’ Not like anything, as she recalled. He hadn’t even kissed her.

  The doctor’s eyes widened as he stared at her. ‘Are you telling me, Mrs Jones, that you and your husband were not at all intimate in any way when he was home on leave?’

  She blushed, lowering her head to consider her hands. ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Then you need have no worries about syphilis. Did you not realise this?’

  He must think her terribly ignorant. ‘I suspected that was the case, but I wasn’t sure see, how exactly it was passed on.’

  ‘I suppose there’s no reason why you would know. But you mustn’t listen to the scaremongers, though I dare say Mrs Prior had your welfare at heart.’

  ‘She did say she was telling the other wives about it too.’

  He huffed out. ‘Then I shall expect more worried wives on my doorstep in the next few days.’ By the time he’d finished the sentence his voice suggested he’d come to terms with this situation.

  Violet rose. ‘I’ll take up no more of your time, doctor.’

  ‘Good day to you, Mrs Jones.’

  She left the consulting room much relieved, as much to be out of there as for knowing that she couldn’t be infected.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Anwen joined the end of the queue for the butcher’s on Jubilee Green. She strained to see what was left on the slabs, cradling Sara Fach who was awake and taking in her surroundings hungrily. Cadi’s diminutive yet stout body stood next to hers.

  ‘I do so fancy a bit of pork,’ Cadi said forlornly. ‘But it’s been a while since I’ve even seen any.’

  ‘It said in the paper that it’s expensive now as there isn’t much. If it has to be rabbit or pigeon yet again, that’s better than nothing.’ She jiggled the baby as she cooed.

  ‘Hello,’ said Gwen’s mother, coming up behind them. ‘I hope there’s something decent left.’

  ‘Hello Ruth. That’s just what we were saying.’