‘It’s all very well saying we have to ration ourselves to two and a half pounds of meat a week, but we’re lucky even to get that.’ Ruth stretched up, trying to look into the butcher’s, as Anwen had done. Next, she put out her finger for the baby to grab. ‘My, she’s growing fast. And such a pretty babby she is.’
‘I haven’t seen Gwen in a coupla weeks,’ said Anwen.
‘Been out and about of an evening, and Sundays too. She says it’s with some of the girls from work, but I reckon there’s a young man involved. She’s always been careful about her appearance but seems even more so now. You probably know more about it than I do,’ she laughed.
‘No, can’t say I do.’ She felt hurt that Gwen wouldn’t have confided in her.
‘Not another queue,’ a voice complained. They all turned to see Olwen, trudging up past the bookshop. She stood behind Ruth Austin.
‘Don’t know why you’d expect anything else,’ said Cadi, who’d taken against her since her rudeness at Christmas.
Two women came out and the queue shuffled forward enough to get them into the shop. The pungent odour of blood and flesh made Anwen wrinkle her nose.
‘Oh dear,’ said Ruth. ‘I guess one of those sheep heads will have to do. It’ll make a nice stew with the bits of vegetables we’ve got left. Might go and see what’s in the woods to make it go further.’
‘Next!’ called Stanley Pritchard.
Before Anwen and Cadi had a chance to step forward, Olwen started moaning loudly. ‘I don’t know how you expect the village to live on this. There’s hardly anything here. You’d think there’d be a bit more lamb at least.’
Gertie Pritchard, standing next to her husband, called over, ‘You should have come in this morning. The early bird it is what gets the worm. Or lamb.’
‘I bet you puts by enough for the nobs of the village, like the doctor and them at the Big House. Like I’m told that Prosser used to.’
Gertie gave Olwen a thin-lipped glare while wrapping up a rabbit in paper. ‘Not likely. I wouldn’t put a sparrow under my counter for that hoity-toity Mrs Meredith, not after she sacked my poor Rose. Innocent of those thefts, she was. She can queue up for her meat like everyone else.’
Anwen felt the heat spread across her face. This could turn very nasty given that Rose had initially accused Anwen of stealing food from the Merediths’ pantry.
‘Oh, don’t go on about that now,’ said Stanley. ‘That’s all water under the bridge. Now ladies, what can I get you?’
While Cadi chose a sheep’s head, Ruth stepped up to be served by the assistant. It wasn’t long before Gertie was serving Olwen.
‘Hello Mrs Jones. Wanting something special today is it, since you were asking about lamb? Oh, don’t tell me, your Violet’s getting married to that Hywel Llewellyn and want’s something for the tea? They’ve been seen walking home together after work, so it makes sense.’
Anwen glanced at Cadi and Ruth, who were regarding each other. Gertie’s comment had not been conveyed in a pleasant tone, more one that was bent on causing trouble.
‘I will have you know that Violet is not involved with Mr Llewellyn. He was pestering her and has been sent packing.’
‘I was only joking, Mrs Jones. You shouldn’t take things so seriously.’
Olwen’s face was grey with fury, causing Gertie to display a smile which was almost a sneer. She clearly thought she’d won this battle.
‘I will have this sheep’s head.’ Olwen pointed to the second to last one, her words forced out between partly clenched teeth.
‘I’ve a good mind to—’ Anwen started to whisper to Cadi.
Stanley must have picked it up for he said under his breath, ‘I’ll have words later.’
When Anwen heard a voice asking people to excuse her, she realised her mother had caught up with them. She’d been to the grocer’s to get a few items there.
‘Here you are. You’ve managed to get something, good. I was going to say there’s some tinned mutton at Mrs Brace’s if you hadn’t.’
Sara Fach let out a particularly loud gurgle that made those around her laugh, even Gertie. Olwen and Enid alone were unmoved. The baby looked round as if to see where the noise was coming from, her eyes, now darker than they’d been at birth, wide with wonder.
‘Well, there’s a pretty granddaughter you have, Mrs Rhys,’ said Gertie, peering over.
‘Why thank you,’ said Cadi. ‘She’s a joy and no mistake.’
‘Oh, yes, of course, but I was talking to the other Mrs Rhys.’ She pointed at Enid, who twisted round as if she’d been poked by someone. ‘Though of course, as her great grandma, you must be very proud too.’
Was this an innocent mistake on Gertie’s part or more mischief-making? It was hard to know how much she’d heard. Either way, her mother’s face was stiff and she gritted her teeth. She quickly composed herself to reply, ‘Babies are babies at this age. They all look the same to me.’
Gertie was soon distracted by Olwen handing over some coins and the incident was over. Except Anwen knew it wouldn’t be. She cuddled Sara Fach closer, sore to the heart that she was being used in this spiteful way.
The three women stepped outside the shop at the same time as Olwen, who announced, ‘As you sow, so shall you reap,’ before heading off back down the hill, her sack bag draped over her arm.
‘Whatever that’s supposed to mean,’ said Enid, twirling on one foot and heading upwards. Anwen and Cadi rushed to catch her up, the older woman struggling with the heavy shopping sack.
‘Mam, thank you for not making a fuss about Gertie’s comment. I think she just doesn’t know.’
‘You’ll have to accept Sara Fach at some point, cariad,’ said Cadi, panting. ‘For when she grows old enough to understand, she’ll be hurt by something that’s not her fault.’
Enid came to a standstill, hands on hips. ‘You should have all thought of that before you brought her into my house. By the time she’s older, I imagine Anwen and Idris will have a place of their own.’
‘That’s not a solution,’ said Cadi.
Enid’s reedy body turned back and raced even further ahead. Anwen and Cadi slowed down, both sighing at the same time.
‘She’ll never come round.’ Anwen felt the years of gloom ahead fall on her like a great weight. She kissed the baby’s head.
‘We’ll see,’ said Cadi. ‘We’ll see.’
* * *
Violet spotted Hywel exiting the colliery gate just ahead of her. Her heartbeat increased, seeing him there, even though he was covered from head to foot in a sooty grime. As if he’d felt her presence, he glanced round at her before walking ahead with Gwilym and Idris. At the turning for James Street he halted outside the grocer’s, saying something to the other two. They headed off whilst he lingered by the shop window.
When she caught him up he said, ‘Can we walk the long way home?’
His bright eyes were a startling contrast to his grubby face. His expression stole her breath away, leaving a few seconds before she replied. ‘The long way round could mean anything.’
‘The least conspicuous way, then.’
A group of miners passed them, causing the pair to look in the window as if trying to locate something.
When they’d moved on, Violet said, ‘I’m not sure there is one this time of day.’
A sudden gust lifted the strands of hair that had loosed themselves from her rather severe bun. She wrapped her shawl more tightly around herself. Above, dark clouds raced across the blue sky, slowly devouring it. The workers leaving the shift began to hurry, taking no notice of them.
‘We could take the length of James Street and go up round the back, past the allotment up onto Edward Street. Then you could come back down Bryn Road, as if you’d gone up past the shops on Jubilee Green, just to see what was in the windows like.’
‘You have it all worked out, don’t you?’ She frowned but she wasn’t displeased. Even a brief time in his company would set her mood up for the rest of the day. �
�I have to warn you that Mrs Pritchard told Olwen she thought we were courting and so I have been warned to keep away.’
‘Anwen told me about the conversation at the butcher’s. Would you rather go straight home?’
‘No. I’m not giving in to tittle-tattle.’
‘Then I’ll go on ahead a little, till we get to the end. Just in case Olwen decides to come down to meet you.’
He grimaced and she couldn’t help but laugh. The sound was whipped away by another gust of wind.
‘We’d better be quick,’ she said, ‘for that sky doesn’t look too promising.’
He went ahead and she followed on. A thrill coursed through her, due not only to his presence but to the idea of doing something daring, something naughty. She’d never been one for disobeying her parents as a child, not like her sister. No, not obedient little Violet Wynne. She wondered now if she’d been missing something.
Passing the bottom of Bryn Street, she glanced up to make sure Olwen wasn’t there with her beady eyes. No, only the backs of two screeners could be spied, their shawls flapping in the breeze. She found Hywel next to the side wall of the end house on James Street, hunched over, with his hands in his jacket pockets. He pushed himself away from the wall and they walked up the hill together, along the edge of the village, sheltered by the houses.
‘When I was in Rhymney a coupla weeks back, before I met you, I saw a lovely embroidered Saint Valentine’s postcard.’ The words tumbled out as if he were in a hurry to say them. ‘It had roses and a heart. I’d so loved to have bought it for you.’ He let out a long huff of breath.
Despite the soaring sensation of delight she said, ‘You shouldn’t be telling me that, Hywel. For it’s only seven months since Charlie passed.’
‘I know Violet, I’ve been telling myself not to, but it’s been burning away inside me. I know we can be no more than friends. I just want you to know there’s someone who cares about you.’
The revealed passion made his steps quicker. She had to run to keep up.
Before they reached the end of the wall of the last house on Lloyd Street, she called, ‘Stop a minute, will you, for it’s out of puff I am.’ It was an emotional weariness more than a physical one.
He slumped his back against the wall. ‘I’m sorry for speaking out of turn.’
‘Don’t be, for I’ll tell you the truth, Hywel. It’s…’ She searched for the right word, ‘nice’ not being adequate to what she wanted to convey. ‘It warms my heart to know that another cares for my wellbeing, for whatever Olwen says, I don’t believe she does. Anwen has her own worries. Gwen is never around. I can’t talk to them the way I used to for I don’t want to put any more burdens on them.’
He pushed himself away from the wall and took the three steps to reach her. ‘I care about you, Violet, and you can talk to me about your troubles anytime you want to. I’m always there for you.’
‘Thank you, Hywel. I do appreciate that. And I hope you know you can talk to me anytime too.’
‘Oh, I’ve not many complaints currently, not with Madog Rhys locked up. Though I wish Enid would accept Sara Fach. My main problem is, well, it’s not being able to see you whenever I want.’
Violet felt the blush bloom on her face and neck, for didn’t she feel the same way?
‘What was that?’ Hywel looked around the area. ‘I thought I heard something. Must be the wind rustling.’
‘I’d better get back before Olwen comes searching for me.’
They left the shelter of the last house and headed across the edge of the Edward Street allotment, the wind gusting more vigorously than it had a few minutes before. There were a few drops of rain now too.
‘How are you finding screening?’ Hywel shouted against the squall. ‘Have you got used to it again?’
‘As much as I ever will. I hated it when I was a girl. It’s not got any better.’
‘I read that the government are allowing women to become taxi drivers. Perhaps you could do that instead,’ he joked.
She laughed. ‘I can’t imagine myself driving a motorcar at all, not like Miss Elizabeth does.’ Out in the open, Violet became nervous about being seen. ‘You carry on, Hywel, I’ll head across the allotment. Hwyl fawr.’
‘Hwyl fawr, cariad.’
The rain got fiercer as she found the path between the rows of tatty vegetables, the worse for wear because of the harsh chill they’d experienced that winter. She shivered in her insubstantial outfit, considering briefly what it must be like to sit in a trench all day and night in this weather. But the thought soon dissolved. Despite the wet, icy gusts, inside she was as warm and content as if she were sitting by the fire.
* * *
Violet walked towards the gate of the colliery after her shift on Monday, looking round for Hywel. Surrounding her was a heavy fog, making it difficult to see who was there. She’d put one of Charlie’s old vests on over her corset that morning, having felt the chill as soon as she’d got out of bed. It would be nice, if possible, to walk back with Hywel today; the fog would make it harder for anyone to spot them. It had been a day of bone cold sorting, but at least her imagination had kept her warm.
She hadn’t spoken to Hywel since the Thursday before, only spying him from afar at the chapel. Olwen had stuck to her like a piece of goosegrass. Which reminded her that she’d planned to have a look in the small woods beyond Lloyd Street to see if she could find some to bulk out the meagre ingredients they had for supper that evening.
Reaching the gate, a familiar figure came into view. It wasn’t dear Hywel, but rather Olwen, standing with one hand holding Benjamin’s, the other tucked around the waist of her coat. Her lips were pinched in, leading Violet to suspect bad news.
When Benjamin spotted her, he tried to pull away to run to her, but Olwen held him fast.
‘Mam!’ he called instead, jiggling on the spot.
Going straight to him, she went to pick him up, only to be stayed by Olwen.
‘Don’t go making him all sooty now,’ was conveyed in a grumpy voice. ‘Come along. It’s much too cold to be hanging around.’
‘You didn’t have to meet me from work,’ Violet replied, annoyed at Olwen’s implication that she’d left them waiting.
‘Oh I think I did, madam.’ She went a little faster, pulling the boy along, who was whimpering with the effort.
‘I don’t understand. Has something happened?’ A sudden thought struck her, from where she had no idea. Had Charlie turned up at home, alive after all? Had someone mistakenly thought it was him shot in Mametz Wood? She’d heard that some men were never found, that it was only assumed they were dead. How many would turn up by the end of the war, to the surprise – or shock – of their families?
The brief, illogical notion melted away. She’d gained some relief from an idea that would have solved the problem of Hywel. Regret fought with relief, which again became guilt. And anyway, Olwen would surely have been in a good mood if that had happened.
‘I’m not one to wash my dirty linen in public, even if you are.’
Whatever this was about, an evening of reproach beckoned. She looked back to the gates of the colliery, if only to steal a glance at the person she’d not be walking back with this afternoon. When she turned back, Olwen and Benjamin had almost disappeared into the fog.
In the house Olwen still said nothing, leaving Benjy to play with his pull-along soldier. She stomped into the scullery with the kettle she’d boiled before leaving the house. After filling a ceramic bowl of water, she fetched the clean clothes in. She left Violet to wash.
As she did up her clean blouse, Olwen knocked on the door, coming in before Violet had a chance to invite her. She closed the door behind her.
‘I’m going to say my piece before we go to fetch Clarice from school.’
‘I can do that. No need for you to go out again,’ she said lightly, trying to lift the mood.
‘No, we’ll go together, for I now know I can’t trust you to go out on your own. Like
a female dog on heat, you are.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Violet dreaded what was coming next.
‘You assured me last Monday, after that embarrassing conversation I had at the butcher’s with Gertie Pritchard, that you hadn’t been walking home after work with Mr Llewellyn. But today I had her disagreeable daughter telling me she saw you and him on Thursday, secreted away at the end of the village. Thought you wouldn’t be seen, I suppose, especially in the drizzle. Said you were no doubt there for a private kiss, she did.’
‘We most certainly were not there for a kiss!’ It was one thing to be caught out, but quite another to have untrue accusations levelled at her. Nevertheless, she needed a credible cover story. ‘I didn’t say I hadn’t walked home with Hywel before, I said we were not walking out together. On Thursday Hywel was showing me the disappointing winter crop and telling me what they were planning on doing next.’
‘I don’t really care what he said he was doing, for that won’t be what was really on his mind. I know men better than you do, my girl, and they’re not to be trusted. From now on I will accompany you back from work every afternoon, and to the school to collect Clarice. I’m certainly not leaving you at home on your own, for if Mr Llewellyn gets wind that you’re there, he’ll be sniffing around.’
Violet felt the walls of her private gaol close in. An overwhelming sensation of being suffocated assailed her and she found herself fighting for breath. It was the all too familiar panic she’d experienced lately. Breathe slowly and deeply, she told herself. Where on earth had Rose seen them? Then she remembered: Hywel had heard a sound which he’d decided was the wind rustling. Perhaps Rose had even spotted them on the street and followed them round to make mischief. They’d have to be a lot more careful.
‘What’s for dinner?’ she asked, hoping to change the subject.
‘Never mind that for now. There’s another matter.’
Oh, what now?
‘Florrie Harris waylaid me in the grocer’s to ask if you were well now. It seems her daughter saw you coming out of Dr Roberts’s consulting room at the hospital. Now why would you be there, unless maybe you’re pregnant with Mr Llewellyn’s baby?’
War in the Valleys Page 21
