War in the Valleys

by Francesca Capaldi

  He racked his brain for some other way to engage her in conversation, to stop her looking ahead with that scowl that made him sad.

  ‘Did Anwen tell you about the argument between Mrs Meredith, Esther Williams, Rose and Mr Schenck, a week back?’

  She did now consider him. ‘Yes, she did mention it. The day after the Schencks were robbed.’

  ‘That’s right. It’s a rum do when people are fighting their neighbours during a war.’

  Violet didn’t seem impressed with this thinking. ‘Perhaps Mrs Meredith shouldn’t have accused Rose of the theft when she had no evidence.’

  He was surprised at her taking Rose’s side, but even more so by the tone she used. She turned away and he stared at her until the ting of the door’s bell announced a new customer. They both looked round to see Olwen enter with the children.

  ‘I wondered what was holding you up, and now I see it.’

  ‘We’re waiting for Mrs Brace to—’ Hywel started.

  ‘I don’t want to hear from you. Why are you still here, Violet?’

  ‘Mrs Brace has gone to fetch some potato bread that her daughter has made. I popped into Mrs Davies’s first to see if she had any sweets for the children.’

  ‘More likely you arranged this meeting.’

  ‘Olwen, the children!’ Violet hissed. But they’d wandered off to look at the empty tubs that normally held loose biscuits. ‘How could I have arranged this when I didn’t know I’d be coming to the shops?’

  ‘Aye,’ Hywel agreed, growing angrier by the second. ‘And I thought you hadn’t been shopping because you were unwell. Not unwell enough to come spying though. Is that why you sent Violet out, to follow her? And how would we have arranged this when you come to meet her from work every day?’

  ‘You could have sneaked up to her during the shift and arranged it.’

  ‘What, leave the mine shaft just to talk to the women? The overman would have something to say about that.’

  ‘Please, I will handle this,’ said Violet with some annoyance. ‘I can assure you, Olwen, that I came across Hywel by accident. I can’t predict who is going to be in the shops when I go out.’

  ‘Well it seems mighty suspicious to me.’

  ‘Here we are,’ said Mrs Brace, coming back through the door with a basket of rolls. ‘They’ve cooled a little now. I can only let you have two though, I’m afraid. Oh, hello Mrs Jones.’

  Olwen didn’t reply, going instead to fetch the children back and holding onto them.

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Hywel. ‘I wouldn’t want to deprive others of a share.’

  When Olwen came back to the counter, she noticed the one loaf of bread. ‘Trust you to get the last loaf. That’s not fair. We’ve got children.’

  ‘Which is exactly why Mr Llewellyn gave up the loaf to your daughter-in-law,’ said the grocer. ‘Very kind thing to do, that was.’

  ‘Hmph. The least he can do,’ was Olwen’s reply. ‘Has he finished now? It’s about time, holding up the proceedings.’

  Hywel paid Mrs Brace and she passed over the sack bag.

  He was loath to leave but knew there was nothing else for it. ‘Hwyl fawr,’ he called as he walked towards the door. Only the grocer replied.

  Outside on the street, the drizzle had halted though the fog was as thick as ever. He crossed the road and trudged up the hill. At the top he stopped, looking back down Jubilee Gardens. He wouldn’t have spied them even if they had come out, the shop having disappeared in the fog. He trudged home instead.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘Will you keep this – this – child out of my way!’ Enid stood and threw her sewing onto the table, dashing away as Sara Fach once more made a wobbly beeline for her.

  Anwen wasn’t far behind, scooping the crawling tot up and cuddling her. ‘It’s not her fault, Mam. Maybe she likes the look of you,’ she said hopefully, to no avail.

  ‘I’ve never known a babby crawl so early. Not natural, it isn’t.’

  ‘She’s nearly five months old. It’s not that unusual. Violet told me Clarice wasn’t quite six months when she crawled.’

  ‘I don’t want a discussion about it. Just move it.’

  It. Always ‘It’. Never she. Anwen sniffed back the tears as she picked her sister up. Poor little mite. A happy little soul she was too, but Enid could only take her for what she was, not who.

  Anwen carried the baby to the scullery and looked out of the window. The sun had finally come out, after days of an overcast sky.

  ‘Shall we go to the park on Jubilee Gardens, cariad?’ She kissed the baby’s head. It would get them out from under Enid’s feet for a while.

  Idris came into the scullery, heaving the box of tools with him. ‘We’ve fixed the drawer in Hywel’s room. Reckon all those heavy bottles your father kept in them dislodged the back panel.’

  ‘I thought I’d take Sara Fach to the park since the weather’s improved.’ She didn’t mention the incident with her mother.

  ‘Aye, might as well take advantage. Been a terrible spring so far. Thought I’d pop over to the McKenzie Cottages allotment with Hywel to help out. Could do with some fresh air too.’

  ‘Getting involved again will do you the world of good. As long as you feel up to doing it alongside your job.’

  He stopped on his way to bend down and peck her lips. As he did so, Sara Fach grabbed his chin and giggled.

  ‘Hey, you cheeky girl,’ he laughed. ‘I’ve never felt more up to it. I realise now how many years I must have had this thyroid business. I’d better get these tools to the lean-to before my arms drop off.’

  Five minutes later she left the house through the front door, almost bumping into Gwilym as he went past. He lifted his cap to greet her and the baby, who giggled.

  ‘Hello,’ said Anwen. ‘You working on the allotments today?’

  ‘Aye, just heading over to the far field, see how they’re getting on.’

  They chatted about the vegetables, which were still not impressive, due to winter’s long fingers creeping into April and May.

  ‘What with all the other shortages it’s not going to be hard to self-ration, as the government’s told us to do,’ said Gwilym, slouching along with his hands in his pockets.

  ‘At least the chickens are doing well,’ said Anwen, trying to bring some cheer to the conversation.

  ‘Aye, they are that.’

  When they reached Jubilee Gardens they saw Sergeant Harries plodding up with Constable Probert.

  ‘Oh Lord, I bet some poor soul’s in trouble,’ said Gwilym. ‘I know that look.’

  ‘Maybe they’ve found out who broke into the bookshop.’

  ‘Let’s hope they’ve got the right person this time then, for they’ve not got a good record on that score.’

  He carried on down the road. Anwen entered the park through the top gate, singing softly to Sara Fach as she went. Halfway down the path through the centre of the garden, little Clarice came running out from one of the bushes, having spotted them. Benjamin soon followed on. Violet must have brought them home this way from school.

  ‘Aunty Anwen and Sara Fach!’ Clarice called, skipping up to them with Benjamin.

  ‘Hello there,’ Anwen replied. ‘Having a nice time?’

  ‘We been collecting blossoms.’

  Violet appeared from round the bush, remaining several yards away, watching the scene.

  ‘Look what I’ve got, Sara Fach.’ Clarice lifted her hand to show her the blossoms. Benjy copied.

  The baby stretched her arm out, trying to touch the offering that was just out of reach.

  ‘Hello, Violet,’ Anwen called. ‘I fancied a walk with the littl’un.’

  ‘Hello.’ Violet seemed nervous, looking out of the park and across the road.

  ‘I’m glad I’ve seen you, for I’d like some advice about this cradle cap of Sara Fach’s.’

  At that moment, Olwen came in through the bottom gate. She marched up the path. ‘Just saw the police walki
ng up the road, looking like they meant business. No doubt arresting some villain.’

  Anwen tucked the blanket back round Sara Fach from where she’d stretched out of it. ‘Could be.’

  Violet and Anwen sat on the bench to discuss the cradle cap. Mrs Jones was constantly in a bad mood, thought Anwen. And she really seemed to dislike Hywel. Why did she continue to assume there was something between him and Violet when he’d insisted there wasn’t? But what if there was and he simply didn’t want to admit it? Wouldn’t Violet have told her, if that were the case? Yet her friend seemed to reveal little of her private life these days.

  Clarice was talking to Sara Fach, showing her the rag doll that she’d tucked under her arm, the blossoms now on the seat beside Violet. Benjy was singing a nursery rhyme to her, not quite getting the words right. The baby treated them to a wide, toothless grin, all the while gurgling at the back of her throat.

  ‘She’s a chirpy one, isn’t she?’ said Olwen.

  ‘Always has a smile for everyone,’ Violet confirmed.

  Even if they didn’t always have a smile for her. Anwen thought about her mam once more with a sinking heart.

  ‘So, have you heard from the mother – Delyth, isn’t it?’ said Olwen.

  ‘No, we haven’t heard from her at all.’ That the baby’s mother might turn up was a recurring theme in her nightmares.

  ‘Violet says you’ve fostered her officially now.’

  ‘That’s right. And we’ll hopefully be able to adopt her soon.’

  Olwen looked at the seat, then at the two young women. The look implied they should shift up to let her sit too. Why couldn’t she just ask nicely? It was like she was determined to get on the wrong side of everybody. Anwen shuffled up a little, which the baby thought very funny. Violet soon got the idea and did likewise, picking up Clarice’s blossom.

  Olwen sat and leant her umbrella against the seat. She undid and retied her bonnet, a black affair that looked like it would have been worn at a funeral thirty years back.

  ‘So, you’ve not fallen pregnant yourself yet?’

  ‘Olwen, that’s none of our business,’ Violet muttered.

  ‘I’m sure it’s a perfectly natural enquiry.’

  Anwen always dreaded this question. Why did people think it was any of their business? By now she had a standard answer, which she always delivered with her head to one side and a slight smile.

  ‘These things happen in their own time, don’t you think?’ Before Olwen had a chance to give an opinion, she added, ‘The good Lord clearly wants me to see to Sara Fach first. Imagine if I’d had a baby at the same time she was born.’ She gave a little laugh.

  ‘People have twins,’ said Olwen. ‘And look at that Jane Harris with her seven babbies under nine, and her a widow. They just have to get on with it. It’s a shame Violet won’t have any more though,’ she added.

  Anwen was about to ask how she knew Violet wouldn’t have any more when it occurred to her. If Olwen had anything to do with it, she wouldn’t have the opportunity. She glanced at Violet who was staring ahead, expressionless. What did she think about this? She’d spent so much time making excuses for Olwen and her distress at losing her son, had she realised this woman simply liked being in charge? It was as if Violet had given up and had let Olwen take over. It didn’t seem right.

  They chatted of this and that, though most of it was snippets of gossip Olwen had picked up in the village. Some, Anwen was sure, were exaggerated.

  ‘By the way, I’ve taken the job of cook at the Big House,’ said Olwen.

  Violet’s eyebrows drew together. She leant forward. ‘But who will look after the children while I’m at work?’

  Olwen glared at her. ‘I’m not that stoopid. I’ve decided that a young mother’s place is in the home with her babbies. I saw Mrs Meredith in the grocer’s and she was talking to Mrs Brace about how she wished she could get a cook but realised it was unlikely now before the war ended. Sounded desperate, she did. So I stepped forward. The pay’s better than you’re getting on the screens. I start Monday. But I’m only doing four days, like you, since Mrs Meredith tolerates Mrs Rhys doing four days too.’

  ‘That’s… that’s wonderful. Thank you.’ Violet looked happier than Anwen had seen her for a long while.

  ‘That is kind of you,’ said Anwen, surprised at this development. From hints dropped by Violet, though never directly stated, Olwen was a woman after doing as little as she could get away with.

  ‘No, it’s not right,’ the older woman went on, ‘a young widow being at a male-dominated place of work with all those men sniffing round her.’

  Ah, so that was the real reason, thought Anwen. Not so much generous as, once again, controlling. And come to think of it, if she was earning the money, she’d have control of that too.

  Anwen felt the shadow go over her before she realised the clouds had once again swallowed up the sun. She pulled down Sara Fach’s woolly bonnet, which the baby had partly pulled off.

  Violet peered upwards. ‘Looks like it’s business as usual, as Mr Churchill used to be fond of saying.’

  Anwen thought she was referring to Olwen at first, but soon realised she was talking about the weather.

  ‘Talking of Mrs Meredith, I also heard her tell Mrs Brace that her daughter has just been sacked from her job in the overseer’s office in Rhymney,’ said Olwen.

  Anwen leant forward. ‘Oh no, I hadn’t heard that.’ She missed her time with Elizabeth on the allotments, seeing her only on Sundays at church now. Still, she seemed much more content these days. ‘Did you hear why?’

  ‘Something about the man whose job it had been coming back from the war with an injury, his knee blown off or something.’

  Anwen shuddered. ‘Poor man.’

  ‘Mrs Meredith was pleased as Punch about it. Seems to think her daughter might be settling down soon.’

  Violet glanced questioningly at Anwen, but she could only shrug back. She felt a disappointment in knowing nothing of this new life of Elizabeth’s. She stroked Sara Fach’s hair and her mind wandered as Olwen gossiped on.

  * * *

  ‘You ready to go to the allotments, Idris?’ said Hywel, eager to get out of the house, with his sister being in another of her bad moods. He wasn’t sure what had brought this one on, but there she was, stabbing the needle into the fabric and tugging it through the other end.

  ‘Aye. I’m looking forward to it,’ said Idris. ‘Fresh air and good tilled soil.’

  They were in the middle of calling farewell to Enid when there was a loud banging on the front door.

  Idris went ahead. ‘I’ll get it. Probably Florrie Harris visiting with more gossip.’

  Hywel took this opportunity to ask Enid, ‘What’s wrong with you, cariad? Punishing that fabric, you are.’

  She stopped briefly. ‘Me? Nothing. Nothing at all.’

  Which almost certainly meant there was something. He had no opportunity to pursue this further before Idris’s voice was heard crying, ‘What’s all this about now? Didn’t you harass me enough last year?’

  ‘It’s not you we’ve come to see, it’s Mr Llewellyn.’

  Before Hywel could comment to his sister about it, Idris came back into the kitchen with Sergeant Harries and PC Probert.

  Enid put the sewing down and jumped up from the chair. ‘What’s happened?’

  Harries didn’t reply to her directly, saying instead to Hywel, ‘We’ve had a report that you were spotted going down the path behind James Street, towards the bookshop, the early hours of Friday 11th May, the night Schenck’s bookshop was broken into.’

  ‘What? I haven’t been out that late at night since the pit disaster last July.’

  ‘Do you know what,’ said Idris, towering over Harries. ‘This sounds rather like that accusation against me last year, when I was arrested for beating up Cadoc Beadle.’

  ‘Hang on a moment,’ said Harries.

  ‘And who on earth was out at that time of night to report on
anybody? Who’s to say they didn’t do it, just like the husband of the person who reported me?’

  ‘That’s a fair question,’ said Enid.

  Hywel was having difficulty saying anything, so shocked was he. Who could think he was capable of such a thing, especially against a kindly gentleman like Mr Schenck?

  ‘Saw you from their bedroom window, they did.’

  ‘That would mean someone on James Street,’ said Idris.

  ‘Or Bryn Road,’ Enid hissed accusingly.

  Hywel realised immediately to whom she was referring. ‘Olwen Jones?’ Surely even she wouldn’t stoop to such lies.

  Sergeant Harries’ wide-eyed expression and fleeting glance at Probert confirmed Enid’s assumption, even before he stuttered, ‘We-well, I’m not about to be giving away sources, but if you’d let me finish. I have no reason to believe that she, I mean, they, were correct in their conclusion, as there are no streetlamps down that lane. Not that they’d be on that time of night, even without the restrictions.’

  ‘Then why on earth are you here?’ Enid shouted.

  ‘Settle down now, Mrs Rhys,’ said Probert. ‘You never used to be one for hysterics.’

  ‘It’s been reported, so it’s our duty to follow it up, see,’ said Harries. ‘Also, the thief would have had to climb over a high back wall as the gate was bolted, and then had to climb in a small window. So they’d had to have been agile, see, and I don’t think you are particularly, since the, um…’ He pointed to Hywel’s leg.

  It was certainly true that he couldn’t bend his leg like he used to. For once, it might have done him a favour.

  ‘So you’re not arresting me?’

  ‘Goodness, no. This visit’s just a formality, that’s all, so if the person who reported you asks if we followed it up, we can say we did and that we’re confident you weren’t involved.’

  Hywel took a deep gulp of air and breathed out. He was relieved, yet at the same time furious. It was one thing Olwen stopping Violet from seeing him, but making up stories to get him arrested? He kept his composure, not wanting the sergeant to have any reason to change his mind.