by Annie Murray
On Wednesday night Daniel came back to the house with her after the evening’s meeting, both of them sneaking in again like thieves, both full of a taut, frantic energy. The second they were inside the room, their hands were under each other’s clothing, Daniel pushing the door shut with his foot.
‘God, girl.’ Daniel pulled his shirt off, then hers, in a fever of impatience.
They made love fast, hungrily, fighting the temptation to forget any worries about babies, longing just to surrender to it, naked and complete. The rubbery smell of the French letter was so horrible, the delay such an intrusion, but Daniel insisted, hurrying to put it on.
‘We’ve got to – don’t need any complications, now, do we?’ His eyes narrowed with desire and he lay back. ‘Come down on me. I want to feel you over me.’
She lay crouched, cuddled close round him, for a long time after, with him still inside her, their skin slicked together in the muggy night. Gwen nuzzled her nose into his neck, felt his hands hot on her back.
‘I don’t ever want to be anywhere except with you,’ she whispered.
She felt him give a low laugh of pleasure and the pressure of his lips on her cheek.
‘That’s my girl, my beauty.’
A moment later, he said, ‘It’s going to happen this weekend. They won’t let us down. I can feel it.’
She looked into his dark eyes, stroked his cheek. ‘Never off duty you, are you?’
And he laughed again, eyes crinkling at the corners.
Letting him go, to creep out into the night, she felt as though they were being torn apart.
Thirty-One
They didn’t go to Wales by train after all. Gwen had been looking forward to a long ride in a secluded railway carriage alone with Daniel, but Esther Lane and two other party workers were to come as well, and Esther announced that they would motor down in her father’s Daimler. Dr Lane, it appeared, was also a member of the BCPL.
They gathered outside the party offices at five thirty. Five of them were going: Gwen, Daniel, Esther, Herbert – the thin, red-headed man – and a young, softly spoken social worker with a neat little moustache, called Ernest, whom Gwen recognized from some of the meetings. He wore grey flannel trousers and a red kerchief tucked into the neck of his shirt.
‘Good, I’m glad you haven’t overdone the luggage,’ Esther remarked, eyeing the small holdall Gwen had brought with her. ‘It’s going to be close quarters as it is.’
Gwen felt immediately patronized and as if she didn’t in some way measure up, as she always did in Esther’s presence.
Well, at least I’m not colour-blind, she thought pettishly. Esther was wearing her baggy black slacks and an equally voluminous short-sleeved blouse in a sickly shade of turquoise. Her hair was taken up in a bandanna of glaring pea green covered in yellow polka dots. Gwen had also dressed casually, in navy cotton slacks and a blue and white striped shirt. She had a sweater flung over one shoulder for when the evening cooled.
‘Get in – do!’ Esther stood by the open door beside the driver’s seat. ‘Daniel, why don’t you join me in the front so we can talk tactics?’
It was almost a command. Gwen felt herself stiffen with resentment at Esther’s proprietory manner towards Daniel. Who did she think she was?
‘No, let Ernest sit up front,’ Daniel said easily. ‘Gwen and I’ll squeeze up with Herbert.’
Esther, having taken it for granted that Daniel would do as she asked, had been about to climb into her seat. She stopped, and frowned across the roof of the car. ‘I really do think it would be better if Ernest sat behind. I need you here with me.’
But Daniel was already in the car, seating himself in the middle, Herbert to his right. Gwen got in after him.
Daniel gave Gwen a wink. She grinned back at him and under her navy sweater, which she laid on her lap, they linked hands. They began the journey with a great shuddering lurch, which made them grin all the more. Gwen could just see the side view of Esther’s face, scowling with concentration under the green and yellow bandanna and a lock of escaped black hair.
‘Sorry – don’t drive her very often!’ she called.
They left Birmingham as the sun sank low in the sky, passed through Kidderminster and turned towards Hereford. The fields were bright with corn and warm air blew in through the windows. In the bronze light and the warm, muggy air Gwen began to feel drowsy and leaned her head on Daniel’s shoulder.
At dusk they stopped south of Hereford and shared the food they’d brought. Esther handed round potted-meat sandwiches, and they went to a pub and had a half of warm ale before pressing on. Revived by the food and the cool of the evening, Esther led them in singing the ‘Internationale’, the ‘Red Flag’ and ‘England Arise’ several times through. She had a strident, though tuneful voice. Ernest had a reedy tenor, though Herbert came out with a surprisingly strong baritone. Gwen enjoyed singing with Daniel, hearing their voices mingle.
‘This was written during the uprising – the Paris Commune,’ Daniel told her, between verses of the ‘Internationale’. ‘In 1871.’
Pale moths batted into the windscreen and the only light came from the beams of the headlamps. Later the road became more twisty and they were going up and down. Daniel leaned forwards to give Esther directions.
‘Just a mile or two and we’ve reached Aberglyn. It’s in the next valley.’
He directed her to a narrow side street. All they could see were little windows, some with lights behind them, in a row of tiny cottages.
‘I say.’ For once, Esther sounded unsure of herself. ‘Are you sure this is going to be all right, Daniel? I mean there is rather a gang of us.’
‘They’re expecting us. We’ll manage – just for a night.’
As they climbed out of the car, a dog barked shrilly at the front of a neighbouring house. The cottage door opened, and framed in the soft light Gwen saw a stocky man. In a deep, melodious voice, he called, ‘That you, Daniel bach?’
‘Hello, Uncle! Hope we’re not too late for you?’
‘You’ve come a long way, boy.’ Gwen saw his eyes linger on the elegant lines of the Daimler.
‘This is my uncle, Anthony Sullivan.’ Gwen knew that he was Theresa Fernandez’s elder brother.
Esther stepped forward, hand outstretched. ‘Esther Lane. So pleased to meet you. This is awfully good of you.’
The man took her hand and nodded. ‘You a party worker?’
‘Oh yes!’ Esther said. ‘Very much so. And Daniel’s such an inspiration to us all!’ She introduced Ernest and Herbert, who both shook his hand.
‘Uncle Anthony, this is Gwen,’ Daniel said, ushering her forward.
Again, the man gave a nod, and Gwen thought he smiled faintly at her.
‘Anthony? Are they here then? Bring them in!’ Daniel’s Auntie Shân appeared in the doorway, a shawl round her shoulders.
‘I don’t know why he’s keeping you out on the step. Come in, come in!’ Her speech ended in coughing and she was doubled up by it for a moment.
‘You still not well, Auntie?’
‘Can’t shake it off. Been like it since the end of the winter.’ Gwen saw that the woman’s face was worn by worry and sickness. She couldn’t have been more than fifty, but she was gaunt and stooped as if older than her years. ‘How’s your mother, Daniel?’
‘She’s well. Sent you over a few things.’ He had brought a bundle from the car. Gwen saw his aunt’s eyes fix on it for a moment, lighting up hopefully.
Gwen heard Daniel lower his voice and ask, ‘How’s Billy?’
‘Oh, you know.’ His aunt’s tone was flat. ‘Going along. Come and see him. He’s been in a lather waiting for you.’
They all piled in, seeming to fill the place right up. In one of the two threadbare old chairs facing the empty grate, Gwen saw a young man with brown hair and a thin, shadowy face. At the sight of Daniel, a grin broke across it. ‘Danny boy!’
‘Billy!’ Daniel rumpled the young man’s hair playfu
lly. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes.’ He looked round. ‘Brought some of my comrades to visit. This is Gwen . . .’
Gwen said hello and shook Billy’s clammy hand.
‘Nice to meet you,’ he said shyly. She felt desperate for him. He was her age, Daniel had told her, and had been felled by an accident down the pit when he was fifteen. He’d got in the way of a loaded dram, the trucks pulling coal through the pits, and was paralysed from the waist down. His two brothers and sister had left home for London to find work, but Billy had no choice but to stay at home. He was a Communist, but he couldn’t even move out of his chair without assistance, let alone get to meetings.
‘Nice to meet you, comrade,’ Herbert was saying. Gwen heard Esther and Ernest greet him as well. She looked around her.
The small front room bore all the signs of poverty. The floorboards were bare and scrubbed, there was a wooden chair as well two old armchairs and a china jug and a candlestick set on the mantelpiece, along with a few other knick-knacks. On such a balmy night there was no call for a fire in the grate, but it would have cheered the room. She caught sight of a china po pushed under Billy’s seat – somehow that was the saddest sight of all.
‘Anthony, go and get that stool from out back!’ Shân said. ‘Now, you ladies come and sit down.’
Gwen and Esther were united, for once, in protesting that they couldn’t possibly sit and deprive the woman of the house of a chair. Gwen was allotted a stool to sit on, and Esther the wooden chair. Herbert and Ernest settled on the floor on each side of the hearth.
Shân reluctantly took the softer chair, pulling her shawl round her thin shoulders. She managed a rueful smile, and Gwen saw that beneath the veil of tiredness and care her heart-shaped face was rather pretty.
‘There’s hardly a crumb I’ve in the house to feed you on,’ she said ashamedly. ‘We’ve put the kettle on, that’s all.’
‘Here, Auntie.’ Daniel presented her with the bundle. ‘Ma put this together for you.’
‘Duw! Oh, my, what a lot! My lap can’t hold it all!’ She was so eager, almost like a child, and laid the bundle, tied in part of an old sheet, on the floor and unknotted the ends. ‘Oh, God bless Theresa – she always did have a heart of gold. What’d we do without her? Oh, Billy, look at this now!’
Gwen felt a lump come into her throat at the woman’s excitement in the face of the simple things in the bundle. Theresa had included a loaf of bread, a few ounces of butter, some tea, a jar of jam, a large knuckle of ham, some soft buns she’d baked, a cake and a bag of carrots. There were also oddments like a bar of washing soap and a little bundle of candles held together with a rubber band.
‘Well, we’ve buns to have with our tea now!’ she cried, delighted.
They all tried to protest that the buns were meant for the family, but Shân wouldn’t hear of it.
‘I haven’t even got enough cups to go round!’ she laughed, getting up to make the tea. ‘Mrs Evans next door has lent us a couple!’
Daniel’s Uncle Anthony perched on the arm of Billy’s chair and immediately the talk turned to politics. At first the Birmingham group sat listening, riveted. Here they were in South Wales, in the heartland of the party – the place Daniel described to them as the beacon of hope, where there was strong leadership and growing unity! They wanted to hear all about it, to drink it in. Gwen was filled with pride and excitement.
The talk turned first to the latest unemployment regulations, in force for eighteen months now, which were the focus of the next day’s protest in Tonypandy. The government’s Unemployment Assistance Board had introduced national rates of benefit which in many cases were lower than the previous ones. They heard stories of distress from all over the valleys.
Billy’s face lit up with passion. ‘I’ve lost my legs, my livelihood and now I’m sat rotting here, and there’s no use I am except to cause my family hunger and worry. It’s all wrong. No, Mam –’ he flung her arm off as she tried to protest at his harshness – ‘that’s the truth and you know it. It isn’t your fault or mine – it’s capitalism does it. Capitalist oppression!’
Gwen realized that Billy did not often allow himself to voice these thoughts. He looked heated, overexcited by all the company and she felt deep sorrow for him. She saw the impact of his words on his mother as well, in the way she clenched her jaw, tightening her lips.
‘We need another march like in ’34,’ Anthony said. He was a dignified man, whose deep, powerful voice held a quiet authority. ‘Action – that’s the thing. Unified action. We can’t sit back and let them starve our people into submission like trapped animals.’
Like Daniel’s father, Arturo, Anthony had first been employed at the steel works at Dowlais. The two of them had met there and later moved to work down the pit at Aberglyn. Anthony had been out of work now for over a year and had become a member both of the NUWM and the party.
‘Our poverty is what brings us together.’ Gwen heard Billy’s passionate voice across the room. ‘God, I wish I could come to Tonypandy with you tomorrow, Daniel, and hear Lewis Jones. Be there with everyone!’
‘I wish we could get you there too, Billy boy.’ Daniel frowned, as if he was thinking of a way in which it could be managed. ‘Are you coming, Uncle Anthony?’
‘We could certainly fit another one in the car, couldn’t we?’ Esther spoke up.
Anthony Sullivan nodded in a dignified way, as if to say, car or no car he’d get there somehow.
It grew later and later as they moved on to talk about the uprising in Spain, and the limited news reaching them from there, for the need for the party to mobilize in favour of the government, and Gwen, who had heard a lot of this before, found her eyelids beginning to droop. After a time, Shân noticed.
‘It’s exhausted your pretty friend here is, Daniel!’ she reproached him. ‘You all talking her to pieces. Let’s be getting some sleep now. Boys, you can sleep down with Billy. There’s a bed up at the back, if you girls don’t mind sharing.’
Gwen’s eyes met Esther’s. She knew they were both thinking the same thing: I don’t want to share with you! But neither of them would have dreamt of protesting.
‘That would be perfectly all right,’ Gwen said, getting to her feet. Esther did the same. She seemed humbled by Shân Sullivan and was quieter than usual. Daniel was sitting beside Billy, catching up on news of old pals. Gwen went to him and gave him a peck on the cheek.
‘Night then. Goodnight, Billy.’
‘Sleep tight.’ Daniel smiled up at her.
‘Night!’ Billy said. As she went to the door, Gwen heard him say to Daniel, ‘She’s lovely, isn’t she?’
‘Watch the third step.’ Shân turned, holding a candlestick, to warn Gwen and Esther, as they followed carrying the few things they’d brought for the night. The third tread of the bare staircase creaked ominously.
‘It’s not much, I’m afraid,’ Shân said, showing them the tiny back room. Between its whitewashed walls was a three-quarter sized bed, a small chest of drawers and a chair. There wasn’t room for anything else.
‘It’s perfect,’ Esther said, just a little too enthusiastically.
‘Thank you for putting us all up,’ Gwen said quietly. She felt a kinship with Shân, could sense all the burden of her life. ‘We’re an invasion.’
‘Oh no – it’s nice to have some life about the place. Our young ones slept in here once – all in a row.’ Her wan expression lit with a smile for a moment. ‘But it’s grown up and gone they are now. Except Billy, of course.’
‘God, it’s so tragic,’ Esther said once Shân had gone, wishing them goodnight. ‘What life will he ever have now?’
‘Umm, I know.’ Gwen pulled her nightdress out of her bag. Esther grated on her so much that she felt her usual urge to disagree with her on principle, but there was nothing she could say to contradict her. Billy’s situation was tragic.
Gwen felt deeply uncomfortable at such close quarters with Esther, whose personality seemed to take up the
whole room. Added to that, she gave off a ripe, musky smell. She stripped off with no sign of inhibition, pulling her blouse over her head to reveal dark tufts of hair under her arms and heavy breasts encased in a stout bra, which she then proceeded to unfasten as well. Gwen turned away, though not without wondering, in spite of herself, whether Daniel would find the sight of Esther attractive. She slipped her own pale blue nightdress on and went to get into bed, seeing Esther in a voluminous white garment. Esther unwrapped her hair from the bandanna and brushed it out. It hung on her shoulders, thick and slightly frizzy. Gwen hadn’t thought to brush her hair. She was too anxious to lie down and sleep. Neither of them spoke.
At last, Esther climbed in beside her and lumped about, getting comfortable.
‘Blow the candle out, do,’ she said, as the chest of drawers was on Gwen’s side of the bed.
Gwen closed her eyes in the darkness. After a moment she heard Esther’s deep voice.
‘You’re really in love with our Daniel, aren’t you?’
Gwen hesitated, wondering whether to pretend to be asleep. What was Esther’s tone? Curious? Mocking? Our Daniel. After a few seconds, she said matter of factly, ‘Yes, I am.’
‘Ah. Well, you wouldn’t be the first.’ This time the voice held a knowing sense of regret. ‘Poor old you, darling.’
Thirty-Two
Gwen woke to the sound of a train chugging slowly in the distance. There was a high squeal from the engine, releasing steam. The pit train, she thought. Otherwise the house was quiet.
Opening her eyes, she saw daylight on either side of the thin curtain. Beside her, Esther’s curvaceous shape lay turned away, and she could hear her breathing heavily. She didn’t like lying so close to Esther. That comment she had made last night came stinging back. Gwen had lain awake, furious. The cheek of the woman! What the hell did Esther think she knew about Daniel?
