Miss Purdy's Class

by Annie Murray

  Pleased to be awake before Esther, to get away from her, she slipped off the lumpy mattress, dressed quietly in the gloom and crept down the stairs, wincing as they creaked. But she was not the first up. Shân was already moving about in the kitchen at the back, and Daniel was just rousing himself. Round him the others slept, Billy on his mattress, the others on blankets on the floor beside him. Daniel sat up and waved in greeting.

  ‘Did you sleep?’

  ‘Yes thanks,’ she whispered.

  He got up and came to her, taking her in his arms. His cheek felt rough against hers and he was warm and soft, somehow, from sleep.

  ‘Big day today.’

  ‘Yes.’ She smiled.

  They greeted Shân, who was once again wrapped in her shawl though the morning was mild.

  ‘I’ll brew us a cup of tea,’ she said.

  ‘Just thought I’d take Gwen out for a minute, along the road,’ Daniel said. ‘Show her the valley.’

  ‘Oh you must show her, Daniel bach.’ Gwen saw Daniel’s aunt looking at her with a new curiosity. ‘There’s beautiful it is up there for those with the strength to walk. The tea’ll still be here when you get back.’

  ‘Here – come and see.’ Daniel took her arm and they went out into the sunny morning.

  There was no view at first, except for the worn, grey cottages opposite. They were in a little sloping street, and Dr Lane’s Daimler looked absurdly large and out of place parked at the kerb.

  ‘Come and have a look this way,’ Daniel said, following the upward slope of the road.

  The cottages clung along the contour of the incline. They were a poor, unkempt line of dwellings and the sufferings of their occupants seemed to be etched into their facades. The street was quiet except for a woman scrubbing at her step and a man with a stooped, wiry body, walking with a stick, who peered up from under his cap at them.

  ‘Daniel Fernandez? Is that you?’ His tone was commanding, and, Gwen thought, not especially friendly.

  ‘Yes, it’s me, Hywel.’ Daniel sounded tense.

  The man squinted at him. ‘What’re you back here for, mun? Making trouble again, is it?’ He shook the stick. ‘They ought to round up the whole bloody lot of you and send you to Russia!’ He started off up the road again with renewed energy, but Daniel swivelled on one foot and called after him, ‘The Labour Movement’s dead, Hywel – all over the world. They’ve given in to capitalism and fascism! When’re you going to face reality?’

  The man turned, banging his stick on the ground. ‘We could have kept our men working! Now there’s nothing in the valleys but empty bellies and empty Bolshevik principles to go with them. No one gains any fat from principles!’

  ‘What – keep them working by joining the bosses’ Federation, and the blacklegs? That’s slavery, Hywel, and you know it. The slavery of ownership and capital. The workers are making the revolution – here today, whether they’re in work or not. They’ll show their strength in Tonypandy . . .’ Gwen could hear a particular desperation in Daniel’s voice as he tried to impress his views on the old man. His fists were clenched, body tensed with emotion. She could see that this was a division which went back a long way and went deep. ‘There will be a new dawn, Hywel, if you’d only put your faith in it.’

  ‘The only place I put my faith is in almighty God, Daniel, and there was a time when you did the same. You’ve betrayed yourself by putting it anywhere else. Now don’t speak to me any more . . .’ He waved Daniel away with violent exasperation and continued on down the road.

  ‘God didn’t stop them throwing my ma into gaol, did he?’

  Gwen was shocked to the core. Theresa in gaol? Whatever was Daniel talking about?

  The old man strode furiously along the road. Gwen waited behind Daniel and saw he was quivering with emotion. After a moment, he shook his head and let out a sharp sigh, turning to her. ‘Hywel Jones and my da were in the Labour Party together. He never forgave Da for becoming a Communist.’ He gave Gwen a look, revealing a vulnerability which touched her. ‘Why can’t he see? Why can’t they all see?’

  She had no answer for him. She wanted to ask about Theresa, what had happened. Why had he never said anything before?

  ‘Daniel?’ But he shook his head and turned away. This was not the right moment. Silently she reached for his hand and they walked on.

  They were evidently near the edge of the little town, soon the houses ended and from the road they could see right across the valley. They stopped for a moment and Gwen became aware of the wind in the grass.

  ‘It’s lovely, Daniel.’ She was slightly breathless from the walk.

  ‘It is.’ He nodded, smiling. He seemed to be calmer again. ‘Your cheeks have gone pink!’

  The valley lay spread out in front of them, a deep summer green dotted with little cottages. Further away, far down to their left, she saw the dark, protruding shapes of the pit, and heaped beyond, black, ugly mounds of slag. In front of them, where they stood, beyond the green swathe of the valley, rose the flank of the mountain on the other side. The breeze blew across, strong and fresh, and there were flowers in the grass at her feet. Further down the bank she saw a shining thread of water and realized there must be a spring running down to the valley.

  Daniel went to put his arms round her from behind, but instantly the stance reminded her of Edwin.

  ‘Don’t.’ She spoke abruptly and to soften it turned round to him. ‘I can’t see you if you stand behind me.’ They stood side by side and put their arms round one another, breathing in the fresh, clear air.

  ‘Was that the pit you worked in?’

  Daniel nodded. ‘And my da. And Uncle Anthony and Billy.’ He gave a deep sigh. ‘Not many of the old butties left working it now, what with them splitting them all up and scab labour, and foreigners being brought in.’

  He pointed out things to her, the railway threading along and the stream in the valley.

  ‘Over the mountain there, there’s one of the steel works – all deserted. At night-time it used to send up a great glow. It’s just a heap of rust now, poking up into the sky.’

  They stood in silence for a moment, and then she said, ‘Love, why did your mother go to prison?’ The emotion behind his outburst had affected her strongly. ‘You never said before.’

  ‘No.’ Daniel evidently didn’t want to expand on it. ‘I know.’ After more silence, in the sound of the wind, he turned to her.

  ‘We’re going to do it today.’ There was a catch in his voice. ‘Another step towards the revolution for our people. Aren’t we?’

  He looked searchingly at her, an appeal in his eyes, and she saw that he was still feeling the old man’s anger. She looked back and squeezed his waist, wanting to believe that it was true. Russia, the Bolsheviks and collectivization, the idea that things could change so radically still felt distant and unreal. She wondered if he realized how faint her belief was. She wanted to believe it for him because it moved him so much. Because of Auntie Shân, and because it was his life, and now hers too.

  ‘It will be a great day.’ She took his hand. ‘Come down here.’

  She made him follow her down the bank to the trickle of spring water, bubbling out from under a thatch of grass, and she lifted handfuls and washed her face.

  ‘Oh, it’s cold! It’s lovely!’ she laughed, and Daniel doused his face too. He took her in his arms then, and they kissed, hungrily, faces still wet.

  ‘I wish we could stay up here,’ she said longingly.

  ‘We’ll come back here again,’ Daniel said. ‘Just you and me.’ They walked back to the house, the wind blowing the water dry on their cheeks.

  ‘Auntie, we’ll be bringing Uncle Anthony back later!’ Daniel told Shân fondly as she fussed about what they were going to eat. ‘It’s not a week we’re going for. We’ve got to go back tonight.’

  ‘Are you not staying a while with us, Daniel?’ Gwen saw Billy looking disappointed too.

  ‘No, Auntie. But we’ll come back soon,
really we will.’

  Billy sat drinking in every word excitedly as they breakfasted on bread and tea. Gwen could see how hard he was trying not to show the bitterness he felt at having to be left behind. In a quiet moment she went to Shân in the tiny kitchen. She found her standing pensively by the stove as the kettle reboiled, her shawl pulled close round her shoulders.

  ‘Mrs Sullivan?’ The woman turned, smiling, her grey eyes full of kindness.

  Speaking softly, Gwen said, ‘I was wondering about Billy. I know how much he’d like to be going with us today. If I was to stay behind, he could have my place in the motorcar. I just don’t know if there’s a way he could manage at the other end. If they could carry him or something?’

  Shân Sullivan’s face softened, then shaded with further sadness. Slowly she shook her head.

  ‘It’s a kind heart you have, Gwen fach. But our Billy can’t go anywhere for very long. We’ve the wheelchair out the back, but you couldn’t be taking that. And Billy can’t even do his business without a helping hand, see. He’d soil himself and he’d hate that more than anything.’

  Gwen blushed, feeling stupid. ‘Sorry. Only I thought I’d ask. I would have stayed, if . . .’

  Shân touched her hand. ‘There’s the way it is. There are things that even God can’t do anything about.’

  Gwen sat on Daniel’s lap for the journey, the two of them squeezed in beside Ernest and Herbert, while Uncle Anthony sat in the front with Esther, who had replaced yesterday’s green and yellow bandanna with a bright scarlet one. He sat very upright, obviously ill at ease in this unaccustomed luxury. They set off towards Tonypandy, and decided to leave the car outside the town so they could join the others walking in for the demonstration.

  As they drew near, they started to see people moving along from quite some distance away along the mountain roads.

  ‘Let’s stop here!’ Daniel cried as they passed a group of people carrying a red banner between them, struggling with it as it bellied out in front in the wind. ‘It’s all wrong driving when other comrades are on foot!’

  ‘Quite right.’ Uncle Anthony sounded relieved at the suggestion.

  They were on a hill, looking over the town with its closely packed, slanting rows of houses. As they got out to join the general camaraderie of the walk into Tonypandy, Gwen began to realize the scale of what was happening. More and more people appeared, from cottages and villages over the mountains, increasing the thick column of people and banners. Herbert and Daniel struck up a conversation on the way with a group of men from the next town carrying an NUWM banner, which read, ‘STOP STARVATION IN BRITAIN’. Gwen saw the poor state they were in, their clothes limp with wear and faces gaunt with malnourishment.

  One told them about his wife’s death. ‘They said it was the tuberculosis,’ he said, his eyes filling, ‘but it all just wore her down. She half-starved herself for the rest of us. Wore herself into her grave, my Myfanwy did, and the little one followed soon after.’

  They were all convinced there would be thousands at the demonstration. The only sour note was a woman on the edge of the town, on her step in her bonnet.

  ‘You should all be kneeling before God on this Sabbath day,’ she called shrilly. ‘Not bowing to the idols of Bolshevism!’

  Infuriated, Daniel shouted back at her, ‘Does your God want children to starve then?’ Scowling, he faced the front again. ‘This is politics, not religion. Why can’t they see that?’

  Light clouds moved across the sun so that every few minutes they were bathed in its warmth. The mountains around them were so close that Gwen almost felt she could touch them. As they moved into Tonypandy, the streets were packed with people, flags and banners rippling around them in the breeze, and there were ragged outbreaks of singing among the crowd. Gwen felt her spirits rise and bubble into euphoria as they turned into De Winton Fields, the site of the demonstration, to the strains of

  Then raise the scarlet standard high,

  Within its shade we’ll live and die . . .

  She saw Daniel looking round at the hordes of people and red banners coming from all directions, his face breaking into a wondering smile.

  Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer,

  We’ll keep the red flag flying here!

  ‘Look at them all! That’s unity for you, Gwen fach! At last the message is getting through. Look at us – there’s thousand upon thousand here. We’re far stronger than they could ever know!’

  ‘I say.’ Esther moved closer. She and Ernest were carrying a BCPL banner between them. Ernest looked quite radiant. Esther took hold of Daniel’s arm. ‘Let’s see if we can get close to where the speakers are going to be.’

  Gwen felt herself tense up angrily. Why was Esther grabbing Daniel like that, as if she owned him? Her odd remark from last night about Daniel came back to her. Poor you! Gwen seethed. Had Esther been warning her off?

  Herbert, his thin, foxy face the most animated Gwen had ever seen it, was nodding enthusiastically. ‘We want to make sure we hear Lewis Jones,’ he said. His real hero was the NUWM leader Wally Hannington, but he was addressing the big demonstration in London that day. But Lewis Jones, a miner, had been elected as a county councillor in Glamorgan for the Communist Party – one of the only two Communist councillors.

  They inched their way through the growing throng of people towards the speakers’ platform. The morning seemed to pass quickly as De Winton Fields filled with more people than Gwen had ever seen together on one place before. Round them, people were singing and cheering. In front of her a banner read, ‘BREAD NOT BATONS’.

  At last, when the space was filled with demonstrators and police patrolling at the edges of the crowd, figures began to appear on the platform and a great cheer went up. A man came to the edge of the platform.

  ‘Comrades!’ he shouted. ‘Why are we here? We are here to defeat the means test! The iniquitous regulations of the UAB!’ Great rippling cheers and clapping followed each phrase, and it was some time before he could move on to the next. ‘As we gather here, our comrades in London are marching on Trafalgar Square with the same demands . . .’

  The first speaker was a local MP, then, after he’d finished, the strong, distinctive figure of Lewis Jones appeared on the platform. Gwen strained her ears trying to catch every word.

  ‘Comrades!’ he roared across the crowd, and they roared back in response. ‘Can we, from this vast demonstration, call for five hundred men and women who will march on London and take the fight to the Labour Members of Parliament, both inside and outside the House, against these cuts?’

  Lewis Jones was met by a vast swell of sound. He held up his hand until at last the shouting died down around the park.

  ‘We can light the flame,’ he cried, ‘that will consume these iniquitous regulations, and with them the National Government which gave them birth!’

  He was met by a huge, full-throated cry of enthusiasm which went on and on. Daniel was yelling and Esther and the others and Gwen heard herself shouting as she’d never shouted before from somewhere deep inside her, and she felt a power rise in her, as if something was unlocking, being untethered and she might lift off and fly free over all the heads in the park.

  They were all exhausted during the long drive back to Birmingham, and Gwen had to give Esther credit for her stamina in keeping going. Ernest offered to take over more than once, but she replied breezily, ‘I’m really quite all right, thank you. I’ll let you know if I need you.’

  Gwen slept for almost the entire journey, leaning alternately against the window and Daniel’s shoulder, exhausted by all the newness and excitement and fresh valley air. She woke when Daniel gently shook her arm.

  ‘Esther’s going to drop us off,’ he said. ‘We’re nearly there.’

  It was dark outside. Daniel gave directions to Millie and Lance’s place and soon Gwen was kissing Daniel goodbye and slipping into the dark hall. She switched on the light and looked at the clock. Nearly eleven o’clock. No doubt
Millie and Lance would already have turned in. Could she make a cup of tea without disturbing them, she wondered?

  The upstairs landing light was on, and when she crept upstairs, she saw that the light was also on in the little sitting room. Bother, she thought. Did that mean Lance was still up, sitting reading the paper? She was so tired, and she’d hoped to be able just to go to bed without facing anyone else. If he was up, though, it would be better to go and speak to him and get it over with. She put her head round the door, ready to say something brief. Her heart hammered with shock. Sitting in the chair by the reading lamp was Edwin.

  There was a silence as he sat looking up at her. At last he got to his feet.

  ‘So – you’ve come back.’

  Thirty-Three

  Seconds passed. Edwin didn’t move towards her.

  Gwen looked at him, trying to adjust to the situation. She could still feel Daniel’s goodnight kiss on her lips. Thank heavens he hadn’t come up here with her tonight! Edwin’s face was in shadow, but she could feel his gaze on her like a physical force.

  ‘I suppose they know you’re here?’ She jerked her head towards Millie and Lance’s room.

  ‘Of course. I’ve been here half the day. They were charming to me. Even provided me with bedding, as you see.’ He indicated the rolled-up eiderdown on a chair. ‘Not that they seemed to know where you were either.’

  His voice was clipped. She could feel the anger in him waiting to be released and she knew he was expecting her to tell him where she’d been.

  ‘I’m sorry – if I’d known you were coming . . .’ she said, taking a step back. ‘Look – I’ll put the water on. Would you like some tea?’ She hurried out of the room, trying to gather her thoughts as she filled the kettle and put it to heat on the two-ring stove. She felt cruel and sinful, yet also certain somewhere inside herself. She pulled her shoulders back and went into the room, closed the door and leaned against it, feeling utterly weary at what was to come. But they had to pass through this, somehow.