Pontypridd 01 - Hearts of Gold

by Catrin Collier

  ‘Only the devil’s paramour would run after the devil.’

  Colour flooding into his cheeks, Eddie slammed the door shut and thumped his fist impotently on the jamb.

  ‘The hymn.’

  Flustered by John Joseph’s abrupt order, Hetty began to play, mixed up the notes, and it took another curt command from her husband for her to realise that she was still playing “There Is A Green Hill Far Away”.

  People shuffled back to their seats. John Joseph returned to the rostrum, singing every step of the way. He’d stage managed the affair brilliantly. The words that resounded into the air, thrilling the congregation were “Fight The Good Fight With All Thy Might.”

  Eddie didn’t return to his seat. When Bethan looked back she saw that he’d remained standing in front of the closed door, staring at John Joseph.

  ‘Christ is thy strength and Christ thy right,’ John Joseph bellowed. ‘Lay hold on life and it shall be …’

  The deacons picked up the collecting plates. Another musical note joined with the singing – the quiet clinking of coins.

  Bethan reached for the white straw bag she’d bought to go with her new dress and fumbled for her purse. She clicked it open and felt the coins inside. Taking out two joeys – silver three penny bits, she slipped one to Maud and held the other in her gloved hand.

  The collecting plate was full by the time it reached her. It always was at Easter. People who couldn’t afford to put food on their tables more than once a day always seemed to find pennies for the collecting plate. They were too afraid of John Joseph not to.

  She waited for Maud to lay her offering on the plate, then turned to pass it to the pew behind her. As she did so she glimpsed one of the deacons handing Eddie a server. Eddie took it, and passed his hand over the plate before returning it to the deacon with a wry smile. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she’d seen Eddie remove, not add coins. The notion troubled her and she glanced back when the hymn had finished.

  Eddie slipped his hands into his pockets as he returned to his seat alongside Haydn.

  Then she knew for certain. She looked nervously at John Joseph. He’d closed his hymnal and was beginning the prayers. If he’d noticed anything he would have announced it to the assembly. Of that much she was certain. Two castings’ out in one day would have been too good an opportunity to miss.

  Eddie was the first to leave the chapel. William and Haydn weren’t far behind him. Bethan followed as soon as she mustered Maud and Diana.

  ‘Straight home?’ Haydn asked, looking to Bethan.

  ‘I’m calling in on Rhiannon Pugh.’

  ‘There’s nothing you can do, Beth,’ Haydn said.

  ‘What you’re trying to say is I’ve my reputation to think of,’ she retorted hotly.

  ‘Our mam will already be there,’ William chipped in trying to defuse the situation.

  ‘Your mam hasn’t got a reputation to care about,’ Glan smirked as he joined them.

  ‘You take that back right now.’

  ‘Or?’ Glan taunted.

  ‘Or I’ll punch you on the mush.’

  ‘Not here, later on the mountain if you have to,’ Haydn whispered, looking to the chapel doorway as he stepped between them.

  ‘Name the time and place,’ Glan retorted.

  ‘The old quarry, three o’clock this afternoon.’

  ‘I’ll be there.’

  John Joseph, with a deacon and three middle-aged women walked into a puddle of sunshine on the pavement and remained there talking. Diana forced a smile, took hold of her brother’s arm and pulled him round the corner, the others following at a slower pace.

  ‘Push off, Glan,’ Diana ordered vehemently once they were out of earshot.

  ‘It’s a free country.’

  ‘You’re not wanted.’ Eddie crossed his arms over his chest and blocked Glan’s passage. ‘Get the message.’

  Glan took the hint. As the others climbed the flight of stone steps that led from Graig Street to Leyshon Street, he retreated around the corner.

  ‘Beats me why she came to chapel in the first place.’ William brought up the topic uppermost in everyone’s mind.

  ‘Beats me how John Joseph knew.’ Haydn leaned against the railings and waited for Bethan and Diana to walk up the steps. ‘I didn’t even realise she was knocking around with anyone.’

  ‘Whoever he is, he’s a right bastard to leave her to go through that on her own.’

  ‘Eddie! Language!’ Haydn reprimanded.

  ‘Well he is,’ Eddie protested.

  ‘I agree with Eddie,’ Diana said warmly. ‘From a woman’s point of view …’

  ‘Woman!’ William choked on the square of chewing gum he’d put into his mouth.

  ‘We are women too,’ Maud insisted. ‘Everyone knows girls mature long before boys.’

  ‘And who told you that, rat’s tails?’ Eddie pulled the plait that stuck out beneath Maud’s straw hat.

  ‘Never you mind.’ She linked arms with Diana and they walked on up the street, their noses in the air.

  ‘Look out,’ William shouted to the neighbours who’d moved their kitchen chairs into the street to enjoy the spring sunshine. ‘Their ladyships are airing their maturity.’

  ‘Don’t you three ever let up?’ Bethan said irritably.

  ‘Sorry, Beth,’ Haydn apologised.

  ‘You could at least sound sorry.’

  ‘I am. I really am.’ He held out his hands, palm up.

  ‘You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to tread the boards in the Town Hall instead of scrubbing them.’

  ‘Ouch, Beth, that hurt. Come on, I’ve said Iʼm sorry. What more do you want me to do?’ He dropped the pose and slipped his arm round her shoulders. ‘Don’t let it get to you.’

  ‘Don’t let what get to me?’ She asked, removing his arm.

  He shrugged and grinned at her. ‘The weather?’ he suggested mildly.

  ‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’

  ‘I see that uncle of yours has been at it again.’ Mrs Plumett, who lived two doors down from Megan, nodded to Bethan and Haydn.

  ‘He’s no uncle of ours,’ Eddie said warmly.

  ‘Shame on him,’ Mrs Plumett continued as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘Nice girl like Phyllis too. She deserves better than that. Caring for Rhiannon the way she has all these years. Your mam’s up there now, doing what she can,’ she said to William. ‘And Rhiannon’s already said that Phyllis will go to the workhouse over her dead body. As long as she has a roof over her head, she’ll see that Phyllis has one too. Mind you,’ she whispered, dropping her voice, ‘If you ask me Rhiannon hasn’t been looking too well lately and then … well …’ she pulled the edges of her cardigan together, trying to make the sides meet across her vast bosom, ‘there’s no saying what’ll happen then. Phyllis could end up on the street yet. You know what Fred the dead is like?’ she prattled on, referring to the local undertaker cum builder who owned a fair number of the houses in both Phillip and Leyshon Street. ‘He won’t let a woman like Phyllis take on the rent book, you can be sure of that,’ she finished, triumphant in the knowledge that she’d been the first to think that far ahead.

  ‘I’m sure that whatever needs doing to help Phyllis or Rhiannon will be done,’ Bethan replied noncommittally.

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure of that if I were you. You know John Joseph and his brigade. Holier than thou and a moth-eaten blanket. Still, you being a nurse and working on the labour ward, you could do a lot if your uncle lets you.’

  ‘You can count on me to do whatever I can.’

  ‘And I’m sure Phyllis will be grateful. I must go or my old man’s dinner will be burnt.’ With that she ran through her open front door down the passage and into her back kitchen.

  Bethan heard the washhouse door slamming and Mrs Plumett calling to her neighbour over the wall.

  ‘In five minutes it’ll be all over the Graig that you approve of Phyllis. And that, dear sister, as far as t
he gossips go, makes you no better than her.’

  ‘Seems to me Maud’s right.’ Bethan glared at him. ‘It’s always the women who are left to clear up the mess.’

  * * *

  Before going to chapel Elizabeth had prepared the Sunday dinner of rolled breast of lamb, stuffing, mint sauce, roast potatoes, cabbage and gravy to celebrate Easter. She’d also given her children strict instructions to hurry home after the service to help her put the finishing touches to the meal. But angry and restless, Bethan stuck by her decision to visit Phyllis.

  She went to Rhiannon’s house alone, making Maud and the boys walk the long way home past the Graig Hotel but she saw neither Rhiannon nor Phyllis. Megan had taken charge of the house, and she was keeping most of the neighbours, particularly the gossips, firmly at bay.

  Rhiannon and Phyllis were sitting in the front parlour, in itself an event, for no one had entered the room except to clean it since the funeral of Rhiannon’s husband and son.

  The door was firmly closed and Megan was ferrying cups of tea through from the kitchen when Bethan knocked and walked in.

  ‘Oh it’s you, love,’ Megan said, dropping the aggressive stance she’d adopted.

  ‘I came to see if I could help,’ Bethan murmured rather inanely. Now she was actually in the house she felt quite useless. And nosy. Just like Mrs Plumett.

  ‘If I thought you could do anything to help I’d take you in, love, but they’re best left on their own for a bit. Rhiannon needs to get used to the idea of Phyllis being in the family way. I’ll be back in a minute.’ Megan pushed open the door with her hip and took in the tea. When she left she carried out two empty cups and saucers stacked in one hand. She closed the door and took Bethan into the back kitchen.

  ‘I’m staying for a bit,’ Megan continued. ‘Just to see to the callers.’

  ‘It was awful …’ the tears she’d kept buried, beneath a surface of anger welled into Bethan’s eyes.

  ‘You don’t have to tell me, love,’ Megan said bitterly. I’ve seen John Joseph’s casting outs for myself.’

  ‘I should have done something.’

  ‘What?’ Megan demanded.

  ‘I don’t know. Something. I could at least have helped her to get out of the chapel quicker.’

  ‘If you’d tried to help Phyllis you’d only have given them an excuse to throw stones at you as well. No, love, it’s my guess that you did the same thing I did when your uncle cast out Minnie Jones the year our William was born.’

  ‘Sit tight and watch,’ Bethan said disparagingly. ‘That doesn’t make me feel any better.’

  ‘I didn’t say it would. But I made my protest afterwards,’ Megan said proudly. ‘I swore I wouldn’t set foot in the chapel again while John Joseph preached there, and I haven’t.’

  ‘Are you telling me to do the same thing?’

  ‘No one can tell you to do anything like that, love.’ Megan filled the kettle in the washhouse and walked back into the kitchen to set it on the range. ‘That has to be between you and your conscience. But I do know this much. If you decide to boycott chapel you’ll have your mother as well as John Joseph to contend with. And that’s without bringing God into it.’

  Chapter Nine

  ‘Cat got your tongue?’ Andrew asked Bethan as he changed down into second gear, in preparation for the long slow drive up Penycoedcae hill.

  ‘No,’ she said abruptly. Too abruptly.

  ‘Come on, something’s the matter,’ he pronounced with an irritating superiority. ‘I know it is, so you may as well tell me first as last.’

  ‘Are you church or chapel?’ she demanded,

  ‘That’s a strange question. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I just wondered.’

  ‘Church. St Catherine’s.’ He named the largest church in town that stood, resplendent in all its Victorian glory in the centre of Pontypridd, next to the police station on Gelliwastad Road. A church that catered unashamedly for the crache of the town.

  ‘You would be,’ she said bitterly.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Nothing, take no notice. It’s just me.’ She stared blindly out of the car window, oblivious to the fresh spring beauty of budding trees and green fields.

  ‘Look, baa lambs.’

  ‘Second childhood?’ she enquired frostily.

  ‘I always think the mothers look so old and grubby compared with the young,’ he continued unabashed.

  ‘A bit like the difference between young girls and old women.’

  ‘You sound like one of the old women.’

  ‘I feel like one.’

  ‘I don’t know, you get Easter Sunday and Monday off, the two days any one of the staff nurses would give their souls, if not their virtue, for. Presumably you’ve had nothing more taxing to do this morning than go to church and eat lunch with your family. And now you have a highly desirable and amusing bachelor at your disposal, and what do you do? You growl in a mood more fitted to a night of thunder storms than a heavenly spring day.’

  Lunch – she thought bitterly. Just one more word to remind her of the gulf between his family and hers. The crache consumed lunch on the Common, the working class downed dinner on the Graig.

  ‘I don’t go to church, I go to chapel,’ she snapped.

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ he apologised heavily. ‘I didn’t mean to upset your ladyship.’

  ‘I know you didn’t.’ Her anger deflated into shame. ‘I told you, it’s me.’

  ‘Would it help to talk about whatever it is?’

  She closed her eyes against the glare of the sunshine and remembered the events of the morning. Each and every shameful detail was recalled in appalling clarity. John Joseph, his dark eyes shining as he stood triumphant and secure in the midst of his deacons. Phyllis pathetic and cowed, spittle running down her spring dress, blood on her cheek where the stone had hit her.

  ‘No,’ she said decisively.

  ‘In that case do you mind telling me where we’re going?’

  ‘Anywhere.’

  ‘Mumbles’ Pier so I can throw you off?’

  She looked at him. He stuck his tongue out. She laughed in spite of herself.

  ‘That’s better.’ He narrowed his eyes against the strong sunlight. ‘Pass my sunglasses please, they’re in the glove compartment. Now can we discuss where we’re going?’

  ‘Anywhere you want to.’

  ‘Anywhere?’ He raised his eyebrows, and adopted an excruciating foreign accent. ‘Right, young woman, how about I carry you off somewhere warm and exotic. Like –’ he leaned across and whispered close to her ear – ‘a silk-draped harem in the wilds of the Sahara.’

  ‘Saw too many Rudolf Valentino films when you were young, did you?’ she enquired sarcastically.

  ‘Of course, didn’t every child? My mother used to drag me along every chance she got. Life with Father was so very, very humdrum.’

  ‘That I don’t believe.’

  ‘You’ve only ever seen my father directing patients’ treatments and hospital policy. At home my mother won’t allow him to be important.’

  ‘Just how many other women would you like in this harem of yours?’

  ‘That depends on how quickly you wilt in a hot climate.’

  ‘Why you …’

  ‘Don’t hit me when I’m driving or we’ll end up in a ditch.’ He swung the car around the corner past the Queen’s Hotel, carried on for a couple of miles until the few cottages that were Penycoedcae were well and truly behind them, then pulled into the side of the road. Leaving the engine running he reached across, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her full on the mouth.

  She relaxed against him, warm and secure in his embrace. They’d come a long way since the awkward beginnings of their first outing to Cardiff.

  ‘Right, for the last time where do you want to go?’ He released his hold on her and turned to face the wheel.

  ‘The sea?’ she suggested.

  ‘Don’t you have to be
back early?’

  ‘No. I told my father to expect me when he sees me.’ She could have added “and now my mother knows better than to interfere” but her strained relationship with her mother was something she’d kept from Andrew.

  ‘Good.’ He pulled his watch from the top pocket of his silk shirt and flicked it open. ‘Two o’clock.’ He did some quick calculating. ‘If we get a move on we can have at least four hours there and still be back before midnight.’

  ‘Four hours where?’

  ‘You’ll see when we get there.’ He put the car into gear and pulled out into the lane, with his arm round her shoulders he steered skilfully along the winding road. She snuggled up to him, conscious of the warmth of his body beneath his blue blazer and thin shirt, the smell of his cologne as it clashed with and, finally overpowered the essence of violets she was wearing.

  ‘Share a cigarette?’ he asked.

  ‘Do I ever?’

  ‘It sounds more polite than asking you to light one for me.’

  She slid her hand into the blazer pocket closest to her and removed his gold lighter and cigarette case; lighting one, she placed it between his lips.

  ‘Thanks.’ He wound down the window and rested his elbow on the open ledge. ‘Settle down, we’ve a long way to go.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘The Sahara side of Porthcawl.’

  Knowing she wouldn’t get any sense out of him while he remained in this mood, she did as he suggested. Resting her head on his shoulder she closed her eyes, pushing the images of the morning’s service to the back of her mind.

  She wondered at the miracle that had enabled her to build a happy, relaxed relationship with Andrew despite the strain of their first outing together. Although they went out in a foursome with Trevor and Laura as often as staff rosters allowed, she preferred and treasured the times, like now when she and Andrew were alone. He was less of a public entertainer, more sensitive and aware of her feelings without an audience. And, although she still occasionally woke in the small hours, cold at the thought of where their relationship might end, afraid because she knew she’d come to rely on him far too much, she continued to be free of such worries while they were together. She felt incredibly alive when she was with him, a kind of elation that blocked out every other aspect of her life. It was as if she only really lived in his presence.