‘Their father has been killed. In North Africa. We received the telegram yesterday morning.’
‘And you haven’t come to tell them until now?’
‘Time was hardly of the essence. Besides, arrangements had to be made, and I have been extremely busy with other matters.’
Bethan gritted her teeth at the arrogant assumption that no one’s time, business or feelings were more important than Mrs Llewellyn-Jones’s own.
‘I don’t know if you’re aware that the army ceases to pay dependants’ allowance from the date of death, which in this particular case was fourteen days ago. So I am legally obliged to inform you that you will have to forfeit your next payment for the girls, and you will receive nothing to cover expenses incurred during the last fortnight. You can of course appeal -’
‘Where are you taking them?’ Bethan interrupted.
‘The homes. I’ve arranged immediate admittance. It wasn’t easy. Between munitions factory accidents and service losses there are more orphans in the town than there’ve ever been. Strictly speaking the Clarks are the responsibility of Lambeth Council, not Pontypridd, but we can hardly send them back there. It will be a different matter once the war is over.’ She removed a file from her bag. Opening it, she shuffled through the papers it contained. ‘Now let me see, Liza, the oldest is nearly seventeen. A girl of her background should have been put into service years ago. You say she is useful around the house?’
‘I couldn’t manage without her.’
‘She will have to go to the workhouse,’ Mrs Llewellyn-Jones declared officiously, ‘but given your recommendation and the shortage of domestics I doubt she’ll be there long. I could probably find a place for her myself.’
‘She wants to be a nurse.’
‘A laudable ambition, but hardly a feasible one for the daughter of an East End docker. I see there’s a fourteen-year- old too.’
‘Who has already completed her matriculation certificate. She will be leaving school at Christmas.’
‘I see no reason for her to remain there if she has already sat her examinations. She will go to Church Village Homes, but again, hopefully not for long. These days more and more households are prepared to put in the effort required to train young girls. I can’t overemphasise the shortage of domestics, but then you must be aware of that, having to take an unmarried mother.’ She frowned as she turned back to the file. ‘That leaves a girl of eleven who will also go to Church Village and a nine-year-old for Maesycoed Homes.’
‘I think given the circumstances we could bend the rules and send them to the same home, Mrs Llewellyn-Jones, don’t you?’ Mr Williams ventured timorously.
‘Bend the rules for one and you find yourself having to do it for all, Mr Williams. The regulations on age are quite specific. Infants from six weeks to three years to be housed in J ward in the workhouse, three to ten years, Maesycoed Orphanage, ten to sixteen’ years, Church Village Homes and sixteen plus, back to the workhouse.’
‘But Church Village is miles from Maesycoed. They’d never see one another, or the oldest in the workhouse. They lost their mother in the blitz, and now their father has made the supreme sacrifice.’
‘As have the fathers of many other children. Several of whom have siblings in institutions other than the one they are accommodated in.’
‘Have you already told the girls that their father has been killed?’ Bethan asked suddenly.
‘Of course, as soon as we came in. We wanted them packed and ready to move into the homes.’
‘There’s no need for them to go anywhere at this hour.’
‘But you’re no longer getting paid to keep them. You’re out of pocket as it is.’
‘I’m more concerned about the girls than my pocket.’
‘The sensible housewife puts practical considerations first in a time of national emergency. You have more than enough to do with full-time nursing, the other evacuees, your own children, and worry over poor Andrew. Every time I think of a fine doctor like him being held prisoner by those barbarians I want to go over there and tackle Adolf Hitler myself.’
‘At least he’s alive.’
‘I’m glad you can take comfort in that thought. His poor mother is suffering dreadfully. I doubt she’s had a night’s sleep since Dunkirk.’
Setting Rachel down, Bethan lifted Eddie in her arms and rose to her feet. Exhausted after a long, hard day, she couldn’t trust herself to keep her temper if she remained in the same room as Mrs Llewellyn-Jones a moment longer. ‘I’m sure the parish can have no objection to my keeping the girls for the time being. After all they’ve been with me for two years.’
‘But you’ll receive no payment.’
‘They are welcome to stay as my guests until something better than the workhouse and orphanage can be arranged.’
‘I have to warn you that the parish won’t even cover your expenses.’
‘I wouldn’t expect it to.’
‘You don’t understand. It’s not just a question of the girls, we need the accommodation.’
‘For more evacuees?’ Bethan glanced at Mr Williams who seemed to be engaged in trying to swallow his Adam’s apple.
‘Adult personnel,’ Mrs Llewellyn-Jones answered evasively.
‘Munitions workers?’ Bethan pressed, giving Rachel’s hand a reassuring squeeze. The frown on her daughter’s face grew more pronounced every time Mrs Llewellyn-Jones opened her mouth.
Mr Williams cleared his throat, but still no words came.
‘I have a right to know who you intend to billet in my home.’
‘Military personnel,’ Mrs Llewellyn-Jones said curtly.
‘How many?’
‘We’re not sure.’
‘You must have some idea.’
‘Possibly three, maybe five.’
‘The Clark girls share one bedroom. Surely you don’t expect five adults to move into one room?’
‘Mrs John mentioned that Andrew never got around to furnishing the top floor of this house. There has to be at least five rooms up there. With accommodation at such a premium in the town, it seems incredibly selfish of you not to put them to good use.’
Furious with her mother-in-law for discussing her domestic arrangements, Bethan struggled to keep her temper. She dare not give free rein to her thoughts. Mrs Llewellyn-Jones wielded considerable power in the town, especially over evacuees like the Clark girls. ‘Then if it is just the top floor you wish to requisition, you won’t need the girls’ room.’
Mr Williams couldn’t believe what he was hearing. In three years of war he had never seen anyone, man or woman, dare to question Mrs Llewellyn-Jones’s authority or judgement.
‘But there is just the one bathroom,’ she replied testily. ‘You’re twelve in the house already.’
‘There is an outside ty bach, and we have enough washstands and china to furnish all the children’s bedrooms.’
‘It sounds far from satisfactory to me.’
‘Mend and make do, Mrs Llewellyn-Jones. Isn’t that what we’ve all been told?’ Bethan’s face muscles were aching from the strain of smiling.
Mrs Llewellyn-Jones set down her plate, cup and saucer and rose majestically to her feet. ‘We’ll need to inspect the top floor and see what’s needed in the way of furniture and fittings.’
‘All you’ll find are bare walls and floorboards. I closed off the rooms when Andrew left and haven’t opened them since. Maisie?’
Sleeves rolled above water-reddened arms, the housekeeper appeared in the doorway.
‘Show Mrs Llewellyn-Jones and Mr Williams the top floor of the house, will you please?’ She turned to Mr Williams. ‘I hope you will excuse me for not accompanying you, but I’d like to talk to Liza and her sisters.’
‘Shall I send a car for them tomorrow?’ Unsure what, if any, decisions had been made regarding the future of the Clark girls, he looked from Bethan to Mrs Llewellyn-Jones.
‘I’ll telephone you in the next few days.’ Bethan gave him a warm smile before nodd
ing to Mrs Llewellyn-Jones. ‘If you need anything, just ask Maisie. Goodbye.’
‘Liza’s crying,’ Rachel said in a small voice as the sound of sobbing echoed down into the hall.
Bethan shifted Eddie higher into her arms as they climbed the stairs. ‘Let’s see if we can make her stop, shall we, poppet?’ She knocked on the door of the girls’ bedroom before walking in. All four were huddled together on the double bed the three youngest shared. The cheap cardboard suitcase they had brought with them lay open on Liza’s bed, the contents of their meagre wardrobes strewn around it.
‘I know about your father,’ Bethan said softly. ‘I’m so very sorry.’
‘He promised that we’d all go home after the war. That he’d get his old job back on the docks, rent another house, and furnish it just like the old one. And now we’ve got no one. We’ve got to go to the workhouse …’ Liza faltered as her younger sisters began to cry again. Bethan looked at them and realised they were too overwrought to discuss anything sensibly.
‘Liza?’ she beckoned to the older girl.
Fighting back tears, Liza followed her into the corridor.
‘We have to talk. Can you help me bath Rachel and Eddie, please?’
‘Yes, Mrs John.’ Squaring her thin shoulders, Liza followed her into the bathroom. She put in the plug and turned on the taps as Bethan peeled Eddie’s clothes from his small, plump body.
‘I am really sorry about your father, Liza, but right now we have to be practical and sort out your future.’
‘Yes, Mrs John,’ Liza answered mechanically as she tested the bath water.
‘You wanted to be a nurse? Well, I might be able to help you get a position as a nurse’s assistant in the Graig Hospital until you are old enough to begin training. That way you can earn some money while gaining useful experience.’
‘Would I earn enough to pay for my sisters’ lodge?’ she asked eagerly.
‘No, but you’d earn enough for your own. I warn you, it will be long hours and hard work.’
‘I can’t leave the others. I promised Dad I’d take care of them, no matter what …’ Her protestation ended in another flood of tears.
Helping Rachel pull her vest over her head, Bethan double-checked the water temperature before lowering first Eddie, then Rachel into the bath.
Liza struggled to regain control of herself ‘… when Ma was killed I thought I’d never be able to keep us together, then you took us in and I hoped we’d be all right until the end of the war. But that woman said that now Dad’s gone you won’t get a penny …’
‘I’ll do whatever I can to stop you from going into the workhouse, Liza, but keeping you together might be a bit of a tall order. Now that Mary’s got her certificate she can leave school. Mrs Raschenko was telling me only yesterday that she was looking for someone to live in and help her with the baby and the shop. Supposing I recommend Mary for the job?’
‘Mrs Raschenko’s nice. She’d see Mary all right. And we’d be able to visit her, wouldn’t we?’ Liza’s smile reminded Bethan of a rainbow after a storm.
‘Whenever you have time, and she could spend every Sunday here.’
‘That wouldn’t be like getting separated. But what about Polly and Nell? It will be years and years before they can work.’
‘Three years and five years isn’t years and years. Supposing we carry on as we are for the time being?’
‘They can stay here?’
‘With two of you working and keeping yourselves, it won’t be that much of a drain.’
‘We could chip in from our wages.’
‘Wait and see how much you and Mary earn before giving any of it away. Besides, Polly is almost as good at housework as you and Mary, and Nell is learning fast. I know it won’t be like having you here full time to help Maisie, because Polly will be in school, but when Rachel goes into the babies’ class at Christmas, there’ll only be Eddie at home so there won’t be so much to do.’ The more Bethan thought about it, the more she realised she couldn’t expect Maisie to cope on her own. Not if Mrs Llewellyn-Jones had her way and billeted military personnel on her as well. But if extra help was needed in the house, it was her problem, not Liza’s.
‘So none of us will have to go into the homes?’ Liza crouched beside the bath and soaped Eddie who was splashing water into Rachel’s face.
‘No, Liza,’ Bethan said firmly. ‘That never was an option.’
‘But that woman …’
‘… doesn’t run my home or your lives.’ Bethan dabbed at Rachel’s face with a towel. ‘I can manage here. Why don’t you go and see what your sisters think of our plans?’
The HEARTS OF GOLD series
by Catrin Collier
www.accentpress.co.uk
Past Remembering Page 42
