‘I give up.’ Fay straightened and smiled again. ‘Thank you, Nelly. If you would keep looking while you’re with the dogs, I’d be grateful.’
‘Course I will.’
Nelly frowned as Fay walked down the field to the main road. Fay hadn’t been looking for any watch, she was certain of that. So, what had she been doing she didn’t want to talk about? Nelly turned and looked in the direction of the castle, and wondered.
* * *
Nelly decided against the pictures and took the dogs when she went into town. Mrs Greener’s second hand clothes shop was shut when she reached it, but Nelly knocked on the side door. It was opened by the proprietress, who invited her inside, ushering her past the shop to the small back room where most of her transactions took place.
‘’Ello, Mrs Greener, dearie. Nice to see yer again.’ Nelly said as her suitcases were unpacked and examined. Mrs Greener accepted the clothing without hesitation or any argument about price. Nelly could be relied on to bring good stuff and never wasted her time on rubbish.
The amount of money was suggested politely while the unbelievably red curls on the seventy-year-old woman’s head bounced approval. A row of large teeth, as blatantly false as the curls were exposed in a friendly smile.
‘I’ll go and find the cash, dear.’ Mrs Greener backed, smiling, out of the door, leaving Nelly in the small, over-filled room with its wardrobes and shelves, and rails of clothes; some draped with cloth of indefinable colour, bleached with age. Mrs Greener was not gone long, but Nelly had time to count the seventeen odd buttons on the floor amid the fluff and dust and assorted strands of cotton.
A wardrobe stood half open, revealing a row of sombre men’s suits. The sight made Nelly shiver. There was something eerie about the sight. If they could talk, they’d ’ave some stories to tell and I doubt if any would make me laugh, she thought nervously.
‘Nelly, dear,’ Mrs Greener gushed on her return. ‘I’d love to ask you to stay for a drink, but I have guests.’ Her rheumy eyes were sad with disappointment.
Nelly shrugged. ‘What a shame, dearie. It’s ages since we ’ad a chat. Still, I couldn’t stay meself, got a friend waitin’ in the pub.’ She edged thankfully away from the funereal suits with their smell of old flowers, and death.
Mrs Greener closed the door on Nelly almost before she had stepped outside, to prevent the dogs leaving their mark. Both women said an affectionate good-day, neither believing nor offended by the other’s lies.
The public house near the second hand clothes shop was run by an elderly man who refused any improvements, being too set in his ways to face the upheaval. The floor in the small bar where Nelly drank was of large paving stones of slate, washed each day with a mop and occasionally spread with sand in the old way, to clean its surface.
Nelly tucked the dogs out of sight under her bench seat and drank two glasses of Guinness and ate three packets of crisps. She did not stay long; she was tired and the drink made her drowsy. Carrying her cases, one inside the other, and with a spare bottle for later, she caught the bus back to Hen Carw Parc.
The bus was full and it warmed her, relaxed her and before she reached her stop near the church, sent her to sleep. Laughter, as a group of young people got off, woke her and looking out of the steamy windows, she saw she had passed her lane and was approaching The Drovers Arms. She shouted for the conductor to stop the bus and struggled down the stairs with the case and the dogs.
As the bus went on its way she hesitated, looking at the welcoming lights of the public house, and at the grass-edged path beside the road home. ‘Come on, dogs, we’ll ’ave just one before the walk.’ Leaving her case just inside the door, she went in, looking hopefully for a familiar face and the prospect of a chat.
She saw Harry Beynon in a corner, talking to a woman. Not Prue, she thought, screwing up her eyes and staring at the blonde head that was definitely not his wife. She moved closer and recognising Amy, waved a greeting and went over.
‘Hello, Nelly love,’ Amy smiled. ‘Can I get you one?’ She held up her glass.
‘Oh, ta!’ Nelly smiled at Harry, who asked what she would like then went to the bar to get it.
‘Coincidence me meeting Harry here,’ Amy said when he returned with the gin. ‘It isn’t certain yet,’ Amy said confidentially, ‘but I might be getting my shop altered, you know, made bigger, using the back room.’
Nelly made a horrible noise and mimed cutting her throat.
‘Cut me throat if I says a word!’
Harry left soon after and after discussing some ideas for the improvements, Amy announced she was catching the bus. Nelly, holding her third gin, waved her goodbye, saying she would prefer the walk.
When Nelly stood up to leave, she felt a trifle unsteady, and outside the cold air increased her tendency to lean sideways. She reached the bus stop, but was afraid she might disgrace herself and be sick, so she set off shakily along the path.
As she neared the village her head began to clear and tiredness overcame her. She sat down to rest on a seat placed by some kind-hearted benefactor, whose name was engraved on a plaque, and closed her eyes.
‘Nelly? You all right, love?’
Opening her eyes, Nelly screwed them up and peered into the darkness. ‘Amy? Fancy seeing you. Where you bin then? I thought you was catchin’ the bus.’
‘I met a friend and we were talking,’ Amy said, rather too quickly. ‘All right, are you?’
‘Yes, just a bit tired. You go on, I’ll get meself ’ome all right.’
‘I’ll walk with you as far as your lane. Where have you been, into town is it?’
‘Yes, ’ad a bit o’ business.’
Amy walked to the lane, then watched while the two great dogs dragged her out of sight. ‘Hope she’ll be all right,’ Amy muttered, but looking up into the blackness of the hedge-lined lane, decided she could not face following her to make sure.
She went home, where Margaret and Freddy were waiting for their supper, wondering if Nelly had been sufficiently convinced by their explanation of her and Harry’s meeting. Crossing the road, she shrugged away the slight anxiety. No one took any notice of Nelly. Dirty Nelly they called her, living in a tumbledown cottage that should be condemned, with dogs, chickens and a windup gramophone for company, who would take notice of anything she said?
* * *
Early next morning, Nelly, fully recovered, went again to look at the castle site. The bedding was back in the kitchen. She frowned. If it was Alan, why was he living so close to his old home and not going there? Perhaps he’s lost his mind, she thought with a start of fear. Poor bloke, ’e’ll be wanderin’ around like a ghost, ’auntin’ the places of ’is child’ood. And what if ’e should bump into Mrs French. What a shock that’d be for them both.
The thought saddened her and needing to do something, however useless, she went back home and collected a small, freshly baked loaf and a piece of cheese from her meagre ration, with a slice of seed cake, and took it to the castle kitchens. As she was putting it on the makeshift bed, something sparkled and she reached out and picked up a small diamante-adorned lady’s watch. ‘Messages, eh. Seems I ain’t the only one keepin’ an eye out for yer, Alan French if that’s ’o, you are.’ She replaced the watch and went thoughtfully home.
* * *
On Saturday mornings, Amy’s son Freddy went to work on Prue’s garden. After several boys had tried to please her exacting standards and failed, Freddy had offered to help for the few shillings Prue offered and had become quite interested in the flowers he tended.
Prue watched him from the kitchen window, taking a slightly guilty pleasure in the way he lifted the soil on the spade and threw it down as he prepared the holes for some new roses she had bought.
Freddy was big for his age, and strong. His shoulders under the sleeveless vest he wore, rippled as he lifted, turned and dropped the spadefuls of earth, such rhythm in his movements that she felt he could continue all day without tiring. She tapped the
glass and showed him a tea cup and he waved and, leaving his work, came to get his drink and the cake she had cut for him.
‘Thanks, Auntie Prue. Those roses will look a treat from here, won’t they? Better than that old lavender. Had its day that had. Straggly.’
She nodded and watched as he ate hungrily, anxious to get back and finish the planting.
‘Coming out to make a ceremony of the planting, Auntie Prue?’ he asked when he had finished.
‘I’ll watch from here,’ she said.
As he walked away and bent once more to his work, she felt a surge of excitement pass through her and she turned away from the window. He was a boy, only fifteen, she reminded herself. But his body was that of a man, and had a strange effect on her.
Prue had had no experience of men outside marriage, and little within it. The sensation Freddy had produced frightened her. She was very gruff with him when he came in to be paid, and hardly spoke when he explained about the necessary watering and feeding which he had learnt, he told her, from a library book.
She heard Harry’s car and went down from the landing window where she had been watching for his return. In the neat kitchen she began the final touches to the casserole. He was whistling and when the door opened to reveal his cheerful face, her heart leapt. The foolishness with Freddy forgotten, she felt that love for Harry which, even after more than fourteen years, was still as strong as it had always been. She added the mixed cornflour to the meat and vegetables, stirring it in before returning the dish to the oven. She did not greet him with more than a brief nod.
‘That smells good, Prue. How long will it be?’
‘Only about twenty minutes. You’ve time to wash.’
‘I’ll make a start on these straight after.’ He patted the files he had brought in with him. ‘They’ll take me most of the afternoon, then I might go for a pint with some of the boys. Got to keep the workers sweet,’ he said.
‘I wish you’d let me help with the books, Harry. I keep offering and I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to. After all, it was me who did them in the early years. In fact, I did the lot while you were in the R.A.F. It would give you more time; I mean you’d be home earlier.’ She wanted to say ‘so we could spend more time together’ but the truth stuck in her throat. ‘Trying to get a meal ready for you isn’t easy you know. If you came home at a set time my work could be better arranged.’
‘It’s not me you miss then?’ he teased.
‘Put the bath towel in the linen basket when you’ve finished with it, not in a heap on the floor.’ Prue went over to the table and placed the cruet more precisely, then straightened the knives and forks.
‘Won’t be long.’ He touched her shoulder as he passed, and she heard him dropping his files on his desk, before running, whistling happily up the stairs to the bathroom.
She checked the vegetables and walked idly into his office, looking at the piles of books and files in dismay. Harry would be working late again tonight. Another night when she would be sleeping alone. He slept in the spare room when he came up late, out of consideration for her he said, although she was often awake. She couldn’t call him though, that would be too embarrassing. So she was left to sleep alone in the big, cold bed.
‘I met Amy the other day,’ he said as they ate. ‘In The Drovers of all places. I’d called in for a pint on the way home and she was there. Needed a break from the shop and the kids she said.’
‘I don’t like to see women on their own in public houses.’
‘She doesn’t do it often, does she?’
‘She rang to tell me she’d seen you. Nelly was there too wasn’t she? And the worse for wear?’
‘Poor old Nelly. Not much of a life, hers. I bought her a gin but I doubt it was the first she had.’
‘Fell asleep on the bus she told Amy. Passed her stop and thought she might as well have a few more before walking home. Disgusting.’
‘It doesn’t happen often. Perhaps she gets a bit lonely. Not many people call, only Johnny Cartwright and his mother, and I expect Johnny is less inclined to go now he’s married.’
‘Her Evie won’t like it. Better class of person altogether, Evie and her husband – Timothy is it?’
‘I don’t think having Dirty Nelly for a mother fits Evie’s ideas about herself!’ Harry said, his eyes shining with laughter. ‘Just imagine them introducing her to the school governors!’ He looked at Prue, encouraging her to join in his laughter, but she remained stony-faced as he went on, ‘Can’t you see it? Nelly with her dogs tied up with old rope and carrying her smelly shopping bag. Smelly Nelly, do meet Mr and Mrs Norwood Bennet Hughes.’ He helped himself to the last of the casserole then, still chuckling, went into his office to begin the work waiting for him on his desk.
Prue sat for a while, thinking about Nelly and how embarrassed her daughter would be if she knew. Several times she convinced herself it was her duty to tell her, but stopped as her hand touched the phone, glancing at the office door. Then, taking the phone on its long cord into the kitchen she spoke to Evie.
She commiserated at first, pretending surprise that Evie did not know about her mother’s escapades. Then she suggested, oh so tactfully, that it might be kinder if Mrs French did not employ her any longer. ‘So she doesn’t have the surplus money to spend so unwisely.’
What a relief not to see that disgusting old woman around the Close, she thought, as she mixed her tea and went to sit down. The best thing all round. Feeling she had done her duty, she drank her tea satisfied.
* * *
Monica French was angry. She had refused to listen to Prue’s criticism of Nelly, reminding her that Nelly was entitled to spend the money she honestly earned, in what ever way she chose. But when Evelyn had telephoned and added her persuasions, she had reluctantly agreed. She went to sleep far from satisfied that she had done the best thing.
Chapter Five
Coming back from ‘doing’ for Mrs Dorothy Williams a few days later, Nelly called in for some fish and chips. Sitting outside her door on the old wooden chair, she shared the meal between herself and the two dogs. She patted the dogs from time to time, taking comfort from their friendliness and warmth. Although she mmm’d contentedly as she ate, her brown eyes showed worry.
She did not hear anyone coming until the gate creaked and she looked up as the dogs barked and wagged their tails in welcome.
‘Johnny! ’ello dearie. I ain’t seen you fer ages. Stop an’ ’ave a cuppa why don’t yer?’ She hugged him then went inside to turn the kettle back over the fire. Taking out another chair, she sat, grinning with pleasure at his visit.
‘Tell me ’ow you’re gettin’ on. Like bein’ married, do yer? That Fay spoilin’ yer is she?’
‘It’s great! Spoiling me rotten. Nelly, I’m so lucky to have a wife like Fay. Far smarter than me she is. Don’t know how I managed to get her and that’s a fact.’
‘Go on, you daft ’aporth! Lucky girl is Fay. Good catch you was, young Johnny.’ She waited as he sipped his tea, guessing there was something he wanted to talk about. She had known him well, ever since she had first come to live in Hen Carw Parc and could read his every mood. His thin, boyish face was unusually serious. The moustache he grew to make him look more mature, looked out of place on the almost child-like features. His straight hair fell across his eyes but did not hide the sadness in them.
Johnny was a small man and today, he seemed to have shrunk, gone inside himself, had become more of a boy without confidence, whereas, during his engagement to Fay, he had looked older, more buoyant. Now something had sapped his pride. Nelly thought of the watch left by Fay in the hope of it being found by Alan. Surely she hadn’t allowed love for a ghost to spoil things? Not with Johnny alive, well and loving her so much?
‘Nothin’ wrong is there, young Johnny?’ she asked hesitantly.
‘No. It’s just – well, I want a baby see, and Fay, she wants to go on working. Loves her job she does, and she’s good at it. Thinks she’ll climb
the ladder where her job’s concerned. Not like me. I love driving that old bus, and I don’t want anything more. Fay’s different. Won’t stop working and have babies.’
‘Don’t blame ’er, not for a while anyway!’ Nelly spoke firmly. ‘You don’t want to spend years an’ years livin’ in yer Mum’s place, do yer? Not fair to you, Fay nor yer Mum that ain’t. Fay’s got ambition, Johnny. Not only fer ’erself. She wants a nice ’ouse like what she was brought up in. Give ’er time to get somewhere nice to live, then whisper in ’er ear, gentle like one night.’ She gave him a broad wink. Johnny laughed. ‘Nelly, you’re a real romantic!’
‘Yes an’ who’d ’ave thought it, eh? Don’t think I’ve always bin Dirty Nelly, livin’ alone. It’s all right, I knows what they calls me. Too well I do.’
‘Has anyone been rude to you? Tell me if they have.’
‘Only me own daughter. Not much you can do about ’er. Someone told my Evie that I was drunk and incapable on the bus an’ in The Drovers. Someone, an’ I’ve a good idea who, told my Evie and Evie asked Mrs French not to employ me no more. There, what d’you think of that, Johnny? Me own daughter gettin’ me the sack. Very upset Mrs French was, but I suppose Evie was convincing. But what do I do? Got to earn a bit of money.
‘I can’t manage without. I’ve cut down all I can. Live on a knife edge now. I’ve stopped ’avin’ a paper, although I’d love to ’ave the paperboy comin’ every mornin’. Cheerful lad ’e is. I do buy a few stamps now an’ then. I sends off for things from the paper, so as Phil Davies the postman ’as an excuse to call.’
Johnny put an arm on her shoulders. ‘Don’t worry, Nelly, I’ll have a word with Mrs French. No. Better still. I’ll ask Fay to talk to your Evie and Mrs French. Better with words and arguments, Fay is. You should hear her in shops. And terrifying she is with waiters.’ He smiled proudly. ‘Yes, Fay’s the one to sort this out.’
A Welcome in the Valley Page 6
