A Welcome in the Valley

by A Welcome in the Valley (retail) (epub)

  ‘I work. I have a job in a library. A back-room boy of course. I have a room too, but I find it hard to sleep indoors, even after eight years.’ He was trembling and Fay knew instinctively that this was not the time for more questioning.

  ‘Come home,’ she said. ‘Your mother is alone now. Your father died six years ago and your sister lives the other side of Cardiff. Come back with me and see her.’

  ‘I can’t.’ He began to get agitated and he looked around as if enemies unseen were surrounding him. ‘I have to go.’ He suddenly ran from her and she stood up and shouted, ‘Alan. Meet me again, please Alan. Please.’

  When she was alone, she was shaking and had to sit down. It was easy to believe the whole thing was a dream, something she had wished herself into experiencing.

  She made her way back through the ruin to the kitchen. On the floor was a bed made from branches, criss-crossed and covered with mosses and bracken. A blanket was thrown across it and on the floor beside it was a thermos flask and a packet of sandwiches. She covered the bed with the blanket, tucking it neatly in around the sides, finding strange comfort in doing something to help him.

  She returned from a rather unsuccessful day and sat on the wall all evening, waiting for him, but he did not appear. In Llan Gwyn, Johnny stood outside The Swan, waiting for his wife, who never came.

  * * *

  Every morning from then on, Fay walked up to the castle. She sometimes saw Nelly, and once they talked for a while about the flowers that filled the woods with colour, the patches of rosebay willow herb that grew in the clearings, the cow-parsley around the edges, and meadow sweet adding scent to the summer air.

  Nelly knew Fay was unhappy, and understood why. She longed to help the obsessed girl and could not find the words. What a muddle; Johnny in love with a girl who was in love with a ghost.

  While the weather was warm and dry, Nelly often went to the wood to attend to her early morning functions before getting dressed. One day she was digging up a few early potatoes, still in her night-dress, the hens clucking around her in the hope of a worm or two, the dogs watching her from their usual place near the door. From inside the cottage the sound of music came from her old windup gramophone which she left her digging at intervals to re-wind.

  A growl warned Nelly someone was coming, but she made no attempt to go inside, but stood, one foot on the fork, waiting for her visitor to arrive. She groaned when she saw Evie.

  ‘’Ello, Evie. You’re early this mornin’. Come fer a cuppa tea ’ave yer?’

  Evie dragged open the gate and demanded, ‘Mother! What are you doing?’

  ‘Diggin’ some ’taters for me dinner. What d’you think!’

  ‘In your nightdress?’

  ‘Ooh fancy! I fergot!’

  ‘I’m going to see the doctor.’

  ‘Not expectin’ again, are yer? That’d be nice.’

  ‘No I’m not. I’m seeing the doctor about you! I think he’ll agree with me, that you are in need of proper care.’

  ‘In need of care? Me? You do talk barmy sometimes, Evie.’

  ‘Your drinking. Your general behaviour. It’s – disgusting. Wandering about in your nightdress!’

  ‘As if I’d get up to any mischief with a fella just because I’m wearin’ a nightdress! You wear a pair of knickers and a bra that ’ardly ’ides your udders when you go bathin’!’

  ‘Mother!’

  ‘Mother!’ Nelly mocked.

  ‘I want to care for you, properly.’

  A fat lot she cares, Nelly thought, picking up the last of the small potatoes. All those years when she was away with never a call to see if I was all right. Alive even. Just a card and a posh present on me birthday. A ’uge, expensive card too. That’s a right giveaway that is. Cares? That’s a laugh that is.

  She threw the potato plant tops onto the compost heap, watched for a moment as the mother hen and the growing chicks ran to see if it was something edible, then turned to her daughter, a sad look on her brown face.

  ‘Sorry if I messes up yer posh act, Evie. I don’t wish you no ’arm, ’onest I don’t. But why did you come back?’

  ‘To look after you.’

  ‘Pull the other one,’ Nelly shouted. ‘You don’t give a monkey’s arse!’

  ‘Mother!’

  ‘Well you don’t! Be honest, why don’t yer?’

  When Evie had hurriedly left, Nelly washed herself in a bowl on the kitchen table, packed her suitcase and went for the bus. At the gate, she stopped. ‘There’s that big ugly clock Evie bought me fer Christmas,’ she said to the dogs. ‘Never did like it. I wonder if I can manage that as well?’ She put the dogs on their rope leads, and struggled back up the path with the clock. There were some stones on the path, a result of her earlier digging and she slipped and fell, the clock under her leg and for a time she lay there, while the dogs barked their concern.

  She stood up, and tested her leg, then kicked the clock and set off once again for the bus. She had hardly reached the first bend in the lane when she met the tramp.

  ‘Ello. Ain’t you the tramp that found my Mrs French’s purse?’

  ‘Yes. Hello again. Does this lane lead anywhere, or just serve the cottage?’

  Nelly thankfully put down the clock and the cases. ‘You can cut through the woods if you’re wantin’ the council ’ouses. Or go back down to the road to Llan Gwyn. Where you makin’ for?’

  ‘Somewhere to buy a bite to eat and a drink. A friendly pub will do.’

  Nelly’s eyes were studying his clothes as he talked. They were ill-matched, ill-fitting, but clean. Most surprising of all, his shoes were perfectly polished black leather.

  ‘There’s The Crown, or The Lamb and Flag,’ she said. ‘But they’re a long way off. Tell you what, ’ave a cuppa an’ a bite with me why don’t yer? I can easily get the next bus.’

  ‘I couldn’t —’

  ‘’Course you could. If you carry me cases to the bus stop I’ll cook you a great big fry-up. ’Ow’s that?’

  The tramp looked doubtful. ‘If you’re sure…’

  ‘I’m sure. Fact is, without ’elp I’d ’ave thrown this ’orrible clock in the ditch before I got to the bus.’

  ‘Where are you going with all this, on holiday?’

  Nelly roared with laughter at the idea. The tramp smiled widely, enjoying her honest enjoyment, showing clean, white teeth.

  ‘Me? On ’oliday?’ She put on a posh voice and said, ‘Oh no, my good man, I couldn’t possibly manage on the forty pounds allowance!’

  She laughed again then explained. ‘No, takin’ this lot into town to sell, if I can drag it as far as the second hand shop. I’ll leave it all ’ere fer now. No one’ll disturb it.’ She walked back and dragged open the gate and the tramp followed her down the path.

  She chatted away to him as she prepared his meal, but he said very little. After he had eaten he washed his plate and cup in water he poured from the big kettle on the hob, dried them and replaced them on the shelf. He thanked her, and asked what time the bus left.

  Nelly looked at the alarm clock on the shelf, its glass broken and the figures almost unreadably faint. ‘Ten minutes,’ she announced. ‘Just time to walk down in comfort. Sure you don’t mind givin’ me a ’and?’ She found that her leg, where she had fallen onto the clock, was bruised and painful.

  ‘’Urt me leg,’ she explained, ‘but it ain’t goin’ to spoil me plans.’

  He insisted on carrying both cases, and having the clock under his arm, while Nelly staggered along beside him with the dogs pulling with their usual enthusiasm. He stood with her at the kerb, shabby but somehow respectable. She could imagine him, better dressed, being accepted even by Evie. Though she’d probably make him shave off his smashin’ beard, Nelly thought with a sigh. Always ’ad to spoil things Evie did.

  Much later that day, Nelly had spent most of the money given to her by Mrs Greener. She was hot and flushed as she and the dogs left their third public house and headed for the
bus stop. She wanted to get home before the pictures finished and the buses were full to overflowing. It was difficult for the dogs when the buses were full.

  The cases were one inside the other, and they weren’t heavy, but they constantly bumped against her legs as she walked. The dogs crossed in front of her and tangled their long leads around her feet. The evening was dull and it was beginning to rain. Her leg hurt and she wished she was home.

  The bus was approaching, she could see it as it came down the hill towards the main road where she was waiting. She dropped the cases and leaned against the post. Searching through her purse she found her return ticket and put it in her teeth, ready for when she got on. She would have a snooze once she and the dogs were settled. If there was a seat. The conductor would tell her when she was home.

  She saw a car coming, in front of the bus. She screwed up her eyes and peered at it through the rain, then jumped away from the post in panic. Evie’s car! Crawling along the kerb, looking for her. Someone must have told her about the trip to town.

  She dragged the dogs away from the kerb; the cases caught in her damp coat and almost pulled her over but she got them all out of sight behind the wall of the pub and waited anxiously for the car to pass. It stopped, and she could imagine Evie’s face peering through the rain-spotted windows, looking for her.

  ‘The bus,’ she pleaded, her eyes raised to heaven. ‘Please Gawd, don’t let me miss the bus.’ But the bus overtook the now slowly moving car, and disappeared into the mist.

  Chapter Ten

  Nelly picked up the suitcase, gathered the dogs on to a short lead and began walking. ‘That Evie,’ she grumbled, ‘trust ’er to go an’ spoil me night out.’ She was tired; the drinks she had consumed and carrying the heavy cases made her ache with the need to sit down.

  Eventually she stopped where the pavement had changed to a wide grass verge and leaned against the trunk of a tree. She took the laces out of her shoes, closed her eyes and although it was not the most comfortable of places, she slept.

  The dogs’ low growls woke her and she sat up, startled.

  ‘What’s that? ’Oo is it?’

  ‘Sorry if I woke you.’

  Nelly looked first at the shoes, still shining in spite of the rain, and up, past the grubby riding mac, up into the bearded face of the tramp, over which was a battered sun-hat.

  ‘Oh, it’s you. ’Ello. Sorry about the dogs barkin’ but there’s somethin’ about you people. Dogs always bark at tramps. You give me a bit of a fright too, appearin’ sudden like that.’

  ‘Why? You’ve seen me twice before.’

  ‘I thought you was Tim. ’E’s me son-in-law. ’E an’ Evie, they want to lock me up.’ She struggled to stand. ‘Want somethin’ did yer?’

  ‘No. I just wondered if you were all right, seeing you sitting there in the rain.’

  ‘I’m fine. I’m walkin’ because Evie an’ Timmy made us miss the bus. I just stopped fer a rest.’ She looked at him. ‘Where you goin’ then?’

  ‘I’m heading for the brickworks at The Cymer.’

  ‘For work or a sleep?’

  The tramp laughed. ‘You ask a lot of questions.’

  ‘You can always walk on if you don’t want to answer.’

  ‘For sleep. I don’t need to work for a while.’

  ‘I work regular. But not much. I cleans a couple of ’ouses, includin’ Mrs French’s – ’er what you met.’

  ‘That doesn’t bring in much money, does it?’

  Nelly shrugged. ‘Enough. An’ ’oo wants more than that?’

  ‘I find work for a few weeks, then I travel.’

  ‘Sleepin’ out all the time?’ Nelly shuddered. ‘Wouldn’t fancy that meself. Not in winter anyway.’

  ‘I get a bed sometimes, and there are a few Reception Shelters still, where I can get a meal and a bed. I stay a night or two when I need to dry my clothes or when I’m cold. But I can usually find a spot somewhere out of the draught.

  ‘There are lots of houses, empty and boarded up, especially in the towns. Bombed out buildings will be with us for a few years yet. It’s eight years since the war ended but there’s so much to clear and re-build. Yes, it’s easy to find a bed and a corner where no one will see you.’

  ‘Wouldn’t fancy that much neither! Blimey, I’d ’ave bleedin’ nightmares!’

  The tramp nodded, his face wise and almost priest-like, Nelly thought, in the half light, which hid the shabbiness.

  ‘House people are afraid of the dark. It’s because they aren’t used to the night noises, even a well known place sounds different at night. And imagination fills the dark with things that aren’t there. Everything is the same at night, it’s like snapping out the light in your room. Put it on again and nothing has changed.’ He smiled showing his even, white teeth. ‘I think trouble sleeps at night. I like the dark.’

  Nelly stood with him, staring into the rain, uncaring of her wet clothes. ‘You runnin’ away from someone too?’ she asked softly. ‘Like me, an’ Evie an’ Timmy?’

  ‘Hiding from past mistakes perhaps,’ he said. ‘Who is Timmy?’

  Nelly picked up her suitcase and handed it to him. They began to stroll along the verge towards Hen Carw Parc.

  ‘Evie’s me daughter an’ Timmy’s ’er ’usband. Headmaster ’e is. It was all right when they lived far away, but now they live on me doorstep an’ Tim – or Evie really – is ashamed of me. That’s it. Ashamed!’ She paused for a moment then repeated, ‘Ashamed. Dirty Nelly they calls me, you know. I ’ates sayin’ it, but I shame them.’

  ‘Surely not.’

  ‘They want me to go and live with ’em. Leave me cottage what they calls a slum. Give away me dogs an’ me chickens and live in their back bedroom, kept out of sight.’ She sobbed and he put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing the sodden coat.

  ‘Why should they want to do that?’ He encouraged her to talk, sensing in her the need to get it said.

  ‘Put me in a ’ome as soon as they can. They only pretend to want me in their posh ’ouse. Lock me away. They’ll remember me birthday and bring great big useless presents – like that ’orrible clock – do all the right things an’ everyone’ll say ’ow good they are.’ She sobbed again. ‘They’ll never see ’ow it’s cruel.’

  ‘Evie’s children will probably grow up to be just like you, appreciating the really good things of life. That would serve her right, wouldn’t it?’

  Nelly sniffed away her tears and tried to wipe her face on her sleeve, but that was wet from the rain so she felt even wetter.

  ‘I’d better be off,’ she said. ‘Thanks fer talkin’ to me. It’s good talkin’ to a stranger sometimes, an’ you’ve made me forget me achin’ legs.’

  ‘I’ve enjoyed your company. Thank you.’ He hesitated as she began to walk away, then called, ‘Do you have anyone waiting for you?’

  ‘Not so far as I know. Unless Evie’s called. She don’t like findin’ me out. Suspicious she is.’

  ‘If Evie expects obedience, she’s got the wrong mother. It’s only half past nine; come on, I’ll treat you to a good night out. I still have the money Mrs French gave me and a bit besides. You’ll forget Evie and Tim for a couple of hours. What do you say?’

  Nelly’s eyes widened. ‘Ooo, no. I couldn’t.’

  ‘And when you do think of them again, you’ll decide to stand on your own two feet.’ The tramp seemed not to have heard her refusal. ‘I’ll carry the case. Do you play darts? I haven’t played for years, but it’s a night for re-learning isn’t it?’

  ‘I couldn’t,’ Nelly repeated, staring at him, at the rain pouring down from his hat and dripping off his beard.

  The tramp drooped his shoulders and lowered his head, all enthusiasm gone. A river of water poured from his brim onto Nelly’s suitcase like a tiny drum beat. ‘Oh, I see. Silly of me to think you would.’

  ‘It’s not because you’re a tramp, you daft ’aporth! I couldn’t let you spend yer savins on me! That’s why I said no.
’

  ‘Please. I’ll make sure I put aside the cost of a room.’

  ‘No I – yes I could! Mister Man, whatever your name is, I’ll be pleased to come with yer. Fancy me on a date,’ she chuckled. ‘First since Gawd knows when.’

  They hid the cases in a bush and walked back to the pub that Nelly had just left. After a while they became aware of voices lowered, faces staring at them, disapproval in the air. ‘Come on,’ Nelly said, kicking the dogs into action, ‘I know a better place than this.’

  At the second place they were not allowed to play darts. Regulars only, they were told, and when Nelly began to protest loudly, the landlord asked them to leave.

  ‘Come on,’ the tramp said, ‘it’s best we don’t incite trouble.’

  ‘Blimey,’ Nelly said when they were once again out in the rain, ‘you don’t ’alf talk posh. More like Mrs French than a ’omeless gentleman of the road.’

  The fresh air made Nelly feel giddy. She tried to count the number of gins she had had, but although she frowned with concentration, the numbers became jumbled and she gave up. They set off back along the road to find the suitcases, the dogs pulling ahead. Nelly was glad to lean on the tramp’s arm to keep her feet in a straight line.

  ‘Sorry it wasn’t more successful,’ the tramp said. ‘I hope I didn’t embarrass you?’

  ‘’Course not!’ She laughed slightly hysterically and added, between gales of laughter, ‘But just imagine what my Evie’d say! ’Er mum bein’ chucked out of a pub!’

  They tried one more public house on Nelly’s insistence, although the tramp thought she had had enough to drink. This time they were allowed to stay. Although Nelly was now incapable of throwing a dart without endangering all present, they sat and watched others, and sang a few songs, and came out decidedly more merry and with the sensation of parting with friends.

  The rain had ceased, there was thin cloud, but behind it a moon shone weakly, appearing occasionally in the changing sky. They gathered the case and walked slowly on, arm in arm, talking about the evening and at the friendliness of most of the people they had met.