by Iris Gower
‘Oh, she’s told me nothing,’ Ronnie went on. ‘I guessed at her condition and she did not deny it and I guessed about you, too. I saw you drive her away that day in the summer when she was involved in a skirmish outside the laundry gates. There’s no one else in Mali’s life and so I put two and two together, you see.’
Sterling rose to his feet abruptly, unable to believe the evidence of his own ears. Mali expecting a child, it just didn’t seem possible. But Ronnie was a man who would be sure of his facts before bringing anything like this out into the open.
Suddenly a strange anger began to burn inside him. It seemed that other people knew more about his business than he did. First Bea Cardigan had excluded him from her life, going her own way, doing just as she liked, letting all and sundry know about what had happened and now to cap it all, here was Ronnie Waddington confronting him with this titbit of information.
‘I appreciate you talking to me.’ Sterling did his best to conceal his true feelings. Ronnie had certainly meant well and he couldn’t blame the older mean for recent events. ‘But now I really must be going,’ he said and Ronnie rose to his feet at once, his face creased with anxiety.
‘Oh, dear, I hope I haven’t done the wrong thing, my boy,’ he said.
‘Not at all, I’m very grateful to you for putting me in the picture.’
He left the house and started the Ascot, his mind a turmoil of angry thoughts. So Mali thought she could manage without him. She was going in to partnership with Ronnie Waddington but how did she expect to bring up the child? Foist it onto some inexperienced girl, no doubt.
He drove along towards Copperman’s Row and the doors of the cottages were closed against the cold instead of standing open as they did in summer. Yet he felt that curious eyes were watching him as he drew to a halt outside Mali’s house, rapping hard on the wooden panel, waiting impatiently for her to let him in.
Her face was pinched and drawn and when his eyes roved over her, he could see the thickening of her waist and the soft swell of her stomach beneath the heavy skirt and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that the child she carried was his.
He walked past her and kicked the door shut with his foot and her eyebrows lifted coolly as though he was a small boy who had got out of hand. Her hair was pinned up on the back of her head and she appeared more mature than he’d ever seen her before.
‘What are you doing here?’ Her voice was light like a summer breeze and he wanted to shake her hard. She moved towards the fire, her hands folded across her stomach as though in protection of her unborn child. Behind her the brasses gleamed and the hob was blackleaded until it shone, a witness to Mali’s industrious nature.
‘Mali,’ he spoke her name softly, ‘I know about the child. Why didn’t you tell me yourself? Surely you owed me that much.’
She did not look at him, her eyes seemed to search the distance as though seeking a reply to his question.
‘I don’t owe you anything.’ Her voice fell coldly into the stillness of the kitchen. ‘What did you ever do for me except bring me grief?’ She turned her face away and all he could see was the soft line of her cheek and the long dark shadow of her eyelashes. He caught his breath sharply.
‘Mali, have you considered the advantages I could give the baby? Don’t turn your face from me, just listen to me for a moment, can’t you?’
‘The baby is mine, do you understand, mine!’ She spoke in rising anger. ‘Now get out of this house, go and leave me alone, I just can’t stand any more.’
He moved towards her and reached out his hand but she struck it away furiously.
‘The baby is mine too,’ he said gently.
‘And you’ll not take it away from me!’ she cried. She lashed out at his face, her small palm stinging his cheek. He took her hands and held them tightly.
‘Try to calm yourself, Mali. You are doing no good to yourself by getting hysterical.’
‘Hysterical?’ she echoed. ‘What should I be like with you threatening me and my father out there somewhere sick and ill and perhaps freezing to death in some ditch.’
He stepped away from her, appalled. ‘I’m not threatening you, Mali, and I didn’t know about Davie,’ he said, ‘I had no idea he was missing. Look, I’ll do all I can to help, I’ll get a party of men to search for him at once.’
‘Talk, that’s all you ever do,’ she said, quiet now. ‘Promises are easily made and just as easily broken especially by the great Mr Richardson, copper boss. Leave me and mine alone, can’t you? Don’t you understand that my father would be walking round a whole man now if it weren’t for you?’
‘You don’t know what you’re saying.’ Sterling made a move towards her but she shook her head at him.
‘No, don’t touch me. It was to put money in your pocket that my father worked in that stinking hell hole of yours in the first place.’
Sterling stepped away from her, feeling a sudden pain.
‘All right, I’m going.’ He left the cottage, stepped out into the coldness of the night, and stood for a moment staring back at the glow of light coming from the window. And suddenly he knew just what it felt like to be all alone in the world.
Chapter Thirty
The Sunday bells were ringing through the cold morning air and down the row, Dai End House was playing ‘Rock of Ages’ on his accordion but Mali simply sat near the fire, her hands lying idle in her lap, her head back against the warm wood of the rocking chair, her eyes closed.
Rosa was busy at the stove as she cooked the rabbit she had fetched from the market last night and even though Mali knew she should be helping her, she was too weary and dispirited to rouse herself.
‘Here.’ Rosa’s voice was rough and ungracious but when Mali opened her eyes and looked up she could see that the girl had made her a cup of tea. Some of it was slopped into the saucer and it was far too strong for Mali’s taste but she took it and made an attempt to smile.
‘Thank you, Rosa.’ It was clear the girl was trying to be helpful.
Mali sipped the tea and its warmth gave her a measure of comfort. ‘It’s lovely,’ she said appreciatively and Rosa sniffed.
‘You look terrible.’ Rosa spoke without preamble, her eyes resting on Mali’s ashen face. ‘Think you should see a doctor, find out what ails you, I wouldn’t want to catch nothing nasty. Your mam died of the lung disease, didn’t she? Perhaps you’ve got it too.’
Mali shook her head without replying and Rosa sat down near the table, pouring herself more tea into which she spooned liberal amounts of sugar.
‘I know you’re grieving over Davie and well, so am I but then he’ll be found sooner or later and dead he’ll be, I just feel it in my bones.’
Mali rose from her chair, almost spilling her tea as she slammed the cup down on the table.
‘Don’t talk like that, he could be wandering around lost, or off his head with pain, you don’t have to look on the black side do you?’ Her tone was anguished but Rosa paid no heed.
‘Might as well face it, he’d be better off dead would my Davie, can’t live as half a man, I bet he wanted to die.’ She had tears in her eyes and Mali shook her head, unable to dispute the truth of her words.
‘You haven’t answered my question,’ Rosa said after a long silence, ‘are you sickening for something?’
Mali shook her head and returned to her chair. ‘I suppose you might as well know first as last, I’m going to have a baby,’ she said and the words fell into the silence like pebbles in a pool.
Rosa’s mouth dropped open, she stared at Mali, looking her up and down, and then she chewed her lips as though to give herself time to think.
‘Jesus Gawd!’ She rose from her chair and went to the fireplace, lifting the lid of the pot and stirring the rabbit stew with intense concentration. Mali sank back and watched her, waiting for some other reaction, but there was none.
‘Is that all you’re going to say?’ she asked dully and Rosa turned, her face flushed from the heat of the fire.
She licked at the spoon and added more salt to the stew and then stood with her hands on her hips.
‘I knew you’d been up to something, in the summer it was when you came back home here with your blouse all ripped and you told Davie a pack of lies about a fight with one of the laundry girls.’ She shook her head.
‘My Gawd but you’ve been very good at foolin’ us all since then. Good thing Davie isn’t here to know the shame his daughter is bringing on the fine name of Llewelyn.’ Rosa was gathering strength, her voice rising, her outrage and anger ludicrous in the circumstances.
‘Take his belt to you, he would, injured or not. Well at least I’m honest about bein’ a flossy, you does things on the sly and gets caught for it and it just serves you right, that’s what I say.’
Mali was stunned into silence, she had not expected sympathy or indeed wanted it, but she certainly had not anticipated Rosa’s reaction would be so extreme.
There was a sudden rapping on the door and then it was pushed open and Katie Murphy stood in the small kitchen wearing her Sunday-best clothes, for she had been to early mass. She moved from one foot to the other, her face pale and shadowed, her red-gold hair escaping from under her hat.
‘I’ve something to tell you, Mali,’ she said, ‘but Jesus, Mary and Joseph help me for it’s powerful hard.’
Mali stared at her friend and in that moment she knew that Davie was dead. She fetched her coat from the back of the cupboard and slipped it onto her shoulders.
‘It’s my Dad, isn’t it, he’s been found?’ She heard Rosa give a strangled gasp and then Katie was nodding her head, her eyes downcast.
‘Mr Richardson sent the men from the copper works out searching for your father and one of them came to ask Dad questions about our horse, as though Big Jim could tell them anything. Seems someone saw the horse and cart down at Dan-y-Graig the day your dad went missing. Dai End House and my Dad have gone there now, see if they can help.’ Katie came forward slowly to take Mali in her arms.
‘I’m that hurtin’ for you but perhaps ‘tis best after all.’ She paused. ‘Now where do you think you’re going?’
Mali untangled herself from Katie’s grasp and walked purposefully towards the door. ‘I’ve got to go down there,’ she said reasonably. ‘Got to see for myself, you can understand that can’t you?’
Katie sighed. ‘Yes, I suppose so. Then I’ll come with you if go you must, but put a hat on your head for it’s that cold out, you’ll catch a chill.’
Mali turned to Rosa. ‘You can come if you want to,’ she said grudgingly but the girl was white-faced and trembling. ‘No,’ she said quickly, ‘don’t want to see him dead, I’ll remember him the way he always was when he loved me.’ She began to weep then, loudly and copiously, and Mali, unable to offer any comfort, stepped out into the coldness of the day.
Church bells were ringing as though in honour of Davie’s departure from this life, Mali thought as she stared up at the mist sjirouding the mountain. She knew she should be crying just like Rosa but in a curious way, all she felt was relief.
‘It’s a long enough walk,’ Katie said gently, ‘are you sure you feel up to it?’
‘I’m feeling all right, don’t worry about me.’ She had needed to tell Katie about the coming baby, had welcomed the comfort and sympathy her friend offered but she found being treated as an invalid was becoming a little wearying. Katie took her arm now, clinging to Mali tightly as they crossed the new bridge that spanned the swiftly flowing river. Mali paused for a moment to look downward. The water was green, the colour of Dad’s eyes, and Mali put her hand over the roundness of her stomach, wondering if the baby would look like him.
‘What’s wrong?’ Katie asked anxiously and Mali realised that she was staring absently into the distance. She shook her head.
‘There’s nothing wrong, I was just daydreaming, that’s all,’ she said abruptly. She looked at the Irish girl anxiously. ‘There’s no need for you to fuss over me, Katie, I’m a big girl, remember, big enough to get myself into trouble and find my own way out of it.’
Katie squeezed her arm. ‘I’m not fussin’. I’m just determined to look after you, that’s all.’
The road winding round the hill seemed longer than Mali remembered, perhaps it was because she was heavier now and her legs ached a little. It could simply be that she dreaded arriving at the cemetery and yet no one had forced her to come. No one except herself, she thought grimly, but it was the last thing she would ever do for Dad and she should not be afraid of a little discomfort.
A pale sun shone through the mist, warming the countryside into life. Mali stared around her for a moment, knowing nothing but a great emptiness. She turned to Katie then and felt a renewed gratitude for her friend’s company, bitterly regretting her own churlishness.
‘I’m sorry I was grumpy,’ she said, ‘and I shouldn’t have dragged you down here, especially as you’re wearing your Sunday best. Look, your boots are all muddy.’
‘Tush, as though that mattered,’ Katie sighed. ‘Anyway, I’ve no one to care a tuppeny damn what I look like now, I’ve not seen William since he took a beating the other night.’ She put her hand to her mouth as though regretting her words and Mali looked at her curiously.
‘Will took a beating, why?’
Katie shrugged. ‘No reason why you shouldn’t know, I suppose. Some of the local boys gave Will a fine old beating. To tell the truth, they’re saying it was no accident but that my Will did it on purpose to pay your dad back for sketting his legs some time ago.’ She paused and swallowed hard.
‘Mali, I know Will has his faults but I don’t think he’d be so wicked. Anyway, paid back he was sure enough, had to bathe his poor eyes I did.’ She smiled. ‘Had to send him back to his mammy looking respectable or she’d have a fit.’ She paused, rubbing at the suspicion of a tear on her lashes.
‘Mr Richardson suspended him but Will wouldn’t work in the sheds now anyway, not with all the men against him. Thought well of your dad, Mali, so they did, all of them.’
Mali heard Katie’s words but nothing made any difference any more. Davie was dead and he had suffered so grievously, losing his manhood to the copper. She closed her eyes in sudden pain. What matter who was to blame? Perhaps it was Will Owens as people had said, and perhaps it was Sterling’s harsh words to Davie a few minutes before the accident. Now she would never know.
‘Come on, we’re nearly there,’ she said flatly. In silence then, they walked the rest of the way to Dan-y-Graig. Katie clung to Mali’s arm as though to give her all the support she needed and Mali’s heart warmed a little. Kate was a real friend and it was a shame that she had thrown herself away on a waster the like of Will Owens. But then who was she to judge when she had made such a mess of her own life?
At last the gates of the cemetery came into view. The sun was shining more brightly now though the air was cold and the ground damp with melted frost.
‘I’m not at all sure you should be doin’ this,’ Katie said as they walked through the big gates. To the right was the small chapel built of heavy stone, grey and squat in the pale light. On the left was the church, grander and taller with ornate stonework above the curved windows.
Mali stood quite still for a moment, taking deep breaths, hesitant now that the moment had come. Katie grasped her arm even tighter and together they made their way between the marble headstones.
The noise of men’s voices reached towards them and Mali stared around her, seeing how different everything was. The wall that had sheltered her mother’s grave was gone. And there was no tree, just a huddle of stones and mud where the hill had slipped into the cemetery.
The men fell silent, leaning on their shovels, and as Mali approached one of them stepped forward, touching his cap.
‘It would be better if you did not look now merchi,’ he said gently. ‘Why not go home and wait until Gerwyn the undertaker has done his job?’ He blocked Mali’s path and she smiled at him, knowing he meant well.
&
nbsp; ‘I must see him,’ she said, ‘he’s my Dad.’ She moved up the hill with Katie still clinging to her arm and she could feel the Irish girl trembling. And yet Mali herself was not afraid, not now the moment had come.
The men fell back, heads bowed, and Mali stared down into the wet soil, her eyes unwavering.
Davie’s hair was matted with clay, his head was arched back as though he was sucking for air. Had he died at once, Mali wondered, or had it been slow and agonising, a terrible darkness filling windpipe and nostrils, shutting out the good clean air? But he was gone now, his spirit no longer within the distorted body. Dave was reunited with his Jinny.
Beside her Katie was saying prayers, eyes closed, face white and drawn. Then, quietly at first, one of the coppermen began to sing ‘Bread of Heaven’ and slowly the other men joined in until a chorus soared upwards in triumph, tenor and bass in harmony rising towards the mountain top and it was so beautiful that Mali could not bear it.
A light drizzle began to fall and Katie tugged on Mali’s arm. ‘Come on, I’ll take you home,’ she said softly and Mali nodded, for there was no more to do here in the graveyard. She did not feel the rain on her face for it mingled with her tears.
The return journey did not seem to take very long and soon Mali found herself turning the corner past the Mexico Fountain.
‘You are not going home yet,’ Katie said firmly, ‘sure you can come into my house and have a bit to eat, you won’t do yourself nor the little babby any good by starving.’
Dai End House had returned to the open doorway, his hands manipulating the accordion with gentleness, drawing soft haunting sounds from the small musical instrument.
‘We men want to take the responsibility for burying your dad proper like, Mali,’ he said without pausing in his playing. ‘No job for a girl and we’ll do it all quick and quiet like in view of the circumstances. Gerwyn the undertaker knows what we want and no expense spared, Davie Llewelyn shall have the best.’
Mali could do nothing more than nod but Dai seemed to sense her feelings of gratitude for he inclined his head and then closing his eyes concentrated once more on his music.
