Beggars and Choosers

by Catrin Collier

  ‘Your aunt and your friend will see that you are making a good recovery. And regulations are regulations.’ The sister waited until Sali lifted her feet up on the bed before tucking the sheets around her and under the mattress. ‘That’s the first bell. They’ll be coming in any minute. Don’t tire yourself out by talking too much. You may feel better but that’s only because you’ve done nothing but rest for five weeks. It will be different when you go home.’ Seeing Sali’s eyes round in horror, the nurse turned around.

  ‘I’m Councillor Bull.’ Owen strode into the cubicle. ‘Sali’s husband.’ He pulled a wooden stool up to the bed.

  Sali trembled as Owen sat next to her, as self-possessed and unconcerned as if nothing had happened between them.

  ‘I’ve not visited you before, Sali, because I’ve been busy arranging Iestyn’s funeral and trying to keep the shop going.’

  Sali heard her aunt’s voice, high-pitched and anxious, further down the ward.

  Owen smirked. ‘I told your aunt to wait. As your husband and nearest relation I take precedence.’ He looked at the nurse. ‘I have private matters to discuss with my wife. Close the door behind you when you leave.’

  ‘Regulations state that all doors in the ward have to be left open during visiting, Mr Bull.’

  The sister walked briskly into the room. ‘Mrs Edwards needs urgent attention, Nurse.’ After the girl left, she went to the foot of Sali’s bed and picked up her chart. She flicked through it before addressing Owen. ‘I am sure that I don’t need to warn you not to upset Mrs Bull, Mr Bull. She has been extremely ill.’

  ‘How can a visit from me possibly upset my wife, Sister?’

  ‘Mrs Bull is in an extremely fragile state.’

  ‘But she is reconvening after her fall.’ It wasn’t a question.

  ‘Yes, she is making a recovery,’ the sister conceded.

  ‘Then, if you don’t mind, I think we have wasted enough of the visiting hour. I’d like a word with my wife in private.’

  ‘If you feel worse, Mrs Bull, or you are in any pain, ring the bell.’ The sister removed it from the locker and pressed it into Sali’s right hand, on the opposite side of the bed to where Owen was sitting. ‘We’ll look in on you at regular intervals.’ The sister gave Sali a sympathetic look as she retreated.

  Owen rose from the stool, hitched up the trouser creases on his best suit, and sat back down. ‘Not that you’ve asked, but Iestyn’s funeral went well. Over sixty people turned out to bury him.’

  ‘Everyone liked Iestyn.’ She moved as far away from him as the bed would allow.

  ‘Where are Rhian and the baby, Sali?’ he asked, his voice ominously soft.

  She plucked nervously as the bedcover. ‘I don’t know.’ All Aunt Edyth had said was that they were together and safe, away from Pontypridd. And now she understood why her Aunt had refused to disclose their exact whereabouts.

  ‘Before I repeat the question, you will remind me of a wife’s first duty to her husband.’

  ‘Obedience.’ She chanted the reply he had beaten into her.

  ‘Where are Rhian and the baby?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know, Owen.’ An ice-cold trickle of fear oozed down her spine, chilling her blood and raising goose pimples on her skin.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ He leaned forward, locking his fingers together as if he were about to pray. ‘Are they with your aunt?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘For someone who doesn’t know where they are, you seem very certain of that fact.’

  ‘She would have told me if they were with her.’

  ‘Since Rhian left, the shop has been costing me money. The woman I have employed says there are no customers.’ His round piggy eyes appeared to have sunk deeper into the rolls of fat that wreathed his face since she had last seen him. ‘Will they return when you come home?’

  ‘Home?’

  ‘You are coming home.’

  Although they had never discussed it, she knew her aunt expected her to move into Ynysangharad House when she was discharged. But wherever she went, the one thing she did know was that she couldn’t bear the thought of living with Owen Bull. Not ever again. She bit her lip and turned away from him to the high window. The square of sky was grey, overcast ...

  ‘When are you leaving here?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Look at me when I speak to you.’ He gripped her hand and squeezed her fingers painfully, until she faced him. ‘You do intend to come home?’

  ‘I haven’t thought about leaving here yet ... I’ve been very ill, Owen ...’

  He smiled at her, a smile crueller than his scowl. ‘You wouldn’t listen if any of your friends tried to persuade you to go and live with them, would you?’

  ‘No one’s asked me to go and live with them, Owen.’

  ‘Not even your aunt?’ There was malice in his voice.

  ‘I have nowhere to go, you know that. My uncle –’

  ‘Your uncle is a God-fearing man who knows a wife’s place is with her husband.’

  As a nurse in starched long skirts and apron swished past the door, he relaxed back on the stool but did not relinquish his grip on her hand. ‘I warn you, Sali, a wife who leaves her husband is nothing. She may as well cease to exist. She has no place in society. The only profession open to her is that of whore. But then you’ve already been a whore, haven’t you, Sali?’ His fingers compressed hers until she thought he would crush her bones. ‘Mansel James’s whore.’

  ‘If you think I’m a whore, Owen, why stay married to me? Divorce me.’

  ‘That is the sort of thing only a whore would say. There is no divorce in the eyes of our Lord,’ he pronounced sternly. ‘I warn you, and it is a solemn warning, leave me and you, and whoever you run to, will suffer. I have a husband’s rights under God’s law “and those whom God has joined together let no man break asunder”.’ He watched the tears roll down her cheeks. ‘You are overwrought, which is understandable after five weeks in this place. I will find out when you will be discharged and when you are, I will be outside, waiting to take you home. Once you are busy again with your household duties, you won’t have time to gossip with your aunt or pine for the luxuries of your past life.’ He fingered the silk and lace nightgown and lace bed jacket her aunt had given her. Releasing her hand, he stroked it. ‘Whatever I’ve done, I’ve done for your own good, Sali. You know that. You needed to be taught obedience and you are still learning. But I have hope that one day you will become a dutiful, God-fearing wife. When you come home I will ask your uncle to consider re-admitting you to the congregation of the chapel. You would like that, wouldn’t you? Acceptance that might ultimately lead to forgiveness for your sin.’

  Worn down by his bullying, she whispered, ‘Yes’, in the hope that by agreeing with him, he’d leave her in peace.

  The sister looked in. ‘Mr Bull, you have taken up more than half of the hour. Your wife does have other visitors.’

  ‘I am sorry. It is selfish of me to monopolise her. Send them in and I’ll leave. After all, I’ll soon have Mrs Bull to myself when she comes home. When exactly will that be, Sister?’ he enquired artfully.

  ‘I am afraid I can’t tell you, Mr Bull. It is for the doctor, not me, to decide.’

  ‘You must have some idea from similar cases.’

  ‘No, because I have never seen such severe injuries as those sustained by your wife before.’

  Owen looked back at Sali as he went to the door. ‘I will be up to see you next Sunday, Sali. In the meantime I will make daily enquiries as to when you will be discharged. If Rhian should write to you, tell her to bring the boy home so she can prepare for your return.’

  Trembling and fighting tears, Sali curled into a tight ball as Mari helped Edyth through the door. Mari settled Edyth into a chair before sitting next to Sali on the bed. Opening her arms, she hugged her as she had when she’d been a child.

  ‘Don’t cry, lamb,’ she reverted to a pet name she hadn’t used since
Sali was six years old. She made a face at the empty doorway. ‘I don’t know how that man has the nerve to come here after what he did to you.’

  ‘He is looking for Rhian and the baby,’ Sali murmured.

  ‘He won’t find them,’ Mari declared confidently.

  ‘You’ve heard from them?’ Sali lifted her head from Mari’s shoulder. ‘Are they well? Are they –’

  ‘They are fine, and they can do what they like to me, I’ll not tell Owen Bull or anyone else where they are.’ She looked to the door. Seeing no nurses in the corridor, she closed it. ‘Rhian is working as a kitchen maid and she has found a woman, a good kind woman who has a boy of her own, to look after your son.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  ‘Not too far away,’ Mari hedged.

  ‘Please, I must see them ...’

  ‘And you will, as soon as you leave here,’ Edyth consoled.

  ‘Owen says he is going to take me home.’

  ‘So he can beat you again? That is out of the question.’ Edyth dismissed.

  Mari opened her handbag and pulled out an envelope. She removed a letter and a photograph. ‘Doesn’t he look fine? Quite the young boy.’ She handed the photograph to Sali.

  ‘Exactly like his father,’ Edyth said wistfully.

  Her son stood in front of a canvas backdrop painted to resemble an ornate eighteenth-century garden, complete with Grecian urns and broken columns. He was wearing one of Llinos’s white linen, drawn-work aprons, and holding a teddy bear that looked so new, Sali suspected it was the photographer’s prop.

  ‘When was this taken?’ Sali drank in every detail. The wary, confused expression on the child’s face, the sturdy chubbiness of his legs, the way his mouth almost turned up at the corners but didn’t.

  ‘My sister had it taken –’

  ‘Your sister,’ Sali broke in eagerly. ‘The one who is a housekeeper in Tonypandy?’

  Mari put her finger to her lips. ‘She found Rhian a position and someone to look after the child.’

  ‘What if Owen finds out where they are?’

  ‘We must take care that he doesn’t.’ Edyth pursed her lips as the bell rang. ‘We seem to have been here less than five minutes. Damn that man for coming here.’

  It was the strongest language Sali had ever heard her aunt use.

  Mari proceeded to empty her bag on to the bed. ‘I brought you some preserves, a fruitcake, an apple tart and a bottle of my raspberry syrup. The sweets and this bottle of cordial are from Tomas, who sends you his very best. And you know what that means.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have.’ Sali stared at the pile of gifts.

  ‘Don’t worry, there is nothing there that your uncle knows about and what he doesn’t know about, he can’t miss. He is just the same as he was the day he moved into Danygraig House and so is your mother. When I next write to Masters Geraint and Gareth and Miss Llinos, shall I send them your love?’

  ‘I thought I heard voices.’ The sister opened the door. ‘Mrs James, Mrs Williams, I am sorry, but I will have to ask you to leave.’

  ‘We are just going, Sister. If you would be so kind.’ Edyth took the sister’s hand to steady herself as she left the chair.

  ‘Geraint, Gareth and Llinos don’t know I’m here, do they?’ Sali asked.

  Mari shook her head.

  ‘Mother?’

  ‘Your mother doesn’t know what day of the week it is, bless her, let alone what is happening in the town. Your Uncle Morgan knows you are here and who put you here, as does everyone in Pontypridd. Take care of yourself. Another week or so and you will be safe with Mrs James, She’ll take care of you.’

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Can’t you sleep, Mrs Bull?’ The duty night nurse walked into Sali’s room to find her staring blankly at the ceiling.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you in pain? If you are, I could give you some tablets or a sleeping draught.’

  ‘No, thank you.’ Sali tried to smile and discovered it wasn’t her imagination. The pain in her face was lessening. ‘With all the sleeping I’ve done for the past five weeks I’m just slept out.’

  ‘It is strictly against regulations, but as you are in here on your own and wouldn’t disturb anyone, I could put the light on so you could read.’

  ‘I’d like that, thank you.’

  ‘There’s a copy of last week’s Observer in the sister’s office. You could find out what has been happening in the town.’

  ‘Please.’

  The nurse brought Sali a cup of heavily sugared tea along with the paper. She sat up and opened the paper. It was such a simple thing to do, drink tea and read in bed, but it had been a long time since she’d had the leisure to read a newspaper.

  The Christmas before her father died, she reflected. Since then her life had deviated drastically from the plans she had made with her father and Mansel. Plans that had seemed cast in iron at the time. Since then, she had witnessed her Uncle Morgan’s transformation of Danygraig House from a happy family home into a mausoleum where everyone went about ‘their duty’ in fear. She smiled as she recalled the weeks of happiness she had enjoyed with Mansel when they had planned their wedding. And ...

  Refusing to think about her life since the day Mansel had vanished, she smoothed the first page of the paper, which was covered in advertisements, turned it, and scanned the first article that caught her attention.

  She sipped tea and read about Miners’ Federation Meetings, Licensing Offences, and a diatribe by someone who signed himself ‘Onlooker’ on the sad state of social life in Pontypridd, which he attributed to the high pay ‘given to’ colliers; the drunkenness, crime, lunacy and lustful practices indulged in by the overpaid miners and the inability of the churches and chapels to deal with the situation and channel young men’s energies into more useful occupations.

  It was the type of article her father had loved to read aloud to her and Geraint and discuss with them afterwards. The remembrance of those conversations made her realise just how drastically her horizons had narrowed since her marriage. Until she had been admitted to hospital she hadn’t talked to anyone other than Owen, Rhian, Iestyn and her baby for over three years and what was worse, she hadn’t thought of anything other than housework and pleasing Owen so he wouldn’t find cause to beat her.

  She had ceased to think, to read, to attend concerts, visit the theatre or do any of the things that had meant so much to her when she had been growing up. The knowledge was painful. She had become one of the women her father had despised, who couldn’t see further than the walls of their own houses and never voiced an opinion other than that of their husbands.

  She turned over the page and looked at the list of misdemeanours at the Police Court. When she reached halfway down the column she sat bolt upright and reread the paragraph.

  Following an incident at the home of Mrs Edyth James, Ynysangharad House, Pontypridd, Mr Owen Bull, butcher, of Mill Street, Pontypridd, was bound over in the sum of £20 for six months to be of good behaviour. The defendant apologised to the court and stated that at the time of the offence he was of the opinion that members of his immediate family were inside Ynysangharad House. The solicitor for the defence undertook to see that the fine was paid within a fortnight.

  Owen had gone to her Aunt Edyth’s house and made a scene. She imagined him shouting on the doorstep, demanding Rhian return to Mill Street with the baby. Her aunt hadn’t told her, because she knew if she did, she would never persuade her to move into Ynysangharad House. There was no way that she’d put her aunt’s life or the lives of her aunt’s servants at risk. Knowing Owen as she did, she realised he was quite capable of turning up there drunk, and ready to attack anyone who stood in his way. She recalled the thinly veiled threat he had made that afternoon.

  Leave me and you, and whoever you run to, will suffer.

  He hadn’t said what he would do to make them suffer, but then, there was no need. She fingered her swollen, cracked cheekbone. He didn’t have to tel
l her what he was capable of doing to her, her son, Rhian, or her aunt, because he had already shown her.

  After the ward maids had cleaned Sali’s room the following morning, her Uncle Morgan walked into her cubicle.

  ‘Don’t disturb yourself,’ he said, as she instinctively clutched the edges of her lace bed jacket together. He pushed aside the stool and sat on the chair, staring at her, making her feel as though he could see right through her jacket and nightgown. ‘I regularly visit the infirmary to offer spiritual comfort to those unable to attend chapel through ill health and I decided to call on you. Is there anything you want to tell me?’

  ‘No.’ She began to tremble. First Owen, now her uncle. Owen had made her life a hell. Her uncle had raped her. And both visited and sat with her as if they had never treated her anything other than benevolently.

  ‘Ask me then?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘I thought you’d at least want to enquire after your mother’s and siblings’ health.’

  ‘How are they?’ She looked through the open doorway for a nurse she could call.

  ‘Your siblings are in rude health. Your mother is failing. But then perhaps you heard how they are from the housekeeper yesterday. Mari did come to see you?’

  Sali pulled the bedclothes to her neck and huddled beneath them. If she answered ‘no’ and her uncle knew for certain that Mari had visited her, she would be damned in his eyes. But if he wasn’t sure whether Mari had visited her, and she told him Mari had, he’d dismiss the housekeeper.

  ‘You refuse to answer?’

  ‘I was ill yesterday,’ she muttered.

  ‘Too ill to recognise your visitors?’ He paused. ‘No matter. I was told by a reliable witness that she was here.’

  She realised that if Owen were still on speaking terms with her uncle after his arrest, he wouldn’t have wasted any time in informing him that he had seen Mari with her aunt.

  ‘I have dismissed her, and engaged a more suitable housekeeper for Danygraig House.’