‘You never said you wanted to live on a farm.’
‘I didn’t until you told me about Cornwall. I’ve come to like the idea.’
‘It’s hard work.’
‘Neither of us are afraid of that.’
‘No,’ he smiled.
‘It’s dark enough for you to kiss me,’ she prompted.
He leaned over and grazed her cheek with his lips. ‘If we don’t make a move your father will be pounding on the Powells’ door.’
‘I suppose so.’ She rose to her feet, lifted the blanket and shook it free from grass and heather. ‘Thank you for taking me for a walk tonight. The house was horrible. All they wanted to talk about was the mob outside the café. Mama ended up crying, Papa shouting, Tina and Laura arguing and the little ones were all being insufferable, as usual.’
‘You can’t blame them for being upset.’
‘Who’s blaming them? I had a right to be more upset than any of them. I was the one trapped inside.’
‘I’m just glad you’re in one piece.’ He put his arm around her, and guided her down the hill.
‘Papa’s devastated. After living here for nearly thirty years, he never thought anything like this would happen.’
‘Your brothers will be home soon, and when everyone sees them walking around town in uniform this will be forgotten.’
‘By the town perhaps,’ Gina said drily, ‘but not by Papa or Mama. After the way Papa talked today I doubt he’ll ever forget it.’
Huw Davies knocked at Laura Lewis’s door for five minutes before a neighbour emerged to tell him he’d find her at her mother’s. He was glad. He’d always found Laura to be the steadiest of the Ronconis after Ronnie, and the last thing he wanted to do was go into her parents’ house without her there to calm everyone down.
Climbing back into the Black Maria he directed the driver to Evan’s house in Graig Avenue. Bethan’s car was parked outside. Ordering the driver to turn around at the end of the street, he left the constables in the van and mounted the steps to the front door. Knocking once, he opened it and walked inside. Bethan and Phyllis started and Megan dropped the plate she was drying when he walked into the kitchen.
‘It’s not Will or the boys.’ He removed his helmet and put it on the table. ‘And if there was any news about them I doubt that I’d be bringing it. You’d get a telegram.’
Hearing voices, Evan and Alexander came in from the garden where they’d been fencing off a chicken run.
‘It’s not the boys,’ Huw said swiftly before they asked. ‘It’s the Ronconis.’
‘Don’t tell me they’ve had more trouble after that mob today?’
‘No.’ Huw looked at Evan, and Bethan. ‘I was hoping you two would come up to Danycoedcae Road with me. I’ve got to arrest Mr Ronconi.’
‘Arrest him?’ Megan stared at her brother as though he’d taken leave of his senses. ‘In God’s name why?’
‘Round-up of enemy aliens.’
Evan reached for his jacket which he’d left hanging behind the wash-house door.
‘You’ll take care of Rachel for me?’ Bethan handed her baby to her aunt without waiting for an answer.
Alexander unrolled his shirt sleeves and buttoned them at the cuff. ‘Luke and Gina went for a walk over the mountain earlier, constable. Would it help if I found them?’
‘It would.’ Huw recognised the need for everyone to feel that they were contributing in some way. ‘Get him to take Gina straight home, otherwise she might not be in time to say goodbye to her father.’
‘What about Laura?’ Bethan asked.
‘I called in Graig Street on the way here. A neighbour told me she’s already up Danycoedcae Road.’
‘You sure you’re up to this, love?’ Evan asked.
‘Laura and Trevor are our best friends, and Laura’s got her hands full right now with the baby without any of this. I’m up to it, Dad.’
Huw gave the police driver the address of the Ronconis’ house and told him to drive around via the main road and wait until he arrived. While Alexander went through the garden to the back lane and the mountain, he walked up Illtyd Street with Bethan and Evan. They saw Luke, Gina and Alexander at the end of Danycoedcae Road. Gina waved to them, and although they were too far away to read the expression on her face, it was obvious by the wave that she wasn’t worried.
‘Doesn’t look like Alexander’s told her what this is about,’ Huw commented.
‘Would you?’ Evan asked.
‘Probably not.’ The Black Maria was waiting in front of the house. The driver stepped out. ‘I’m not going to need you just yet,’ Huw addressed the men in the van. ‘But when I do, I expect you to do your job quietly and tactfully. That means putting everything back exactly where you find it. Provided you behave yourselves there won’t be any trouble, not in this house.’
‘It’s not one of the boys, is it, Constable Davies?’ Gina asked breathlessly as she ran up to him, Luke still holding on to her hand.
‘No, love, it’s nothing to do with the boys.’
Sensing trouble and not knowing what, Gina clung to Luke.
‘I think we’d all better go inside.’ Bethan had noticed curtains twitching in several front windows at the sound of the van. She knocked on the Ronconis’ door and walked in.
Mr Ronconi opened the kitchen door. He saw Bethan in the passage and his face broke into an enormous smile. ‘It’s so long since you’ve come to see us, it’s wonderful to have you here. Come in, come in. You too, Evan.’ His face paled as Evan stepped forward and he saw Huw Davies behind him.
‘It’s the boys!’ Mrs Ronconi’s hand flew to her mouth as a sob caught in her throat.
‘I don’t know anything about the boys, Mrs Ronconi,’ Huw assured her quickly.
‘Then why are you here?’
Huw looked at Mr Ronconi. In all his years of policing he’d never felt as ashamed of having to do his duty as he did now. The only thing that stopped him walking out through the door was the thought that the next man who came to arrest Mr Ronconi might not have the same respect for the family that he did. ‘I’ve come to take you into custody, Mr Ronconi.’
An incredulous silence settled over the passage. The five younger children crowded behind their parents. Tina followed them, opening the door wider. To Huw’s amazement it was Mrs Ronconi who regained her composure first.
‘Please come in, constable, Bethan, Mr Powell.’ She stepped back into the kitchen, where Laura was already halfway through making tea. ‘You five, into the parlour,’ she ordered the younger children sharply.
‘But Mama …’ Alfredo whined.
‘Now! And if you need something to do you can learn your catechism.’
Laura’s baby whimpered; she picked him up and put him on her shoulder as Alfredo led the solemn column of children past the visitors in the passage.
‘Is this something to do with what happened outside the Tumble café today?’
‘No.’ Huw took a deep breath, realising that Mrs Ronconi hadn’t understood the meaning of the word ‘custody’. ‘After Mussolini’s declaration of war on the Allies today, all Italian nationals have been given the status of enemy aliens. I’ve come to take Mr Ronconi to an internment camp.’
‘Internment … you mean arrest?’ As comprehension dawned, Mrs Ronconi clung instinctively to her husband. ‘But why? We live here. This has been my home for over twenty years, and my husband’s even longer. We are not enemy aliens –’
‘I know that, Mrs Ronconi,’ Huw agreed. ‘And if it were up to me, I’d wring the neck of whoever gave the order. But the fact remains that Mr Ronconi’s name was on a list that came into the station this afternoon from the Ministry. You never took out British citizenship?’
‘I never saw any reason to,’ Mr Ronconi acknowledged. ‘I am Italian. I was proud to be until Mussolini came along.’
‘But they can’t intern him,’ Mrs Ronconi pleaded. ‘Not with two of our boys in the Guards, fighting in France. Please, le
t him stay with us,’ she begged, refusing to relinquish her hold on her husband’s arm.
‘I can’t,’ Huw apologised wretchedly. ‘The fact remains Mussolini came down on the wrong side today and a lot of innocent people are going to suffer. There’s nothing I can do except take Mr Ronconi in, and plead his case as far as I can. I’m sorry, sir. Believe me I’m sorry. It’s not just you. There’s someone from almost every Italian family in Pontypridd and the Rhondda on the list we’ve been given. We’re arresting old friends …’
‘I understand.’ Mr Ronconi straightened his back. ‘Have I time to get my coat?’ he asked with immense dignity.
‘And pack a few things. Winter things as well. No one knows where they’ll be sending you.’
‘I’ll pack your bag, Papa.’ Laura handed her baby to Bethan and left the room.
‘No!’ Mrs Ronconi clung to her husband as he tried to follow Laura. ‘You’re not taking him. You can’t. It’s not right. Our sons fight for your army and you take him …’
‘Not your army, Mama,’ her husband corrected. ‘It’s “our”. We’re all fighting the Fascists. And Constable Davies has no choice but to do his duty.’ He led his wife to one of the easy chairs. She crumpled into it and began to cry, softly, quietly. Huw could have borne it easier if she’d continued to rant and rave.
‘I’m sorry Mr Ronconi, Mrs Ronconi but there are officers outside who have to search the house.’
‘Now you look for spies here!’ Mrs Ronconi sobbed.
‘On the sheet we had from London it said that you belong to a Fascist organisation.’
‘We don’t belong to any organisations,’ she protested.
‘The Italian club?’ Huw prompted.
‘We meet, we talk about the old country, we drink some wine,’ Mr Ronconi explained in a flat voice.
‘Alexander, Luke?’ Evan looked to where his lodgers were standing in the doorway. ‘Nip down to the house and tell Megan and Phyllis that Mrs Ronconi and the children are joining us for supper.’
‘No …’
‘It’s better that the children are out of the way when the house is searched, Mrs Ronconi,’ Bethan interposed as Luke and Alexander left. ‘If you don’t want to leave while they’re here, Laura and I will stay with you.’
‘Where are you taking my Giacomo?’ Mrs Ronconi demanded of Huw.
‘He’ll be put in a camp. There are a lot of them. I’m not sure which one he’ll be sent to, but he’ll be able to write to you in a day or two.’
Mrs Ronconi rose from her chair. Despite her diminutive size and the weight she was carrying she looked positively regal. ‘Where my husband goes, I go.’
‘Mrs Ronconi, I’m sorry, that’s just not possible.’
‘I go!’ She glared at Huw.
‘Who is going to look after the children if you come with me, Mama?’
‘They can come with us.’
‘Please can I have a few moments alone with my family?’
‘Of course.’ Huw stepped aside. He glanced at Evan and Bethan and motioned with his head to the washhouse. Tina and Gina trailed awkwardly behind them. They stood in the small back yard trying to ignore the heated Italian words flowing out of the kitchen.
‘I’m glad you two are here,’ Huw addressed Gina and Tina. ‘I’ve no choice, I have to call the men in to search the house in a few minutes, and then there’ll be no peace for any of us. What I’m going to say to you now could lose me my job, but I know you’re both sensible girls. Get the businesses out of your father and mother’s names as quickly as possible; tomorrow if it can be arranged. Sell them to British nationals.’
‘Sell them?’ Tina repeated hollowly.
‘In name only,’ he explained hastily. ‘Put them in Laura’s name, or better still Trevor’s, and prepare your mother. The next step is resettlement of the families of enemy aliens into inland areas away from the sea. Rumour has it you’re all going to be moved to the Midlands next week. Probably Birmingham.’
‘But we don’t know anyone in Birmingham,’ Gina protested.
‘You’ll be allowed to stay together. Laura won’t have to go, she’s married to a British national.’
‘But Laura will never be able to manage all three cafés by herself.’ Tina suddenly realised the implications of what Huw was saying. ‘Even if Mama goes, Gina and I will be needed to work …’
‘I’ve told you all that I can. You haven’t much time. Begin looking around for people you can trust right now.’
‘People we can trust, or marry?’ Tina questioned astutely.
‘I know if Will was here he’d marry you, and then you’d be able to stay, which is why I want to do all I can to help. That boy is the closest to a son I’m ever likely to have.’
Tina frowned at her sister. ‘I don’t suppose Luke would consider marrying both of us to get us out of this mess?’
‘How can you joke at a time like this?’ Gina countered indignantly.
‘You want me to cry like Mama?’ Tina asked hotly, trying to close her ears to her mother’s wailings.
‘No, it’s just that …’
‘Come on, Gina.’ Tina caught her by the hand and dragged her back into the house. ‘We have to say goodbye to Papa.’
Chapter Twenty-one
The morning after Mr Ronconi’s arrest was the first since the German invasion of France that Bethan failed to listen to the news on the wireless. Rising early, she drove down to her father’s house. Leaving Rachel with Megan and Phyllis, she carried on through the town and up the road that led to the Common.
She found her mother and father-in-law in their dining room that overlooked the garden. Her mother-in-law was monitoring the progress the elderly gardener was making in planting out seedlings, in between supervising the maid who was serving breakfast.
‘Bethan, how kind of you to call, and so early.’ Andrew’s mother never failed to make Bethan feel like a grubby, charity case who should be grateful for whatever largesse the lady of the house saw fit to bestow. ‘There’s nothing wrong, is there? Andrew hasn’t been –’
‘I haven’t heard anything from Andrew in over two weeks.’
‘Dear me, no one seems to have heard anything lately. There appears to be quite a hold-up in the military mail.’
‘It’s called a retreat in the face of overwhelming odds, dear,’ her husband informed her baldly.
‘Come in and sit down, Bethan.’ Ignoring her husband, she pulled a chair out from the table. ‘Would you like tea or coffee?’ she asked her daughter-in-law. Remembering working-class preferences, she picked up the teapot.
‘I’d prefer coffee, please,’ Bethan said, being deliberately contrary. ‘I came to see if you can do anything for the Ronconis, Dr John?’ she asked without further preliminaries.
‘I heard that he was arrested last night along with just about every other Italian café owner in Pontypridd.’
‘Arrested?’ his wife echoed. ‘You never told me anything about this.’
‘That’s because you were asleep when I came in. The Vittoris sent for me in the early hours. Old Mrs Vittori became hysterical after the police ransacked their house and took her son away.’
‘I wondered if you could possibly speak for Mr Ronconi?’ Bethan pleaded. ‘After all, you’re head of the practice, and Trevor is Mr Ronconi’s son-in-law.’
‘I’ve already tried,’ he said shortly as his wife poured coffee from a silver pot into a porcelain cup for Bethan. ‘Huw Davies was still at the Vittoris’ when I got there. He told me that Mr Ronconi had been arrested so I went down to the station from the Vittoris’ house. There’s nothing I can do. It’s a War Office, not local, directive. They’ve rounded up every Italian who hasn’t taken out British citizenship, and those they think are members of Fascist organisations. I pointed out that the entire Italian club could be classified as Fascist by that definition, as Mussolini has put every society in Italy and all affiliated organisations under government control, but it was to no avail. And befo
re you say anything about Tony or Angelo, practically every man arrested has at least one son or brother serving in the armed forces.’
Bethan took the coffee her mother-in-law handed her. ‘It was just a thought. Thank you for trying.’
‘You do know the next step is the rounding up of all the wives and children? They’re going to be sent to inland areas well away from the sea.’
‘I heard a rumour,’ she answered vaguely, not wanting to get Huw into any trouble.
‘It’s not just a rumour. A couple of Italian families in the Rhondda have already sold their cafés to their friends. Get Mrs Ronconi to put everything in Laura’s name, if she hasn’t had the sense to do so already.’
‘The problem isn’t one of simply hanging on to the cafés. It’s running them. The Ronconis need the money to live on, but Laura can’t possibly manage all three cafés on her own, not with a baby to look after, and even if I took the baby off her hands she could only look after one place.’
‘Who’s managing them now?’
‘Tina, Gina, and until yesterday Mr Ronconi.’
‘Tina is the one engaged to your cousin William, isn’t she?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll see the sergeant this morning and tell him she’s needed to look after Laura for six months to help her to recover from childbirth. He might not believe me, but he doesn’t like what’s happening to the Italians any more than the rest of us, so I think he’ll go along with it. I’m sorry, Bethan, it’s not much, but it’s the best I can do.’ Crumpling his starched linen napkin he threw it over the debris of haddock skin and bones on his plate. ‘This is the unacceptable face of war, the side I’d almost forgotten about. People you’ve known, liked and lived among for years being dubbed enemies and traitors overnight. In the last show it was the poor pork butchers and German bands.’ He rose from his chair and brushed his lips over his wife’s cheek. ‘I would like to stay and talk, but unfortunately I have a surgery starting in ten minutes.’
‘But you’ll see the sergeant about Tina?’
‘As soon as surgery’s over.’
Andrew’s father was as brusque with her as he’d always been, but for the first time Bethan saw a resemblance between him and his son as he stopped to straighten his tie in the hall mirror. There was the same tension in the jawline that denoted an unspoken, tight-lipped anger. Neither he nor Andrew was accustomed to expressing emotions, but she sensed that Dr John was as enraged by the high-handed round-up of the town’s Italian café owners as she was, and even more furious that his hard-won respect and standing in the town was insufficient to put a stop to the senseless persecution.
Pontypridd 05 - Such Sweet Sorrow Page 35
