Winners and Losers

by Catrin Collier

  ‘What about the other rooms?’ Megan wanted to know exactly what she had let herself in for.

  ‘The rooms with the most beds are the worst. Friday and Saturday we clean the big rooms on the next floor. They each sleep eight in four double beds. It’s a lot of work to get them straight.’

  ‘Are there any others like this with just one bed?’ Megan asked hopefully.

  ‘Only Sergeant Lamb’s. He’s not as tidy as Sergeant Martin, but his room isn’t as bad as the one we’ve just cleaned. Apart from the two largest and the sergeants’ rooms, there are five that sleep six and one that sleeps two, but those two are real mucky pups.’

  ‘Then it’s just as well we don’t have to do the laundry as well.’ Megan stripped the sheets from the bed and set about remaking it. She couldn’t help feeling there was something odd about a man who laid out his possessions in such a precise order. Sergeant Martin clearly liked everything in its allotted place and she wondered about his personal life, or even if he had one. She tried to guess his age –thirty or perhaps thirty-five? And there was no evidence of a wife, family or even girlfriend. Given the way he had looked at her, that made her feel more uneasy about him than ever.

  ‘You’ve had a long day, Mrs Jones, and from the news we’ve heard, there’s worse waiting for you at home. There’s no need for you to come back after you’ve picked Harry up from school.’ Father Kelly took the ladle from Sali, and her place behind the tureen. He carried on filling a row of enamel jugs with soup destined for the families who preferred to eat together at home and bought them from the kitchen for sixpence.

  Trying not to think about what was happening to Joey and Victor in the police station, Sali murmured, ‘I know I don’t, but I will.’ She slipped on her coat.

  ‘Go on with you now, you look as tired as I feel.’

  ‘We’ll all have a good sleep ...’

  ‘Don’t tell me, after the strike is over. You know, I’ve heard that phrase so often lately I’ve set it to music.’ He took a deep breath and sang out to the tune of ‘After the Ball is Over’ in his booming baritone, ‘After the strike is over, after the strife is done, many a head that’s broken ...’

  ‘What comes next?’ Sali asked when he stopped.

  ‘I have no idea. I haven’t worked it out yet. Take care in the streets now,’ he shouted after her.

  Sali left the hall. It was three o’clock in the afternoon but twilight had fallen early, greying the streets and casting shadows over the rain-spattered terraces. She looked to the gate and looked again.

  ‘Lloyd, am I glad to see you.’ She hadn’t realized how exhausted she was until she fell into his strong arms. ‘Father Kelly told me that Joey and Victor have been arrested. I thought you’d be at the police station.’

  ‘I knew you’d be worried if the news had reached here. My father didn’t want me to wait in the police station with him because he thought it might make the situation worse. He’s hoping that one member of the strike committee will be tolerated where more would be seen as a threat.’

  ‘Father Kelly said the union solicitor was going to the police station. Will he be able to clear things up?’

  ‘Frankly, no.’ Lloyd tilted his umbrella over her head as a sudden shower driven by a bitter squall of wind gusted down the mountain. ‘I was there when they were arrested. The charge is intimidation, and both of them were with Luke Thomas and his cronies when they threatened and turned back men who were trying to get to the pit to man the pumps. They’ll have to go to trial.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Lloyd.’ She drew closer to him.

  ‘Not as sorry as I am. I can understand Joey getting mixed up in trouble, he always acts before he gets his brain in gear –but Victor?’ He shook his head. ‘He usually walks away from the likes of Luke Thomas.’

  ‘Perhaps he was trying to protect Joey.’

  ‘That would be just like him.’ He folded her hand into the crook of his elbow and caressed her gloved fingers. ‘You’re not the only one who has heard gossip. I met Beryl Richards in Dunraven Street. She told me what happened this morning.’

  ‘It was horrible. Oh, Lloyd, that poor woman ...’ The moment Sali reached the soup kitchen she had been besieged by volunteers and customers who’d demanded her undivided attention. They hadn’t given her a minute to think about the Hardys. Lloyd’s reminder conjured the tragedy anew. An image of Mark Hardy’s face, contorted with hatred, came to mind and she shuddered from more than cold.

  ‘She also told me what Mark Hardy said to you.’

  ‘He was out of his mind with grief.’ Sali was glad it was raining so Lloyd couldn’t see her tears.

  ‘He was out of his mind with drink when I last saw him,’ Lloyd commented caustically. ‘God only knows where the money came from but he could barely stand upright.’

  ‘I can’t blame him. Can you imagine what it must be like to lose two children and the person you love most in the world? You’ve no idea how glad I was to see you waiting at the gate for me just now.’

  ‘After what’s happened to Joey and Victor, believe me, I needed to see you more, sweetheart,’ he said fervently.

  ‘I wish I could do something for them.’

  ‘My father’s doing all that can be done so there’s no point in us talking about it. The weather’s foul and it’s cold so I thought we’d go wild and use some of the coal Victor dug out of the drift to light the stove early and you can make us a mutton stew. Joey and Victor will be glad of it. It’s freezing in the police cells.’

  ‘You sound as though you’re speaking from experience.’

  ‘Joey’s experience. He was blue with cold after he spent the night there for drunk and disorderly when he was sixteen.’ He gave a grim smile. ‘But my father soon warmed him when he got home.’

  ‘I can make a vegetable stew. We haven’t any mutton.’

  ‘We have.’

  She was horror struck. ‘Lloyd, you didn’t -’

  ‘I haven’t enticed a sheep from the mountain inside the house and chopped its head off in the basement, if that’s what you’re thinking.’ Neither of them laughed. Since the onset of the strike, sheep stealing had taken over from drunkenness as the most common crime in the valleys. ‘The farmer brought a leg of mutton down to the house this afternoon. He said he owed it to Victor for shoeing his horses and fixing his wagon.’

  ‘I have to go back to the kitchen after I’ve picked up Harry. Our busiest time is between four and six.’ Sali had never been so tempted to let Father Kelly down. The thought of making a stew in front of a warm fire with Lloyd, Harry and the rest of the family sitting around the table, reading, talking –but more likely arguing politics –made her long for the calmer days before the strike.

  ‘I could take Harry home and prepare the vegetables. Then when you come back from the kitchen we can have a cosy evening by the fire and discuss our wedding. And don’t say that it’s the wrong time for a celebration.’ He second-guessed what she was about to say. ‘We need all the good times we can get, especially at the moment.’

  ‘You know why I don’t want to talk about our wedding just yet.’

  ‘Sali -’

  ‘But if you light the stove as soon as you get home with Harry, it will be warm enough to make a cake. I think we’ve enough flour and a spare egg for a fatless sponge. Joey and Victor will be back from the police station with your father, won’t they?’

  ‘That will depend on the success the solicitor has in reasoning with the police. From what I saw of them today, they didn’t seem to be in a particularly reasonable mood.’

  ‘Lloyd -’

  ‘As I said, there’s no point in discussing things that can’t be changed. Here,’ he handed her his umbrella, ‘you take that with you when you walk back to the Catholic Hall. I’ll tuck Harry under my coat. And here’s my boy.’ Lloyd stepped forward and swung Harry off his feet as he raced across the yard through the rain towards them.

  ‘You beat up any policemen today, Uncle Lloyd?’ Harry
asked cheerfully.

  ‘Wherever did you get the idea that I beat up policemen?’ Lloyd was shocked both by the question and Harry’s assumption that it was something that he’d do.

  ‘Bertie Thomas. He said his dad does it all the time and he’s a striker like you. His mam doesn’t like it but his dad says she has to lump it.’

  Lloyd exchanged troubled glances with Sali. Bertie Thomas was Luke’s son. ‘Well, I’m a striker and like most law-abiding strikers I don’t beat up anyone. Come under my coat?’

  ‘No, it doesn’t matter if I get wet, I’ll soon dry.’

  Sali recalled that morning and decided not to ask Harry for a kiss. Men lived dangerously; women worried and picked up the pieces. Harry was learning his lessons in life early.

  Billy Evans looked up apprehensively as the union solicitor, Geoffrey Francis, walked into the waiting area of Tonypandy police station. Geoffrey dropped his briefcase on to the chair next to Billy, draped his muffler around his neck and shook out his overcoat.

  ‘All three have been remanded in custody to appear at Porth magistrates court in the morning.’

  ‘There’s no chance of getting them out tonight?’

  ‘None, Billy. But your boys are both of good character and Father Kelly’s offered to speak for them, so I shouldn’t have too much trouble getting them bail pending a full trial, which probably won’t be held for a couple of months.’

  ‘Will the court want a surety?’ Billy thought of his empty bank account. For the hundredth time since the strike had started he wished he hadn’t bought that last house. It was hard trying to live on their combined strike pay.

  ‘You have property.’

  ‘For what it’s worth,’ Billy replied acidly.

  ‘Offer the deeds as security. The court might take it as proof that the boys aren’t going anywhere.’

  ‘Can I see them?’

  Geoffrey shrugged on his cashmere overcoat. ‘I asked. Permission’s been refused. But I spoke to them. They’re all right.’

  ‘And the case against them?’

  ‘The police say they have witnesses but I doubt they’ll produce them before the full trial. I’ll see you in court tomorrow. Get there early or you won’t have a seat. But whatever else you do, tell your union men to stay away from Abel Adams and the Winter boys. The last thing we need is any more accusations of harassment or intimidation.’

  At eight o’clock, Megan was exhausted. Her legs ached from running up and down the four flights of stairs in the lodging house. She had dusted, swept, polished, scrubbed, washed, cleaned and waited at the table until all she could think about was bed. Even the narrow hard bed in the attic next to Lena’s seemed like the ultimate luxury, but there was one final sitting of supper to go.

  Joyce saw Megan rubbing the calf muscles in her legs. ‘As soon as you’ve served the pie, your time’s your own until five o’clock tomorrow morning. Considering it’s your first day, you’ve done well.’

  Too weary to talk, Megan nodded.

  ‘Go into the dining room and check that Lena’s laid the table properly. I’ll be along with the pies in a moment.’

  Megan rose from the chair and went into the lodgers’ dining room, a large wood-panelled room, with a long table that would seat twenty-five at a push, although with three sittings for every meal there were rarely more than twenty at the table at any one time. There was one person in the room now –Sergeant Martin, who was standing with his back to her, staring down into the fire. He turned as she entered.

  ‘How did your first day go, Miss Williams?’

  ‘Fine, sir.’ There was no sign of Lena but the table had been laid incorrectly with all the knives on the left and the forks on the right. Megan set about swapping them over.

  ‘Then it sounds as though you had a better day than your young man. That was your young man I saw you with this morning?’ he enquired.

  ‘My fiancé,’ Megan confirmed, too worried to add the ‘sir.’ She instinctively reached for the engagement ring around her neck. ‘Has he had an accident?’

  ‘Nothing like that.’ The sergeant nodded to two constables who joined them. ‘He’s been arrested.’

  ‘What for?’ Megan asked in alarm.

  ‘I can’t discuss police matters with people who are not officially involved.’ He beamed as Joyce carried in a tray that held two large, steaming beef pies. ‘If they taste as good as they smell, Mrs Palmer, we’re in for a treat.’

  Joyce set the pies on the sideboard. ‘Fetch the vegetables please, Megan. As soon as we’ve served the gentlemen, you can go.’

  Realizing she must have heard the sergeant talking to her, Megan flashed her a grateful smile before dashing to the kitchen.

  Billy Evans left his chair next to the stove and picked up his cap and muffler from the table. ‘I’m off to the County Club to see if I can find out what really went on at the corner of Primrose Street this morning.’

  ‘I’ll come down to the court with you tomorrow,’ Lloyd offered.

  His father nodded. ‘But there’s no need for you to come, Sali, you have the soup kitchen to run and Harry to take and pick up from school. If the magistrates have a heavy workload there’s no saying what time the boys’ case will come up.’

  ‘I could ask Mr Richards if he can help Joey and Victor. You know he was my father’s solicitor for years before he started advising me about Harry’s trust fund.’

  ‘Thank you, Sali, but this is best left to the union solicitor. I may be late so don’t wait up for me.’ He closed the door quickly behind him to keep in the heat. A few seconds later the front door slammed.

  ‘You think the police are out to get Victor and Joey whatever the facts, don’t you?’ Sali asked Lloyd.

  ‘They’re the sons and brothers of strike leaders, and we all know what management think of those.’

  ‘But the police aren’t management and they can’t prosecute Victor and Joey unless they have a case against them.’

  Lloyd lifted his eyebrows.

  ‘You don’t think that they would fabricate evidence ...’

  ‘There’s no point in talking about things we can’t do anything about.’

  ‘You’re beginning to say that more and more these days,’ she complained irritably.

  ‘We could waste an entire evening discussing “what ifs” and be none the wiser at the end of it.’ He took the shirt she was mending from her hands, set it on the table, pulled her back towards his chair and on to his lap. ‘That’s better.’ He wrapped his arms around her waist. ‘As for my brothers, there’s only one thing I want at the moment and that’s both of them out of the cells in time for our wedding. Now can we talk about that, please.’

  ‘You know why I don’t like talking about it.’

  ‘Owen Bull is going to be executed,’ he said flatly, ‘and as soon as it happens, we are going to be married, Sali.’

  Although they both avoided mentioning Owen’s impending execution, Lloyd knew Sali scoured the papers for news of the appeal his solicitors had made against his sentence as thoroughly as he did. ‘It’s time to put Owen, his cruelty to you and Harry, and how he got away with Mansel James’ murder for over four years behind you, sweetheart.’

  Sali bit her bottom lip until it bled. ‘I know but -’

  ‘And as I’ll be wearing my best suit to our wedding, I’ll expect you to get something new from Gwilym James.’

  ‘I can’t buy new clothes when there are people starving in the valley.’

  ‘Yes, you can,’ he contradicted. ‘And don’t say that you can donate the money to the soup kitchen instead, because I happen to know that you can’t draw cash from either your own or Harry’s store accounts.’

  ‘I’ll think about it. But I will get some flowers. It’s an extravagance but I’d like to put them on my father’s grave afterwards.’

  ‘You can afford extravagances.’

  ‘Not living here in the middle of a strike I can’t.’

  ‘I’m not exactly
offering you a life with prospects, am I, sweetheart?’ he said bleakly. ‘Your father would turn in his grave if he knew his daughter was about to marry the man who had once been the assistant manager of his pit, and that’s even if I was in work.’

  ‘My father always thought a person’s character more important than their status,’ she rejoined swiftly.

  ‘That attitude wouldn’t have extended to his darling eldest daughter and you know it.’

  ‘My father never said anything unless he meant it.’

  ‘Come on, Sali, everyone knows you’re taking a massive step down in the world by marrying me.’

  ‘In my eyes I’m taking a step up. Marrying into a kind, and although they wouldn’t thank me for saying it, loving family, who back one another against the world, no matter what.’

  ‘And how many of your family will be at the wedding to see you take this “step up”?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she prevaricated.

  ‘Have you invited them?’

  ‘We haven’t had formal invitations printed.’

  ‘Don’t change the subject, Sali.’

  ‘I’ve written to Gareth and Llinos at their schools.’ She referred to her fifteen-year-old brother and sixteen-year-old sister. ‘I know they both intend to spend the Christmas holidays in Pontypridd.’

  ‘In Harry’s house.’

  ‘The house Harry will inherit when he’s thirty, yes.’

  ‘Have either of them written back?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘And although they are happy to live rent and expense free in your son’s house, I doubt they will. Have you invited Geraint?’ When Lloyd had worked for Sali’s father, he and her eldest brother Geraint had frequently discussed engineering problems, and Lloyd had felt that Sali’s brother had, if not exactly liked, at least respected him. But Geraint’s attitude towards him had changed on the day that Sali had told him they intended to marry.

  ‘I’ve mentioned it to him and written to Mother, Mr Richards and Mari –our old housekeeper. You know that Mother is ill -’

  ‘With acute hypochondria that has prevented her from doing anything that requires effort or her leaving her bed in years.’ He looked keenly at her. ‘Do you realize just how much you are giving up to marry me? At the moment all I can offer you is the trouble that comes from being a union leader, member of the strike committee and having two brothers in jail. Not to mention a life lived at starvation level.’