Winners and Losers

by Catrin Collier

  ‘Victor is one of our best bare-knuckle boxers,’ Luke said with more enthusiasm than accuracy.

  ‘Was,’ Victor corrected.

  ‘You’ve given up fighting, Mr Evans?’ The sergeant cupped a penny petrol lighter to shield it from the wind, flicked it and lit his cigar.

  Victor hesitated. What Luke had said about being fined worried him. He knew his father had virtually nothing left of their savings and they hadn’t received a penny in rent for any of their houses since the strike had started. Sali had her own and Harry’s allowances, although he had no idea how much they were, but even if she offered, he wouldn’t take money from her. So, just as he’d said to Luke earlier, a fine really would mean prison.

  ‘After seeing what the Somersets’ regimental champion did to your colleague, I can understand you being afraid to take up the challenge.’ The sergeant blew a plume of smoke in Victor’s direction.

  Luke was a bombastic idiot who frequently allowed his mouth to outdistance his brain, but even allowing for his flattery, Victor had been a promising boxer before he’d been beaten, albeit very young and inexperienced. If he began training again he knew he could make enough money to keep himself and Joey out of prison – and perhaps even enough to start saving for his and Megan’s future. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘I’ll call round your house first thing in the morning. We’ll talk,’ Luke broke in eagerly.

  ‘I said I’d think about it. If I decide to go ahead, I know where to find you. Good afternoon.’ Victor touched his cap, took Megan’s arm and led her away.

  ‘You’re not really going to start boxing again, are you, Victor?’ She had to run to keep up with him.

  ‘I might make a lot of money if I did.’ He voiced his thoughts.

  ‘You don’t need money.’

  ‘I’ll soon have a fine to pay and we’ll need money when we marry.’

  ‘You’ll be working again long before then, I have ten pounds in savings and four shillings and sixpence a week left over from my wages after I’ve sent my father his money. You can have it.’

  ‘I don’t want your money, Megs.’

  ‘Please, for my sake, don’t start boxing again,’ she pleaded, blanching as an image of Dai Hopkins, all bloody and battered, came to mind.

  He smiled down at her. ‘Even if I do and that is an “if”, I promise you I won’t end up in the same state as Dai Hopkins.’

  ‘Joey said the last time you boxed you were knocked out for days.’

  ‘I was younger then.’

  ‘Victor -’

  ‘Let’s not talk about it. Not now. We have the theatre to look forward to. Do you know who’s on the bill?’

  Megan had never loved Victor more than at that moment. She admired his strength, his principles and his resolution. But she wished with all her heart that she could stop him from doing things she sensed would only lead to more trouble –and in this case hurt and pain.

  Chapter Ten

  Lloyd straightened his back and tried not to lean quite so heavily on the walking stick that he had been forced to use since he’d been beaten. Sali was walking along the riverbank towards him and Harry and he was hoping to impress her with the improvement in his condition in the couple of hours since he’d seen her. ‘Hello, sweetheart. Good meeting?’

  Sali kissed Lloyd’s cheek and stooped to kiss Harry. ‘I’ll tell you about it later. Mari told me you two had decided to go fishing with her best preserving jar.’

  ‘Look, Mam.’ Harry held up the jar, its rim tied with string. It was full of murky and unsavoury looking water.

  ‘Is anything in there?’ she asked warily.

  ‘Uncle Lloyd ... Dad ... said there might be fish eggs that will hatch in spring when the weather gets warmer.’

  ‘There might at that.’ Sali reached for her scented handkerchief and held it over her nose. Even in the cold weather the stench of the river was foul. The water flowed thick with colliery waste, sewage, and hooves and hides from the slaughterhouses. It had been a long time since anything had managed to survive in the murky depths of the Taff, but Lloyd obviously hadn’t wanted to disappoint Harry by telling him that.

  ‘But, young man, they will have to be returned to the river or they won’t hatch. We don’t want to be responsible for killing the baby fish before they’ve had time to come out of their eggs, now do we?’

  ‘Can I tip them back?’ Harry ran off the path.

  ‘Only if you hold my hand when you lean over the bank.’ Lloyd gripped Harry’s free hand, and Harry upended the jar over the river.

  ‘I’ll carry the jar back,’ Sali offered. ‘Mari has tea ready, and she’s made one of her chocolate cakes especially for you. Mr Richards is there too, and he wants to say hello.’

  ‘Mr Richards. Yippee!’ Harry yelled using an expression Joey had picked up from one of the comics Sali suspected Joey bought more for his own benefit than Harry’s.

  ‘Be sure to wash your hands well as soon as you go in.’ Sali watched her son charge down the path, arms and legs flying, cap pushed to the back of his head, coat open to the cold wind. ‘I hope it is Mr Richards he wants to see, not the sixpence he always gives him.’

  ‘So, how did the meeting go?’ Lloyd lifted his trilby and repositioned it away from the worst of his bruises.

  ‘It was horrible.’

  ‘Let me guess, Mr Jenkins lectured you on etiquette, or the correct way to hand out teacups at a board meeting?’

  ‘It would have been boring but I could have put up with it if he had.’ She curled her gloved fingers around his arm, as they headed up the path that ran alongside the river. ‘When it came to any other business, Geraint asked the trustees to make him Harry’s guardian so he could remove him from the pernicious influences of a strike leader’s working-class hovel.’

  ‘Geraint actually used those words?’

  ‘No, but he did say “squalor”, “Marxist troublemakers” and “sedition”, among others that I’d rather not mention.’ Sali preferred to keep the ‘choice’ Geraint had wanted her to make to herself for the time being.

  ‘He wants to bring Harry up in Ynysangharad House?’ Lloyd guessed correctly.

  ‘And send him away to boarding school as soon as he’s old enough.’

  ‘He will have to go away to school, Sali.’

  ‘No he won’t!’ she exclaimed, furious with Lloyd for adopting the same stance as the trustees.

  ‘Harry is going to be a rich –and as riches mean power – an important and influential man in Pontypridd, and possibly Wales. He is going to need the advantages of the best education money can buy to enable him to cope with the responsibilities of his position.’

  ‘And you think he can only get that education away from me? He’s doing well in school -’

  ‘A council school where the teachers have been trained to drain all ambition out of their pupils, because the best they can hope for after they matriculate at eleven is low-paid manual and menial work. And along with basic arithmetic, reading and writing, they learn to bow, scrape and tug their forelocks to their betters,’ he added caustically.

  ‘If that’s the case, you and your brothers didn’t learn your lessons very well.’

  ‘Only because our father taught us to question even our teachers, no, I’ll correct that, especially our teachers.’ He hit a clump of decaying bracken at the side of the path with his stick. A water rat scurried out, ran down the bank and dived into the filthy river.

  ‘From what I’ve seen of the colliers in Tonypandy they question everyone, especially those in authority.’

  ‘Harry doesn’t need to learn to question anyone in authority because, thanks to his inheritance, one day he will be the authority. There’s no saying what he could do, or how far he could go, Sali. He’s a bright lad who could become an MP or even prime minister and then he’ll be able to change people’s lives in ways we poor Marxist revolutionaries can only dream of.’

  ‘I still don’t see why he has to go away
to school to be educated.’

  ‘Just look at the friends he is making, sweetheart. Boys destined to become colliers –provided there are still jobs for them when this strike ends. Girls who look no further than hooking a man, having babies and running a house.’

  ‘Like me?’ she challenged.

  ‘No, not like you.’ He stopped, cupped her face in his hands and looked intently into her eyes. ‘After your father died, your uncle made all your choices for you, and married you off to a man who turned out to be a murderer. And, although I believe it’s wrong to take another man’s life, I sincerely hope that Owen Bull isn’t pardoned before they hang him on Monday morning.’

  She shuddered as she always did whenever anyone said anything that reminded her of the miserable existence she and Harry had led with Owen Bull before they’d escaped to the Evanses’ house. Everyone in Pontypridd, including all the trustees, knew of her marriage to Owen, and his subsequent conviction and death sentence. But no one ever referred to her as Mrs Bull. She had adopted Jones as a surname because it had been part of her maiden name and in Wales it guaranteed anonymity. But she would be very glad –and relieved –when she could exchange it for Evans. ‘I made it easy for my uncle by making love to Mansel and getting pregnant with Harry before he was murdered.’

  ‘Like many of the wonderful things in life, love and lovemaking has been used by priests and religious fanatics down the ages to control the populace. Engendering feelings of guilt where there should only be pleasure. Since you left Owen and started making your own decisions, you’ve been living your life the way you want to. Haven’t you?’ he asked, seeking reassurance that they were together as a result of a conscious decision on her part.

  ‘I’ve never been happier. That’s why I’m so angry with Geraint for trying to take control of Harry’s life. I want my son to grow up with you and your family in a community of good, honest, hard-working, clean-living, working-class people -’

  ‘Noble sentiments, sweetheart, but you know as well as I do that good, honest, hard-working and clean-living can’t be applied to all the working-class people in Tonypandy,’ he smiled. ‘And don’t try telling me that you haven’t seen the families I am talking about.’

  ‘All right, I admit there’s good and bad in every class. But I don’t want Harry to turn out like Geraint and Gareth, a narrow-minded, bigoted snob who can only think about himself.’

  ‘As if Harry would ever turn out like that with you for a mother.’ They turned off the path into the lane that led to the back of Ynysangharad House. ‘Think of the friends he will make in public school. Rich and important men’s sons, the children of people who run this country. If change is going to come, it would be less bloody if it came from within the ruling class rather than imposed from outside. And, look on the bright side, Harry will spend all his holidays with us, so he will still be exposed to your good, honest, hard-working, clean-living working-class people.’

  ‘Laugh at me all you like. I won’t give up the guardianship of Harry to Geraint no matter what,’ she declared vehemently.

  ‘I’m not laughing at you, sweetheart, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure that we keep him.’ He stared at the house as if he were seeing it for the first time. ‘I don’t envy you or Harry. It’s easier to be Geraint or me. We have our feet firmly planted in one class. We have our place in the world and know what it is, although I’ll be the first to concede that I haven’t stayed within the lines, especially when it comes to you. A collier has no right to look at a princess, let alone court her.’

  ‘Hardly a princess. Harry and I were penniless when you and I fell in love.’

  ‘Yet now, because of Harry’s inheritance, you are straddling two worlds and that doesn’t make for an easy or comfortable life. But if anyone can do it, and do it successfully, it’s you. And I have no doubt that, given time, you’ll teach Harry to cope.’

  ‘I wish I could believe you.’

  He kissed her. ‘With me by your side, and Harry for a son, you are going to lead a charmed life.’

  Harry, chocolate cake in one hand, plate balanced in the other, waved to them through the drawing-room window.

  ‘School could teach him to despise us as Geraint, Gareth and Llinos do.’ Sali hated herself for even considering the possibility.

  Lloyd thought of Sali’s brothers and sister, recalled their contempt for colliers, open hostility towards him and Sali, and the hypocrisy that didn’t prevent their antagonism to interfere with the luxurious lifestyle they enjoyed courtesy of Harry’s trust. ‘I wish I could promise you that school won’t change Harry, sweetheart, but all I can say is that I hope it doesn’t.’

  ‘Joey must have gone out again,’ Megan said, as they walked into Victor’s kitchen. The fire had been banked with small coal, and a cup and saucer stood abandoned on the table.

  ‘He never clears up after himself,’ Victor grumbled. He carried the cup to the sink before filling the kettle and setting it on the stove to boil. He glanced at the clock.

  ‘We have an hour. Shall I put the pie in the oven to warm?’

  ‘You’re hungry?’

  ‘Yes, and between our combined strike pay, the chickens, the allotments and the pay I receive in kind from the farms for the odd bit of work, we aren’t as short of food as some. So you can eat here without feeling as though you are taking the bread out of our mouths.’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s just that -’

  ‘Megs, before all this happened, and I don’t just mean the strike, but your uncle leaving and you working for Mrs Palmer, we used to be able to talk about anything and everything. Please, don’t let’s lose that honesty now. I’ve never felt as close to anyone before, not even my father and brothers, but in this last week since you moved ... well, I ...’

  ‘You what?’ She didn’t know why she was asking. She knew exactly what he meant.

  ‘I don’t know whether it’s because I can’t call in to see you whenever I want to, or because you’re keeping something from me –are you keeping something from me?’ He finally summoned the courage to ask the question that had been bothering him.

  Megan thought of Sergeant Martin, the chocolates he’d tried to foist on her and his intimation that she could have more, Constable Shipton’s leer and his humiliating pinch, Beryl Richards and the other women turning on her in town, and she knew that there were some things that she had to keep from Victor for his own sake. Even at the risk of driving a wedge between them.

  ‘It’s like you said, Victor. When I was living next door, you could call in any time you wanted; not only me, but my uncle, his brothers and the children made you welcome. You knew everything there was to know about me. But it’s different in the lodging house. I have a life there that you can never be a part of.’

  ‘Is that all it is, Megs?’

  ‘What else could it be?’

  The kettle began to boil. He ignored it and took her into his arms. Sensing that her white lies marked the beginning of a rift between them, she held him all the closer as he kissed her.

  ‘Do you have the arrangements for your wedding in hand, Mrs Jones, Mr Evans?’ Mr Richards ventured, as he, Sali, Lloyd and Harry sat around the tea table Mari had laid for them in the drawing room that overlooked the formal gardens. Beautiful in summer, the flower and rose beds looked sadly withered and neglected in winter.

  ‘Given the demands the strike committee make on my time and my present financial situation, Mr Richards, we have had few arrangements to make.’ Lloyd knew that they were all thinking about the execution that had to take place before he and Sali could marry, and he was grateful to Mr Richards for not mentioning it.

  ‘The register office is booked for half past eleven, the Saturday after next.’ Sali sugared her tea. ‘Lloyd’s father, brothers and Harry will be travelling down from Tonypandy with us, and we’re hoping that Lloyd’s brother’s fiancée will be allowed time off work to act as my bridesmaid.’

  ‘Have you deci
ded what you are going to wear?’ Mari asked.

  ‘Yes, but before you get carried away by visions of white lace and orange blossom, remember it will be my second marriage. My outfit will be more practical than bride-like.’ Sali filled Harry’s cup half full of milk before handing it to Mari to be topped up with tea.

  ‘You haven’t arranged a wedding breakfast, as yet?’ Mr Richards enquired.

  ‘No, and we won’t be. Even if we could afford one, it would be inappropriate to hold a celebration with the strike on,’ Sali explained.

  ‘That being the case, may I provide a breakfast as my wedding present to you? And before you object on the grounds of cost, I will donate the same amount of money to one of the soup kitchens.’

  ‘That is an extremely generous offer, Mr Richards, but we couldn’t possibly take you up on it,’ Lloyd protested.

  ‘As I have already accepted an invitation from Mrs Jones to attend your wedding, Mr Evans, I would regard it as an insult if you refused my gift. Mrs Jones’ father was one of my closest friends. I have known her all her life.’ He gave Sali a small smile. ‘She is a valued friend and I hope that, given time, we will also become friends.’

  ‘I hope so too -’ Lloyd began.

  ‘Then it is settled,’ Mr Richards interrupted. ‘I will arrange for a modest lunch to be served in a private room at the New Inn Hotel.’ He held out his plate as Mari cut second slices of the chocolate cake. ‘Will you also be going to the wedding, Mrs Williams?’

  ‘I most certainly will,’ Mari answered warmly.

  ‘You have invited your family, Mrs Jones?’ Mr Richards took two of the chocolate curls from the top of his slice of cake, added them to Harry’s and winked at him.

  ‘I have, but I don’t expect any of them to come.’ Sali hadn’t held out much hope before Geraint’s unexpected attack on the way she was bringing up Harry. Now, she had none. Where Geraint led, Gareth and Llinos inevitably followed.

  ‘They may surprise you.’ From the expression on Mari’s face, Sali suspected she was planning to speak to Geraint about it.

  ‘I doubt it. My mother isn’t well enough to leave her room and Geraint couldn’t have made it clearer that he is opposed to our marriage.’ Sali left her chair, took a fresh cup and saucer from the tray Mari had left on the sideboard, poured a cup of tea, added milk and sugar, and cut a slice of chocolate cake. ‘I’ll take this up to Mother, Mari.’