Winners and Losers

by Catrin Collier

  ‘I doubt I’ll sleep after this afternoon.’

  ‘You’ll sleep and I order you to have sweet dreams about us. Very sweet dreams.’ He gave her one last kiss and walked away.

  She put her hand on the doorknob but before she could turn it a man stepped out of the shadows between the coalhouse and wood shed. The knob slipped between her fingers and she cried out.

  ‘Miss Williams. I didn’t mean to startle you.’

  ‘Sergeant Martin, what are you doing there?’

  ‘Waiting for you. I never have a chance to speak to you in private inside the house.’

  ‘It’s late, I have to go to bed.’ She fought to get a grip on the doorknob.

  ‘What I have to say to you will only take a minute, Miss Williams. I would be honoured if you would accompany me to the Empire Theatre in Cardiff next Saturday. I know a local girl wouldn’t want to be seen with a police officer in Tonypandy ...’

  ‘I keep telling you that I am engaged, Sergeant Martin ...’ Megan faltered when she recalled her conversation with Victor. What if the sergeant had eavesdropped, heard her say that they had both been naked?

  ‘You must realize that your liaison with Mr Evans is totally unsuitable, Miss Williams. He is a common criminal. My intentions towards you are honourable.’

  ‘Sergeant, I am engaged to Victor Evans,’ she repeated forcefully.

  ‘Engagements can be broken, Miss Williams.’ He advanced towards her.

  Megan pulled off her glove in the hope that she’d be able to turn the slippery doorknob. The metal burned, ice cold in her hand.

  ‘I have heard that your father will not give you permission to marry Mr Evans.’

  ‘Sergeant, please go away!’ The door finally opened inwards and Megan fell forward on to the floor of the dark kitchen. The sergeant stepped into the doorway behind her. She tried to scream but failed to make a sound. He leaned over her. She could smell the tobacco and whisky on his breath, the heavy, sickly scent of his pomade. Finally finding her voice, she shouted, ‘Mrs Palmer.’

  A door opened in the hall and the nauseating scents faded as the sergeant melted into the shadows that shrouded the yard.

  ‘Megan, is that you?’ Mrs Palmer lifted the lamp she was carrying and saw her sprawled on the floor. ‘Whatever are you doing down there?’

  ‘I fell when I opened the door, Mrs Palmer.’

  ‘Fell? How?’

  ‘It’s snowing, my boots were slippery.’ Megan rose, dusted the snow from her cape and hung it on the stand. Taking off her hat, she pushed it gently back into shape.

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Mrs Palmer reached for the kettle.

  ‘No thank you, Mrs Palmer. I am very tired. I think I’ll go to my room.’ All Megan wanted to do was crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head and think of the time when she and Victor would be able to live together, if not as husband and wife, then at least in the same house. She only wished that there were some way other than his boxing, to realize their dream.

  Sali stared at the two small suitcases standing next to the kitchen door and mentally ran through the list of items she had packed into them. ‘I’ve put in extra sets of warm underwear for both of you. And your thick sweaters. I know you want to wear your suits because they look smarter, but don’t risk catching cold, especially when you change trains. It can be draughty on the platforms.’

  ‘We’re going to Cardiff and London, sweetheart, not the North Pole.’ Lloyd pushed his chair back from the breakfast table, went into the passage and lifted his own and his father’s overcoats from the pegs.

  Sali wasn’t fooled by his easy manner. She knew the Cardiff and London meetings of the Federation of Mineworkers Executive Councils, which he and his father were attending as South Wales delegates, were crucial. She opened the pantry door and emerged with a brown paper and string carrier bag. ‘I’ve made you cheese sandwiches and packed a couple of bottles of water.’

  ‘After the breakfast you’ve given us, we won’t be able to eat a thing until dinner time, and the union have arranged for that to be laid on in the hotel in Cardiff, so the sandwiches are best left here for the boys.’ Mr Evans took the jacket of his three-piece suit from the back of his chair and slipped it on over his waistcoat.

  ‘If you’re sure,’ she said doubtfully.

  ‘I’m sure, Sali. Lloyd and I will be eating like kings for the next couple of days, which is more than can be said for the rest of you.’

  ‘Your stud isn’t in properly.’ Sali straightened her father-in-law’s collar and adjusted the knot on his tie.

  ‘Thank you. I like having a daughter-in-law to fuss over me.’

  ‘What’s London like, Uncle Billy?’ Harry spooned the last of the porridge from his bowl into his mouth.

  ‘It’s an enormous city,’ Billy tried to recall all Harry’s favourite things, ‘full of horses, carts, toy shops and sweet shops.’

  ‘Our teacher says it’s where the king lives in a palace bigger than the whole of Tonypandy put together.’

  Lloyd gave Sali a quizzical look.

  ‘Harry’s learning about kings and queens down the ages,’ she explained, hoping to stop her husband from launching into one of his anti-royalist tirades in front of Harry, who was apt to repeat everything that was said in the house to his teacher.

  ‘Alfred who burned the cakes and William the conker.’ Harry climbed down from his chair.

  ‘Conqueror, Harry.’ Lloyd went to the sink and dipped his toothbrush into a saucer of salt. ‘He was given the title because he had a huge army of heavily armed, vicious soldiers, who fought everyone who tried to stop him from taking whatever he wanted, whether he owned it or not.’

  ‘Just like the colliery owners.’ Joey spread margarine on the last piece of toast on his plate.

  ‘Harry hears enough of that kind of comment from Luke Thomas’ son,’ Sali reprimanded.

  ‘London is also full of museums, libraries and art galleries, Harry. Mam and I will take you there one day when you’re older.’ Lloyd finished cleaning his teeth and rinsed his mouth. He put on his overcoat.

  ‘What’s this? A party in the passage,’ Billy Evans complained, when Joey and Victor followed him and Lloyd out of the kitchen door.

  ‘We have to wave you off, don’t we?’ Joey pushed his toast into his mouth, scooped Harry up and sat him on his shoulders.

  ‘And wish you luck,’ Victor added. ‘A lot of hopes are riding on this afternoon’s meeting.’

  ‘Cardiff’s meeting isn’t as important as the one in London tomorrow.’ Lloyd set his trilby on his head and checked the angle in the mirror.

  ‘Neither will count for much if the owners keep refusing to reopen negotiations,’ Billy warned.

  Joey glanced from Lloyd to Sali and saw she was close to tears. ‘I’ll take you to school this morning, Harry. Do you want to play cowboys and Indians on the way?’

  ‘He most certainly doesn’t if it involves throwing dirty snowballs.’ Fighting emotion, Sali lifted Harry from Joey’s shoulders and dressed him in his overcoat and cap.

  ‘I’ll walk with them to keep Joey on the straight and narrow. We may as well go straight to the picket line from the school, so don’t expect us back until late this afternoon, Sali.’ Victor shook Lloyd’s hand then his father’s. ‘Good luck.’

  Sali wrapped a scarf around Harry’s neck and pushed the mittens she’d knitted him on to his hands. ‘Have a good day in school and be good.’

  ‘Just like your Uncle Joey,’ Joey added.

  ‘Not at all like your Uncle Joey, who always speaks before he thinks. If you don’t get going, Harry will be late.’ Sali walked Joey, Victor and Harry to the door and waved them off.

  ‘I’ll see if Ned’s ready. Bye, Sali.’ Billy kissed her cheek, picked up his case and walked out of the front door ahead of Lloyd.

  ‘Take care of yourself and don’t let Father Kelly work you too hard.’ Lloyd drew Sali back into the passage, wrapped his arms around her and ki
ssed her. ‘Why the tears, sweetheart? I’ll only be gone a couple of nights.’

  ‘I know, I’m just being silly.’ She went to the door with him. ‘Take care of yourselves, both of you,’ she called after them, as they walked down the street with Ned Morgan.

  All the neighbours had come out of their houses to see them off and shouts of ‘Good Luck’ and ‘Show the owners what Welsh miners are made of’ echoed after them.

  Betty Morgan sniffed back a tear. ‘I won’t be able to settle to anything for a good half hour. I never can whenever Ned goes off on one of his union jaunts. Want a cup of tea while the fire’s still in?’ she asked Sali.

  ‘Yes, please, Betty.’ Sali watched the three men approach the corner that led down the hill. Lloyd turned, waved to her and blew a kiss. She blew one back, then followed Betty into her house.

  ‘Look what Fred gave me yesterday.’ Lena held out her wrist and showed off a rolled gold bangle to Megan.

  ‘Very pretty, but you could catch it on something if you try to do your work wearing it.’

  ‘No, I won’t, because I keep it pulled high on my arm.’

  ‘Haven’t you girls finished clearing the dining room yet?’ Mrs Palmer walked in with a clean cloth folded over her arm, ready to lay the table for the next meal.

  ‘Sergeant Lamb’s only just finished eating, Mrs Palmer. He came in late from the night shift.’ Lena hoped that Mrs Palmer hadn’t heard her talking about her bangle. Fred was cross enough that Megan knew about them and he was constantly warning her not to talk to him in the house when anyone else was around, or say a word to a soul about their meetings.

  The front door opened, banging loudly as it was thrown back on its hinges.

  ‘What on earth ...’ Mrs Palmer ran into the hall.

  Red-faced, breathless, Huw Davies leaned against the newel post, his helmet abandoned on the stairs, shouting at the top of his voice, ‘Everyone up now!’

  ‘What’s happened?’ Mrs Palmer asked.

  Huw set his hands on his knees and gulped in great mouthfuls of air. ‘Train crash ... Hopkinstown ...’

  ‘Constable, what’s all this noise?’ Sergeant Lamb appeared at the top of the stairs, barefoot, his trouser flies open over his combination underwear.

  ‘Sergeant Martin sent me, sir.’ Huw gasped for breath again. ‘All officers ... not on duty in the town are wanted urgently at Hopkinstown ... There’s been a train crash. Men and officers from the West Riding Regiment are on their way, but the request is for all the assistance we can give.’

  ‘Dead and injured?’ the sergeant barked.

  ‘Initial reports say both, sir ... but we’ve no numbers. There’s a train waiting at the station to take rescue personnel to the crash site, sir.’

  ‘Go to the other lodging houses. Get as many officers as you can. I’ll wake everyone here.’

  Huw Davies ran out without picking up his helmet or closing the door behind him. Joyce shut it quietly, as the sergeant started banging on the bedroom doors on the first landing.

  ‘Victor’s father and brother were going with the other miners’ leaders to Cardiff by train this morning for a conference.’ Megan whispered. A cold chill ran down her spine.

  ‘Scores of trains go up and down the valley lines every day,’ Joyce snapped to conceal her own fears. ‘They’re probably perfectly safe in Cardiff right now.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ Megan looked to her employer for reassurance.

  ‘Constable Davies, do you know what train crashed?’ Joyce asked, as he dived back in and retrieved his helmet.

  ‘All I know is the train left Treherbert at a quarter past nine ... it was due in Pontypridd before ten but it hit a coal train.’ Jamming his helmet on his head, he charged back out of the house.

  ‘Do you know what time train the Mr Evanses were catching?’

  Megan shook her head. ‘But Victor would. Can I run up and see him?’ She was already untying her apron. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can ...’

  ‘The Evanses may not even know about the crash yet, and if they don’t, you’ll only alarm them to no purpose. If they do,’ Joyce sighed, ‘they won’t be able to do anything about it. The troops and the police are trained to deal with disasters.’

  ‘But -’

  ‘All that can be done for the moment is being done, Megan,’ Mrs Palmer said firmly. She stepped aside as men ran down the stairs and out through the door. ‘We have a house to run and as all the bedrooms will be empty, now is a good time to clean them. When you and Lena have finished you may go up to see your young man. Not before. He may have heard something by then.’

  ‘Tell your father to organize the next strike in summer,’ Alun Richards grumbled to Joey as he warmed his hands over the rusting dustbin, more hole than metal, which the men on picket duty were using to burn rubbish.

  ‘If he had a choice, he wouldn’t be organizing a strike at all. He’d prefer to settle for peaceful negotiations,’ Victor said. ‘And he certainly didn’t pick the time. The owners did that when they cut our wages and tried to impose new conditions of employment.’

  ‘Let’s hope this is the last time we need to strike.’ Joey glanced across at Luke Thomas, who was whispering with his cronies. They were too animated for his liking and he hoped that Luke wasn’t coming up with any more bright ideas about tackling blacklegs.

  ‘Ben.’ Victor nodded to Ben Duckworth and his son who joined them. ‘I thought you weren’t due here until this afternoon.’

  ‘I’m not.’ Ben drew Victor aside. ‘There’s been a train crash in Hopkinstown. I’ve heard it’s the one the union leaders were on.’

  ‘Anyone hurt?’ Victor paled.

  ‘All I can tell you is that our leaders were on it. I thought that maybe you and Joey would want to go down there and see if you could find out ...’

  Ben was talking to himself. Victor had grabbed Joey and both were running as fast as they could towards the town.

  ‘One of us should go back to the house.’ Joey jumped on a tram heading down the valley ahead of Victor, after they had called in Rodney’s and asked Connie if she’d go up the house to stay with Sali.

  ‘You want me to press the bell so you can get off?’ Victor asked.

  ‘I couldn’t do anything that Connie can’t. This not knowing whether Dad and Lloyd are safe is killing me.’ Joey dug in his pocket for pennies as the conductor approached. ‘Two to Hopkinstown please.’

  ‘Train crash?’ The conductor took the money and rolled out two tickets.

  ‘You know anything about it?’ Victor asked urgently.

  ‘I got there too late to see the crash, but I saw the result from the embankment when I took my break. It’s a right mess. Wreckage strewn over the tracks the length of Hopkinstown. The guard’s van and a couple of carriages have been turned into matchwood. The passengers couldn’t have known what hit them.’

  ‘Do you know how many were killed?’ Joey demanded.

  ‘I’ve heard dozens but no one can really know, not yet. I saw them laying out bodies in the railway sheds. They were covering them with blankets. Two of them were so small they couldn’t have been more than young kids. I did hear that three important men –union leaders or councillors or the like –have been killed.’

  ‘Did they say who they were?’ Joey rasped, and his hands shook.

  ‘No. They won’t let you near the tracks either. Troops and police are swarming all over and keeping people back.’ He moved on up the aisle leaving Joey and Victor looking at one another.

  ‘That doesn’t mean that Dad or Lloyd -’

  ‘I know,’ Joey broke in abruptly, unable to bear any platitudes.

  ‘Another half hour and we’ll be there.’ Victor turned away from his brother and stared blindly out of the window. He couldn’t imagine a world without Lloyd and his father.

  ‘Victor promised that he and Joey would be back the minute they find out anything.’ Connie set a kettle on to boil in Sali’s kitchen to make tea for her and Betty Morgan.


  ‘They could be hours. I can’t just sit here and do nothing until they come back.’ Sali paced uneasily to the door to the passage and opened it.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Connie followed her, and watched her put her coat on.

  ‘Just out in the street, down to town –I don’t know. Somewhere, anywhere that someone knows what’s happening in Hopkinstown. That’s it,’ she said eagerly. ‘I could go down to Hopkinstown ...’

  ‘And if Lloyd and Uncle Billy are already on their way back here?’ Connie asked.

  Sali opened the front door to find the neighbours congregated in the street. Two police officers were pushing their way through the crowd.

  ‘Constable Davies,’ Sali shouted, recognizing Huw Davies from the time she had needed help in the Hardy’s house and the numerous occasions he had slipped her money for the soup kitchen since. And, unlike most people, he insisted on his donations remaining anonymous. ‘Do you know anything about the train crash in Hopkinstown?’

  ‘Do you?’ Mrs Hopkins from the end of the street buttonholed him, preventing him from reaching Sali.

  ‘Please, ladies, let us get through to Mrs Evans,’ Huw pleaded, as the women swarmed around him and his colleague.

  ‘Two coppers, that means someone’s dead for sure.’ Mrs Robinson folded her arms and rocked back on her heels. ‘They always send out two to tell a woman she’s a widow. One to do the talking and one to catch her when she falls. When our John was knocked down and trampled to death by the brewery cart’s shire horses outside the White Hart, two coppers came to the house five minutes later. They hadn’t finished scraping him up off the road before they told my sister ...’

  ‘Please, ladies, this isn’t helping,’ Huw pleaded strongly.

  The one word that stuck in Sali’s head was ‘Dead’. It reverberated repeatedly through her mind like a mantra. Dead. Dead. Dead.

  ‘Mrs Evans.’ Constable Davies was holding her arm but he was looking over her head at Connie who was still standing in the passage. ‘Someone told me Mrs Morgan is here.’

  ‘That’s right. Please, won’t you come in, Constable?’ Remembering her manners, Connie stepped back and opened the kitchen door.