Winners and Losers

by Catrin Collier

  ‘These two men, father and son, are made in the same mould,’ he indicated Lloyd and Billy, ‘strike leaders. You heard Sergeant Lamb testify that Lloyd Evans stood on a position overlooking the colliery and shout, “We cannot go on always like this. If we cannot get justice by fair means we will get justice by others. We cannot allow the women and children to starve another winter.”’

  ‘Mr Lloyd Evans’ wife has just given birth to his daughter.’ He looked to where Sali was sitting in the public gallery, and repeated, ‘“We cannot let the women and children starve another winter.” Need I say more, gentlemen?’

  A red haze formed in front of Sali’s eyes as she was forced to sit in silence and listen to the lies being said about Lloyd.

  ‘I agree with the learned counsel,’ he gave Geoffrey Francis a perfunctory nod, ‘that the testimony of the three defendants differs in many respects from Sergeant Lamb’s, but who are we to believe? Strike leaders and troublemakers who have incited their fellow workers to withdraw their labour and bring the coal industry, on which the economy of the Welsh Valleys and indeed the whole of South Wales is based, to its knees? Or a respected, God-fearing police officer and representative of authority?’ He bowed his head. ‘Your honour, members of the jury, I rest my case.’

  Sali never remembered what she did during the half hour it took the jury to retire and bring in their verdict. She only recalled afterwards –sitting on the bench between Joey and Mr Richards, and Joey’s hand trembling and growing cold in hers as they both tried to absorb the implications of the jury’s verdict.

  ‘Guilty on all charges with a recommendation for mercy.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Betty Morgan whispered behind them.

  ‘Silence.’ The judge glared around the courtroom. He waited for the murmur of voices to subside before looking to the three defendants in the dock.

  ‘William Evans, Lloyd Evans, Victor Evans, you have had fair hearing and a judgement made on your crimes by your peers. I have taken into account the jury’s recommendation of mercy. William Evans and Lloyd Evans, you have been found guilty of riotous assembling at Penygraig on July twenty-fifth last. Thereby I sentence you, Lloyd William Evans, on that charge to one year’s imprisonment with hard labour. William Wilberforce Evans I sentence you on that same charge to one year’s imprisonment with hard labour.’

  Banging his gavel for order, the judge waited until the uproar at his pronouncement subsided. ‘Victor Sebastian Evans, I have taken into account the mitigating circumstances of the assault you perpetrated on the officer you wrongly assumed was threatening your father. However, as you have asked for another offence to be taken into consideration, that of threatening and inflicting grievous bodily harm on a clergyman, I sentence you to six months’ imprisonment with hard labour.’

  Joey jumped to his feet and began shouting. To Sali’s amazement, the other men and women on the public benches followed suit, ignoring both the judge’s calls for order and the police officers moving in on them. Numbed by the prospect of losing Lloyd for an entire year, she stared down at the back of his head.

  Lloyd’s father and Victor continued to face the judge, but almost as though he had sensed her presence, Lloyd turned and looked directly at her. And in that single moment, she felt as though she had seen into his soul and the very heart of the love he bore for her and their children.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Shocked by the severity of the sentences, Sergeant Martin apologized in advance to Sali and Joey, ‘but I can’t allow you more than five minutes and under no circumstances are you to touch the prisoners.’

  The prisoners. The words seared into Sali’s mind when she walked into the waiting room ahead of Joey. It was bare, with yellow distempered walls and a wooden floor. Lloyd, Victor and Mr Evans were standing in line, handcuffed and flanked by police officers. At a signal from Sergeant Martin the constables moved to the door behind them.

  ‘We’ll be fine,’ Lloyd said unconvincingly to Sali. ‘You look after yourself and Bella and Harry.’

  ‘We’ll come to see you as soon as they let us,’ Joey said, fighting emotion.

  Victor looked silently at Sali. She knew what he wanted to ask.

  ‘I’ll do all I can to find Megan, Victor, I promise. Take care of yourselves. Joey and I will keep a fine home for you to come back to. I love you, Lloyd. All three of you and you’re not to worry about us ...’

  The outer door opened and they were hustled away.

  Sali had never felt so exhausted and beaten in her life. Joey led her into the corridor where Mr Richards was waiting with Mari who was carrying Bella.

  ‘I have arranged for the carriage to pick us up at a side door, Mrs Evans, to avoid the crowds. Half the Rhondda and all the Federation members are demonstrating outside the court building. It wouldn’t surprise me if the police find themselves facing another riot after such injustice.’

  ‘Of course, Mr Francis will appeal the sentences ...’

  ‘But he may not be successful,’ Sali interrupted, guessing what Mr Richards was trying to tell her.

  ‘No, he may not,’ the solicitor reluctantly agreed, as the four of them sat in the coach that headed through Taffs Well towards Pontypridd.

  Sali tried to put her thoughts in order. There were so many decisions to make. She had enough money to keep herself, the children and Joey in Tonypandy, but she knew that if she continued to pay the household expenses she would only succeed in hurting Lloyd and his father’s pride all the more.

  But as she tried to concentrate on practical matters, an image of Lloyd, Victor and Mr Evans travelling to Cardiff prison in a Black Maria intruded into her mind. She pictured the indignities they would be subjected to. She had heard so many stories about what happened to prisoners when they were admitted to jail.

  Stripped of their clothes, personal possessions and dignity, hosed down with cold water as they were forced to stand naked, locked like animals in a cell ... What was hard labour these days –breaking rocks?

  ‘Mrs Evans,’ Mr Richards touched her arm, ‘have you thought what you are going to do now?’

  Sali bit her lip in an effort to contain her emotion and shook her head.

  Mr Richards looked across at Mari, who was engrossed in nursing and protecting the baby against the movement of the carriage. Joey was slumped in the corner. His eyes were closed, but it was impossible to say whether he slept or not.

  ‘Perhaps now is the time for you to consider moving back into Ynysangharad House. The trustees will cover all your expenses. You have no one to pay the expenses of your father-in-law’s house.’

  ‘Move in with Geraint? No, Mr Richards, it is out of the question.’

  ‘Here, Mrs Evans.’ He opened his briefcase and thrust a pile of envelopes at her. ‘Put these in your handbag, I think you will find solutions to some of your problems in the minutes of the last two meetings the trustees held in your absence.’

  ‘I had Bella -’

  ‘That was not meant as a criticism, Mrs Evans; we were aware that you were indisposed and could not attend. I will do all I can to help Mr Francis appeal against the sentences but you must also fight, Mrs Evans. Not everyone will see the sentence your husband received as unjust. There are those who will try to use his criminal record against you, to discredit both you and the family you have married into.’

  ‘Geraint,’ she said wearily.

  He patted her hand. ‘Come and see me tomorrow afternoon when you have had time to think. We’ll talk over things then. I will send the carriage to Tonypandy for you. Shall we say, two o’clock?’

  ‘Harry will be in school.’

  ‘I am sure that his education will be able to survive one afternoon off, Mrs Evans.’

  She removed her handkerchief from her handbag, covered her mouth and looked out of the window. The sun had set and the gas lamps had been lit. Curtains were being drawn in the houses they passed and she imagined men coming home from work and washing, women carrying the food they had prepared to the
table, a family sitting around, eating, laughing, talking ... a sudden vision of Lloyd, and all his family, and the children sitting at the table in the kitchen of his father’s house was so acutely real and painful that she blanched.

  ‘Won’t you at least stay in Ynysangharad House tonight, Mrs Evans?’ Mr Richards pleaded.

  ‘No,’ said Sali, ‘But I will read the minutes of the trustees’ meetings and consider the future, Mr Richards. And tomorrow I will meet you in your office.’

  Sali picked up Harry on the way home. Joey helped her and the children down from the carriage and opened the door. To his surprise a fire had been lit in the kitchen and a pleasant smell of cooking and baking filled the air.

  ‘I’ve put one of my meat and potato pies into the oven for you, Sali.’ Joyce Palmer untied her apron, lifted it over her head and folded it into her shopping bag. ‘Mrs Rodney sent up some bread and other essentials, and the kettle’s boiled for tea. The whole of Tonypandy’s heard about the sentences and, like everyone else, all I can say is it’s an absolute disgrace that good men should be punished for fighting for their rights. And that is just what my Aled would say if he were here. I can’t stay. I have my lodgers to see to. There’s an apple pie and a jug of custard in the warming tray, don’t let them go to waste.’ She tickled Bella under the chin, and smiled at Harry. ‘Gorgeous baby you have there, young man, you must be really proud of her.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Sali shouted after her as she bustled out.

  ‘Sit down, Sali.’ Joey adopted a paternal attitude that she found difficult to take seriously in spite of her misery. ‘I’ll dish out the food.’

  ‘You see to Harry and yourself,’ she said. ‘I’ll bath Bella, feed her and settle her down first.’

  ‘Sali -’

  ‘Don’t worry, Joey, I’ll eat. I promised Lloyd that I’d look after myself, and I will.’

  Sali and Joey sat in the kitchen after Sali had put Harry to bed. The baby hadn’t stirred in her day cot in the corner, and Sali didn’t expect her to until she woke for her midnight feed. It was so quiet that the ticking of the clock resounded like gunshot into the still atmosphere. She started at the slightest sound, half expecting Lloyd, Mr Evans or Victor to walk through the door, even though she knew that was impossible.

  She read the minutes of the meetings that had taken place in her absence, re-read them, considered the implications of the decisions that had been taken and set the papers on her lap. She looked across at Joey. He had said very little since they had left Cardiff and hadn’t referred to the trial once, but she could discern the same bitterness in him that she had detected in Lloyd, Victor and Mr Evans, for all that Joey had found a job – albeit one more suitable for a boy than a grown man.

  ‘We have to talk, Joey.’

  He looked up from the book he wasn’t even pretending to read. ‘What’s there to talk about?’

  ‘The future.’

  ‘The future is I go to see Mr Francis tomorrow and ask him to sell one of the houses and hope we get enough money from the sale to live on for the next couple of months.’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ she said determinedly. ‘The future is we move out tomorrow.’

  ‘To where?’

  ‘Ynysangharad House.’

  ‘Lloyd said -’

  ‘I know Lloyd and your father’s views and I went along with them before I read these.’ She lifted the papers from her lap. ‘Ynysangharad House is Harry’s, the trustees have been wanting me to move in there for some time and we’ll do just that because temporarily it is going to be very convenient for our new jobs. Gwilym James is opening a new store in Tonypandy. The company is going to need new staff, lots of staff. People who have been trained to do shop work.’

  ‘I’m not even a decent delivery boy.’

  ‘You are young, good-looking, bright and charming. You were a brilliant repairman and I’m sure that given time you will become an excellent sales assistant, assistant manager and, given your knowledge of Tonypandy and the training you will receive from the manager of the Pontypridd store of Gwilym James, eventual manager of the Tonypandy store.’

  ‘Lloyd also said no made-up jobs,’ he snapped.

  ‘It won’t be. Look at this.’ She thrust the copy of the minutes Mr Horton junior had written and pointed to a section Mr Richards had underlined:

  ‘A conservative estimate is twenty trained staff to start in the Tonypandy Department Store within two months, training to be carried out in Gwilym James department store, Pontypridd.’

  ‘We’ll be lucky to have you.’

  ‘And this house?’

  ‘We’ll close it up and ask Betty Morgan to keep an eye on it.’

  ‘You have it all worked out, don’t you?’ he said bitterly.

  ‘No, I don’t, Joey,’ she said honestly, ‘but what I do know is that we can’t sit back and feel sorry for ourselves, or allow your father, Lloyd and Victor to worry themselves sick about us when they need every ounce of energy to look after themselves. Good things aren’t going to happen unless we make them.’

  ‘After what happened today you can talk about good things?’ he mocked.

  ‘The first good thing I want to happen is Lloyd, Victor and your father’s release from prison. And I intend to start fighting for that with every means at my disposal first thing tomorrow. Which is one of the reasons I intend to see Geoffrey Francis, after I’ve met Mr Richards.’

  ‘I’m with you there.’ He finally began to show some signs of enthusiasm.

  ‘Tell me, do you hate the idea of working in a department store that much?’

  ‘What would an assistant manager earn?’

  ‘Trainee assistant managers in Gwilym James, and that’s what you will be next Monday morning if you decide to take the job, receive one pound ten shillings a week. I’ve done no favours for my brother, and although I hate to say it after recommending him for the position, he’s not a particularly good assistant manager, but he still gets the going rate of three pounds a week. The manager of the Tonypandy store would get more than four pounds a week.’

  ‘That’s more than I would have earned in the colliery even if we had been given our pay rise. You really think I could do the job?’

  She saw the excitement in his eyes and breathed a heady sigh of relief. If she could sort out Joey it would be a start. ‘There’s only one way to find out. But I warn you, the training won’t be easy. Mr Horton, the manager of Gwilym James, is a stickler and a tartar. If he catches you flirting with the staff or customers he’d probably put you in the modern day equivalent of the stocks,’ she said not entirely humorously, ‘and you’ll have Geraint to contend with. He hates me, but he hates Lloyd and all of you more.’

  ‘I met him –once.’

  ‘Then you know what I mean. So, what do you say?’

  ‘Anything has to be better than moping around here trying to pay the bills on fifteen shillings a week. But what about you?’

  ‘I have some ideas of my own,’ she said lightly. ‘It’s high time I became more involved with the businesses Harry will own one day.’

  ‘You have the children.’

  ‘And I have Mari and a full staff to run Ynysangharad House and you to help me face Geraint when I move there.’

  He fell serious. ‘This is a gamble, Sali. I may not be up to doing what this Mr Horton wants of me, but you do know that even if I make a go of it, my father, Lloyd and Victor will never work in a shop. Especially one Harry will inherit.’

  ‘I know, Joey,’ she agreed, ‘but let’s take it one step at a time. As soon you wake up tomorrow, go down to Pontypridd and ask them to send the carriage up early. I’ll have everything packed by the time you come back. Now we’ve made the decision, the sooner we move the better.’

  ‘You understand?’ Sali looked from Mr Jenkins to Mari and the housekeeper.

  ‘Mr Geraint and Mrs Watkin Jones aren’t going to like it,’ the housekeeper warned Sali.

  ‘This isn’t their house for them no
t to like it,’ Mr Jenkins pointed out.

  ‘I agree, Miss Sali, it’s an ideal solution,’ Mari said. ‘You, Master Harry and your husband’s family will occupy the main house and Mr Geraint and your mother will move into the separate wing. It’s been closed for about five years but I check it periodically and I’ve seen no sign of damp or decay. It shouldn’t take more than a day or two to air the rooms once we get the fires lit. Do you want us to air the separate dining and drawing rooms there as well?’

  ‘Please, Mari. Given that I have two young children, I wouldn’t want them disturbing my mother or Geraint, so I think we should run the two households as entirely separate entities. I will occupy the master bedroom, Mr Joseph the blue room, and you’ll need to prepare two –no three –other bedrooms for my father-in-law, Mr Victor Evans and his fiancée Miss Williams and hold them in readiness. If their appeal is successful, and we hope it will be, they could be with us within a few weeks. Bella will of course sleep in my room and you can put a bed for Master Harry in the dressing room off my room until he gets used to the house. Then he can move into the nursery.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Sali.’ Mari beamed. She had considered Sali to be her mistress ever since Sali’s twelfth birthday when she had taken control of her late father’s house after her mother had fallen prey to hypochondria. But it had been a long time since she had heard Miss Sali give so many orders and so decisively. ‘Will you and Mr Evans be in to lunch?’

  ‘We will, Mari. An early one at twelve o’clock, please, as I have a meeting with Mr Richards before the trustees’ meeting. Joey will take care of Harry while I am out. Perhaps they could both explore the house.’

  ‘I’ll tell cook.’ The elderly housekeeper, who hated change, hurried away to break the news to the rest of the staff, that new management had taken over the running of the household and there was no saying what might happen.

  ‘It is good to have you and Master Harry in residence, Mrs Evans.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Jenkins,’ Sali said gratefully to the butler. ‘It is good to know that you approve of our being here.’