Valley in Bloom

by Valley in Bloom (retail) (epub)

  The day grew darker and the rain continued. When it was time to go, the evening had closed in around them. The fields were hidden by the falling rain and the sky seemed to have fallen around them like grey snow. Oliver didn’t say anything about the darkness of the late afternoon, but he constantly looked up at the sky as they began to wave goodbye to Clara, his serious face anxiously watching for a break in the clouds. If the clouds lifted and the rain stopped before dark, Clara said he would be a scholar. Of all the things he could wish for, he wished to be a scholar. It was what would please his parents most.

  Nelly decided to walk both children home although it wasn’t late. The dogs wouldn’t mind the extra exercise and the pigs trotters she had simmering for dinner wouldn’t harm for an extra few minutes. They went down to the main road again and walked slowly through the village, ignoring the rain that continued to fall.

  In the fish and chip shop they could see Bethan preparing for opening. The door was open and they could see the gleam of the silver and glass counter. Bethan was in her white coat and busily cutting up reams of paper with a long knife. Nelly felt a brief sympathy for the young woman managing alone, but knew that she couldn’t help. Doing for Mrs French and Mrs Williams and helping Amy was as much as she could comfortably manage.

  She wondered about the unlikely friendship that had grown up between Bethan and Sheila Davies. She smiled as she imagined Sheila’s reaction to being offered the job of cleaning potatoes. What those two had in common she couldn’t think. Sheila bold and vain, Bethan shy and unsure of herself. Both had suffered from over-anxious parents though and perhaps that was enough of a bond upon which to build a friendship.

  Although her son was now nine years old Bethan was still suffering from the shame of becoming pregnant and having to make up a story about a handsome American-soldier husband. Sheila’s pregnancy had caused her very little embarrassment, in fact the young girl had gloried in the furore it had created. She had announced it just before Maurice and Delina Honeyman were to be married. One of the two young women would change, that much was certain, and somehow she doubted that it would be Sheila.

  Amy’s shop was still busy, she could see Amy and Mrs Powell serving inside through the mist-covered windows that had been wiped in wide sweeps to clear them. A customer came out of the doorway and Nelly recognised her daughter.

  ‘Evie!’ she called, her raucous voice clearly heard by the well-dressed woman with the umbrella held above her curly hair. But Evie didn’t look across the road, she hurried on. She reached her house on the corner of Sheepy Lane and by the time Nelly and the children had reached it she was standing in her door waiting for them.

  Oliver stood at the gate for a final word with Nelly and Dawn. Evie called: ‘Come on, Oliver, I haven’t got all day.’

  ‘’Ere, young Ollie,’ Nelly said as he closed the gate behind him. ‘’Ave you noticed anything?’

  Oliver looked up and spread his hands as if to catch raindrops. Then his thin face lit up and he shouted, ‘It’s stopped raining. Clara was right!’

  ‘And if she’s right about that then she’s right about other things as well, like you being a scholar.’

  Nelly waved as he ran down the path excitedly shouting, ‘Fine before evening, fine before evening! Good old Clara!’

  ‘Clara?’ she heard her daughter say in tones of accusation. ‘Clara? You haven’t been to see those dreadful gypsies again have you?’

  The door closed and Nelly sighed and looked down at Dawn ‘One day I’ll persuade my Evie to come with me and see fer ’erself just how well Clara lives.’

  ‘She won’t go, she’s the sort that prefers not to know so she can grumble.’ Nelly looked at the ten-year-old in surprise. Dawn was maturing, fast!

  Chapter Six

  One evening after school, while Delina was preparing to cook the evening meal and David was attempting to deal with his homework, Dawn had nothing to do. A few months before she would have been looking for some mischief to involve herself in, but now, with the steadying influence of Delina to help, she was less inclined to create trouble for herself and others. She daren’t talk to David who, although obviously lacking concentration on what he was supposed to be studying, was likely to complain to Delina that Dawn was disturbing him.

  She quietly opened the back door and looked out at the star-beaded sky and shivered. It was too cold to even consider standing out there until Delina was free to talk to her. But then she remembered the first words Delina had spoken when they had entered the front door. She had asked David if he had cleaned out the rabbit hutches as he had promised. David had bent his head and shrugged. Dawn, with the remnants of rebellion still about her, had recognised the defiance and hurt in the drooped shoulders and the sulky response.

  Closing the door behind her she hurried across to the shed where the rabbits lived during the dark hours and began to clean them out. When Delina called her for dinner she ran in and straight up to the bathroom to clean herself. She said nothing of what she had been doing to either Delina or David. Tomorrow morning, when David carried them to the large run where they spent their day, he would know and might even be pleased.

  ‘Can I ask you a favour, Delina?’ Dawn asked as she and Delina prepared to leave for her own house.

  ‘Of course. What is it?’

  ‘Can we go and see Nelly and George before you take me home?’

  ‘It’s rather late, can’t it wait until the weekend?’

  ‘Well, it could, but it might be too late.’

  ‘All right,’ Delina smiled. ‘But we can’t stay long, mind. Your father will wonder where we are if you aren’t in bed when he gets home from night-school.’ The back door of Nelly’s cottage was open and from it the sounds of laughter came to greet them. Dawn pulled Delina to a stop.

  ‘They’ve got visitors.’

  ‘Perhaps. Or it might be the radio. Come on, we can always make our excuses if you don’t want to stay. We’ll say we were out for a walk and called in to say hello. All right?’

  As they touched the gate the dogs pushed the door open wider with their noses and ran up the path to meet them, their muffled barks of pleasure heard by the sharp-eared Nelly.

  The door spilled out a wedge of lamp-light and Nelly’s plump figure was silhouetted in the doorway.

  ‘Come on in out of the cold,’ she called, ‘’oo ever you are.’

  ‘It’s me,’ Dawn answered. ‘Me and Delina, come to say hello.’

  They hurried in and pushed the door to behind them. To Dawn’s relief only George sat beside the roaring fire. He was asleep, his rosy skin reddened by the fire’s glow, the beard white and silky, the gentle blue eyes closed. He looked larger than usual, slumped across the couch, his long legs across the hand-made rag rug, his feet touching the brass fender.

  Nelly turned off the radio and he woke, opened his eyes and stiffly rose to greet them.

  ‘I must have dropped off for a moment,’ he said, smiling and rubbing his face with his hands. Nelly pushed the kettle nearer to the heat.

  ‘Stay for a cuppa why don’t yer,’ she smiled, pushing the dogs out of the way so Delina could get to the couch. Dawn found her usual place on the floor and at once the dogs went to lean on her, their long tongues washing her bare knees.

  ‘Silly things.’ Dawn smiled up at Nelly. ‘If I move, they’ll fall over!’

  ‘They does it all the time, they never learn,’ Nelly laughed.

  ‘George, remember us saying your garden needs a pond?’ Dawn said when they were all seated and comfortable. ‘A few weeks ago it was, when you finished digging up your garden for the pipes to be laid for your bathroom.’

  ‘Yes, I remember,’ George replied. ‘When the weather is warmer we’ll make a start on it.’

  ‘D’you think we could start now?’

  ‘There isn’t much daylight at this time of the year, and it’s a bit cold for you to be out of doors.’

  ‘There’s Saturday afternoon and Dad wants me to go
into town to help him with some shopping. I thought—’

  ‘You thought you don’t want to go, young Dawn,’ Nelly grinned.

  ‘Well, Delina is going too and they won’t need me to help carry things, will they?’

  ‘We were intending to buy you a new jumper for school,’ Delina laughed. ‘How can we choose it without you with us? We might buy something you don’t like.’

  ‘I’ll like it, I promise I’ll like it!’ Dawn said earnestly.

  ‘Dawn,’ George said hesitatingly. ‘I don’t think I feel like starting yet. By the time I’ve finished at Leighton’s farm at twelve and come home and had a bite to eat well, the day is almost gone.’

  ‘Sunday then?’

  ‘All right,’ George agreed, ‘we’ll make a start but just an hour or so.’

  ‘Thanks, George.’

  * * *

  Nelly was surprised by the lack of enthusiasm on George’s part. He usually loved the company of the children and welcomed any excuse to invite them down during his spare hours. After Delina and Dawn had gone she asked him if he would rather abandon his promise.

  ‘You don’t have to start the pond yet, George, not if you don’t want to. Dawn won’t be upset if you leave it ’til the spring. The ground’ll be hard with this frost.’

  ‘We’ll make a start and if I feel too tired we’ll leave it for later.’

  Her stomach churned in alarm. It was the first time George had admitted to being tired, yet over the last few days he had slept on the couch almost as soon as he had eaten his meal. Surely he wasn’t ill? The thought frightened her. They had been married such a short time and he had lived with her in the cottage on the edge of the village only months. Surely he wasn’t going to die and leave her.

  ‘Come on, dearie, I think I need an early night, don’t you?’ She was even more alarmed when he willingly agreed.

  * * *

  Bert Roberts tried, in his rigidly official way, to arrange a meeting to begin a village gardening club. He made a list of those he thought should be present and tried time and again to chose an evening on which they were all available. Timothy and Evie Chartridge weren’t interested in gardening but insisted they were included for the prestige it might bring to the village. That was something they wanted to share. Johnny Cartwright, working shifts, was difficult to pin down but he, too, demanded that he be included. Phil Davies and his brother Sidney also warned Bert not to start without them.

  He repeatedly planned a meeting then had to cancel it because one or other of the main enthusiasts were unable to attend.

  ‘And,’ as he explained to his critics, ‘we have to have the main participants. Without the main participants we can’t get started!’

  The meeting eventually took place, impromptu, in the living room of Ethel Davies, who lived in a small cottage off Sheepy Lane. The house was almost hidden from passers-by, tucked in among the trees and backing onto a field, yet half the village turned up there some time during each week and sat to share a pot of tea and some of Ethel’s baking.

  If they missed a bus and had half an hour to wait, it was at Ethel’s they waited. If there was some gossip to share or to which they wanted some fresh additions, Ethel Davies’ was the place to go. All through the long years of food rationing, when cake making was almost impossible, Ethel managed to find something for callers to eat with their cup of tea. It was partly due to the generosity of her friends, who often found an extra ounce of fat or some unneeded sugar to give her, and partly due to the illegal generosity of the local farmers who also found a welcome break from the rigours of winter work in her cosy room.

  Ethel Davies had four sons. Phil-the-post was a regular caller as was Sidney. Teddy lived in Swansea and worked in a factory and her youngest and best-loved was Maurice who had married Sheila Powell before going to Australia.

  On this Saturday afternoon the room was already full by twelve o’clock, with Phil-the-post visiting his mother and bringing her messages from the people he met on his rounds, and her son Sidney, sitting with George and Leighton, having just finished lifting the last of the sugarbeet in the field behind her house. Nelly was there, too, with her dogs looking longingly at the plate of sandwiches Ethel had produced.

  It was Johnny and Fay arriving and close behind them Billie Brown and his sister Mary-Dairy – who had just finished her milk-round – that gave Phil the idea.

  ‘We’re most of us here, so why don’t we make this the official first meeting of the Hen Carw Parc Gardening Club!’ he suggested. The roar of approval was filled with laughter at the chance of outwitting Bert Roberts.

  It was quickly arranged that Johnny should make enquiries about the bulk purchase of hanging baskets and tubs, and Billie offered the use of his large greenhouse that had once been used to grow tomatoes but which had fallen into disrepair. Ethel sat at the table, her deep eyes watching with amusement, as they argued about who should grow what. She wrote down all the relevant details and, with Fay helping, made a copy of the list for each person present, with a special copy embellished with drawings for Bert.

  With the inexplicable telepathy that spread through the village, Bert and his quiet wife, Brenda, arrived as they were preparing to depart. Nelly and George were at the door and Fay was helping Johnny to clear the dishes and wash them for Ethel.

  ‘Just in time, boy,’ Phil called. ‘We’ve got news for you.’

  Ethel took Brenda on one side and plied her with tea and cake while the others explained to Bert how far the arrangements had gone. Bert nodded approval as he noted the items on the list.

  ‘Not bad for a start off,’ Bert said. He took out a pencil and ticked each item as it was explained to him. ‘Now we have to get down to the real work, persuading some of you lazy sods to get digging.’

  ‘I think we all ought to think what we’re going to do and then bring the plans here, to Ethel. We can all look them over and share any ideas for improving them.’

  ‘We can use my garage for storage,’ Bert offered. ‘And you can all start off by handing me ten shillings towards the first order, right?’

  And so it was decided. Ethel’s cottage on Sheepy Lane was HQ and Bert Roberts was the quartermaster. Fay, to Johnny’s surprise and delight, offered to be secretary and decided to begin by writing to various firms for offers of help. Mrs Norwood Bennet-Hughes’s idea was underway. Hen Carw Parc was set to win the competition for the Best Kept Village.

  * * *

  The pond in Nelly and George’s garden was intended to be a part of the grand plan but when George and Dawn began to dig it out Nelly saw at once that George was finding it hard. She went out with a large fork and began to loosen the soil for them to lift out. After an hour, during which time the pond hardly looked more than an untidy patch of amateur digging, George admitted he had had enough.

  Disconsolately, Dawn went home.

  ‘I was hoping there’d be some frogs in there by the spring, Dad,’ she complained to Tad. ‘And there’s all the concreting to do yet. It won’t be finished in time for next year!’

  Tad discussed it with Delina when Dawn was in bed. He would like to help but was never sure how well his offers to join in the village activities would be received. Tad had arrived in the village with a very defiant and difficult daughter in tow. The ten-year-old Dawn had been a source of trouble from the moment they arrived, wandering about at night and stealing from those who tried to help her and, if it had not been for the generosity of the villagers, Dawn would almost certainly have been taken from him.

  He was grateful but still found it difficult to show his appreciation. His quick temper and his habit of hitting out at those who angered him had hardly endeared him to his neighbours and although they appeared to have forgiven if not forgotten his attacks, he was unable to relax and become one of them.

  Even his relationship with Delina was still fraught with anxiety. He was more and more attracted to the quiet, gentle, and very beautiful, young woman, but feared losing her if he showed his reg
ard for her. He was bitterly aware of how little he could offer her.

  ‘D’you think George would be cross with me if I asked Billie to help us?’ Dawn broke into his thoughts to ask.

  ‘I think he might,’ Tad said. ‘It’s his garden and if it were me I wouldn’t take kindly to someone coming in and telling me what to do.’

  ‘But George wants it done, he’s just tired after working all day for Farmer Leighton, Dad.’

  ‘I’ll come down with you and ask if I can help. How will that be?’

  ‘Thanks, Dad!’

  ‘But if he is even slightly hesitant, then we won’t say any more, right young lady?’

  ‘Promise, Dad,’ she said, but her eyes were shining. George wouldn’t refuse help, she was sure of it.

  She went upstairs to look through her growing collection of photographs and began to plan how she would show, with the aid of her camera, the development of the wild-life pond. She had already taken several snaps, the first showing George standing with the spade in his hands ready to take out the first sod. She thought of the word ‘sod’, and wondered with a grin if she dare use it to describe the first photograph. It would be fun to see the Mr Chartridge’s face when he saw it.

  * * *

  George agreed happily to Tad’s offer of help with the pond, mainly because he knew how difficult it was for the young man to make friends. He and Nelly had seen Dawn through some of her most difficult times and the reward had been a punch in the nose from her irate father. George smiled as he remembered the dull ache that had lasted for days, as he watched the small man efficiently removing the soil from the marked out area that was to be the pond. Better way to deal with frustration, he thought, and wondered if the tension in Tad had lessened or whether he was simply better at concealing it.