Valley in Bloom

by Valley in Bloom (retail) (epub)

  * * *

  The confrontation between Tad and Maurice happened almost by accident. Tad had seen Maurice standing outside Delina’s house and the distaste he felt at this intrusion was encouraged into anger by Sheila’s remarks to Delina about her encouraging a man who was someone else’s husband to watch under her bedroom window like a peeping Tom.

  ‘I think you should tell him to go, unless you like the excitement of having a married man hanging about your house hoping for a glimpse of you,’ Sheila said as Tad came out of his front door where Delina was waiting for him.

  ‘What d’you mean by that remark?’ he demanded. ‘Delina has tried to tell the man to go away, but other than calling the police and reporting him for being a nuisance, there’s nothing she can do!’

  ‘Fancy that,’ Sheila said, her head on one side. ‘Fancy you believing that a man like Maurice would stand there without being given some encouragement.’

  ‘Come on, Tad, let’s go inside.’ Delina’s voice showed her usual calm but Tad’s hands were tightly clenched as she led him into the house to wait until Sheila had gone.

  When they came out a few moments later to go for the bus into town Sheila was coming back up the hill. Maurice was with her.

  ‘Told me I was a liar he did and pretended that you had no encouragement from Delina to wait for her each morning and walk with her to the bus regular as clockwork,’ Sheila taunted.

  ‘What d’you mean, walk with her each morning?’ Tad looked at Delina then at Maurice.

  ‘Regular, isn’t it, Delina, me carrying your books for you and waving you off on the bus to town.’

  ‘It isn’t like that, Maurice, and you know it,’ Delina replied.

  ‘Playing the field and having fun, with my husband,’ Sheila said. ‘Isn’t she Maurice?’

  ‘You should look after that wife of yours and not go chasing where you aren’t wanted,’ Tad muttered, his chin low, his blue eyes glittering angrily.

  Maurice laughed and darted back as if hiding behind the small figure of Sheila.

  Delina took Tad’s arm and tried to lead him away. She might have succeeded if Tad hadn’t heard the softly whispered words from Maurice.

  ‘She’s a tart,’ he breathed, jerking his head towards Delina.

  Tad sprang with a speed that should have warned Maurice. He pushed Sheila aside, none too gently. Maurice smiled gleefully.

  ‘All right, little fellow, let’s be having you then.’

  ‘Tad, please,’ Delina pleaded in vain. Sheila smiled excitedly, two men fighting and, in her vivid imagination, fighting because of her.

  Tad forced the anger out of his body.

  Coldly and calculatingly he faced the more powerful man, six years his junior, fresh out of the army. He was determined to give him a lesson he wouldn’t forget.

  Maurice lunged at him, his right arm aiming for Tad’s face. Coolly Tad stepped aside and felt the breath of the punch as it missed him. Then he dodged the second lunge, this time from the left. He darted inside the man’s guard and held Maurice’s neck, his small hands locked with alarming strength behind his head. He pulled the larger man to one side. Maurice was too surprised by the move to resist. Tad bent the man to his right kneeing at Maurice’s side hard under the ribs, his hands still holding the man’s head. The sharp blows were frighteningly hard.

  Leaning to the right to evade the bone-jarring blows he was open to a punch on the left. Bending protectively but too late to the left and the right side was unprotected. Tad’s jabbing fist found his face and followed with a punch to the side, each time bringing his hands back to Maurice’s head.

  Tad could have kept it up all day without tiring; left, right, left side, right side, close to his opponent where Maurice’s wildly lashing arms couldn’t harm him he was in control and Maurice, confused and weakened by the pain he hadn’t prepared for and the surprising efficiency of the small man, felt like crying.

  He realised in his curtain of pain that Tad’s knees had stopped their devastating blows and Tad was jabbing almost playfully at his face, left, right, left, right; pulling on his neck he was bending him each way at will.

  It lasted less than two minutes but in that brief time Maurice’s body had become sluggish and his movements slow and uncoordinated. He didn’t realise it, but he looked like a puppet that had lost some of its strings.

  From nearby houses people appeared to stare at the unexpected exhibition. Some of the men growled their disappointment when Tad stood back, his hands at his sides, while Maurice gave a few ineffective swipes towards him, missing by miles. They were remembering how Maurice had left his wife pregnant and felt satisfaction at the beating he received as if it were a deserved punishment.

  Tad walked away after Delina who had hurried, almost ran down the path and into his house. He found her sitting, white-faced, in the corner of the room, staring unseeingly down the garden.

  ‘I know I promised I would never strike a blow in anger again,’ he said, afraid that she would say the words he dreaded. ‘If it’s any consolation, that wasn’t anger you saw. I was calmly and coldly telling him in the only language he seems to understand, that you are mine and I’ll fight anyway he likes, to keep you. If you’ll believe me just once more, it will be the last time. I don’t think he’ll want any more of that. I didn’t hurt him, just shook him up a bit, but his pride was severely damaged. Now, if I can just bathe my knuckles – vinegar and brown paper is best – we’ll catch the next bus into town.’

  Delina went with him and nothing more was ever said between them about the unexpected and brief fight that was the talk of the village for days. Reports travelled from house to house, each telling making it more exciting and longer-lasting until the story told of two equally matched men fighting up one hill and down the other, until they were both exhausted, and Tad was able to strike the final lucky blow.

  However it was told Tad was the hero of the hour. Even those who felt that, as one of their own, Maurice should have won against the newcomer had to admit that Tad had been the strongest fighter.

  Delina and Tad were the only ones who refused to discuss it. Maurice, too, was hesitant to tell anyone who wasn’t there what had really happened, content to allow his friends to believe he was badly cheated of a contest he could easily have won and ignoring those who saw it differently.

  On the following Monday morning, Maurice was standing outside Delina’s house ready to escort her to the bus stop. Delina saw him and rang for a taxi.

  * * *

  In Amy’s shop Nelly sat to wait for the customers to be served. When there seemed the likelihood of a lull, she slid off the sack of potatoes on which she had been resting her ample bottom and went through to put the kettle on. She had been looking at the local paper while she waited and now she read a piece out to Amy.

  ‘’Ere, look at this! The nurses at Cefn Coed ’ospital have bin asked if they got any objection to workin’ with nurses from Barbados. Fancy ’avin’ to ask. People’s all the same, ain’t they, Amy?’

  ‘I’d have thought it more important to ask them! Fancy leaving all that lovely sunshine and finding yourself here where we seem to live up in the clouds for half the year!’

  ‘Talkin’ about ’ospitals, my George ain’t well again. I thought once spring was on the way he’d brighten, but that chest of ’is still worries ’im.’

  ‘Go and see Clara before she leaves. She knows about healing, doesn’t she?’

  ‘Knows about a lot of things, Clara does. Things that’ll be lost if the younger ones keep chosin’ to go an’ live in ’ouses. That granddaughter of ’ers lives in a ’ouse now, and two of ’er sons have found ’omes off the road.’

  ‘I can’t say I blame them, Nelly, love. I couldn’t survive in such cramped conditions.’

  ‘Cramped? They got the whole countryside fer ’ome, although less and less of it is free so they tells me. Farmers ain’t so glad to see ’em and people turn them away more an’ more these days. P’raps you’re ri
ght, Amy. I’ll go an’ see if she can ’elp.’

  ‘Take this.’ Amy wrapped a hock cut from a shoulder of bacon and handed it to her. ‘Make a nice drop of soup, that’ll warm him up.’

  ‘Thanks, Amy, you’re a good friend to me an’ George. I’ll go and get it in soak straight away.’

  When she had washed the cups and saucers and returned to the shop, Nellie looked out at the continuing rain and said, ‘This ain’t good fer George, all this rain. I know ’e’s used to it, like Mr Leighton and Billie Brown and – blimey, look at this! Billie on ’is tracker and followin’ behind ’avin’ ’eard on the bush telegraph, Victor in ’is van! How them two knows what the other is doin’ is a mystery to me, but they always arrive at the same time!’

  Billie stopped the tractor and jumped down. He came to the door and smiled, rain running down his face, his waterproof and on to the step.

  ‘Can I come in or will I flood the shop?’ he smiled.

  ‘Go on in, man, I’m getting drowned,’ Victor called from behind him.

  The two men entered, Victor carrying some boxes of goods from the wholesalers where he worked.

  ‘I just put the tea cups away. Seems I’d better get ’em out again,’ Nelly smiled. She went through to the small kitchen and returned with a towel for each of the men. ‘Dry yer ’eads before yer brains shrink!’

  She left them after preparing a tray of tea and collecting the dogs from Amy’s yard and went home to start preparing the meal for George.

  When she reached her gate she saw that the door was wide open. Now who’s called, she wondered, hurrying down to greet her visitor. But it was George who sat in the chair closest to the fire.

  ‘George? What’s the matter, you not feeling well?’

  To her alarm he could hardly speak. ‘Stay where you are, I’m goin’ back down to ask Amy to phone fer the doctor.’

  ‘No need,’ George whispered. ‘Rest and—’

  ‘I got to ’urry, Amy’ll be closin’ fer lunch soon.’ Leaving the dogs with him, she hurried down the lane and across the road to the shop. It was closed. She went on down the road and across to the end of Sheepy Lane and knocked on the closed back door of her daughter’s house. There was no reply. Almost in tears of frustration she turned again and wondered who was the nearest person to help. Mrs French! She set off again and as she passed the shop realised that Victor’s van was still outside. Crossing the road yet again she pummelled on the shop door.

  ‘Snogging or not, let me in, Amy,’ she shouted. With relief she saw the blind raised and Amy’s blonde head appear. ‘It’s my George, will you phone the doctor for me, Amy?’

  The door opened and Nelly went inside. Victor was leaning against the counter. He looked like a man in shock. ‘What’s the trouble,’ he asked thickly.

  ‘Chest,’ was her succinct reply, unaware of his distress. ‘Somethin’ awful it is an’ ’as been all winter on and off. Tell ’im to ’urry, will yer?’ she said as Amy picked up the phone.

  ‘You go back, love, I’ll make sure he comes as fast as possible.’

  When Nelly re-entered the cottage George was asleep, his breathing troubled. She sat and stared at him while she waited for the doctor and didn’t see the dogs help themselves to the bacon knuckle. She wouldn’t have cared if she had.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Amy had attended to the phone call she turned to Victor and said with a smile, ‘Now, love, where were we?’

  ‘You were just explaining why you won’t marry me. Amy, I know Imogine’s death was a shock and seemed like a warning, telling us that our loving each other was wrong, but time has passed and, well, people forget. Other events happen and make previous disasters fade from importance. Why can’t we keep to our decision about us getting married?’

  ‘What about David and Daniel? Have you discussed it with them fully? It’s more of a trauma for them than for Margaret. After all, we’ll be living in the same house, I’ll continue to work here and see her at lunch times, we’ll walk home together. Most of her life will continue as usual. It’s only the sharing she’ll have to accept and you know Margaret, she’s a sweet-natured girl and I don’t think she’ll have any serious problems.’ She looked at him and smiled wryly. ‘As for your two, well, I don’t know how to handle them. I’d have more success trying to cuddle Dawn’s hedgehog!’

  ‘You haven’t mentioned Delina, what about her?’

  ‘We’ve talked around the subject and I think she’d prefer to stay where she is, run the house alone, at least until she and Tad marry. Delina is a very together sort of person, isn’t she?’

  ‘Amy, couldn’t we have a night together? I know it’s difficult with Margaret and my three, but not impossible, surely?’

  She went into his arms, her supple body leaving him in no doubt of her sincerity as she whispered, ‘I want that, too, Victor love, but how can we? If we arranged for someone to mind your sons and my Margaret it would soon be all around the village what we were doing. I’ve never expected anything else but gossip, with the way I’ve lived my life I’ve deserved it. Heaven knows it’s no secret that I’ve had affairs and no husband and no named father for my children but Margaret, and your boys, too, are old enough to be hurt by gossip and I won’t risk that. Also, if I can, I want to stay friends with Delina.’

  ‘Your house?’ he suggested. ‘If I dressed all in black and came after Margaret was asleep and left before it was light, darting through the lanes and scaring any who was abroad? Or perhaps I could pretend to help Mary-Dairy and slip in carrying a crate of milk!’

  ‘We missed our chance,’ Amy laughed, ‘a couple of months ago you could have walked around wearing a red cloak and carrying a lumpy sack!’

  ‘The sack is what I’ll be getting, too, if I don’t get on with my deliveries.’

  ‘A few more minutes,’ she pleaded, ‘Margaret’s having lunch with Oliver and the shop doesn’t open for another ten whole minutes.’

  When Victor had gone Amy continued to think about their situation. She had moments of doubts, not about their loving each other or of that love lasting, it was the complications of two very different families coming together and making some kind of a whole that kept her from being convinced about their future together. Add to that a helping of resentment from Victor’s sons for her coming into their lives and replacing their dead mother and you had a cocktail fraught with the likelihood of unpleasant and long-lasting hangovers!

  It was a long time since she had spent more than a few minutes with the boys, she thought guiltily. Perhaps she ought to make more of an effort. But what did you do to befriend boys of eighteen and thirteen? You could hardly go with a new toy or a packet of sweets! She realised she knew nothing about the older age group, even with a son of her own. And what’s more she had made no effort so far to learn.

  When Merfyn the errand boy came to deliver the orders she had made up, she gave him a note for Delina. It was an invitation for her and Daniel and David to come to tea on Sunday. She smiled, remembering how boring she had considered visiting her parents’ friends when she had been their age. Perhaps she’d better invite Tad and Dawn, too. From being just Margaret and me, she realised with alarm, the family was likely to jump to eight people. Nine when Freddy was home, unless that Sheila managed to hang on to him in case Maurice couldn’t be persuaded to stay!

  At once she began the practical considerations of how she would seat them all. There were only six chairs. The children would have to sit on the stairs. Margaret and Oliver at least, would think that fun. That decided, she brought her mind back to the present and smiled at Milly Toogood who had called for a small cabbage and three carrots, not having had time to go into town where they were cheaper.

  * * *

  When the doctor had examined George he warned Nelly that he might have to go to hospital. He recommended he went to bed and stayed there and promised to call again on the following day.

  ‘Bronchitis ’e said, George.’ She tried not to show how fr
ightening that sounded. A bad chest without a name seemed less worrying.

  ‘I don’t want to go upstairs, Nelly. You’d have to keep trotting up and down tiring yourself out and I’d feel far away from you. D’you think I could just stay here, on the couch? The fire would be a nice sight, too. Better than four walls!’

  ‘Just what I was thinkin’ meself. When you ain’t sleepin’ or restin’ you’ll be glad to see them who wants to pop in and see yer.’

  ‘Thanks Nelly, my dear.’

  She looked at him, his blue eyes closed and the cheeks showing through the white beard less pink than usual. Lines on his face made her realise with a start that he was no longer a young man. He opened his eyes then and smiled at her before exhaustion made the lids close again, shutting him off from her. Don’t die, George, she prayed silently. I’d ’ate to manage without yer.

  ‘Sorry to be so much bother, dear,’ George murmured. She guessed what he was thinking.

  ‘You worrying about bein’ a nuisance, George? If you are you can ferget it. What better than a week or so with you fer company, instead of seen’ you off in the mornin’s and not clappin’ eyes on yer all day!’ Adding further reassurance she said softly, ‘Best thing what ever ’appened to me, George, marryin’ you.’

  * * *

  The village was a long way from ready for the Best Kept Village competition but the gardens were full of colour. Yellow daffodils had taken the place of yellow crocus and yellow forsythia had replaced the yellow winter-flowering jasmine, golden forerunners of the summer sunshine. The hedgerows were showing the tips of new growth and under their protection violets and primroses bloomed. In every corner boxes into which flowers would be planted were being set in place by Billie, Victor and the others. Arguments abounded as each house insisted on having the same amount of help as the rest.

  The competition was to be judged early in June and the cricket match, that other contentious issue, was arranged for the first Saturday in the same month. Nelly predicted that by July no one would be talking to anyone else. She gleefully reported all the arguments and activities to George who, although improving, was unable to return to work.