‘Shall I wear my other blouse, Mrs Evans?’
‘I don’t think so, dear, the gong has already rung, and you’ll need it for tomorrow . . . just give your hair a brush, would you like me to do it for you?’
Doris had never brushed a girl’s hair before, and she was not much good at plaiting it. At the end of all her hard work it looked as if it still needed brushing.
‘Thank you, Mrs Evans.’
Doris gave her a small, tight smile, patted her and then straightened her cardigan.
‘Well, shall we go down? Don’t eat too fast, dear, don’t speak with your mouth full, and keep your voice lowered, no need to shout, all right?’
The meal was an agony of uncertainty for Evelyne, and she spoke not a word, terrified she would choke or be caught with her mouth full. Her bread crumbled so much that she kept glancing at Doris and picking up each crumb from round her place setting. She watched Doris coping with the lukewarm soup, moving her spoon away from her and then sipping from the side of it, and followed suit. It tasted like her mother’s gravy.
‘So, Aunt, how is village life? Do you not miss Cardiff?’
‘I don’t, David . . . Evelyne, have you finished your soup?’
The main course consisted of roast beef, carrots, peas, and small, crisp roast potatoes.
‘Do start, dear, don’t want it getting cold.’
Evelyne began to eat and felt David’s half-amused stare making her go hot and cold. She could feel her legs sticking together.
‘You are to be a lawyer, David?’ Doris asked her nephew. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Well, I will no doubt be called up. Bit of a nuisance really, in the middle of studies, but then one has to do one’s bit. Wretched business, this war.’
The pudding was served, a chocolate sponge with thick, bright yellow custard.
‘You know, I really must go to the valleys one day. Spent last vacs in London, met some of Mother’s relatives there, jolly nice people.’
‘She was a good woman, miss her you know, Doris,’ put in Dr Collins. ‘She ran the house like clockwork, didn’t she, David?’
‘So, Elaine, tell me how you like Cardiff?’
‘Her name’s Evelyne, and she’s a very clever girl, my best pupil.’
Evelyne couldn’t meet his blue eyes. She bit her lip, loving the sound of his voice.
‘I do apologize, you should have corrected me before, Evelyne . . . so, Ev-e-lyne, you are still at school?’
Every time Evelyne opened her mouth to speak Doris butted in until David laughed, a lovely, chuckling laugh.
‘Good God, Aunt, can’t the gel speak for herself?’
‘Mrs Evans is teaching me private.’
‘Oh, I see . . . oh I say, Pa, did I tell you I’m playing polo? Charlie Withers said I could use one of his ponies, rather chuffed about it, actually. You know Freddy Carlton’s always said I should try my hand . . . did you know Lord and Lady Carlton, Auntie?’
Doris pursed her lips, dabbed them with the napkin.
‘No, when I was a girl I didn’t mix in those exalted circles, but I have seen pictures of their estate. Your grandfather did their gardens, when he retired from the railway.’
Doris’ quiet reproach to her nephew went over Evelyne’s head. She was happy to listen to him talk, and when his attention was directed to his aunt or his father it gave her the opportunity to study him. He had a habit of running his fingers through his silky hair, then tossing his head slightly. He wore a large gold ring on his little finger. Evelyne had still not spoken more than two sentences when everyone rose and went into a small sitting room. It was cosy and informal with a huge, round bowl of fresh roses on the table. The maid wheeled in the trolley with coffee and small, round peppermints covered in dark, home-made chocolate. Evelyne slipped one into her pocket for little Davey, and tucked her worn shoes as far out of sight beneath her skirt as she could.
The fire was stacked as high as it could be and made the small room hot and stuffy, but it was a pleasant stuffiness. Doris sat next to her brother and talked with him in whispers. Evelyne had never tasted coffee before and she found it bitter but nice, like a cross between hot chocolate and very strong tea. She nearly spilled it as she sensed David standing beside her. Evelyne was too shy to look up, and all she could see was his grey trouser-leg and soft leather boot. Her blush was even worse than at supper.
‘Would you care for another?’
David held out the peppermints and smiled. Evelyne was sure he had seen her pocket one, so she shook her head and felt her hair begin to come loose from its braid. She tried frantically to push it back, but the harder she tried the more the strands worked loose.
David picked up the family photograph album and carried it to the table, moving the roses aside and laying it on the crushed velvet cloth. He gave Evelyne a look to join him. She sat next to him with her hands clasped tightly in her lap, knowing her hair was all over the place and feeling her rough skin above the worn shoes, but she never once turned her face towards him, seeing only his hands with their long, tapering fingers, and the immaculate cuffs of his shirt. The village boys seemed so rough and unkempt in comparison. David wore his hair slightly long, whereas they had to keep theirs short because of the coal dust, and Evelyne had never seen hair with such a sheen on it, even on a girl.
At bedtime Evelyne scrubbed her face, neck and arms, then spent a long time washing the face cloth so it wouldn’t look grey. She unfolded her mother’s old, greyish nightgown that had once been white and pulled it over her head, then folded all her clothes neatly, and unlocked the door.
She tiptoed along the corridor and heard Doris below saying goodnight to her brother. About to enter her bedroom she caught sight of David’s half-open door opposite. She couldn’t help herself, she stared. David was sitting on the side of his bed wearing only his grey trousers and boots, nothing on the top at all. He was leaning forward, reading a book, and running his fingers through his hair. Evelyne knew she shouldn’t be standing there, but she couldn’t move, she wanted to touch his soft, clean white skin. She had never felt like this in her life before. She was used to seeing and touching male skin from bathing her menfolk, but this was somehow different, she didn’t know quite why, but she had a pain in the pit of her tummy, and her whole body felt hot.
There were footsteps on the stairs, and she turned quickly, dropping a shoe. Mortified, she grabbed it and heard David’s door close as she scurried into her room. Oh, dear Lord, had he seen her watching him?
Evelyne pretended she was asleep as Doris crept around the room and then slipped out to the bathroom. The darkness was lovely, lying between clean sheets with clean smells all around her. She snuggled down into the bed but couldn’t sleep, because David’s face kept floating in front of her eyes. Oh, she had so much to tell Lizzie-Ann!
Evelyne did not see David again. Their visit had passed quickly, and they were about to depart for the railway station. Evelyne stood with clasped hands as Dr Collins handed Doris a parcel, saying it contained a few things that had belonged to his wife that he would like her to have.
As Dr Collins waved them on their way, David came down the stairs, yawned and asked if they had gone.
‘I think you should have made the effort to come down, not good enough, you know.’
David shrugged, ‘I doubt if we’ll be seeing her again, and even if we do I hope she won’t bring that dreadful child with her. I mean, what on earth possessed her to bring the girl?’
The Doctor studied his fob watch, ‘Doris was always one for picking up waifs and strays – look at that chap she married. Illiterate, you know, broke up the family. Now I must be off on my rounds, will you be home for supper?’
David was always irritated by his father, the way his father referred to dinner as supper, it wasn’t done.
‘I’ll be dining out at the Carltons’.’
‘You know, son, it’s all very well you mixing with these chaps, but you must never forget your roots, d
on’t get above yourself.’
David swiped the top off his egg so hard it shot across the table. ‘Don’t get above yourself . . . ’ David had ever y intention of getting above himself, out of his dreadful house, away from his father’s penny-pinching ways.
‘Goodbye, Father, have an enjoyable day,’ he muttered.
When they were on the tram, heading home across the mountains, Doris opened the small parcel. She sighed, knowing she would never wear the dead woman’s bits and pieces of jewellery. There were also a couple of woollen cardigans and a shawl.
‘You know, I never got on with my sister-in-law. Her name was Eleanor, and she was cruel to my dear husband, mocking him. I always said I would never visit while she was still alive, and now . . . well, did you enjoy it, Evelyne?’
‘Oh, yes, Mrs Evans, I loved every single minute of it, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough.’
Rewrapping the parcel, Doris murmured that she would give the clothes to the poor. Evelyne half hoped that Doris would give them to her.
‘Could you make use of these ribbons?’
‘Oh, yes, thank you Mrs Evans, thank you very much.’
Doris sighed and looked out of the window. The break had done her the world of good. She looked back at Evelyne who was carefully winding the ribbons round her finger.
‘We’ll make it a habit, I think, yes, I think it would be good for you to spend more time at the museums. Perhaps we can even go to the theatre.’
Evelyne grabbed Doris’ hand and kissed it.
‘Oh, thank you, thank you, Mrs Evans.’
Her whole slender body trembled with pleasure. Just think, she would be going back to that palace of a house and, even better, she would see him again – she would see David.
Evelyne knew there was something amiss the moment she let herself into the house. It was dark, cold and silent. The kitchen fire was almost out, and she stoked it quickly, disappointed to find no one at home, and worried.
‘Da, I’m home . . . Da?’
She ran up the stairs, bursting to tell her news, pushed open the door.
‘Oh, Da, I had such a time, such a wonderful time.’
Hugh was lying on the bed, holding Davey’s small, well-chewed teddy bear. He raised himself on to his elbow. He looked ill, his eyes were red-rimmed, but he was sober.
‘Has Lizzie-Ann not been looking after you?’ Evelyne asked, ‘I dunno, I leave you for no more than two days . . . does Mrs Pugh have little Davey, I’ll go and pick him up, I’ve built up the fire . . .’
Hugh moaned and lay down, put his arm across his face, and his body shook.
‘What is it? Has something happened? Da?’
He gripped the small toy and his face crumpled. He sobbed.
‘Aw, Christ, gel, I was drunk, I was drunk . . . he was up here, an’ I heard his hollerin’ and I went to bring him down, down to the fire . . . he was in my arms . . . halfway down I fell.’
Evelyne was on the bed, pulling at his arm, ‘Where is he, Da? Where is he? I’ll go to him, I’ll go to him.’
Hugh reached out and pulled her down to lie beside him.
‘I fell, Evie, I fell . . . I fell on the little chap, and God help me, I’ve killed him.’
She moved away, staring, her eyes bright with tears.
‘Ah, no, you didn’t . . . you didn’t . . . Davey, Davey!’
Hugh couldn’t stop her, he sobbed as he heard her running through the rooms calling out the little boy’s name. She gripped the side of his empty cot and called for him, all she could remember was his funny, fuzzy head, his drooling, soft mouth . . . and he was always so happy . . .
Lizzie-Ann, her belly even bigger, stood at the door.
‘Oh, Lizzie, Lizzie, poor little Davey.’
Lizzie-Ann’s face puckered, a child carrying a child herself, ‘Maybe it was God’s doin’, he wasn’t right in the head.’
Evelyne wiped her tears with the back of her hand. All her stories, all the things she’d wanted to tell Lizzie-Ann meant nothing now. She could even detect the envy, see it in the puffy, pretty face, the huge, searching pansy eyes. Little Davey was far from her thoughts. ‘You have a good time?’
‘No, not really . . . I brought you back some ribbons, they’re on the kitchen table.’
Lizzie-Ann whooped and rushed to the kitchen, leaving Evelyne standing by the empty cot. She touched the chewed, sucked sides, and thought it could be put to use for Lizzie-Ann’s baby.
Later that night Hugh was heard thudding up the stairs. He was drunk as he had been on the night he had fallen and killed his little boy. He was struggling out of his filthy old working jacket, stumbling against the bed. Evelyne slipped into the room and he straightened up while she took his clothes off him. The bed smelt terrible, the sheets and pillows stained with beer and vomit. The huge man was so broken, so pitiful . . . he held out his massive, gnarled hand to her, she slipped her own into it, although she didn’t want to stay in the squalid room. Poor little Davey, his whole life just a few silly words, Da da-da-daaaa . . .
The next Sunday they buried Davey. Only a few villagers turned out to follow the sad, small family to the churchyard. They couldn’t even afford a hearse. Hugh was sober, and he carried the tiny coffin in his arms as if it was a precious box of eggs that would smash if he jolted it.
Over the tiny grave Hugh swore he would never touch another drop, so help him, and as the rain started the big man went down on his knees and wept. There were no cornflowers this time, as it was winter.
Evelyne was drained, but she knew her Da depended on her and didn’t give in. She stood, straight-backed, her arm ready for Hugh to lean on. Will wouldn’t meet her gaze, he was ashamed, like his father. The little boy who had been left in their care now lay alongside their Ma and the baby with no name.
Chapter 5
The birth of Lizzie-Ann’s daughter was a noisy affair. Red-faced, bawling her lungs out from the very beginning, she started as she meant to go on. She was christened Rosie.
They now had two lodgers, and Evelyne worked part-time in the bakery. They paid her a proportion of her wages in bread. Will still worked in the mines. It was 1916, and the fear of conscription hung over every household. Every day saw another boy leave for the Front, and lorry-loads of workers were brought to the mines, which caused ill-feeling and fights among the men. Uniformed soldiers were a common sight, some on leave and some new recruits. The village was being torn apart.
Doris had taken Evelyne to Cardiff three times. She treasured these trips, but she rarely discussed them at home as she knew Lizzie-Ann was secretly jealous. Fussing with the baby, she would make snide remarks, ‘Oh, off again, are we? Well it’s all right fer some, others have more important things to be doing than traipsin’ to Cardiff. What ya do there that’s so special?’
Evelyne would quietly continue with the housework.
‘We just go round the museums, spend time in the library.’
‘Very borin’ if you ask me. Are there nice young men there? You should be thinking of looking, you know, being so tall you won’t find it easy.’
Evelyne never mentioned David, but then she had not seen him since her first visit, and it was not until her fourth trip that she saw him again. He strode into the lounge. He was now a captain in the Artillery, and wore his gold-buttoned uniform with dashing flair, his greatcoat slung round his shoulders and his riding boots highly polished. ‘Well, my dear aunt, oh, and your little friend, well, what a surprise.’
If David was aware of her infatuation he gave no sign, and spoke to her as if she was a child. Alone with his father he was less than enthusiastic.
‘Good God Pa, I’ve only got a few weeks at home and they’re here. That girl positively reeks of carbolic.’
David was enjoying his new status, as he had his time in France. He had not as yet seen any fighting, but the social life was exhilarating, and he did cut an exceptionally elegant figure. He was determined to flirt with all and sundry, setting about it
like a military campaign, and was extremely annoyed when his father suggested he give Evelyne a tour of Cardiff.
‘All right, Pa, but then I’ve done my bit, I am on leave, you know.’
Evelyne gasped as David carefully tucked the blanket around her knees. She had never been in a private motorcar before, only in a taxi and on a tram, and here she was in David’s sports car. He wore goggles and drove carefully, but to Evelyne it seemed very fast, nearly thirty miles an hour. Whenever anyone got in the way, David would hoot at them. He even let Evelyne squeeze the large, squashy rubber bulb of the trumpet-shaped horn, it was wonderful. Evelyne was like a child. The wind had brought a lovely colour to her cheeks and her hairpins had slipped out as usual. She wore no scarf, and her hair tumbled down, blowing in the wind. At first she held on to it, but then she laughed and let it fly free. In spite of himself, David enjoyed the little trip, and found ‘Carbolic’, as he called her, quite sweet in her gawky way. Occasionally he pointed out features of the city to Evelyne.
When they arrived home David removed the blanket from around Evelyne’s knees, folded it and helped her out of the car. Her face was flushed, and she smiled, it had been the happiest day of her life. His gentle grip on her elbow thrilled her right through and made her head buzz. She wasn’t sure why he felt he had to help her through doors and up stairs – she wasn’t frail or anything – but she liked it.
‘Care for a glass of sherry?’ He handed it to her with a flourish. ‘Drive did you the world of good, got some colour into your cheeks.’
Evelyne was so nervous that she spilt her sherry. The thimble-shaped glass was so small and she had difficulty in raising it to her lips.
‘Here, allow me.’ He handed her his handkerchief and she dabbed at her mouth. ‘If you will excuse me, I must bathe and change.’
David swept out, leaving Evelyne to finish her sherry and look forward to dinner when she would see him again, but the sight of the two places set at the table made her heart drop like a stone. David was dining out, murmured the Doctor, who then spent the remainder of the meal reading the Cardiff Gazette.
The Legacy (1987) Page 6
