Heartbreak in the Valleys

by Francesca Capaldi

  He had his life and she had hers. And never the two were likely to meet again, he’d made that much clear. She shouldn’t have bothered coming here.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, the air warmer than it had been for a long time, Anwen was punishing the earth as she plunged the spade in to dig up the first of the turnips. The ample fabric of the wool skirt overheated her legs, while the long-sleeved top clung to her damp body, along with her chemise, petticoat, corset and drawers. It made her wish she could strip off a few layers in the way men did when labouring.

  Gwen came strolling over, having just arrived on the field. ‘I’m looking forward to trying this next lot of veggies.’

  Anwen took a break. ‘Me too. And starting tomorrow, we’ll be selling some of them in the greengrocer’s.’

  ‘You managed to make an agreement with Mr James at last?’

  ‘Elizabeth did. It includes a couple of our women on a rota to help out in the shop. Mr James makes a bit of money, and so does our little co-operative, to be used to further the project, of course.’

  ‘So everyone’s happy. Where would you like me today?’

  ‘If you could help Mary and the others over there, they’ve got a few more rows to clear.’

  ‘Where are Gwilym and Idris today?’

  ‘They’ve started up behind McKenzie Cottages, sowing the next lot of vegetables. Sprouts, peas, beans and some more root veggies.’

  ‘Another field. That’s wonderful.’ Gwen strolled away, singing.

  Anwen had been grateful for the opportunity to place Idris as far away as she could. Her heart was tender after their encounter that morning and she didn’t want to treat it to another battering.

  ‘Hello there,’ called Elizabeth, trudging across the ground, in trousers once again. ‘Goodness, remind me never to get on the wrong side of you! You’re spearing that poor earth as if you’re trying to put it out of its misery.’

  Anwen straightened her back. ‘Sorry, it’s been a frustrating day. Mrs Williams is up to her tricks again.’

  ‘What’s the silly woman done now?’

  Anwen went through the events of her conversation with Esther and what she knew of what Edgar Williams had said to Idris.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I can’t stand either of them, the way they’re always toadying up to my parents. Somebody needs to do something about the pair of them. Excuse me. I’ll see you later.’ She stomped back across the field and had soon disappeared down one of the roads that led to the centre of the village.

  * * *

  A few more women had joined Anwen and the others on the field during the afternoon, including Elizabeth, who strode back after an absence of half an hour or so. All were now harvesting the first of the beans, spring onions and spinach. They started singing as they cut away, dug out or pulled up the vegetables. Anwen’s anxious stress of earlier was eased by the camaraderie of the women as they worked together in a common cause.

  In the middle of a chorus, Elizabeth tapped her shoulder. Anwen’s heart sank when she saw Idris there, on the edge of the field, with around eight of the older men of the village. Were they unhappy about the vegetable patches? A couple of them were chatting intently, pointing to parts of the field. She and Elizabeth went together to speak to them.

  ‘How can we help you gentlemen?’ said Elizabeth.

  Idris glanced from Elizabeth to Anwen and back. ‘These men came to see me up at the top field, wondering if there was something they could do to help. I said I would ask you, as you’re in charge.’

  ‘Aye,’ said Abraham Owen, Gwilym’s grandfather. ‘We may be past digging for coal, but we’re not past digging soil.’ There was enthusiastic agreement from his colleagues.

  Anwen considered them, scarred and haggard as they were, some stooped from years of bending in underground tunnels long before the colliery at Dorcalon was sunk. Most of them must be in their seventies. They were willing, and that was what counted.

  ‘That would be splendid, wouldn’t it, Anwen?’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘What do you think they could work on?’ Elizabeth smiled at her and she knew she was being given the opportunity to make a decision.

  ‘Well, Idris and Gwilym could do with some help behind the cottages, to really get that field going. And Idris, you know what the plan is for up there. Why don’t you take charge and divide up the field for the next phase of sowing and planting, giving a section to each pair of men? You’ll be able to get everything planted that much quicker now.’

  ‘If you’re sure.’

  Elizabeth clapped her hands together. ‘That’s a splendid idea. Are you men willing to have a go at the top field, under Idris here?’

  The men were delighted with the decision.

  ‘We’ll get going then,’ said Idris. After a moment’s hesitation, he set off with purpose, his new team following on and chatting eagerly.

  ‘How marvellous,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Everything is slotting into place. And, oh my goodness, there’s my mother!’

  Striding across the field in navy skirt and cream blouse was Margaret Meredith, her hair pinned up neatly under a straw sun hat. All the women watched her progress until she caught up.

  ‘It’s such a nice day I thought I’d come and see how you’re getting on.’ Mrs Meredith’s tone was matter of fact, as if her showing up was an everyday occurrence and not something to be marvelled at.

  ‘Why don’t you have a look round for yourself, Mother, have a word with the workers?’

  ‘Splendid idea. Come on then, what are you all standing around for?’

  Chapter Nineteen

  It was Idris’s sixth day as a screener, standing among the women and a couple of old men, picking out the stones and bits of rock, breaking up the bigger pieces of coal with a heavy hammer. All the waste products were dropped on the floor. Every ten minutes or so a couple of younger girls would bring wide shovels, clearing up the debris and sending it down a chute where it was crushed and disposed of.

  Idris had settled into a rhythm as he sorted the coal. Constantly leaning over the belt may not be as back-breaking as bending in the mine, but it was still uncomfortable. At least the tedium allowed his mind to wander. Until the voice called out over the deafening clatter of rock.

  ‘Hughes!’

  Idris emitted a long breath of frustration. What now? It wasn’t Edgar Williams’s voice this time, but the screen foreman’s.

  ‘What is it, Floyd?’

  The foreman came into view. ‘The manager’s asking for you. You’re to go to Williams’s office, straight away, like.’

  His heart thumped uncomfortably in his chest. Had Williams reported him as being incompetent enough to be sacked? Idris needed this job, even at half the wage, to help his parents and brother out. Especially if they were serious about sending Jenkin off to work in an office. He’d need decent clothes, money for the train.

  Idris brushed the dust from his hands and clothes, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked past the women in their once brightly coloured, but now grimy, shawls. He left meekly. No point in arguing.

  From the screens building he walked across the yard, over the railway tracks, to the under-manager’s office. There he knocked on the door, trying to see through the grimy window next to it.

  ‘Come!’

  Inside, Edgar was perched on his desk. His mouth lifted on one side in a sneer, implying he was indeed facing some kind of disciplinary action. Herbert Meredith was standing in the middle of the small space facing the door, his hands clasped behind his back.

  ‘Mr Meredith has requested to see you, Hughes. What have you been up to now?’

  Meredith swivelled swiftly towards him. ‘I did not say Mr Hughes was in any kind of trouble, Mr Williams.’

  ‘Oh. I assumed since you asked to see him…’

  ‘One shouldn’t ever assume anything, Mr Williams. Now, Mr Hughes.’

  Edgar’s brief conf
usion changed to a look of accusation as he glared at Idris.

  ‘I hear you’ve been placed on the screens as your current health hasn’t made it easy for you to dig the coal.’

  ‘I was managing fine, Mr Meredith, but—’

  ‘I found he was filling fewer trams than he used to.’

  ‘I don’t think—’ Idris started.

  ‘So I found him other work in the colliery to do, not wanting to make him unemployed. Got to look after your men, haven’t you, Mr Meredith?’ Edgar’s ingratiating grin was for the manager’s benefit.

  The manager ignored the comment, turning his attention to Idris once more. ‘I’m here because I’ve heard you’re a good organiser, Mr Hughes, that you are able to manage men. I’m told the land behind the cottages has been planted in good time because of the way you handled your team, and that you were responsible for more volunteers coming forward.’

  ‘The men were certainly keen, sir.’

  Edgar coughed. ‘I’m sure you, like I, sir, think that the men expending their energy in gardening can only rob them of energy for working in the pit. It would be an excellent idea for you to put an end to it.’

  ‘On the contrary, Edgar, I think it’s an excellent idea for the men to spend their time in the good fresh air while the evenings are light.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘But that’s not why I’m here. I understand you were a good worker before you enlisted, that you’ve hewed coal for five years, and before that you were a trapper and a putter.’

  ‘That’s right, sir,’ said Idris.

  ‘I can’t help thinking you’ll be wasted as a screener, with all that experience. You know the men well. They speak highly of you, the ones I’ve spoken to.’

  Edgar pulled a face. Idris was certain those men didn’t include him.

  ‘We’re short of an examiner underground,’ Mr Meredith continued. ‘Not quite as good a wage as the hewers, but a lot better than the screeners. And there are other jobs you can do training for, go up the ladder, so to speak. The job’s yours, unless you’d prefer to stay on the screens?’

  He’d reckoned to living out his working life with a pickaxe in his hands. Examiner. That might suit. Better than standing over the pieces of coal and debris all day long. ‘Yes sir, reckon I could make a go of that.’

  ‘Excellent. I’ll take you straight away to Mr Matthews. He’ll show you the ropes for the first few days.’ He went towards the door, stopping before he opened it. ‘We’ll leave you to it, Edgar. I’m sure you have a round of inspections you need to be going on.’

  ‘Quite so, quite so.’

  Idris said nothing as he made for the door, the manager several paces ahead. Before he exited, he heard Edgar’s muted voice behind him, halting a few seconds to take in his message.

  ‘Think you’re clever, do you, getting one over on me? We’ll see. We’ll see.’

  * * *

  ‘Amen.’ Elizabeth pronounced the word in a low, breathy tone.

  There were a few moments of silence in the large room at the Workmen’s Institute. The thirty or so women and the few men at the allotments meeting kept their heads bowed in contemplation.

  People began to straighten up and the murmur of voices became concerned discussion. Anwen, sitting next to Elizabeth at the front of the meeting, said to her, ‘Lord Kitchener’s death will be quite a blow to our soldiers, I should think.’

  ‘That and the fourteen large British ships that were sunk in the Battle of Jutland last week, and goodness knows how many smaller ones. Thousands of men killed, I shouldn’t wonder. Many of our soldiers are in the thick of their own battles, so I wonder if they’ll even know.’ Elizabeth brought up a sigh that sounded like it came from her boots. ‘Such a waste of life. But still we must carry on. Would you open the meeting?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes. Here, you can read the statistics to them too.’ She pushed the piece of paper across the small table in front of them.

  ‘All – right.’ Anwen stood hesitantly, at first waiting to see if people would stop talking of their own volition. Only Idris, at the back with Gwilym, sat up straight, waiting expectantly. On the second row, four men sat, even older than the ones who’d shown up at the field a couple of weeks back. She knew them vaguely, long-retired miners who lived with grown-up children.

  Anwen coughed. ‘I think it is time we started the meeting,’ she announced in as authoritative a tone as she could muster.

  The audience ceased their conversation, settling themselves down.

  ‘Thank you for coming this evening. It’s nice to see that so many of our volunteers are eager to hear how we’re progressing.’

  She read out the figures for the vegetables planted, of those harvested and what had been sold at Mr James’s greengrocery.

  ‘We couldn’t have done any of this without you. In addition, Mr Lloyd is very pleased indeed with the help he’s getting at the farm.’ Anwen paused. ‘What we need now is a concerted effort through the summer, and into autumn, so we can hopefully harvest at least some vegetables throughout winter, and store and preserve others. Are there any questions?’

  One of the newcomers hauled his frame up – even with the help of a walking stick, he was still somewhat unsteady. ‘Hello. First I’d like to say how I appreciate all your hard work. My daughter bought a cabbage of yours from James the Veg and a nice addition it was to the meal, I can tell you. Fresh, not old and tough. My friends and I,’ he indicated the three gentlemen with him, ‘wouldn’t be much good at working the land. A bit past it we are.’

  ‘You speak for yourself, Billy, bach,’ called the swarthy old-timer next to him, his hair a thatch of white.

  The audience laughed. Billy patted his friend on the shoulder, the veins on his hand matching his blue coal scars.

  ‘We reckon we must still be good for something though, something to help the war effort, apart from sitting in our kitchens and reading about it in the papers.’

  Anwen was stumped as to what to suggest, groping for ideas in her mind as she said, ‘That is very commendable of you, Mr—’

  ‘Thomas. Billy Thomas.’

  ‘Of all of you. We will take your names down and maybe we will be able to find some sitting-down jobs.’

  Idris stood at the back, putting his hand up as if he were in school.

  ‘Yes, Idris?’ Even now, her heart skipped as she said his name. There must be some way to rid herself of this affection for him. The anger and indignation of the break-up had almost melted away, leaving her with compassion for what he’d been through. No, it was more than that, if only she could admit it to herself.

  ‘I know it’s not to do with the allotments, but your mother and mine have been doing some knitting. Gloves isn’t it, for the soldiers?’

  ‘That’s right. With Mrs Harris and my mamgu.’

  ‘I’m sure there’ll be others in the village could donate old items of knitted clothing, and maybe we could get a bigger group going, or two groups. I wondered, would Mr Thomas and his friends mind knitting gloves?’

  ‘I’d be up for that,’ said Billy. ‘What about you lot? Could your knobbly old fingers manage that?’ His companions regarded each other, nodding. ‘Yes? Good. My legs and back might be weak, but my hands are as sprightly as ever.’ He tousled the abundant hair of his neighbour, making it stick up on end.

  ‘Hey, watch it!’ said his friend, laughing, as did everyone else.

  ‘I’ll talk to you afterwards about it,’ said Anwen. ‘Now I believe we’re going to hear some individual reports including the progress of the three fields.’

  Mary Jones, now in charge of the allotment in front of Edward Street, rose to give the first of the reports.

  An hour later, the attendees were enjoying after-meeting refreshments. Anwen had arranged a time for the four old gentlemen to come to her house to meet Cadi and her mother. Leaving them to chat together, she noticed Idris by himself, taking his empty teacup to the table. It was her opportunity to t
hank him, though she knew in her heart it was an excuse to be near him.

  She clinked her cup down, next to his. ‘That was a brilliant idea, about the knitting.’

  ‘It was alright, I suppose. But thank you for saying.’ He didn’t smile – in fact, he appeared a little put-out. He’d likely have preferred to go back to Gwilym now, but she was not ready to part company with him.

  ‘How is your job at the screens going? Not too tedious, I hope.’

  He eyed her cautiously. ‘I’m not on the screens anymore. I’ve been made an examiner, underground.’

  ‘Have you? That’s marvellous. Well, it’s better, isn’t it? You don’t seem happy about it.’

  ‘I’m surprised Miss Meredith hasn’t mentioned it.’ He crossed his arms, leaning lightly against the table.

  ‘Why would she have done?’

  ‘I had the impression you had something to do with it.’

  He had her at a disadvantage. ‘How could I? I have no influence with Edgar Williams.’

  ‘It wasn’t Williams what gave me the job. It was Mr Meredith. Seems he’d heard how well I was organising things on the allotment and thought I was wasted on the screens.’

  ‘I’ve certainly not spoken to Mr Meredith about you.’

  ‘But his daughter has. And I’m guessing she heard about my demotion from you. Am I right?’

  She became a little flustered. It might be down to her, ultimately, but why was he so put-out about it? ‘I did mention it to Elizabeth. I was so angry about it. The Merediths apparently don’t like Mr and Mrs Williams much.’ This was silly. Why did she have to justify an action that had yielded such a good outcome? Then she realised. ‘Idris Hughes, is it too proud you are, to be helped by a woman?’

  His cheeks reddened a little and he fiddled with his fingers. ‘No, not by a woman in particular. By anyone.’

  ‘Really, Idris, you are going to have to accept that there are people who have your best interests at heart. You put yourself forward to fight in the war, and it didn’t work out. But it doesn’t reflect badly on you, quite the opposite. Only nasty people like Edgar and Esther Williams are going to use it against you. You have to realise that.’