‘Do I?’ With that he propelled his body away from the table, striding past the neat rows of chairs until he reached Gwilym at the back, chatting to Gwen and Mary.
He said something briefly to his friend, then strode the rest of the way to the door, letting himself out without a backward glance.
‘What on earth am I going to do with him?’ she muttered to herself. He’s not your responsibility anymore, so you don’t have to worry about it. But I do, she thought, I do.
* * *
Anwen straightened up, as did her fellow workers, all standing on the field in front of the terraces of Alexandra Street. Coming ever closer they could hear a rendition of ‘I’ll Be a Sunbeam’. Down the road appeared a long line of marching children, singing their little hearts out, some voices in tune, some a little off-key.
The weather was not being kind to them this Whit Monday holiday, with its dark skies and intermittent rain, though the children didn’t seem to care. Anwen recalled this day in her childhood, when she and her siblings took part in the Nonconformist Sunday Schools’ parade. Most of all, they had longed for the tea provided in the various church halls afterwards. How jolly these children were, their little faces scrubbed and their best clothes as clean as anyone could get them.
The street was a dead end, so the children’s caterpillar curled round, bit by bit, its many legs finally making their way back towards the Institute. In this way, the parade would walk and curve and come back on itself, until every street had been covered. Only then would they go to the halls for their treats.
‘I used to enjoy the parades as a youngster in Georgetown,’ said a voice behind her.
She twisted round to see Tom there, his shirt collarless and undone, the sleeves rolled up.
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I was sitting inside, getting bored, and I thought, why don’t I go down and help Anwen with the allotments?’
‘We’re happy to have all the help we can get.’
‘I thought of going to the field behind the cottages, as it’s closest, but I can’t help feeling the chap there in charge doesn’t like me much. He always gives me queer looks when I pass by.’
Anwen leant back in surprise. ‘Who, Idris? He’s harmless.’ Yet she knew he was not happy about her having any kind of association with a man of a higher class.
‘In any case, why would I go there with all the old men, when I could spend time in your company here?’
Her stomach gave a little flutter before she admonished herself. Male attention, that’s all it was. Starved of it, she was. She led him to a box of knives. ‘Here. You can help cut the cauliflowers first. We’ve got a good lot of those.’
‘So, here I am, helping out on the allotments, as you requested. Have you given any more thought to coming out with me again?’
She should have known there’d be a catch. ‘Is that the only reason you’re here?’
He shrugged. ‘I appreciate the effort you’re all putting in. But yes, I was hoping you’d see me in a new light. And forgive me for what I did.’
‘I already have forgiven you, Tom.’
‘I’m so glad. I know the weather’s not as clement as it could be, but how about coming for a stroll by the river with me this evening? It’s a nice walk, which I haven’t done for a while. I fancy some company.’
‘You’re not going to give up, are you?’
He put his head to one side. ‘No.’
‘Let me see how you get on today and I’ll decide later.’
‘Ah, that’s your game, is it?’ he chuckled. ‘Making sure I do a good job.’ He took the proffered knife. ‘I’ll do my very best. Hey, who’s that sprinting across the field?’
Gwilym was running up the hill towards them. When he reached them, he bent over, clutching his knees, coughing a little before gasping.
‘What is it, Gwilym?’ said Anwen. ‘What’s the hurry?’
He straightened up, blowing out a hefty breath. ‘I’ve just come from the field behind the cottages. Idris and I got there to find it’s been vandalised overnight. All the seedlings have been pulled out and ruined. Must have been more than one person, that’s for sure.’
Anwen’s breath hitched. All that work! What if they picked on the fields this side next? ‘It was all for the benefit of the villagers. Who would do such a thing?’
Gwilym shrugged. ‘No idea.’
Several people came to mind, all at once, jostling for first place as culprit: the men who were aggrieved by the women working, the shopkeepers who were resentful that food was being sold they had no part in, even though they didn’t sell vegetables. The butcher, despite his words of encouragement, had been offering veg under the counter. And Mr Moss, the hotel landlord, had thought he’d get cheap vegetables and was angry when he was told the produce was only for the villagers. So many suspects, so much to do to make up for the loss. Her knees gave way, causing her to plonk in an unladylike fashion onto the ground. A number of the volunteers ran over.
‘My dear, are you all right?’ said Tom, taking her arm too late to stop her sinking.
‘I’m fine.’ She told the others what had happened as Tom helped her up, eliciting exclamations of anger.
‘You carry on with the work here,’ she told the women. ‘I’m going with Gwilym to get Sergeant Harries, or at least to leave a message.’
‘I’ll come along too,’ said Tom.
Anwen would rather he didn’t, but equally had no wish to contradict her employer’s son, even if they were friends now. It was like she had to be two different people with him. The men followed her across the field, cutting down an alley to Gabriel Street. The sergeant lived at number one, opposite St Peter’s. Anwen knocked stridently on the front door, fuelled by exasperation. It wasn’t long before the policeman opened it, not surprised, but curious maybe at the combination of people on his doorstep.
‘Sergeant Harries, I’m sorry to disturb you,’ said Anwen.
‘It is my day off, and a Whit Monday to boot.’
‘The thing is—’ started Tom.
‘The thing is,’ Anwen interrupted, ‘one of our fields of vegetables has been vandalised. So, I’d like to report a crime.’
‘I see.’ He looked towards Gwilym and then Tom, so obviously waiting for their confirmation. She seethed inwardly. Wasn’t her word good enough?
‘I’ve seen it,’ said Gwilym. ‘When I got there with Idris Hughes and the other men. Trashed, it’s been. Not a plant left unharmed.’
‘Well I haven’t my uniform on right now, so if you leave it with me, I’ll go up later.’
‘Come on, my good man,’ said Tom, taking on an air much like his parents’. ‘I’m sure my father would not like to hear that a project he has endorsed has been ruined and that the police have taken no interest.’
Harries nodded. ‘Hold on, I’ll just make myself a bit more decent.’
He closed the door. A couple of minutes later he opened it again, doing up the belt on his blue jacket, his helmet already in place. ‘Lead the way.’
They walked out of the main village, curving round to McKenzie Cottages. On the field behind, Idris and the band of older men were hoeing and digging, clearing away the spoilt burgeoning vegetables.
‘Tut tut,’ said the sergeant, standing between Anwen and Gwilym. ‘That is quite a mess, isn’t it? I’m not sure what I can do. I don’t suppose they left a calling card.’
It was supposed to be funny, but none of them laughed. Idris, who was at the top of the field, walked down to meet them, his face contorted with fury. ‘It’s a wretched mess. If I ever catch who did this…’
‘You and me both,’ said Gwilym.
‘I wouldn’t be so hasty to admit that in front of me,’ said Harries. ‘And I doubt there’s any way of finding out who it was. If there is, then the law will deal with it.’
‘Like it’s dealt with all the thefts and hijacking of carts and motor vans for the goods they’re carrying?’ said Idris. ‘Haven’t heard of any arrest
s there.’
‘No, well, that’s how it is much of the time,’ said Harries. ‘If there’s no evidence…’
‘What about fingerprinting?’
‘There aren’t going to be any fingerprints in the field, are there?’
‘There might be on the motorcars, or the carts.’
‘I don’t see—’
That’s not our concern right now,’ Anwen interrupted. ‘Please, would you at least take down some details, Sergeant? Ask at the cottages if anyone heard anything. That’s a thought. Tom, did you hear anything from your house?’
‘No. But then I sleep through thunderstorms, so I’m not much of a witness.’
‘I’ll do what I can,’ said Harries. ‘But short of a witness coming forward, I don’t know what else there is. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and knock on the cottage doors.’ He tramped to the road, and soon disappeared.
‘Is there anything I can do here?’ Tom asked Anwen.
‘The best help you could give is to pick those caulis for us, please. I’ll be along a bit later, when I’ve had a look round here.’ She didn’t want his company right now. It was making it awkward with Idris.
‘Of course. At your service.’ He bowed low, springing off immediately afterwards towards the road, humming loudly.
As soon as he was out of earshot she asked Idris, ‘Who do you think did this? I’ve thought of several people who are unhappy with our project. Could be any of them. Or none of them.’
‘Or all of them,’ he said, deadpan.
She nodded reluctantly. ‘Would you like some help up here, clearing up?’
‘No, there’s enough of us.’
‘I’ll go and get on,’ said Gwilym.
When he’d gone, Idris said, ‘We’ll clear it and get started again, digging the rows ready for the next attempt.’
‘You’re not giving up?’
‘The hell we are! Sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I’m angry too, Idris. Thank you for your dedication. And thank the men for me. I’ll leave you to it.’
Her departure was brought to a halt by Idris. ‘Anwen?’
‘Hm?’
‘I know I’ve said this before, but be careful.’
Her head tilted to one side. ‘In what way?’
‘With “Tom”, as you called him.’
Had she? Slip of the tongue.
‘Don’t get too close to a man of his class. They have a reputation.’
‘They might do. Doesn’t mean he has.’
‘I’m just warning you.’
‘Warning me?’
‘I didn’t mean it like that, like I’m threatening to do something if you don’t do as I say. I’m not your father, you know.’
‘I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, Idris.’
‘In that case, take care.’
The ease with which he strolled away belied his words of concern. She stared after him a while before she too went on her way.
What a cheek, thinking he had any say in her life now! She’d find Tom and tell him yes to a walk this evening. She hadn’t been by the river for a while either, so she’d look forward to it.
* * *
Idris was more glad than usual to arrive home after his shift. The weather had warmed up a little today and the sky was blue. It didn’t matter either way to Idris, who always felt too warm.
He placed his tin box and bottle on the table in the scullery, sitting on a chair there for a while to rest his bones. He’d better get a kettle and bucket of water on the boil. The quicker he got washed, the quicker he could have his dinner. Mam had said she’d leave him some bread and cheese as she was visiting Mamgu Price today in Rhymney. Da had stopped by for some baccy on the journey home, so he might be a while as he liked a gossip.
Idris was eager to get on with repairing the damage on the top allotment. It had become a matter of pride. They’d heard of no progress in finding the perpetrators in the three days since it had happened. He didn’t expect they ever would. Instead, Miss Meredith had put wooden posts up on each allotment, with notes signed by her father, to the effect that should anyone be caught there’d be serious fines and possibly a spot of time in gaol.
Scraping the tin bath along the floor from under the table, Idris lumbered awkwardly with it into the kitchen, placing it with a clunk onto the floor. He yawned, squeezing his eyes tight shut and stretching. When he opened his eyes again, he noticed a piece of paper on the table. Perhaps Mam had left him some jobs to do.
Picking it up, he recognised Jenkin’s precise schoolroom script. He must have left it before he went to school this morning. But as he read the note, his initial smile soon dipped down at the corners. A griping agony had him bent double, until his forehead touched the table.
Jenkin had run off with a group of his pals to enlist.
Chapter Twenty
Idris put the note in his pocket. How far would Jenkin have got? Which recruitment office would he have gone to? Pontlottyn? Rhymney? When he’d enlisted, Idris had gone with his pals to Bargoed in March of last year, but there was no need to go that far.
Forgoing the bath and making do with a cold wash, he was dressed within fifteen minutes. He left the bread and cheese, having lost his appetite. Jenkin had mentioned Gwilym’s brother, Evan, so he decided to start at the Owen household. Where was Da? He was taking even longer than usual.
The question was answered as Idris stepped out of the back door.
‘Where you off to in such a hurry, son?’
Idris pulled the note from his pocket. Isaiah took it, bringing it close to his face.
‘Stupid rash fool! You know who’ll be responsible.’
‘Me, Da. He says he’s replacing me in the army.’ Idris leant against the door, the fear and guilt consuming him.
‘No, bach, it’s that Cadoc Beadle, the scout master. All these boys he mentions, Jenkin goes to scouts with. Always getting them to do army exercises, is Cadoc, filling their ’eads with tales of heroics.’
‘I’m going to Gwilym’s house now. Have your bath and I’ll meet you back here, or at Gwilym’s.’
‘What are we going to do?’
‘Find them, Da.’ He took the note off his father, stuffing it back into his pocket.
‘They might not look too closely at their ages, being desperate for men, like. I hear they gets a shilling for each poor bugger what signs up, so they’re not so inclined to send any packing.’
That was what Idris was afraid of. He ran along the backs of the houses of Alexandra Street and Edward Street until he reached Gwilym’s, right at the other end.
About to open Gwilym’s back door, Rachael Owen beat him to it.
‘Oh! Well hello there—’
‘Mrs Owen, is Evan here?’
‘Evan? Do you mean Gwilym?’ She wiped wet hands on her apron, laughing.
‘No, Evan!’
Her laughing stopped abruptly. ‘No, he’s at school, of course. Why have you a face on you?’
Gwilym appeared in the dark scullery, pulling a clean shirt on over his vest. ‘What’s up, mun?’
Idris handed the note to Rachael. She read it, her eyes darting quickly along the lines. Gwilym peered at it over her shoulder, his face slowly taking on the expression Idris’s had done earlier.
‘Evan left for school the same as always this morning,’ Rachael said. ‘We haven’t found any notes. Perhaps he changed his mind. Perhaps they all did.’ A smile, forced but determined, formed. ‘Yes, I bet they’re all sitting in school now, shame-faced at the thought of what they nearly did to their families.’
‘Mam, we can’t assume that,’ said Gwilym. ‘We need to be sure.’
Rachael twirled around with an impatient huff, vacating the scullery for some moments before returning with a shawl. ‘I’ll head down to the school and make sure all these boys are there, which I have no doubt the scallywags will be. Jenkin should get a tanned behind for putting us through such worry.’ She ran off down the garden path.
‘Come in,’ said Gwilym. ‘I’m about to have my dinner. I presume you’ve had yours.’
‘No, I lost my appetite when I read that note.’
‘No point getting all het up before we know what’s what. Will you at least have a cup of tea while I have my bite to eat?’
Idris nodded, following his friend in and through to the kitchen where he saw Gwilym’s grandfather, Abraham, eating at the table.
‘What’s all the to-do then, lad? Rachael dashed in and out again and didn’t say a word. Not another field been wrecked, is it?’
‘No Grancha.’ Gwilym went quiet.
Idris sat opposite the old man, resigned to explaining yet again.
Twenty minutes later, Isaiah arrived at Gwilym’s back door at the same time as Rachael. She gripped her shawl around herself against the unseasonably cool June day. In the kitchen she faced the men there present, waving Jenkin’s letter in the air.
‘They’re not there, not any of them! Evan, Jenkin, George, Emlyn, Cyril and Christopher Williams. All absent. Their teacher thought maybe there was some new outbreak of something. I called at their houses on the way back. That snooty mother of Christopher’s, Esther, said he was ill in bed. Almost pushed me out her gate, she did. The other three mothers reckon they’re playing hooky. Always up to mischief, those three.’
‘Then maybe that’s it,’ said Abraham, leaning over his empty plate. ‘They’ll be skulking somewhere, too ashamed to show their faces.’
‘Did Evan take anything with him?’ Isaiah asked.
‘I watched him leave this morning,’ said Rachael. ‘He just had the bag containing his food tin and book. Couldn’t get much else in there. Doesn’t prove nothing, though.’
An idea struck Idris. ‘Cadoc Beadle. You said he was always encouraging them to enlist. Maybe he knows which office they’ve headed to.’
‘It’s worth a try,’ said Isaiah. ‘Though I can’t imagine him admitting he was behind it.’
Heartbreak in the Valleys Page 24