‘Please have the operation, Idris. It’s the best choice. The only choice. And do you know what? Even if there was no operation, you are the only man for me. You always have been and you always will be.’
She leant over swiftly and kissed his mouth before she was able to question the wisdom of it. He was reluctant to respond at first, but soon his lips came to life, taking possession of hers. The heat from them awoke her body, as if spring had arrived after winter, and her heart blossomed with hope. Her soul, only half an entity by itself, was reunited with its mate and all was well with the world.
Slowly he lifted her off her feet, stretching himself up to his full height. She hung onto his shoulders, a rush of satisfaction coursing through her body, making her breathless. He spun her around before lowering her and ending the kiss. They held on to each other, his arms round her shoulders, hers round his waist, her head resting on his chest, his head resting on her hair.
Finally, she tipped her head back. ‘Tell Dr Roberts you’ve decided to have the operation, Idris. Then, when you’ve had it and recovered, let’s get married. We can live at mine, to begin with, and you can use the money saved to help your family out if you like, until Jenkin’s bringing some money in.’
‘That money was so we could rent our own place, get the bits of furniture we’d need, even if it was second-hand.’
‘There might be money left, and we’ll save again anyway. When the war finishes, we’ll think about it anew.’
Anwen lifted her head, staring at the sky. The cloud had begun to dissolve, allowing the sun to muscle through the fog and create several sunbeams across the valley. A shaft of light illuminated the area around them. Somewhere on the slope a grasshopper chirruped, and a bee buzzed around the white clover.
‘There’s always hope, Idris, always a bright light somewhere pointing towards the future, however long it takes. And you’re the person I want to journey with to get there.’
She gazed up at him, and he down at her, his deep, warm eyes captivating her as always.
‘I’ve been lost without you these past months,’ he said.
‘You need never be lost again, Idris. I will always be there for you, whatever happens. I’ve missed you so terribly.’
‘Then let’s go now and find our families. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to hear our news.’
He took her hand once more and they strolled down Twyn Gobaith towards their future.
A Letter From Francesca
I’ve always been a keen family history researcher and excitedly mined Ancestry.co.uk for snippets of information about my relatives. One day a ‘hint’ popped up to tell me that one of the World War One military records might be about my great-grandfather, Hugh Morgan. Although doubting there was a connection, I went and had a look anyway. Much to my surprise, the record was indeed about my great-grandfather, informing me that he’d enlisted with the Welsh Rhondda Battalion in March 1915. However, he was given a medical discharge in the November due to tachycardia. It was the ink stamp claiming, ‘Not likely to become an efficient soldier’, that caught my eye. How would he have felt about that attack on his manhood, I wondered, having signed up willingly with his pals? What would it be like to go home, feeling you’d failed? And so was born Idris Hughes and the girl waiting at home for him, Anwen Rhys.
We hear much about what happened to the soldiers of World War One, how they lived and died, and rightly so, but little about the home front of that time, particularly in Wales. In researching the mining community, the villages, the occupations, activities and entertainments, particularly through local newspapers of the time, I feel I have learnt much about my mother’s family’s background. How I wish I’d asked my great-grandmother, Mary Jones, a woman in her twenties in the war, so many more questions than I did. Although it was Hugh’s story that started the ball rolling, it is Mary’s village of Abertwyssyg, (rather than Hugh’s New Tredegar, just down the road), that forms the basis for my village of Dorcalon.
After all the research and writing, I can’t quite believe that Heartbreak in the Valleys is now being published. Thank you to Hera Books for giving me the opportunity to share this story of love, struggle and community, but ultimately hope, with the wider world.
If you enjoyed Heartbreak in the Valleys and would like to leave a review, that would be lovely. Then maybe others will discover what life was like in the Welsh valleys too.
If you’d like to discuss the novel with me, or discover more about it, I’d love to chat to you on social media here:
Facebook: www.facebook.com/FrancescaCapaldiAuthor/
Twitter: @FCapaldiBurgess
Blog: www.writemindswriteplace.wordpress.com/
Thank you for taking the time to read my book, and if you’re interested in finding out what happened next in Dorcalon, a new Valleys book will be published in a few months’ time.
Best wishes,
Francesca xx
Acknowledgements
First of all, a big thank you to Keshini Naidoo and Lindsey Mooney at Hera Books for their belief in my story and all their hard work during the process of publishing.
I’m indebted to Elaine Everest of The Write Place, who has taught me a lot about all sorts of publishing. She gave me the confidence all those years back to send out my first short story and has encouraged me in my various writing projects since. Thank you to all the other writers I’ve met through The Write Place, they’ve been a great support and also huge fun. A special mention to Ann W, Barbara, Catherine, Chris W, Elaine R, Karen, Natalie, Rosemary and Sarah – and also Viv, who, though not part of TWP, has been part of our group at many events.
A special mention to Angela, my Welsh speaking writing friend, who’s helped me with the bits of Welsh included in this book. Diolch yn fawr iawn. Any mistakes are down to me!
Thanks also to The Romantic Novelists’ Association whose New Writers’ Scheme and conferences have been invaluable.
Finally, thank you to my family for all their encouragement, particularly my late dad, Giuseppe, whose love of history set me down that path, and my mother, Maureen, who’s off-the-cuff stories made me eager to make up my own.
First published in the United Kingdom in 2020 by Hera
Hera Books
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London, E5 8NS
United Kingdom
Copyright © Francesca Capaldi, 2020
The moral right of Francesca Capaldi to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781912973415
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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