War in the Valleys

by Francesca Capaldi

  Just as well, as she’d have drawn the line at that. ‘Go on then, but we’d better finish my hair first.’

  Gwen clapped her hands, springing up and down on the spot. ‘You’re going to look so lovely. I’ll go to your room and change while Elizabeth’s doing your hair.’

  Anwen watched Elizabeth in the mirror as she expertly brushed, smoothed, twisted and pinned her hair in place. Violet stared, either mesmerised or miles away. It wasn’t long before she got up and went to the open window, leaning down to stick her head out.

  ‘Why are you smiling like that?’ Elizabeth asked Anwen, her forehead crinkling a little.

  ‘I was just remembering when I first turned up at the Big House, that is, McKenzie House.’

  Elizabeth laughed. ‘You were like a scared little mouse.’

  ‘I didn’t know what to expect. And your mother was quite – intimidating.’ Anwen hoped she hadn’t offended her friend.

  ‘She certainly likes to give that impression.’

  ‘If it hadn’t been for your friendliness, I’m not sure I’d have lasted long. Especially with bossy Rose in the kitchen.’

  ‘Well I’m glad you did,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘I was quite surprised that you wanted to be friends. I did wonder if you had, well, some ulterior motive.’

  Elizabeth stopped for a moment and considered Anwen’s reflection. ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose I expected you to be snooty, like all the other young women of your class.’

  ‘Of my class. I sometimes wonder what exactly my class is.’

  Anwen turned her head. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Ah, don’t move, otherwise I’ll have to start again.’

  Gwen came back into the room at this point, in another new dress. Or new to her. Anwen certainly hadn’t seen it before. Violet took the opportunity to slip out and change.

  With the hairstyle complete, Gwen took over, dabbing and rubbing Anwen’s face with the cosmetics.

  ‘Time for your gown now,’ said Elizabeth.

  Anwen stepped out of her working dress. She was already attired in her corset, over which she wore a camisole and knee-length drawers. Over that she had a petticoat.

  Gwen undid the buttons on the back of the cream dress, where it hung on the picture rail. It was plain apart from the lacy high neck and yoke and the lace around the bottom of the half-length sleeves and waist. She removed it carefully from the coat hanger, then helped Anwen place it over her head. Gwen did up the buttons for her, humming the ‘Bridal Chorus’ quietly. Elizabeth unfolded and straightened the hem before placing a band of flowers across her head.

  It was at this point that Violet re-entered the room, fiddling with the skirt of the outfit she’d worn to her own wedding: a plain mid-blue dress with a lace yoke. The satin sash she’d worn that day was missing. Violet’s mother had made the frock, which Anwen had not seen her friend wear since she married Charlie. She wondered at the timing, with him gone. But maybe that was the point; Violet perhaps wanted to remember a happy day with her husband.

  A melancholy descended over Anwen which she did her best to hide. So many people had gone from the world since Violet had got married.

  When Violet finally looked up and noticed Anwen in the dress, she looked shocked.

  ‘Oh, what’s wrong?’ said Anwen.

  ‘N – nothing,’ said Violet. ‘You look beautiful. But I thought you’d wait for me to come to help you, like you and Gwen did for me.’ She glanced at Elizabeth.

  Had that been an accusing look, or was Anwen imagining it?

  ‘Never mind,’ Violet added quickly. ‘You look lovely, cariad.’ She stepped forward to hug her friend but halted before she reached her. ‘Better not. Don’t want to smudge or crease anything before you get to the chapel.’

  ‘She’s right, you look so beautiful,’ said Gwen.

  Elizabeth agreed with great enthusiasm, causing Anwen to well up.

  ‘Oh, don’t cry,’ said Gwen, reaching for a clean handkerchief from the dressing table and handing it to her friend. ‘This is your special day.’

  ‘And just two months ago I thought it would never happen.’ She dabbed at her eyes wondering if she was having one of the happy dreams she’d had in those dark days after Idris had rejected her. In the morning she used to wake up content for all of two seconds, until she remembered the true situation.

  ‘But it has, and in little over an hour you will be Mrs Hughes.’

  ‘My only regret is that Sara can’t be here,’ Anwen said, remembering her sister who had died last Christmas morning of the consumption. She’d only been fifteen.

  The memory of it was too much. She wept into the handkerchief, aware of Gwen’s arm around her on one side and Violet holding her hand on the other. When they led her to the bed she sat on the edge with them.

  ‘Sara and I often talked about how we’d like our weddings to be. Usually it was pure make-believe, with carriages, long veils and tiered cakes, like the weddings we saw in the magazines. Of course, I’d long decided that I would marry Idris. Sara had a crush on Jenkin when she was younger. I used to tease her that we’d have a double wedding, two brothers marrying two sisters. That would have been something, wouldn’t it?’

  When she was finished, she opened her eyes to see Elizabeth regarding her, her face sad. Anwen dabbed her eyes once more and blew her nose. ‘Right, we have a wedding to get ready for. Elizabeth, you’re not changed yet.’

  ‘Let me put a little more powder on you, then I’ll change my dress.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ said Violet, jumping up. ‘You go and get yourself ready.’

  When Elizabeth returned, she was, of course, wearing the most fashionable dress, with a shorter, wider skirt, in a dark green silk with a V-neck collar. Anwen knew she owned fancier outfits so was thankful to her for not outshining the bride.

  The four women stood together in front of the mirror, peering down to see what they all looked like. The door opened.

  ‘Come on girls,’ said Enid. ‘Cadi and I have been ready ages, and it will be time to walk to the chapel soon.’ She stepped in properly. ‘Oh Anwen, don’t you look a picture?’ She ran to her daughter and placed her arms around her, being careful of her hair and dress. ‘I just wish our Sara was here.’

  ‘I was saying the same, Mam.’ She held Enid’s hands tightly as they both fought off the tears.

  Anwen was aware that nobody had commented on Madog’s absence. She felt no regret at that at all. Uncle Hywel was going to walk her down the aisle, or rather, limp her down there, and he was a far better person in all respects to give her away.

  * * *

  ‘Those whom God has joined together, let no man put asunder. In so much as Idris and Anwen have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, having given and pledged their faith, each to the other, and having declared the same by the giving and receiving of a ring, I pronounce that you are husband and wife. I ask you now to seal the promises you have made with each other this day with a kiss.’

  Anwen tipped her head up at these last words, blushing at the thought of Idris kissing her in front of the congregation. He closed his eyes and bent to conform to tradition, making contact with her for a second. The organ struck up, being their cue to walk back up the aisle. They were treated to numerous smiles from guests and village residents who had arrived at the chapel to wish them well.

  ‘I didn’t expect a turn-out like this,’ Idris bent down to whisper. He was certainly handsome today, with the three-piece suit, his black hair cut neatly and slicked down into a side parting. The moustache he’d been growing the last couple of months had also been trimmed and tidied up. She was sure she must be the envy of many a young female attendee.

  Outside, at the top of the chapel steps, the couple waited for Elizabeth, who soon appeared behind them with her Box Brownie camera.

  ‘You’re so lucky to have such a sunny day,’ she said. ‘It wil
l give us better photographs.’

  ‘Thank you so much for doing this,’ said Anwen. ‘It will be lovely to have a record of the day.’ A little voice inside her head said, in case something goes wrong with the operation. She batted the errant thought away. This was going to be a joyful day, one to look back on with happiness in years to come.

  The rest of Anwen’s family and friends appeared through the doors, but it wasn’t long before their well-wishers were also eager to leave and go home, now the ceremony was over.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Elizabeth. ‘We’d better wait till everyone’s gone, otherwise we’ll have other people popping up in the photographs.’

  The couple stood to one side, thanking those who called their congratulations. Some lingered on the pavement nearby to watch the photographs being taken.

  After Elizabeth had taken a few with just the couple, and then family and friends, Idris called to the small gathering, ‘Could one of you come and take a photo so we can include Miss Meredith?’

  Mr Schenck, the Dutch bookseller, came up the steps. ‘I have such a camera, so know how they work and would be glad to oblige.’

  Elizabeth stood at the end next to Gwilym, who had acted as the best man.

  When it was all finally over, Anwen breathed a sigh of relief. She longed to be back at the house where she knew her mam and mamgu, along with Meg and Rachael, had already laid out a good spread, or as good a one as could be gathered in these days of shortages. Farmer Lloyd had provided a couple of rabbits and a brace of partridges as a wedding gift, in appreciation of her work on the allotment scheme and providing him with a rota of workers. She’d had nothing to eat that morning, what with her nerves robbing her of her appetite, so she was looking forward to his contribution, along with the other treats. She realised how lucky she was: Violet’s wedding breakfast had consisted only of tea and cake, as did many of the weddings in the village.

  Back at her house, the front room had been polished to gleaming. The last time she’d spent any time in here had been for Sara’s funeral. She took a moment to consider this.

  ‘What’s wrong, cariad?’ said Idris, approaching her with a cup of tea.

  ‘Just remembering my sister.’ She looked towards the framed photograph of Sara on the pianoforte.

  ‘Dear Sara,’ he said, handing her the cup.

  Anwen drank it in one. ‘Come, I’m starving. I’ve been looking forward to this.’

  Idris laughed. ‘Is that all you married me for? The wedding breakfast?’

  She chuckled. ‘Farmer Lloyd wouldn’t have given up his partridges for anything less.’

  ‘I’m glad to see you both so happy,’ said Idris’s mother, Meg, beaming. ‘Such a glorious day. And what did you think of the new pastor? Takes a better wedding than a memorial, I reckon.’

  ‘Yes, he did well,’ said Anwen. ‘Still, it would have been nice to have been married by Pastor Richards, since we’ve known him such a long time.’

  ‘Strange, the Richards family leaving the village with so little notice,’ said Idris. ‘Though maybe with losing Joseph in the mine accident, they just wanted to escape the memory. Where is it they moved to again?’

  ‘Porthcawl, to a chapel there,’ said his mother. ‘Maybe they fancied a spot by the sea. Strange though, that Joseph’s wife, Jenny, has been left behind with the new babby, since she was living with them. Gone to live with an aunt now, she has, on Gabriel Street.’

  ‘Perhaps she didn’t want to leave Dorcalon,’ said Anwen.

  Meg humphed. ‘Seaside or coal dust, I know what I’d choose. Maybe Miss Meredith knows something about it, as Jenny was their maid before she married Joseph.’

  This comment was prompted by Elizabeth passing by. ‘Know what about Jenny?’ she asked.

  ‘We were wondering why she hadn’t gone with the Richards family.’

  Elizabeth opened her mouth but hesitated. ‘I really don’t know, Mrs Hughes.’

  But Anwen had a feeling she did know something.

  ‘Well, I dare say it’s none of our business,’ Meg concluded. ‘Now Miss Meredith, I must thank you for taking the photographs. How lovely that it’s possible these days with your little camera. Not like when Isaiah and I were married.’

  And so continued the conversation between the two women, with Idris chipping in now and again. Anwen looked around the front room at the happy faces, chatting about this and that. Gwen and her mother giggled as Jenkin told them a silly joke. It was a joy to see and lifted her heart. Cadi came into the room with a tray full of cups of tea, the tray lent to them by Elizabeth and the cups borrowed from various neighbours. Her mamgu was in her element, her cheeks plumped up like ripe apples as she grinned fit to burst. Anwen smiled in response, welling up as she did so with the sheer elation of it all. And best of all, there was her handsome Idris, her husband at last.

  As she turned to take it all in, she spied, through the open door, Violet, standing dead still. She seemed to be looking at the floor. Poor Violet. Anwen lifted her dress and went through to the kitchen to join her. Enid had already placed the children at the kitchen table so they could tuck in straight away.

  ‘Violet, are you all right?’

  Her friend turned with a start. ‘Oh, yes, of course.’ A smile appeared in place of the frown.

  ‘I don’t know about you, but I really must get something to eat. Come on, there’s food in the front room.’

  Violet followed her in. As they passed Idris, Anwen turned and grinned at him, and he returned a look of pleasure and love. Her stomach melted. The niggle of fear she had about his upcoming operation she put to the back of her mind. Today was a celebration, of her love for Idris, and for her wonderful family and friends.

  Chapter Six

  ‘Here’s the train now,’ said Cadi, leaning out from the platform on Dorcalon station.

  ‘Careful Mamgu,’ said Anwen, pulling her grandmother back as she spotted the smoke and heard the distant chuff of the locomotive.

  ‘I do hope there won’t be any air raids while you’re in London,’ Enid’s voice croaked. ‘What a time to be going, when the Zeppelins have started upping their campaign in southeast England.’

  ‘Aye, I agree,’ said Meg.

  ‘Now don’t fuss, you two,’ said Idris, encircling his mother with one arm.

  As the train got nearer, Anwen hugged her well-wishers in turn; their mothers and Cadi, Violet with the little ones and even Elizabeth had walked down to see them off. Anwen had the feeling that it was the beginning of an awfully big adventure, as Peter Pan would have said. She had a brief pang, thinking of her sister Sara, whose favourite book that had been. A copy, intended as a Christmas present last year, still sat on the chest of drawers in her bedroom.

  ‘What’s the matter, fach?’ said Idris. ‘Not having second thoughts, are you?’

  ‘No. No, of course not.’ She brightened, not wanting to upset anyone, least of all her mother.

  ‘Come on now,’ said Elizabeth, as the train pulled in with a shushhh of brakes and hiss of steam.

  Idris picked up the small case he and Anwen shared and looked round at the group. He must be feeling a lot more nervous than she was, Anwen realised, with an operation to face. She shuddered inside, sending up a small prayer of petition to the Almighty.

  ‘Take care, cariad,’ said Enid, as she hugged her daughter once more.

  Idris had already unclicked the heavy door and stepped inside by the time Enid let her go. Anwen took his hand so he could help her up, then clunked the door shut. As the train chugged off, they waved out of the window. The group followed the train to the end of the platform, waving back until they were finally out of sight.

  * * *

  The train pulled in at Paddington station with decreasing chugs and a loud hiss. Idris, already rising from the seat, was pulled back down by the deceleration.

  ‘Oof,’ he said, as his head thumped against the headrest.

  ‘Are you alright, cariad?’ said Anwen, turning swiftly w
ith concern.

  ‘Aye. Soft landing, luckily.’

  ‘You should sit until we come to a standstill.’ She rubbed the sleeve of his jacket.

  ‘I realise that now.’

  When the train came properly to a stop, Idris rose to lift down their suitcase, then took down another for the lady sitting opposite when she seemed to be struggling.

  Out in the corridor, Anwen went ahead to open the outside door, climbed down to the platform and took the case from Idris before he too came down the steep steps.

  She looked up at the immensely tall, grubby glass ceiling and the huge arched girders. The platform was wide. A large clock hung over them. Arched doorways to one side displayed signs above, telegram office, lavatories and cloakroom among them.

  Anwen wrinkled her nose at the stench of smoke. People were rushing off the train, down the platform to the exit, adding to the din of a shrill whistle and another train chugging onto the platform opposite theirs.

  ‘I’ll carry this,’ she said, when he tried to take the case off her.

  ‘Pardon? Can’t hear you above the noise.’

  ‘I said, I’ll carry the case. You keep up your strength for the operation.’

  ‘That’s not right—’ he started to protest.

  ‘Excuse me,’ came the impatient voice of a man with a bowler hat and briefcase, trying to get off the train behind them. He didn’t wait for them to move fully out of the way before barging past.

  ‘How rude!’ said Anwen. ‘I hope not all Londoners are like that.’ She watched as several other people darted past, avoiding them both by inches, before turning her attention back to the suitcase.

  ‘Now don’t you start with your it’s not right for a lady rubbish. After you’ve recovered from the operation you can carry all the heavy bits and pieces you like. I’m sure I’ll find plenty for you in the home,’ she said, wagging her finger.

  ‘Alright, alright,’ he said. ‘Carry it if you must.’

  Oh Lord, she thought, I’m sounding like my mother. ‘Sorry, but I want you to be as fit as you can. Let’s get off this platform before we’re knocked over by the mob, and find this Baker Street and Waterloo Railway underground train we’ve got to travel on next.’