War in the Valleys

by Francesca Capaldi

  ‘They’re more likely exhausted, poor things.’

  They walked to the car in silence, all the while Elizabeth wondering how the evening might have been without Gwen there.

  * * *

  Anwen woke with a start, confused at first as to where she was. It was pitch black, yet the bed didn’t feel right. There was too much room. She and Idris were still squeezed into her single bed at home. Here, Idris seemed further away.

  The guest house. But there was something else. A booming sound. What on earth was it? Her heart raced. She sat up and dangled her feet over the bed, feeling around on the bedside table for the candle and matches. No electric lights in this house, not like at home. She fumbled in the dark, eventually managing to light the candle. Carrying it over to the clock on the mantelpiece she saw that it was just after half past one. Perhaps a motorcar had gone past, or someone had dropped something in another room?

  She crept back to bed but had only just sat on the edge and put the candle down when there was another thud. This time she felt the house move. She clutched the front of her nightdress. It was a sound that was only too familiar from the pit disaster back in July.

  There was a moan from Idris. ‘What’s going on? Thought I heard something.’

  Anwen pulled her feet into the bed and shuffled up closer to Idris, throwing her arm around his waist. A small sob escaped her mouth. ‘It was an explosion.’

  ‘It’s alright, cariad, I’m here,’ he almost sang, stroking her hair.

  ‘It… it must be the Zeppelins, bombing.’ She felt the shaking begin in her hands and slowly travel across her body.

  Idris placed his arm round her shoulder, pulling her in. ‘That seems the most likely explanation. That would be good, wouldn’t it, blown up before I even got to the operating table.’

  ‘Oh don’t say that, bach, not even in jest.’

  ‘Don’t worry. We’ll sit tight here, and it’ll stop eventually,’ he said.

  He’d barely got to the end of his sentence when there was a hammering on their door and the landlady’s voice called, ‘Come down to the cellar with you, before the next explosion. The Zepps could be coming our way.’

  The pair of them sprang out of bed, Anwen calling, ‘But we’re in our nightclothes.’

  ‘Better that than being blown to kingdom come,’ came the landlady’s reply.

  Please, if a bomb falls here, let us both be properly alive or both be gone, she prayed, hardly able to breathe, a second before there was yet another explosion.

  Chapter Seven

  Elizabeth had been out hoeing, digging, planting and harvesting for the best part of three hours now, on the Edward Street allotment.

  Needing a rest from bending, she was walking around the field, rubbing her back. It was when she came to a halt near the end houses that she spotted him, coming along the road. Councillor Tallis. She looked down at her brother’s shabby cast-offs. Dash it, she didn’t want him seeing her like this. Still, what choice did she have? Too late now anyway: he’d spotted her.

  She tidied her hair, realising too late she’d probably only put more soil into it. Did it matter? He’d be here to see the allotments, not her. More’s the pity, she thought. She was glad Gwen was at work and not helping out, as she’d have looked far more elegant, even working on the soil.

  ‘Miss Meredith,’ he said, looking as dapper as he had the last time she’d seen him, though a little more serious.

  ‘Mr Tallis. How nice of you to grace us with your presence. Do excuse my work outfit, but I didn’t expect any outside visitors today.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that.’ He waved the matter away. ‘What does concern me is whether you actually have permission to dig these fields up. We didn’t discuss it last time, as I assumed you’d been given permission by the council before I was appointed. But what I’ve heard suggests not.’

  ‘The reason—’ Elizabeth attempted to enlighten him when he ploughed on, interrupting her.

  ‘I’m afraid that just because you are the mine manager’s daughter here, it doesn’t mean you can dig up the ground willy-nilly.’ He looked at her as if she were a naughty child and he was disappointed in her, much like her father used to when she was little. That annoyed her more than his words.

  ‘No, but the thing—’

  ‘We take a dim view, on the council, of people who take matters into their own hands. If you want to use council land you must seek permission to rent it, and then there’s a due—’

  ‘If you would let me finish, Mr Tallis.’ When he looked abashed, she carried on. ‘The reason we did not seek permission from the council is because the land is not council property. It belongs to the Tredegar Iron and Coal Company, who own McKenzie colliery, and it was from them we obtained permission.’

  Mr Tallis raised his eyebrows and pressed his lips together. ‘And they’d allow you to do that for nothing?’

  ‘Yes, because they could see the good sense of growing food to keep their workers fit and healthy, which in turn would mean more coal excavated.’

  ‘And who exactly persuaded them of this?’ This question was asked with interest, rather than irritation.

  ‘My mother and myself. My mother is acquainted with Lady McKenzie, whose husband is on the board of directors.’

  ‘Ah Lady McKenzie, is it?’ He seemed impressed by her connection. ‘A couple of people at the council seemed to think the ground was common when I mentioned your project to them. I was sent to sort it out, since I’d met you.’

  ‘You can check it with my father, if you like. He was present when it was agreed.’

  He held up both his hands in protest, shaking his head at the same time. ‘No, no, there’s no need for that.’

  ‘I can assure you Miss Meredith is telling the truth.’

  Gwilym had come up behind them, freshly washed, his hair still wet where it was slicked back.

  ‘No need to stick up for her, old chap. I’m not doubting her word. My colleagues at the council should clearly have checked their facts. I shall be having stern words with them.’

  ‘Aye, you should,’ said Gwilym, before fetching a spade and starting to dig out of earshot.

  ‘My, he was quick to defend you,’ said Tallis. ‘Is he… I mean, are you and he—’

  ‘Courting?’ Elizabeth said with surprise. ‘Goodness, no.’

  ‘Of course. You are clearly out of his class.’

  She looked towards the handsome but cross face of Gwilym, taking some irritation out on the earth. Would she have courted him if the two of them had been attracted to each other? Her mother would certainly have had much to say. She wanted to laugh at this thought but instead said, ‘Maybe so, but he’s an intelligent man and one of the team leaders, so I consider him an equal. I am not spoken for.’ She wasn’t sure why she’d added the last sentence.

  ‘I can’t imagine why not.’

  Her face reddened and she felt a fool. It was more than likely an empty compliment. Well, she wasn’t a silly schoolgirl about to fall for that again. Unbidden, an image of Max, the brother of an old school friend, came to mind. He’d been the son of the owner of a shipbuilding company. She’d adored his auburn curls and intelligent green eyes, not to mention his enquiring mind. He’d been good at everything, schoolwork, sports, the piano. He’d gone on to Cambridge. When she’d visited her friend, she’d often found an opportunity to speak to him, enjoying their conversations. She’d been twenty, and he’d been home on holiday, when she’d overheard him telling his friends that his sister’s ‘passably pretty but irritatingly dull’ friend had come around, and how he was sure she had a soft spot for him. ‘It’s fun to lead her on a little,’ Max had said, ‘but what is she but a jumped-up miner’s daughter? Thinks she’s something because he’s a manager now.’ They’d all laughed, adding to her humiliation. Not long after, her friend had become engaged. She’d seen little of her since then. The memory never ceased to shame her anew. No, she wasn’t falling for shallow compliments again.


  ‘Anyway,’ Tallis continued. ‘I had better be getting back to sort out this misinformation at the council.’

  ‘That would be appreciated,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘I’ll bid you good day then, Miss Meredith.’

  ‘And to you.’

  He had turned to head off but whirled round once more to face her. ‘I’ve just remembered that there’s a talk on allotments next month at Bargoed Parish Hall. I wonder, with your interest here, whether you’d like to accompany me.’

  She experienced a small glow of pleasure. ‘Well it so happens that I’d heard of the talk and was thinking of going.’

  ‘Then I dare say you have others to go with.’ He looked disappointed.

  ‘As a matter of fact, I haven’t arranged anything yet.’

  ‘In that case, let us keep each other company. I would offer to give you a lift, but I will have meetings beforehand, so could we meet there?’

  ‘Of course. It starts at seven thirty, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Indeed. I shall meet you outside the hall.’

  ‘Yes, that would be fine.’ And would stop any tongues in the village wagging and making up their own stories, she thought.

  ‘Oh, but there is one thing I’d ask you.’ He looked serious enough for her to worry about what was coming.

  ‘What is that?’

  He looked embarrassed. ‘I feel awkward saying this, as it makes me sound rather arrogant, but… the young lady who accompanied you to the picture house, Miss Austin, wasn’t it?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘As we were sitting together the other evening, she, well, she took my hand for a while and whispered to me, giving me to understand that she was interested in me. Oh dear, this does sound bad, and her your friend.’

  ‘My goodness, that doesn’t sound like Gwen.’ Then again, how well did she really know her?

  ‘Well, it’s just that I’d rather you didn’t say anything to her, or to anyone who might tell her. I wouldn’t want her to be upset with you.’

  ‘All right, I’ll keep it to myself. And we’re only attending a talk, after all. It’s not like we’re walking out.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Meredith, for being so understanding. May I, um, call you Elizabeth?’

  ‘Of course. And your name is…? Apart from Mr Tallis?’ She leant her head to one side and smiled, realising she hadn’t a clue about his first name.

  He pointed to himself. ‘Me? Of course! I’m Ralph.’

  ‘Then I shall look forward to our evening at the talk, Ralph.’

  When he’d walked away a fair distance, Gwilym came back over to her.

  ‘I was wondering if you’d heard about the Zeppelin raid in London early Friday morning.’

  She gave a small yelp. ‘Zeppelin raid? No. Where did you hear that?’

  ‘Someone at the pit mentioned it as we were leaving our shift, then gave me the newspaper.’ He pulled it out of his jacket pocket.

  She looked at the headline. ‘Do the Rhyses know about it?’

  ‘I dunno. Should we worry them? London’s a big place. And they’ll be told soon enough if something’s happened.’ Despite his words, his frown gave away his concern.

  ‘Not—’ she was about to say not if nobody knows who they are, but couldn’t bear the image that came to mind, of Anwen and Idris among the rubble, like those poor soldiers lying in the mud in the Somme. ‘It’s not something we can assume.’

  She’d seen Florrie Harris knocking on the Rhyses’ door, not five minutes ago, no doubt arriving for a gossip. As she was considering this, the door opened and out flew Enid, looking around blindly. She spotted the two of them, lifting her skirt to run towards them, her shawl flying behind her.

  ‘Miss Elizabeth, Gwilym, have you heard?’ Tears were running down her panicked face. ‘Florrie says there have been Zeppelins in London, dropping bombs.’

  ‘Calm down now, Mrs Rhys,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Gwilym was showing me the newspaper. Let’s see what it says.’

  Gwilym unfolded it. ‘There were twelve Zeppelins but only one got through—’

  Enid grabbed the paper from Gwilym. ‘I’ll read it for myself, rather than have you tell me only good news.’ She scanned the paper closely. ‘My reading may not be as good as yours, but I can read well enough. Here we are. Eight killed and eighteen injured. O Duw. The Zeppelin… came in from the southeast coast to the… outskirts of London.’ Enid dropped the newspaper. ‘But that was on the address: London SE. SE for southeast London.’ She lowered her head and sobbed.

  Elizabeth felt sick. Only eight killed, she told herself. Eight too many, but it made the chances of two of them being Anwen and Idris small. The thought did little to comfort her. She picked up the discarded paper, noticing the bottom line of the report. One hundred bombs were thought to have been dropped in all, maybe only forty hitting anywhere. Forty. She shook her head.

  Cadi appeared from across the road, taking hold of Enid. ‘What’s happened, cariad? I’ve been gone no more than half an hour.’

  ‘Florrie did call by to say—’ but she was unable to finish.

  ‘There was a Zeppelin raid early yesterday morning,’ said Gwilym. ‘It went over southeast London, where Anwen and Idris are.’

  ‘O Duw,’ said Cadi, cradling her thin daughter-in-law in her well-rounded embrace.

  ‘Here’s the report,’ said Elizabeth, showing her the paper.

  ‘No good showing me, for I can’t read it.’

  Elizabeth read the whole report carefully, so they’d get a proper idea of what had happened. Slowly a crowd of allotment workers gathered around, the closer ones alerting those further away.

  ‘Someone should take that to the Hughes family,’ said Mary Jones, the closest to them.

  ‘I will,’ said Gwilym.

  ‘Let’s get back to the house, cariad,’ said Cadi. ‘For we’ll need to tell Hywel when he returns from his walk.’

  Enid nodded and let her mother-in-law lead her home. The allotment workers drifted back to their jobs, whispering among themselves and shaking their heads.

  ‘I would imagine there’s little chance of them having been involved,’ Elizabeth said to Gwilym.

  ‘We can only hope,’ he said, before he sauntered off across the field, towards Alexandra Street.

  * * *

  Violet looked for a while at the empty school playground, after Clarice and the other children had gone inside. Taking hold of Benjamin’s hand, she moved off at last. She’d miss the little girl’s chattery presence in the house all day.

  ‘Mam, when Clarry come home?’ said Benjy. ‘I want play wiv her.’

  ‘She’s only been gone two minutes. We’ll fetch her back in the afternoon, after dinner.’

  ‘That’s long time away.’ He started to grizzle, the tears flowing readily.

  ‘I know Benjy, love.’ She bent down to pick him up. ‘Would you like to help me on the allotment? There might be other children to play with.’

  He nodded his head. She hadn’t been for a while but wanted to get back to some kind of normal routine. The tot put his head on her shoulder; she realised she’d have to carry him up hill to the Edward Street allotment. He was getting a little big to carry now, at least by her. Hywel had managed it all right at Anwen and Idris’s wedding, despite his limp.

  Anwen and Idris. Her stomach lurched. They still didn’t know if they’d been involved in the bombing raid.

  As she reached the allotment, she saw Enid from afar, talking with Elizabeth and Hywel, a piece of paper held aloft. She ran down the road towards her. Violet marvelled at the change in her since Madog had been arrested.

  ‘Violet! I’m so glad you’re here. We’ve received a letter from Anwen. The two of them are fine.’ She came to a breathless halt. ‘Idris has had the operation and is making a good recovery. The pair of them heard the raids to the southeast of London, but they were over places called…’ she checked the letter, ‘Dept – ford, Green – wich, Blackheath, El – tham and Plu
mstead. Anwen was in… Lambeth, which was, she was told, about five miles from where the nearest bomb dropped, thank the Lord.’

  Violet placed Benjamin down, uplifted by the good news. ‘None of those places mean a thing to me, but I’m so relieved to hear they’re safe. Five miles. It’s not that far, is it? Are they still due back on the 6th September?’

  ‘That they are. It’ll be a long stretch of bedrest for Idris after that, though.’

  ‘Talking of which, what is Hywel doing on the allotments?’

  ‘Said he was going crazy not being useful. I thought he could do a bit of easy work here. He did seem to be getting a little melancholic.’

  ‘Poor Hywel.’ He hadn’t seemed quite his jolly self when Violet had visited the house. ‘It will do him good to be out here.’

  ‘Have you come to work on the allotments?’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Come on then.’ Enid held her hand out to Benjy. ‘Mary Jones has her little Charlotte out. A bit younger than you, she is, but a little friend to play with nonetheless.’

  ‘I like Charlon,’ said Benjamin.

  Enid led him across the road to the grass verge where Charlotte was playing. They were soon running around and laughing.

  Elizabeth came over to speak to Violet. ‘I’m glad you’ve come to help again. Perhaps you could sow the seeds for the broad beans and peas where Hywel is preparing the ground. He can push a tiller as he doesn’t have to bend his leg for that.’

  ‘If that’s where I’d be most useful.’ They moved in that direction together. ‘I wonder what he’ll do for work when he’s better. I doubt he’ll be able to dig coal again with that leg.’

  ‘There are always plenty of other jobs in the mine need doing. I will speak to my father. But please, don’t tell him I’ve got involved. I know about men and their pride. I believe Idris got cross with Anwen when I suggested him for the job of examiner to Papa.’

  Papa. Elizabeth couldn’t even use ordinary words like the rest of them. She put the thought to one side to say, ‘Charlie would have been the same.’ She came to an abrupt stop as her chin wobbled. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of Elizabeth, and risk her putting an arm around her. However, the other woman waited patiently as Violet composed herself. ‘I’m sorry.’