One Moonlit Night

by Caradog Prichard

  Moi had been to Doctor Pritchard’s on the way from School in the afternoon to fetch some medicine for his mam and a box of pills for his Uncle Owen. But we went to the Show before going home. And when we went to see the monkeys, we didn’t have any nuts or anything to give them.

  Let’s see if they like these, said Moi, and went into his pocket for the pillbox.

  He threw one in and one of the monkeys snatched the pill and put it in his mouth with his hands. And there was the monkey chewing the pill and staring at us and looking as pleased as Punch.

  He likes them, said Moi, and threw another pill in. And one of the other monkeys grabbed it and started chewing it like the other one.

  After that, Moi started throwing one pill after another to the monkeys, until he had none left and the box was empty.

  Jesus, what will I do now? he said. What will Uncle Owen say when I get home?

  Say you’ve lost them, said Huw.

  Or say you didn’t get them, I said.

  When the people went to the Show that night, there was no sign of the monkeys. And the Show man stood up and told the people that they wouldn’t be able to see the monkeys because they’d all been taken ill.

  Jesus, I got a hiding from Uncle Owen last night, Moi told us in School the next morning.

  What for? Because you’d lost the pillbox? said Huw

  Or for saying you didn’t get them from Doctor Pritchard? I said.

  Yes, said Moi. Uncle Owen had seen Doctor Pritchard in the street, and he told him that he’d given them to me. And do you know what they were, lads?

  No, said Huw.

  Nor me, neither.

  They were laxative pills. He’s been constipated for three days.

  *

  But I wanted to talk about that day the Wanderers came from Holyhead to play in the Cup against our Celts in Robin David’s Field. It had been raining all day on the Friday and on that Saturday morning, but it had turned fine in the afternoon before the game started.

  We were sitting on a wall on the opposite side to Post Lane watching people go into the field, Huw and Moi and me. And there they were in one long line almost down to the Church gate, going in very slowly, one after the other, after paying sixpence at the gate. Little lads like us could get in for threepence. Little Will Policeman’s Dad and Jones the New Policeman were standing by the gate watching the people go in.

  Dew, it’s bound to be a good game, said Huw. I’d like to see Will Cae Terfyn run rings around the Wanderers’ boys. But I’ve only got threepence and I want to buy sweets for tomorrow and get some chips from Ann Jones’s shop on my way home tonight.

  I’ve got threepence too, said Moi. We’ll go over the wall after the people have gone in.

  I’ve only got a penny, I said. If I’d gone with Mam to do the shopping instead of coming here, I’d have enough money to pay for all of us.

  And there we were thinking how we could get in for nothing when I looked across the road at the gate, where Little Will Policeman’s Dad and Jones the New Policeman were standing.

  Look, lads, Jones the New Policeman’s watching us.

  Down off that wall, said the policeman. And we jumped down at once.

  Up to Post Lane, said Huw.

  Yes, the far end of the field is the best place to go over the wall, said Moi.

  I want to stay here for a while to watch the people going in, I said. I’ll come after you in two minutes.

  And there I was standing with my hands in my pockets, one hand playing with the penny I had, when someone in the row of people who were waiting to be let in waved his hand and shouted to me. I looked behind me, thinking he was waving and calling to someone else, but there was nobody behind me.

  Hey, come here, said the man who was waving his hand, and I walked towards him. And who was it but Bleddyn Evans Garth, Ellis Evans Next Door’s cousin, who sometimes came up the Hill to visit Ellis and Grace, and came into our house for a cup of tea when there was nobody in Next Door. He worked in the Quarry.

  You’re the boy from Next Door to Ellis Evans’, aren’t you? he said.

  Yes.

  Are you going to watch the Celts win the Cup?

  No, I don’t think so.

  Course you are. Here, take this. Come in with me. And he reached into his pocket and put threepence in my hand.

  Lor. Thanks very much, I said.

  How’s your Mam?

  Alright, thanks. I was supposed to go shopping with her this afternoon. But I wanted to watch all the people going into the field. That’s why I came here with Huw and Moi.

  Oh, so where have they gone?

  Up Post Lane for a walk.

  Do they want to go in?

  Yes, I think so.

  Who do you think will win today?

  The Celts, of course.

  You should wear a green ribbon like me to show what side you’re on. Here, I’ll cut this in two so you can have half.

  Lor, thanks a lot.

  And Bleddyn Evans took the green ribbon from his chest and went into his pocket for a knife and cut it in two and gave half to me.

  Have you got a pin?

  No.

  Here you are, take this.

  Lor, thanks again.

  I looked a proper swell going through the gate into the field with Bleddyn Evans Garth, with the green ribbon on my chest. And when the Celts boys came onto the field, I was shouting C’mon the Celts louder than anybody.

  I fancy going over there to find a better place to see, I said to Bleddyn Evans.

  Yes, you go if you like. I’m fine right here.

  And I walked very slowly up the line to look for a gap between the men who were standing along it, so I could find a good place to watch, and shout C’mon the Celts.

  God, look who’s here, said someone, when I’d walked almost right up to the Celts’ goal line. And who should be there but Huw and Moi, looking as guilty as two dogs who’d been killing sheep.

  How the devil did you get into the field? You said you only had a penny, said Moi.

  Hey, how did you two get in, then?

  Over the wall over there, of course, while Little Will Policeman’s Dad and Jones the New Policeman were at the other end.

  Hey, you look great with that green ribbon, said Huw.

  I got it from Bleddyn Evans Garth, Ellis Evans Next Door’s cousin. He cut the one he had in half with a knife and gave half to me.

  Yes, but how did you get into the field?

  Bleddyn Evans gave me threepence so I could come in with him. He’s down in the bottom end over there. I came up here so I could see better.

  C’mon the Celts, said Huw at the top of his voice as the ball came up to the Celts’ goalmouth and Will Roberts the Goalie leapt for it and kicked it out into midfield.

  Look, I said, you’d both better have a bit of this green ribbon to show which side you’re on.

  And I took the ribbon off and cut it in three pieces and gave one to each of them and kept one for myself.

  HaFa pin? said Huw.

  Here you are, said Moi. Everyone will think we’ve paid to get in now.

  We can go round to that side, by the River, said Moi. There’s less people and more room over there, and Jones the New Policeman’s coming up.

  Dew, that Will Cae Terfyn’s a good dribbler, said Huw when we’d found a space halfway up the touchline on the River side of the field.

  And you should have seen Will Cae Terfyn running rings round the Wanderers’ boys, too. Whenever he got a pass from the left wing or the right wing, Will was running down the field with the ball as though it was attached to his feet by a piece of elastic. Then, when he was coming up to one of the Wanderers’ boys, he’d stop dead and the ball would stop in front of him. Then he’d do a little dance on each side of the ball with the Wanderers’ lad watching him like a cat watching a mouse. And before he knew where he was, Will Cae Terfyn had tapped the ball through his legs with the front of his foot and run round him, and left the Wanderers’
boy on his backside in the mud. Then Will was going straight through the others like a knife through butter until he was at the Wanderers’ goal.

  They say that Everton and Aston Villa have tried to get Will Cae Terfyn, said Huw as Will was weaving his way towards the Wanderers’ goal.

  They won’t get him, you know, said Moi. He’d rather stay with the Celts.

  Goal! the three of us screamed at the top of our voices as Will scored the first goal. Will had shot the ball into the net, and there was the Wanderers’ goalkeeper on his belly in the mud, with his feet in the air and his arms out as though he was trying to reach all the way to Post Lane. And all the people on the line were shouting and dancing like lunatics, and all the Celts’ boys were running up to Will and shaking his hand and putting their arms round him and tussling his hair. And the referee had his whistle in his mouth and was running back to midfield.

  That Titch is a good referee, said Moi.

  We called him Titch because he was a tiny little man, and he had a mop of curly black hair. And when he was running backwards and forwards between the lads, and bending down to watch the ball, with his whistle in his mouth, he looked smaller than Little Bob Pen Clawdd, the one we always made fun of because he was only as tall as he was wide and he was forty. And when Titch was standing up, he barely came up to the knees of Will Roberts, the Celts’ goalkeeper. Dew, he was a tall one.

  Ritchie Hughes Pen Garnedd scored the second for the Celts, just before the end of the first half. Ritchie and his two brothers, Albert and Llywelyn, played for the Celts’ team. Dew, they were three good players, too. But Ritchie was the best of the three. He had a kick like a mule in his left foot, and that goal Ritchie scored was the best one I ever saw. He was running alone with the ball down the Celts’ left wing, just where we were standing and shouting C’mon the Celts. And when he’d just crossed the centre line and was zooming past us, he took a shot. The ball flew through the air and was heading for the far corner of the Wanderers’ goal, just under the crossbar, and the Wanderers’ goalkeeper was leaping from the other post with his arms stretched out trying to save it.

  It went over, said Moi.

  Did it hell, goal, said Huw.

  Goal, I said at the top of my voice, and Titch blew his whistle and then everyone shouted Goal at the top of their voice. And then Titch gave a long blow on his whistle to say it was half-time.

  The cup’s ours, said Huw, when we’d walked to the Riverbank and were throwing stones into the River to kill time.

  Don’t be too sure, said Moi. The field’s all muddy and the Celts’ lads are tired. And they’ll be playing against the wind now, with the sun in their eyes as well.

  Then Titch blew his whistle, and we walked back to the line.

  Foul, said Moi at the top of his voice, as soon as the game had restarted. There’s a dirty devil for you.

  One of the Wanderers’ boys had tackled Will Cae Terfyn from behind and made him slide on his belly through the mud for about four yards. And Titch didn’t take any notice or blow his whistle or anything. He just waved his hand to tell the lads to carry on playing. But the people round the field were screaming like lunatics, and lots of them were swearing and cursing and calling Titch all kinds of names. And Bleddyn Evans and a gang of others with him were having a blazing row on the line with Jones the New Policeman.

  And while all this was going on, a little voice from somewhere shouted: Goal! And as we looked, there was the ball in the Celts’ goal and Will Roberts was flat out in the mud. Everyone was quiet for a long time after that.

  Two one, said Huw. Jesus, I hope they don’t get another goal.

  But between the mud and the tackling and the pushing, the game got dirtier and dirtier, and Titch was always blowing his whistle for a foul. And it was hard to tell who were the Celts in their red shirts and who were the Wanderers in their yellow shirts because the lads were covered in mud from head to foot, and you couldn’t see their colours. And the Wanderers’ lads were forever pressing forward and the ball was always in the Celts’ goal area, and Will Roberts was under terrible pressure and fisting the ball away all the time with his arms going round like a windmill. And the Wanderers’ goalkeeper wasn’t doing anything except walking backwards and forwards and rubbing his hands and his legs to keep warm cos he had nothing else to do.

  Will Roberts had punched the ball away three times with both fists together and everyone was shouting Great stuff, Will and C’mon the Celts. And suddenly, Titch blew his whistle and someone shouted Goal! And there was the ball sitting in the mud on the Celts’ goal line and all the lads were round Titch arguing like hell. But the referee was stooping forward with his whistle in his mouth and running for the centre line with the lads running after him, still arguing, and the people on the touchline were screaming like lunatics.

  It didn’t go in, lads, said Huw.

  I don’t think so either.

  Nor me, neither.

  But the maddest one of all was Will Roberts the Goalie. There he was, with his face all red, walking up and down and punching the air, and showing the ball in the mud on the goal line to the people around him.

  Suddenly, Will Roberts sat down in the mud by the post and put his head in his hands as though he wanted to cry. Then he got up and started galloping like mad towards midfield, where the other lads were still arguing with the referee.

  And before anyone knew what was happening, Will Roberts had got hold of Titch by the scruff of the neck with both hands and lifted him off his feet and turned round and was carrying him like that back to the Celts’ goal, and Titch’s feet were kicking the air underneath him, as though he was riding a bike.

  When Will Roberts and Titch reached the goal, Will put him down and pointed to the ball in the mud on the line and started arguing with him again. But Titch was still arguing back. So Will grabbed him and pushed his head down until his nose was in the mud next to the ball.

  Will you believe it now then, you stupid old bugger? Will said to him.

  Everything went completely to pot after that.

  A lot of people who were on the touchline ran into midfield and started arguing with the Wanderers’ lads, and some of them were running towards the Celts’ goal to try to get hold of Titch and murder him. But Little Will Policeman’s Dad and Jones the New Policeman were there before them and had put Titch between them and were telling people to keep away. But I’d never seen people so completely wild with anger.

  Then Little Will Policeman’s Dad called the lads from the Celts and the Wanderers together and, after talking for a little while, they made a ring around the referee and started to walk off the field with the people walking on all sides of them shouting, and some of them cursing and swearing.

  Talk about Elwyn Top Row’s procession. The one with Titch was the most fantastic procession I ever saw in my life.

  Then as we were walking down past the Church Gate, with Titch in the lead, and the two policemen one each side of him, and the lads from the Celts and Wanderers behind them, and the people behind them shouting and throwing clumps of grass and mud trying to hit Titch, Moi said: I’m going to get a clump of turf.

  No, leave him alone, said Huw.

  But Moi went off to look for a clump of turf. And the next thing we saw was this enormous clump of muddy turf flying through the air. But instead of hitting Titch, it landed smack on Little Will Policeman’s Dad’s ear and knocked his helmet off. But Little Will Policeman’s Dad did nothing except bend down and pick up his helmet and put it back on his head and carry on walking until they were at The Blue Bell, where the lads always got washed and changed. And in they went with Titch. And a lot of the people were standing around The Blue Bell arguing for ages. But nobody saw Titch come out, because they took him out of the back door.

  Was it you that threw that clump of mud that hit Little Will Policeman’s Dad? said Huw on the way home.

  No, definitely not, said Moi. I couldn’t find a clump. Some people are saying it was Little Will Police
man that threw it.

  Jesus, he’ll get a hiding when he goes home, if it was him, said Huw.

  Dew, that was a terrible day. There’s no one playing football on Robin David’s Field now. Only cattle grazing.

  11

  WHO WALKS AMONG the garden’s flowers by dawning’s early light; None crucified by hand of man more beauteous in our sight…

  And then the voices rose until they could be heard in the furthest part of the valley:

  Jesus it is He-ee

  Jesus it is He-ee

  Jesus it is He-ee …

  And then going very quiet as they sang the last line:

  That di-i-i-i-ed u-p-o-n the Tr-ee-ee

  It was over there on the side of the Braich that they were standing together, that Choir that came here from the South to raise money cos the coal mines had gone on strike. And we’d come up from Church after the service to listen to them, and Chapel folk had come too, and all the people who were walking up and down Post Lane had stopped to listen.

  It was the year after the War ended and, on the Wednesday before, they’d been unveiling the Memorial by the Church Gate. We’d been one of the first to get a Memorial and they’d chosen Wednesday to unveil it because all the shops in the Street closed on Wednesday afternoon.

  Dew, that was a strange day too. Everybody was dressed in black and it was as though fifty funerals were going on at once, cos there were fifty lads’ names on the Memorial, and all the names shone like gold on the stone when they unveiled it.

  It was John Morris Gravestones who made it. Dew, John Morris was good at drawing pictures and carving names on gravestones. He could make angels too, and they stood on top of the gravestone with wings, just as though they were alive and about to fly out of the graveyard. But carving names and Bible verses and pictures on slate was what John Morris did best.

  What do you think of this, lads? he said to Huw and Moi and me one day when we went to the yard to see what kind of gravestone he was making for Griffith Evans Braich after he got killed in the Quarry.

  Dew, it’s a nice one, isn’t it? said Huw.