‘Not for food. Ronnie and I bullied Angelo into feeding us.’
‘You’ve been downstairs …’
‘Only as long as it took us to eat. Ronnie and I were starving.’
‘It didn’t occur to either of you that your wives would have liked to have seen you before the rest of Ponty?’
‘We needed sustenance so we could concentrate on more important things than food when we greeted our women.’
‘I bet Diana’s happy.’
‘Not as happy as her brother.’ Wrapping his coat around her he drew her even closer. ‘Now I know what it’s like to cuddle an icicle. I hope you don’t thaw, I have no idea how to clean melted woman off my uniform.’
She sat up suddenly. ‘Tony!’
‘Tony who?’
‘My brother Tony,’ she said irritably. ‘Luke came down earlier looking for him. My mother threw him out of the house. He could be out there freezing to death.’
‘Wise woman, your mother, but then I gather Tony’s been even more stupid than usual. I hear he wants to marry a German.’
‘Angelo told you?’
‘Before he even said hello and welcome back. And about Tony, I know him. He’ll have found a warm hole to crawl into lined with all home comforts, including a woman.’
‘So that’s how you soldiers behave when you’re away from your wives?’
‘Not me, I’m a happily married man. Tony is a bachelor.’
‘For the moment. You sure I can’t make you anything to eat?’
‘I’m sure,’ he reiterated, unfastening his buttons and pulling his shirt free. ‘How about you crawl back in there and warm the sheets for me.’
‘You going somewhere?’ she asked as he left the bed.
‘I’ve something for you in my kitbag.’
‘I’d rather have what’s under that uniform.’
‘And I thought all women were mercenary.’
‘We are.’ Kneeling, she tugged at his overcoat.
‘So you only want me for my body.’
‘It’s been so long, I think I’ve forgotten what to do with it.’
Peeling off his shirt and vest in one easy movement, he unbuttoned his trousers. ‘It’s like riding a bike: once we get started you’ll remember.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I haven’t forgotten my last leave.’
She looked down and saw her ugly nightdress and the even uglier cardigan. Throwing back the bedclothes she stepped out on to the cold linoleum.
‘Where are you going, woman? You’re supposed to be warming the bed for me.’
‘To get this black lace thing I bought. It’s guaranteed to excite you.’
Dropping his trousers to his ankles he sat on the side of the bed and started to laugh.
‘What’s so funny?’ she demanded, annoyed, as his laughter grew louder and tears of mirth started pouring down his cheeks.
‘You!’ he chortled. ‘After three years of living like a monk you think I need black lace to excite me.’
‘William Powell …’
‘Mrs Powell,’ he whispered, forestalling her temper by sliding his hands beneath her nightdress. ‘May I suggest we get under the bedclothes before we both turn to ice, and please,’ he fingered the thick red flannel as he pulled it over her head, ‘can we donate this nun’s penance robe to the Communist relief fund for Russian refugees?’
‘There was a lot of screaming and shouting, Constable Davies. I tried knocking my kitchen wall with the poker because it backs on to Mrs Ronconi’s kitchen and I know she can hear it because I did just that when our Mary scalded herself. Mrs Ronconi came running to help then but this time the shouting didn’t stop. To be honest, I was too afraid to walk in afterwards – well, anyone would be, wouldn’t they, because afterwards the house was that quiet. That’s when I sent Alf – Alf Pickering, who lives the other side of me – to the telephone box on the corner to dial 999. Normally, I wouldn’t have bothered the police, but the screams – well, it sounded like someone was being murdered – and the shouting – if there hadn’t been shouting I would have left well alone. But it did sound like someone was being murdered in there and that nice Mrs Ronconi normally doesn’t make a sound. Quiet as the grave her and the kids are – day to day that is – except on Sundays when her mam and sister-in-laws come round then it’s nothing but women cackling. You can hear them through the wall – but then everyone has a family get together now and again, don’t they? On the whole she’s just the sort of neighbour you want. But I did see a man going in there tonight. Two actually …’
‘It’s all right, Mrs Evans. You did the right thing, leave it to us.’ Huw looked over her head to Hopkins, the novice constable he’d brought with him.
‘The screaming’s stopped now but it was terrible. Like a stuck pig being gelded and I should know. Born and bred on a farm …’
‘Mrs Evans, why don’t you make us all a nice cup of tea while I go in and see if Mrs Ronconi needs help.’ Leaving Mrs Evans to Hopkins, Huw opened the door and called down the passage.
‘Is that someone crying?’ Hopkins asked, after he’d finally shaken Mrs Evans off so he could follow Huw.
‘Don’t know, boy. Shut the door and turn on the lights.’
As soon as he heard the front door click, Huw pushed open the door to the kitchen. White-faced, he gripped the sides of the doorframe and reeled back into the passage.
‘Oh my God!’ Hopkins turned his head and retched.
Sick to the pit of his stomach, but more experienced than Hopkins at concealing his reactions, Huw forced himself to go back into the room. Side-stepping the pools of blood he grabbed a tea towel from the back of a chair and kneeled on the floor beside Ronnie. As soon as he’d done what he could, he looked up at his colleague swaying on his feet in the doorway.
‘No time to faint, boy. There’s a telephone behind you. Dial 999. Tell them we need a doctor. Don’t forget to give them the address and say I told you it’s life or death, and we’re going to need an ambulance …’
‘Uncle Huw?’
A small boy dressed in pyjamas a couple of sizes too big for him, holding the hand of an even smaller girl, appeared behind the young policeman in the passage.
‘Billy,’ Huw attempted a smile as he lowered his voice, ‘what are you doing up at this time of night?’
‘Mam …’
‘Everything’s going to be fine, Billy.’ Huw signalled to Hopkins frantically with his eyes. ‘Take Catrina upstairs. I’ll be there as soon as I can. After you’ve called 999 see they get to bed,’ he murmured under his breath to the constable, as he tried to block Billy’s view of Diana with his body. ‘Then telephone Ronconi’s Tumble café. Tell them what’s happened and that we need a babysitter – urgently.’
Angelo could hear Tina giggling and William laughing as he ran up the stairs. It was obvious what they were doing but need overrode embarrassment and he hammered resolutely on their bedroom door.
‘Whoever that is, go away!’ Tina shouted.
‘We’re dead,’ Will added.
‘Police phoned, Diana’s had an accident.’
Quicker than Will, Tina wrapped herself in the patchwork bedspread and jerked open the door.
‘What kind of accident?’
‘I don’t know because I couldn’t get much sense out of the man I spoke to. All I know is Huw said he needed both of you, quick.’
Pale and trembling, Hopkins was standing guard outside Laura’s house, keeping a small crowd of neighbours at bay when Andrew slowed his car to a halt. He didn’t waste time on preliminaries.
‘Mrs Ronconi’s in the kitchen,’ he announced as Andrew and Bethan stepped out.
‘The children?’ Bethan asked.
‘They’re unhurt. Constable Davies had me telephone the café. Mr and Mrs Powell are on their way up to look after them. He thinks it best you go straight to the kitchen, Nurse John.’
Laura’s normally immaculate kitchen was in uproar. The window frame was
smashed to pieces, slivers of glass and wood scattered over the sill and floor; the table was on its side, the easy chair upturned, half the crockery had fallen from the dresser and was lying, shattered on the flagstoned floor. Covered in blood, Ronnie was kneeling in the centre of the confusion, cradling Diana in his arms.
‘Ronnie.’ Bethan kneeled beside him, gently moving him back so Andrew could examine Diana. ‘I didn’t know you were home.’
Ignoring her, he continued to nurse Diana.
‘Has an ambulance been sent for?’
Reading the urgency in Andrew’s voice, Bethan rose to her feet. ‘I’ll check.’
‘It’s bad?’ Huw asked Bethan.
‘It’s not good.’ Bethan knew Huw too well to lie. ‘We need to get her to an operating theatre as soon as we can. You’ve sent for an ambulance?’
He nodded, ‘It’ll be here in ten minutes.’
‘What the hell happened?’
‘I wish I knew. I only got here a few minutes ago. A neighbour heard a fracas and called the station. Ronnie hasn’t said a word since I’ve been here.’
‘He’s in shock …’
‘Bethan?’
Alerted by the alarm in Andrew’s voice, she turned back to see blood pumping out of Diana’s arm, soaking the rug and flagstones. Opening Andrew’s bag she removed a tourniquet.
‘The ambulance should be here in ten minutes.’
‘Let’s hope she lasts that long.’
Bethan pushed down hard on the pressure point in the crook of Diana’s elbow as Andrew tied the rubber tubing tightly on Diana’s upper arm. Steeling herself, Bethan cast a professional eye over her cousin. It was difficult to see past the blood and glass splinters to assess the damage. Either Ronnie or Huw had pressed a tea towel on the side of Diana’s head. Seeing her looking, Andrew moved it slightly. Bethan only just managed to stop herself from crying out. There was a gap in Diana’s skull, just below the hairline, that ran two inches long and half an inch wide.
‘There’s too much blood to see if there’s glass in it.’
Taking a sterile dressing from Andrew’s bag, she removed the tea towel and gently covered the wound.
‘Ronnie?’ Bethan called his name twice but he refused to look at her. ‘The ambulance is coming.’
He continued to gaze down at Diana, holding-her hand, white and very small in his own.
‘It will be better if I go with her, Ronnie,’ Andrew said briskly, reverting to his no-nonsense professional manner. ‘You can follow with Bethan in the car.’
‘You’ll have to come in the car with me, Ronnie,’ Bethan repeated slowly.
Huw appeared in the doorway. ‘The ambulance is here, and Tina and Will have arrived.’
‘Tell the driver to bring the stretcher in.’ Andrew touched Ronnie’s arm. ‘We’re going to move her now. Do you understand?’
‘Why don’t you take Will and Tina upstairs to the children?’
Bethan’s plea fell on deaf ears. Ronnie refused to relinquish his hold on Diana’s hand as the ambulance men lifted her on to their stretcher under Andrew’s direction. He walked beside her as they carried her outside. Huw had moved the crowd back but Bethan could see them all craning their necks in the hope of getting a good look at Diana on the stretcher. The ambulance driver and his mate, both experienced professionals, finally managed to prise Ronnie’s fingers away from Diana’s as they loaded her into the back of the ambulance.
‘Get him in as quickly as you can,’ Andrew ordered Bethan as he climbed up beside the stretcher. ‘He’s in shock.’
‘I recognise it when I see it,’ Bethan snapped, the strain exacting its toll on her. ‘You’ll see her soon, Ronnie, I promise,’ she murmured in kinder tones, gripping his hand tightly, as one of the men closed the doors.
Despite all Bethan’s efforts to coax him indoors and away from prying eyes, Ronnie continued to stand, watching until the ambulance drove down to the main road and turned the corner. Then he began to scream.
‘Get him on the sofa and hold him still,’ Bethan shouted as Huw and William struggled to push Ronnie through the door and into the parlour. After they managed to remove his overcoat she pulled up his sleeve and injected him. ‘Don’t let him go until his eyes close and you can feel him relaxing.’
‘Remind me never to quarrel with you, Beth.’ William practically sat on Ronnie as Bethan picked up the telephone to call a second ambulance.
‘How is Diana?’ Tina whispered from the top of the stairs as Bethan replaced the receiver.
‘We’ll know more after they’ve operated.’
Tina ran down the stairs, ‘Don’t give me that hospital double talk. I’m not one of your bloody patients. Diana’s your cousin and my sister-in-law …’
‘Beth knows that, Tina.’ Huw laid his hand on her shoulder. ‘Why don’t you go back up and see to the kids?’
‘They’re all right for the moment, that young copper’s with them.’ She looked down at Ronnie, who was slumped on the parlour sofa.
‘I knew he was in shock, I just didn’t realise how bad he was. I’m sorry, Tina,’ Bethan apologised. ‘It had to be done. I had no choice.’
Tina went to the kitchen door. Transfixed by the mess of broken and upturned furniture, crockery and bloodstains she turned to Huw. ‘What happened?’
‘I don’t know. We had a call at the station, I recognised the address …’
‘In God’s name, why won’t anyone tell me what’s going on?’
‘Because none of us knows, love.’ After verifying that Ronnie was well and truly out of it, William went to her. Pulling her head on to his shoulder, he held her tight as she started to cry. ‘Try to think of the children. They need you now because with Mam away you’re the one they know best.’
The shrill sound of an ambulance bell rang closer.
‘You’ll let us know what’s happening, Beth?’
‘The minute I hear, Will. You two will stay here?’
‘Until morning.’
‘If there’s any news I’ll telephone from the hospital.’
After seeing William and Tina safely upstairs and into the children’s bedroom, Huw closed the door and beckoned Hopkins downstairs. They went into the kitchen.
‘Domestic?’ the copper asked.
Huw knew what he was suggesting because it had become an all-too-familiar scenario since the war had ended. The headlines usually read, Soldier arrived home to find wife in arms of other man. Much as he refused to believe it of his niece, even he had to admit all the evidence pointed that way. Ronnie still had his overcoat on; Diana was in a robe and nightdress. Blood all over the place and the smashed furniture indicated that there’d been one hell of a brawl. That was without the shouts and screams that had led the neighbours to call the police, in itself a remarkable event for Graig people. And he hadn’t forgotten Mrs Evans’ assertion that she had seen two men enter the house. Nosy parkers like her were a godsend to the prosecution.
‘Check the wash house, the back door and the garden path – take your torch.’
‘What am I looking for?’
‘If I knew that, I wouldn’t have asked you to make a search.’
As Hopkins opened the door that led into the wash house, Huw walked to the front. Neighbours were still standing in the street, gossiping and watching the door.
‘Come on now, people, it’s all over. There’s nothing for anyone to see and nothing anyone can do to help, so why don’t you all go home?’ He waited, knowing that if he stood on the doorstep long enough they’d disperse peaceably.
When the last door had closed in the street he looked up and down before walking to the main road. Everywhere, quiet streets and houses with darkened windows yawned back at him. The few people not already in bed were in their back kitchens. There wasn’t a family on the Graig who wasted coals by using their front parlour in winter. And in summer the hallowed room was only opened up on high days, holidays and formal Sunday tea occasions when posh maiden aunts visited.
A dog barked from the direction of the dairy on the corner of Factory Lane. The sound cut hollowly through the frozen air as the long, low shadow of a stray cat darted back up in the direction of Leyshon Street. Not knowing what he’d been looking for, or even expecting, he returned to the house.
‘There’s a blood trail, Constable Davies. It goes from the kitchen to the sink in the wash house then down the garden path and over the wall on to the mountain.’
Lighting his own torch Huw followed Hopkins along the route. There was no mistaking the thin trail of blood spots.
‘We don’t stand a chance of tracking these on the mountain,’ Huw complained more to himself than Hopkins as they stood, shining their torches over the garden wall. He turned as he heard steps in next door’s garden. ‘Mrs Evans, isn’t it time you went to bed?’
‘Yes, Constable Davies, but I couldn’t sleep without knowing if you’d caught him. I didn’t see him coming out of the house and I wondered if you’d got him the back way.’
‘Who, Mrs Evans?’
‘The other Ronconi. The one who went into the house before Mrs Ronconi’s husband.’
Chapter Four
‘You took your time. Is that blood on your face?’
‘I had a nosebleed.’ Tony squinted as he struggled to focus on Judy. There were three of them and he wasn’t sure which was real.
‘It’s all over your coat.’
‘It’s had blood on it before, it’ll clean off.’
‘You been fighting?’
‘Sort of.’
‘You hurt?’
‘No.’
‘Anyone I know.’
‘Family.’ Rolling his coat into a ball, Tony dropped it on a chair.
‘I put your chips in the oven, they’ll be dried to a cinder by now.’ Opening the door set in the side of the range Judy lifted out a stained, greasy tin and tipped a few dried chips on to a plate that didn’t look much cleaner than the tin. ‘Do you want salt and vinegar?’
Feeling distinctly queasy at the sight of so much burned grease, and not daring to open his mouth lest the beer that lay so heavily on his stomach spew out, he shook his head.
Pontypridd 07 - Spoils of War Page 6