‘You didn’t exactly fight me off. You damn well enjoyed it every bit as much as I did.’
‘If I enjoyed it, I’ve paid for it every day of my life since. Putting up with your groping night after night. Bearing your children. Living among common worthless people who insult me every time I show my face in the street. Hearing whispers about you or your low, criminal family behind my back every time I walk into a shop. One slip. Just one slip …’
‘I wouldn’t have touched you that night if you hadn’t led me on and if I hadn’t quarrelled with …’
‘Go on, say it,’ Elizabeth taunted. ‘If you hadn’t quarrelled with the great love of your life.’
‘You knew damn well then and you know now that I wouldn’t have touched you if I hadn’t been drunk. All you had to do was push me away. Tell me to stop. But not you … you …’
‘Don’t go trying to blame me for that night, Evan Powell. If it hadn’t been me it would have been some other girl. Any other girl. You were like a dog looking for a bitch and any bitch would have done.’
‘I found my bitch,’ he thundered violently. ‘A bitch on heat. On the one and only night in your life you behaved like a female of any species. I wish to God I had gone with someone else,’ he uttered fervently. ‘Almost anyone would have done, because I don’t think any other woman would have brought as much misery to this house, my children, or me as you have.’
‘How dare you! You … you …’ lost for words Elizabeth lashed out with her fists. Evan caught her arm before she had a chance to hit him. Instinctively, without thinking of the consequences, he slammed her full in the face with his open hand. The blow sent her reeling to the hearthrug, bleeding from a cut on her mouth. Too stunned even to cry.
* * *
‘Swine!’ Eddie exclaimed feelingly as he sat on the doorstep.
‘Who?’ Haydn asked blankly, too stunned to think coherently.
‘That smarmy bloody doctor, who else?’ Eddie demanded viciously. ‘Well if this is what I think it is, he can look out,’ he threatened. ‘If he ever sets foot in Pontypridd again, he can look out.’
Evan walked out of the house just after four. He’d left Elizabeth nursing a swollen face, split lip and black eye. The knowledge that he’d hit a woman for the first time in his life left a sour, rancid taste in his mouth, but it didn’t stop him from hating Elizabeth with every fibre in his body. This time she’d gone too far. He’d never forgive her for what she’d done to Bethan. He’d worked with Alun Jones for ten years. Long enough to know that the man didn’t do any favours for anyone unless money was involved.
He couldn’t begin to imagine how Elizabeth had paid him. She of course had hotly denied that she had, speaking only of Alun’s regard for Bethan. Regard! Pah! He spat in the gutter. He had to see Bethan so he could hear the truth for himself. But he didn’t know her address. Elizabeth had said that Alun Jones had bought a house on Broadway. She hadn’t even bothered to find out the number. That was another thing. Alun Jones had talked about opening a lodging house for years. But he was too fond of the drink to save anything like the kind of money needed to put a down payment on a house the size of the ones on Broadway. There were far too many unanswered questions in this “marriage” for his liking.
He clenched his fists tightly at the thought of Bethan being handed over to the man like a parcel of unwanted goods. As a lodger and fellow miner Alun Jones was one of the boys. But the idea of him as a son-in-law, sleeping every night in the same bed as Bethan, incensed him.
Elizabeth had said she thought he’d make a good husband. What the hell did Elizabeth know about the dark side of a man’s nature? The bloody woman had never taken her nightdress off once in all the time they’d been married, and more fool him, he’d never made her. When Bethan had been conceived … he thrust the image swiftly from his mind and concentrated on the bitter, frigid years that they’d shared a bedroom.
The years when she’d used every excuse she could think of to repulse his advances. And he’d never pushed her, or forced her once, no matter how much he’d burned and ached for a sensual touch.
He tried to recall all the rumours he’d heard about Alun. There’d been a widow in Zoar Street who’d sported a black eye that gossip attributed to Alun’s doing. And he’d seen the man himself going off with tarts in the pubs in town. Drink and women – that’s where Alun Jones’s wages had gone. Some life in store for his favourite daughter.
Inwardly seething, he slowed down when he reached the foot of the Graig hill. He strolled over to the group of idlers standing on the Tumble, and watched the traffic. People trudged past with shopping bags full of windfall apples and potatoes. Children carried newspaper cones that the bakers had filled with a shilling’s worth of stale ends. Some of the toddlers already had the white pinched look of hunger about their faces that he remembered from the strikes of the twenties.
His own children along with many others from the Graig had been fed then in the soup kitchens set up by the Salvation Army. And the Observer had reported that the Salvationists – ever ready to help in any crisis, were re-opening the Jubilee Hall kitchens on the Graig again for the children of the unemployed. Charity stuck in his craw but at least in the twenties the miners had the option of going back to work, albeit for less money. They had taken that option away this time, and he trembled not only for the bleak, hungry future of his own family, but for that of every other miner in the town.
He damned the government and a system that had brought a whole class of workers to this misery.
Slowly, gradually, the stream of pedestrians and carts dwindled to a trickle. The painted ladies of the town began to leave the two foot nine and join him on the station square.
‘Out of work, love?’ asked one small, improbable blonde who lisped badly because her front teeth were missing.
He nodded, not wanting to get into conversation.
‘Come on then, sunshine, I’ll give you one for free. For luck.’
He shook his head. There was something familiar about the woman. Something … ‘Dottie?’ he asked tentatively. ‘Dottie Miles?’
She looked into his face. ‘Evan Powell?’
‘It’s a long way from Graig Infants’ school, Dottie.’
‘That it is.’
‘I thought you married Bill Moss.’
‘I did. He died four years ago. Pit accident. Got to feed the kids somehow so I’m here,’ she said, clearly ashamed that he’d recognised her.
‘Do you remember when me and Richie Richards fought over you in the playground and Mr Lewis caught us and gave us ten whacks each?’ he laughed.
‘That I do,’ she smiled holding her hand in front of her mouth so he couldn’t see the full extent of the damage to her teeth.
‘Here, Dottie, take this.’ Evan fumbled in his pocket.
‘I’ll not take hand-outs, Evan Powell. From you or anyone. I earn my corner. Now if you should want to take a walk with me, it’d be a different thing.’
‘I would if I could,’ Evan refused gently. ‘But I’m waiting for my daughter.’
‘Didn’t know you had one.’
‘I have two and two sons. The one I’m waiting for is a nurse.’
‘That must be nice. Well, can’t stay around here all night talking to you. See you, Evan.’
‘Bye, Dottie.’
She walked off down the station yard. The Cardiff train had just come in and she hovered at the foot of the steps eyeing the men as they ran down them.
At last Evan saw a tall slim figure dressed in a nurse’s uniform striding across the road from the slaughterhouse.
‘Bethan, love?’ He intercepted her as she stepped on to the pavement in front of the station.
‘Dad, I …’ she faltered. The nerves that had been blissfully numbed and deadened since Elizabeth had begun to make all her decisions for her jangled agonisingly back to life when she saw the pain in her father’s eyes.
‘Look, can you spare a minute? I have to talk to you,’
he pleaded.
She opened her cloak and glanced at her watch. It was no more than a formality. She’d left the house a whole hour and a half before she needed to, simply to get away from Alun.
She’d woken up, forgone any thought of washing, rubbed herself over with cologne and dressed in the bedroom, stuck her head around the kitchen door and said goodbye. She wouldn’t even eat tea with him, telling him that she always ate in the hospital.
‘We could go to Ronconis’ cafe,’ Evan said persuasively.
‘All right, Dad,’ she agreed reluctantly.
He went to the counter and ordered two teas while she found a table.
‘You look a bit peaky, love. Do you want anything to eat?’ he asked solicitously.
‘The pies are good today. Fresh in,’ Tina shouted from behind the counter.
‘Then I’ll have one please.’ She wasn’t hungry but she suddenly realised that she hadn’t eaten all day. Still refusing to think about the baby’s needs, only her own, she decided that if she was to survive the night shift she ought to put something in her stomach.
‘Take the teas, Mr Powell, and go and sit down, I’ll bring the pie over when it’s ready,’ Tina said as she pushed one into the steamer.
‘Mam told you?’ Bethan asked as her father sat across the table from her.
‘She did.’ His mouth set in a grim line. ‘Beth, why didn’t you come to me?’ he rebuked.
‘You had enough on your plate. Losing your job and everything. Mam said –’
‘I don’t want to hear a bloody word that your mam said,’ he cursed savagely, slamming his fist into the table. Heads turned as the other customers gawped in their direction.
‘Dad, please.’ Embarrassed, she stared down at the table.
‘Just tell me one thing. Was it your idea to marry him or your mother’s?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Yes’
‘He asked me. It was the only offer I had, and the way things are –’
‘What about your your young man?’ he demanded angrily. ‘Your Dr John. He seemed a nice enough fellow. Surely if he knew the circumstances he’d come running.’
‘He wouldn’t, Dad,’ she asserted bitterly.
Tina interrupted them, bringing over the pie and a knife and fork. She smiled at Bethan.
‘How are things on the nightshift?’ she asked cheerfully.
‘Fine,’ Bethan replied mechanically.
The smile died on Tina’s lips as Bethan turned away. She remembered the pit closures. It must be difficult for Bethan and her father, with only Bethan’s wages coming into the house now. Just enough money to stop the family getting dole. She resumed her place behind the counter without another word.
Picking up the knife and fork, Bethan prodded the pie. She couldn’t see what she was doing. Tears blinded her, as she remembered the last time she’d seen Andrew. The foul, cruel words he’d flung at her.
“You’ve dragged me down as far as I’m prepared to go.”
‘He left me, Dad,’ she mumbled. ‘It’s the old, old story. I should have known better. I’m sorry. I was such a stupid fool.’ Tears fell on the surface of her tea.
He put his hand over hers. ‘I didn’t come looking for you to make you cry, love.’ He had to struggle to keep his voice level. ‘I wanted to tell you that you can come home. You don’t have to stay with Alun.’
‘But Mam …’ she began.
‘Your mother’s got no say in the matter,’ he snapped. ‘Come home, love. Where you belong. I promise I’ll look after you …’ His voice trailed pathetically as the same thought crossed both their minds. How could he look after her when he wasn’t bringing a penny into the house?
Bethan pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve and blew her nose, wiping her eyes at the same time in the hope that no one else in the cafe had seen her tears. ‘Alun’s bought a house on Broadway,’ she prattled in a forced bright manner. ‘It’s been empty for a while, so it’s in a bit of a state, but he intends to do it up. Turn it into a lodging house. He needs someone to cook and clean …’
‘So you’re his bloody skivvy?’
‘I’m his wife,’ she contradicted with a firmness that amazed herself. ‘He’s promised to give my baby his name.’
‘But at what price? Oh God, I wish you’d come to me with this instead of your mother.’
‘Don’t be too hard on her, Dad,’ she whispered, remembering how kind her mother had been when she’d found her in the parlour. ‘She picked up the pieces when I tried to get rid of it.’ She looked up. Evan was staring at her, horrified. ‘I know it was a stupid thing to do. Particularly when you consider I’m half a trained midwife. But I was desperate. And when she found me, Mam didn’t say one unkind word. Whatever she did, Dad, she did because she thought it was best.’
‘Then you intend to stay with him?’
‘I knew what I was doing when I married him. I’m not a child any more,’ she declared vigorously.
He’d never been prouder, or pitied her more than he did at that moment.
‘I know you’re not, darling.’ He spooned sugar into his rapidly cooling tea and stirred it. ‘But please, Beth, love, listen to me. We all make mistakes; God alone knows I’ve made enough in my time. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in nearly fifty years, it’s this. There’s no mistake so bad that you can’t walk away from it.’
‘Auntie Megan can’t walk away from hers,’ she blurted out unthinkingly.
‘I wasn’t talking about stupidity. Megan’s made her bed, she’s going to have to lie on it. What I’m trying to tell you, snookems, is that you only have one life. It’s no good making a mess of it and sticking with the mess simply because you think that’s the right thing to do. No one’s going to pat you on the back or give you a putty medal for being noble. If you can’t live out your life to make yourself happy; what chance have you got of bringing happiness to anyone else?’
He sat back and stared out of the window, embarrassed by the depth of feeling he’d put into his speech. It was fine enough. Pity he hadn’t thought to take some of his own advice years ago.
‘I know what you’re trying to tell me, Dad. And I’m grateful. I really am.’ She pushed her virtually untouched pie aside. ‘But I married Alun because I couldn’t see any other way out. And I still can’t. I work in the homes. I see what happens to the unmarrieds.’
‘That would never happen to you.’
‘Dad, I’m beginning to think we’re all one short step away from the workhouse. Alun was kind enough to take me on, and he’s found a way for both of us to make a living. I owe him for that.’
‘But …’
‘Look, I have to go. I have to make an appointment to see Matron in the morning.’ She left the table, then turned back. ‘Do the boys and Maud know I’m married?’
‘They know.’
‘Give them my love and tell them I’ll see them soon.’
‘I will.’
He pushed back his chair and left the cafe with her. ‘The next few weeks aren’t going to be easy for you,’ he warned. ‘Another day or so and the ins and outs of your wedding will be all over the Graig.’
‘The sooner the better,’ she said with more bravado than conviction. ‘There’s no going back. But thank you for offering to stand by me, Dad.’ She turned the corner, amazed at her own resolution. Perhaps she’d needed to talk to her father to sort out things in her own mind. She owed Alun for the use of his name and the respectability he’d lent to her condition. At that moment she resolved that it was her duty to pay him back in any and every way she could. Tomorrow she’d share his bed. If she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, it wouldn’t be that bad.
After all, the thought of facing unpleasantness was always worse than living through the reality.
Chapter Twenty-two
Evan waited until it was dark before be slipped out of the back door of the Graig Hotel and up the road. He looked around as he reached Phillips Street. When he was
sure no one was about he climbed the steps steadily and turned the key in the lock.
‘Oh, it’s you, Evan Powell.’
‘Good evening, Rhiannon.’ He closed the front door and stepped through into the passage. ‘Phyllis around?’ he asked.
‘Upstairs resting,’ Rhiannon said tersely.
‘May I go up?’
‘You most certainly may not. I’ll call her. Go and wait in the front parlour. And make sure you pull the curtains before you turn the light on. I don’t mind telling you, Evan Powell, you’re only welcome in this house because Phyllis won’t allow me to make it any different.’
‘Thank you, Rhiannon.’ Evan closed the curtains and switched on a small table lamp in the parlour. Then he sat on the edge of the cold, hard chaise longue and waited. A large, oak-framed studio photograph of Rhiannon’s husband stared down at him.
Below it, on the mantelpiece stood a smaller one of a group of people crowding in front of a charabanc. He walked over to it and picked it up. The picture had been taken outside the chapel just before an outing. He studied the faces and recognised himself, his brother William, Rhiannon’s son Albert, Elizabeth, Phyllis and John Joseph amongst the revellers.
He, Phyllis and Elizabeth all looked so young, no older than his children were now. It had been taken the year before he’d married. Half a lifetime ago. They’d been on their way to Roath Park in Cardiff.
‘Evan.’ Phyllis came in moving with the slow awkward gait of a woman who’s almost at full term. ‘It’s lovely to see you,’ she murmured shyly.
‘And you.’ He kissed her sleep flushed cheek, and smoothed her tousled hair away from her face.
‘Sit down, won’t you?’
‘If Rhiannon will let me. To be honest, every time I come here I half expect her to put me outside the door.
‘She wouldn’t do that. She’s only worried that someone will watch the back and front of the house at the same time to see who stays.’
‘I know she worries about you. I won’t stay long. But look, love, I’ve been thinking …’
‘So have I.’ She smiled.
Pontypridd 01 - Hearts of Gold Page 42