Pontypridd 01 - Hearts of Gold

by Catrin Collier

  * * *

  True to his word, Huw took charge of everything. He suggested that she pack all her belongings before they left the house, and carried her case out to the waiting police car. Alun, he assured her had gone ahead in a police van. He steered her thoughtfully through the procedure at the station, oiling the formalities with several cups of sickly sweet strong tea. He sat with her while she made her statement, explaining every detail in simple terms that could be easily understood even by her, in her shocked state. He parried the sergeant’s suggestion that she should see Alun, allowing her to make her own response.

  It was swift and decisive.

  ‘If I never see Alun Jones again it will be too soon.’

  The policemen who overheard her shook their heads knowingly. They saw a beautiful, wronged woman smarting from hurt pride. Not one of them realised she genuinely felt indifferent towards Alun and his fate. But she didn’t see, care for or solicit their sympathy. All she could think of was that she was in possession of her own life again. She had her freedom. Penniless, pregnant, it danced ahead of her, a glittering spectre that brightened her future. At that moment she failed to see the other ghosts crowding in the wings. The shades of hunger, shame and destitution.

  ‘Dad, please, do the rights and wrongs matter?’ Bethan pleaded wearily. ‘What’s done is done. Can I or can I not come home?’

  ‘Of course you can, Beth,’ Evan said, ashamed of himself for keeping her and Huw talking in the passage when by the look of her all she needed was her bed. ‘I’ll carry your case upstairs.’

  ‘Will you take a cup of tea with us, Constable Griffiths?’ Elizabeth asked as Evan left the room, struggling to remember her manners after suffering the trauma of having Bethan walk through the door with a policeman in tow, who told tales of Alun Jones and bigamy.

  ‘I won’t if you don’t mind, Mrs Powell,’ Huw refused, trying not to show too much interest in the cuts and bruises on Elizabeth’s face. ‘I’ve got to get back to the station. We’ll probably need you in court, Bethan, you know that. But it won’t be for a few weeks yet.’

  Bethan sank wearily on to a kitchen chair and nodded. ‘Thank you for bringing me home, Uncle Huw.’

  ‘That’s all right, love. Mrs Powell. Evan.’ He passed Evan in the passage on his way out.

  ‘Uncle Huw!’ Bethan ran after him.

  ‘Yes, love?’

  ‘Have you seen, Auntie Megan?’

  ‘Yes. Last week.’

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘As well as can be expected,’ he said uneasily, conscious of Elizabeth’s disapproving eye in the background.

  ‘She is still in Cardiff prison, isn’t she? They’re not going to move her?’

  ‘Not as far as I know.’

  ‘Next time you see her, tell her I’ll be in to see her as soon as I can,’ Bethan said, not even considering Elizabeth’s wishes. For the first time in her life she was thinking only of herself. Of how much she wanted to talk over what had happened to her with someone who would understand. She knew of no one who would understand better than Megan.

  ‘We’ll both go and see her,’ Evan echoed. ‘I’ll see you out, Huw.’

  ‘Just one more thing, Uncle Huw,’ Bethan smiled. ‘Thank Mrs Bennett for me.’

  ‘Who’s Mrs Bennett?’ Evan asked mystified.

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to tell him, Uncle Huw.’ Bethan said as she returned to the kitchen.

  Elizabeth was standing in front of the tiny window staring blankly at the Richards’ garden.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mam.’ Bethan apologised, closing the door behind her.

  ‘What for?’ Elizabeth asked coldly. ‘This has all worked out to your advantage. You never wanted to marry Alun Jones in the first place.’

  ‘No I didn’t. But if he hadn’t already had a wife, you would have gained what you wanted most of all. A respectably married daughter.’

  ‘Would that have been so terrible?’ Elizabeth demanded, turning to face her. ‘Tell me, what are we going to do now? No money coming into the house. You having to give up work with a bastard to keep …’

  ‘I’ll tell you what we’re going to do, Elizabeth,’ Evan said harshly as he opened the kitchen door. ‘We’re going to survive. It’s high time I carried the responsibilities for this family. I’m going back to work, and I’m going to bring in a living wage.’

  ‘You –’ Elizabeth began to sneer, then a gleam in Evan’s eye stopped her in her tracks. Her face was still smarting from the blow he’d given her the night before. She didn’t want to risk pushing him into giving her another.

  ‘I’m going into business,’ he announced bluntly.

  ‘Doing what, Dad?’ Bethan ventured.

  ‘Tatting.’

  ‘Rag and bone man!’ Elizabeth’s blood ran cold at the thought of her husband shouting in the streets for people’s rubbish.

  ‘It’s a perfectly legal and respectable occupation.’

  ‘I’ll never be able to hold my head up again.’

  ‘That’s as maybe,’ Evan said unconcerned. ‘But while you’re staring in the gutter you’ll be looking over a full belly.’

  ‘And that’s all that matters to you?’

  ‘At this moment, woman, I can’t think of anything that matters more.’ He turned his back on his wife and looked to Bethan. ‘It’s good to have you home, snookems,’ he said feelingly.

  ‘It’s good to be home.’ She hugged her father and went to her mother.

  Elizabeth stood grim-faced and rigid, ready to repulse any show of emotion. Bethan pecked her withered cheek, opened the door and left the room.

  ‘Where are you going to get the money from, Dad?’ Haydn asked Evan a few days later.

  Everyone except Elizabeth sat huddled around the range, trying to siphon off some of the warmth it radiated into their chilled bodies.

  ‘Charlie’s offered to lend me a fiver,’ Evan said. ‘He’s a good mate.’

  ‘Will you need as much as that, Dad?’ Bethan asked, afraid that her father was plunging into more debt than he could afford on her account.

  ‘I hope not.’ Evan stretched out his legs and put his pipe into his mouth. He hadn’t bought any tobacco since the pit had closed, but old habits die hard and he still pulled it and his empty pouch out of his pocket every time he sat in front of the fire. ‘I’ve taken ten bob off him to start with, that should see us right for a week. It’s only sixpence a day to hire a Shire horse and cart down Factory Lane. So tomorrow morning bright and early, Eddie and me will be down there picking out the best they have to offer.’

  ‘So many people have tried tatting, Dad,’ Bethan ventured prudently.

  ‘Not where Dad and I are going to try, Beth,’ Eddie said enthusiastically. ‘We’re not going round here. We’re going where the crache live. They’re the ones who can afford to throw out old for new.’

  ‘And if we can’t find any saleable junk tatting, we’ll offer to cart garden rubbish away,’ Evan suggested.

  ‘Or move furniture,’ Eddie chipped in.

  ‘Powell and Sons, no carting job too big,’ Haydn murmured.

  ‘Or too small,’ Evan said philosophically.

  ‘Don’t forget, Beth, I’m still working on Wilf Horton’s stall as well as the Town Hall.’

  ‘And you’ve got a week’s money to come, Beth,’ her father smiled.

  ‘And we haven’t got Maud to worry about any more,’ Haydn added, thinking back to the tearful scene that morning when he and William had put Maud and Diana on the Cardiff train.

  ‘If she sticks it in the Royal Infirmary,’ Bethan commented.

  ‘She’ll stick it,’ Haydn said firmly. ‘She’s like you. Stubborn little thing.’

  ‘Charming.’

  ‘So you see Miss Pessimist, there’s no problem. The finances of the Powell family are all worked out, and you and my grandson are going to want for nothing,’ Evan said firmly.

  ‘We’ve also got money coming in from our new lodgers.’ Haydn le
ft his chair and began to stack the dirty plates on the table.

  ‘Mam let that room out quick,’ Bethan said in surprise.

  ‘Mam didn’t. I did.’ Evan leaned forward in his chair. ‘Will’s had to give up Megan’s house now the pit’s closed. Sam’s moving on but Charlie’s staying. He and Will are going to share the front room.’

  ‘What is Mam going to say about that?’ Bethan looked from Haydn to her father.

  ‘The same she said about my tatting,’ Evan said carelessly. ‘Nothing. Right, it’s nearly six. I’m off out.’

  ‘To see a man about a dog?’ Eddie winked at Haydn.

  ‘Something like that. Who’s going to clear up before your mother gets back from Uncle Joe’s?’ Evan asked.

  ‘Not me, I have to get to work.’ Haydn reached for the mug holding the toothbrushes.

  ‘So do I,’ Bethan picked up her veil from the back of her chair.

  ‘And I have to get to the gym,’ Eddie protested.

  ‘That settles it. You can do with one less sparring match. We lose our jobs if we’re late,’ Haydn pointed out logically.

  ‘That’s not fair,’ Eddie complained.

  ‘I can see we’re going to miss Maud more than we thought,’ Evan mused. ‘You did say you were giving up work at the end of next week, Beth?’

  Bethan looked at her father. She was grateful for the sentiment, but miserably conscious of her forthcoming dependence on her already overburdened family. ‘I’m not sure. I went to see Matron about staying on for a bit this morning.’

  ‘I hope she said no,’ Evan countered sternly. ‘You’re soon going to have your work cut out for you, love.’ He laid his hand on her shoulder as he left his chair. ‘So if I were you I’d get all the rest you can, while you can.’

  ‘She said I could do relief work on the unmarried ward. It’s not strenuous …’

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t.’

  ‘It’ll only be for another two weeks at the most, Dad.’

  He glanced at the kitchen clock. ‘I’ve got to go. We’ll talk about it tomorrow night. And you,’ he pointed to Eddie, ‘no staying on down that gym too late. We’ve got work early in the morning,’ he warned.

  ‘Work! Tatting is only a stop gap, Dad. I’ll make my money boxing’.

  ‘Not this week you won’t. Table, boy. Don’t forget.’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  ‘You’re not worried about money are you, sis?’ Haydn asked as they left the house. ‘You heard, Dad. We’ll all take care of you.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have to.’

  ‘After all the months you took care of us? Come on.’

  ‘I’ve made a right pig’s ear of my life, haven’t I?’

  ‘There’s some who would say that.’ He looked at her and they both laughed.

  ‘Hello, Glan,’ Haydn greeted him as he walked around the vicarage corner towards them.

  ‘Haydn.’ Glan said abruptly.

  ‘Is it my imagination or did he cut you?’ Haydn demanded, temper flaring his nostrils as he turned his head to look back at Glan.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Bethan hooked her arm into her brother’s and pulled him around the corner.

  ‘Beth …’

  ‘It really doesn’t matter,’ she repeated warmly.

  ‘How much of that has gone on?’

  ‘Enough for me to find out who my friends are.’

  ‘I’ll kill the bastard.’

  ‘Haydn, he’s not worth bothering with. Please, you can’t kill half of Pontypridd.’

  ‘Half? Beth, I had no idea. Honestly.’

  ‘And some of the other half aren’t quite sure whether to cut me because I’m pregnant and have no husband. Or because I’m pregnant and was a party to bigamy. Or because I went around with a doctor who dumped me.’

  ‘It’s that bad?’

  ‘I lied to Dad earlier. Matron didn’t find me that job on the unmarried ward as an extra. She moved me there last night because the women in the ward complained about having to be nursed by me. And even with Matron’s protection I’m only there now because they’re desperately short-staffed. The minute they find a replacement

  I’ll be out.’

  ‘Is that why you won’t go to the wedding on Saturday?’

  ‘That’s part of it,’ she admitted reluctantly.

  ‘And the other part is Dr Andrew John?’ He barely managed to speak Andrew’s name.

  ‘Laura doesn’t think he’s coming. But whether he is or he isn’t I’d really rather go to bed. I need the sleep after a week on nights.’

  ‘Laura’ll miss you.’

  ‘She’ll have you and Eddie to make up for it.’

  They walked on down Llantrisant Road, towards Griffiths’ shop. Jenny was on the pavement outside, handing a large box to the delivery boy. She turned and waved to them.

  ‘Jenny!’ The upstairs window of the shop banged open, and her mother stuck her head out of the window. ‘Jenny, I want you. Inside this house now.’

  ‘In a minute, Mam.’ Refusing to look up at her mother, Jenny smiled at Haydn, mischief glowing in her pale blue eyes. ‘Haydn and Bethan are walking down the hill and I want to have a word with them.’

  ‘Jenny Griffiths, you get back here this minute,’ her mother shrieked.

  ‘I will, Mam, after I’ve talked to them,’ she shouted defiantly, walking away from the shop and up the hill to meet them.

  ‘Hello, Bethan,’ she said quietly, as she slipped her hand into Haydn’s.

  ‘You’re still going out with this brother of mine then, I see.’ Bethan’s voice came out sharper than she’d intended. It was a struggle to hold in check the emotion Jenny’s friendly greeting elicited.

  ‘He just can’t seem to stop following me around,’ Jenny answered with a possessive glance at Haydn.

  Bethan saw that the Jenny standing next to Haydn had come a long way from the shy girl who’d sat on the edge of her seat in the New Inn and answered Andrew’s questions in monosyllables.

  ‘Well I’ve got to get down to the hospital,’ she said briskly, wanting to get away from them and their obvious loving happiness. The sight of it hurt more acutely than she would have believed possible, in her present emotionally battered state.

  ‘Hang on a minute, I’m coming, Beth.’ Haydn pulled away from Jenny.

  ‘You’ve still got a few moments, and I really do have to go,’ Bethan insisted. ‘See you in the morning,’ she called over her shoulder.

  ‘She’s a big girl, Haydn,’ Jenny prompted, holding him back. ‘Let her have a little time to herself.’

  ‘I don’t like her walking down the hill alone.’

  ‘She has to, sooner or later. You can’t protect her forever.’

  ‘I can try.’

  ‘Haydn, she’s not going to want you around for the rest of her life,’ Jenny said in exasperation. ‘Not like me,’ she murmured in a softer voice.

  He read the message in her eyes. ‘Will I see you tonight?’ he asked, forgetting Bethan for a moment.

  ‘I could leave the store-room door open for you after the show,’ she teased.

  ‘Does that mean you will?’

  ‘Perhaps, if you promise to be nice to me.’

  ‘Will it be safe?’ he asked anxiously.

  ‘Mam’ll be snoring by the time you walk up the hill. And Dad sleeps soundly enough now he’s taken to going to the Morning Star every night to drown his misery at losing Megan.’

  ‘Then I’ll see you about eleven.’ He squeezed her hand.

  ‘I’ll hold my breath.’

  ‘Not too hard I hope,’ he smiled, winking as he left.

  Bethan walked down to the hospital along Albert Road, a side street that ran parallel to and behind Llantrisant Road. She knew she was being cowardly but she’d rather not face people until she had to, and Albert Road was never as busy as the main thoroughfare at this time of night.

  She felt strange, peculiar, as though something was missing. Then it came to he
r. She was alone, albeit in the street, for the first time since she’d returned home. She hadn’t realised until that moment just what a protective shell her father and her brothers had woven around her. Haydn escorted her down to the hospital every night, Eddie had been waiting for her at the main gates every morning, with the excuse that he’d come down early to try to get work in the brewery yard and there’d been none going.

  She’d been suspicious and in view of the number of people who suddenly seemed unable to see her, or hear her simple greetings, grateful. Too grateful to resent their molly coddling.

  She paused for a moment and stared at the rows of terraced houses clinging to the hillside as it swept down to the Barry subway station and the Maritime colliery. The chill of winter was in the air, but precious few chimneys smoked. It seemed madness.

  People going cold and hungry for want of coal and the food that wages could buy when the colliery buildings lay blackened, deserted and lifeless like the husk of a plundered coconut, discarded, useless, with nothing more to give. She went on slowly, thinking about the future that waited in store for the Graig, her family and herself.

  For the first time she considered the needs of the child that was growing all too rapidly within her. Her father was in his own clumsy way trying to make things easier for her with his frequent and proud references to his coming grandson. But in so doing he was forcing her to do the very thing she least wanted to. Making her see the child as an accomplished fact, a being in its own right who in the space of a few short months would take over and totally disrupt her life.

  She hadn’t been so afraid since the night she’d tried to abort it. She felt as though she were losing everything she’d worked for, everything she valued and had striven so hard to gain. Her career. Her prospects of qualifying as a midwife. Andrew …

  Andrew! She pictured him laughing next to her in the Empire Theatre, driving in shirt sleeves through warm, green, sun dappled countryside.

  And then, as he’d been that last time in the hospital. Well-dressed in his blue suit, white collar and tie, smelling of cologne and soap, his chin smooth, freshly shaved. Incredibly handsome but for a contemptuous sneer that contorted his full and sensuous lips. She was sure that at that moment he’d hated her. Everything that had passed between them, all the experiences and loving they’d shared had meant nothing to him.