Red in the face, the player threw down his cards, stood up and left the room. I didn’t mean to cause offence. What do I do now? She sidled into his chair. None of the other players said anything so she stayed there. The game continued well into the night. The conversation was inane, seemingly aimed more at impressing others than saying anything of consequence, but it was better than the emptiness of her room.
Chapter 2
1945
Delyth lay asleep, curled up beside her daughter. She rolled over. Oh, the baby, is she all right? Bleary with sleep, Delyth reached out in all directions, but the bed was empty. Opening her eyes, she realised she’d been dreaming. There was no baby. She orientated herself to the day. It was June 21st. Finally, her husband was returning home. I’m one of the lucky ones.
Resisting the urge to get up, Delyth closed her eyes, and still in a state of half-slumber, glimpsed a younger version of herself. Her thick, black curls bobbed about as she bounced through the green pasture with its array of colourful spring blooms. She looked down to see the white pinafore over her blue, cotton dress, its broad pocket forced wide open by the array of flowers that she’d collected. Suddenly, she was disturbed by a wolf-whistle. Looking across to the hedge at the side of the field, she saw a handsome stranger sprawled out at the base of a tree.
“So what’s a pretty maiden doing out here all alone, may I ask?”
“I’m collecting flowers for my mother’s table. Anyway, I’m not alone now am I?” She smiled at her own boldness. “What are you doing here anyway? You’re not a local.”
“No, I’m from Swansea, girl. I came here on a bus trip with the lads to see what’s on offer on the other side of Wales. I must say I’m impressed.”
Delyth giggled. For some reason, she felt totally relaxed with this man. In fact, she was rather taken by him.
“I’m staying at the pub at the end of the road here. Would you care to join me for a pint?”
“Probably not a pint, but I might be there this evening with a couple of my friends. I’ll keep my eyes open for you.”
“Well bach, be assured I’ll be waiting for you.”
And that’s how it all began. She’d loved Gwyn from that very first moment and never stopped loving him, but life had become a struggle with the war.
Delyth looked around the room at the sturdy, timber wardrobe and the faded, floral wall-paper. The wind whistled through the eaves. She snuggled under the thick eiderdown, allowing her thoughts to drift back over recent times. The rationing and food shortages had not been easy but some had fared worse than others. Despite the damage caused by the bombing, which she saw every day on her way to work in Swansea, she was relieved their little community in the Swansea Valley hadn’t been directly affected. Their stone terrace house in Trebanos was still sturdy.
Delyth dragged herself out of bed and drew back the curtains. She gazed across the valley to the green hills beyond, with their abundance of trees. Yes, indeed, I’ve been fortunate. With men away and many women joining the forces and land army, she’d advanced quickly from the typing pool to head of finances and administration at the Guildhall. It had made her self-reliant and independent in a way she’d never expected, with money in her pocket and a man to love from a distance. It’d been hard being apart for six years, but in some ways, it was less demanding to love from afar, without the need to compromise about everyday things. She’d poured out her thoughts and feelings in long letters to Gwyn, though she always took care to maintain a positive outlook, determined to keep his spirits up.
Delyth dressed in the new blouse and skirt she’d recently stretched her rations to buy. She wondered now, with excitement, but slight trepidation, what awaited her when she met up again with the husband whom, in reality, she no longer really knew. As she made her way down the stairs, she looked into the cosy parlour, recalling the many times she’d sat at home alone in the comfortable old arm-chair in front of the fire, gazing out the window, beyond the neighbours’ terraces to those great, green hills. At times she’d felt an incredible sense of loneliness and foreboding. With Gwyn, there’d always been a special closeness she didn’t share with anyone else. She couldn’t explain it, in fact, couldn’t understand it herself. She just knew without him her life lacked meaning. In her heart, he was all she really wanted. With him and his passion for life, the whole world was full of colour and energy. Without him, it was just a drab, blank canvas. In the empty house, she’d drag herself through the day, trying to keep busy to stop herself from worrying. Knowing the danger that surrounded him had created a gnawing doubt that ate away at her. How often did I pray for God to bring him home safe and sound? Now my prayers are being answered.
As Delyth settled down to tea and toast, she thought about how the war had brought people closer. Having a common enemy had made them victims, or rather survivors, together. Swansea had suffered badly from the bombing, with the local docks and Llandarcy oil refinery being prime targets, but people had accommodated to the challenges and looked out for each other. She tidied up the breakfast things, using the last of the hot water from the kettle to rinse them. It’s time to put maudlin thoughts behind me. I must be positive. Gwyn’s on his way home and we’ve agreed to leave the war behind and rebuild our lives together.
*
Gwyn sat on the train at Paddington station gazing out the window at people rushing about, some in uniform, but many in civilian clothes. It’s hard to believe I’m back in Britain, on my way home at last. As the train drew out of the station and passed through London, he was shocked by what he saw. Though he’d heard about the bombing, he hadn’t visualised the level of devastation. There were rubble and debris everywhere. What a grey, forlorn place it looked under the cloudy skies. Huge areas of the city were flattened. The train continued on its way through Reading into the countryside. Instead of summer crops in the fields, huge acreages were covered in weeds. Of course, the farmers have been at war.
At least I’ll be home soon with my dear wife. Her regular letters were what had sustained him through those awful times. He pictured her in his mind, with her long, black curls and a smile that went right to a man’s heart. Yeah, she’d given him something to live and fight for. Delyth was certainly the centre of his life. All he wanted now was to see her again, to hold her in his arms and feel the warmth of her tiny frame once more.
As the train rattled along, Gwyn reflected back on his time away. The war hadn’t been all about killing people. No, it had been far more than that. There was the training and learning new skills. He’d got the knack of making quick decisions on his feet. Then, with promotion he’d been given the chance to lead men. By gee, I’m going to miss some of those lads. He’d got to know them so well, living with them 24 hours a day, through everything. He might have seen the worst side of mankind, but he’d also seen the best. He’d known he could depend on them. It had brought out his strength too. They’d learnt to get on with it. There’d been a real focus to their lives, fighting for Britain and her freedom. No dictator was going to take over their country and their lives. The drudgery, the marching from place to place, the regulations, the poor food and the filth and discomfort were nothing when you knew you were fighting to save your country and your loved ones. He would kill anyone to protect Delyth and he knew the other men felt the same about their wives and families. After all, he’d never had the comforts of some, living all his life in the same house in the Swansea Valley.
An only child, he’d grown up to watch first his dad die, worn out from a life in the Daren Colliery, then his mum, who’d passed away shortly after. They’d been determined he wouldn’t go underground. With their support he’d taken up work in the Steel Works at Pontardawe, not that it was much easier than the pits with the incredible heat from the blast furnaces. Now the war was over, it was time to rebuild his life with Delyth, though it’d be strange to go back to ordinary existence.
The train reached Bristol. Gwyn looked out the window in dismay. There were huge, empty gaps all th
rough the centre, just the rubble that had once been the cityscape and people’s homes. He’d thought his war was over, but no, this damage was going to take a long time to rectify. Then, he was back in Wales. Cardiff, it seemed had fared no better. Huge areas of the city were laid to waste. Finally, as he reached Swansea, his eyes misted over as he saw the damage to his hometown. Delyth’s letters had always been so positive. He hadn’t expected so much destruction.
His head hung low as he plodded through the bomb-damaged streets from High Street station to the bus depot in the drizzling rain. It was hard to visualise the once familiar streetscape. The Swansea markets were no longer. Oh my gosh, that pile of rubble is all that remains of the magnificent St Mary’s Church. His kit bag weighed heavy on his shoulder. What have I come home to? By the time the bus arrived, he was in a daze. He climbed aboard and took a seat. As they made their way along the streets he gaped at the piles of rubble and rubbish. He looked around but nobody else seemed bothered by the surroundings. Then, as the charabanc trundled its way through the Swansea Valley, he was relieved to see the damage appeared minimal. Finally, he was home, to the row of stone brick terraces with their slate roofs.
*
Delyth heard a rat-a-tat-tat at the front door and rushed to open it, her eyes damp. She fell into Gwyn’s strong arms. He picked her up, hugging her tight and covering her face with kisses. I’m safe again, at last. No longer did she have to face the world alone, always pretending to be strong. Her other half was back. Everything’s going to be all right.
Delyth took Gwyn’s hand and led him into their old home. The aroma of fresh baking wafted through the air. She looked around with pleasure at the spotlessly clean and tidy parlour with the bright, new floral curtains she’d sewed by hand. They entered the kitchen where the wireless was playing lively music. Gwyn sat down in his usual chair. “This is a sight for sore eyes. The old coal ovens and table remind me of growing up here when my gran was in charge. We might have been poor, cariad, but what a relief to come back after the times I’ve had, to see everything in its place, the way it’s meant to be.”
Delyth looked at her husband, trying to take in the sight of him. He looked tired and a little rough around the edges but he was still her Gwyn. “How about a cuppa?”
“That’d be nice, love.”
“And I’ve made your favourite Welsh cakes.”
Gwyn rose from his chair and came over to Delyth. Before either of them knew what was happening, he’d picked her up in his arms and carried her up the stairs to the bedroom.
Delyth laughed with delight. “The war’s done no harm to your strength then, has it?”
“No, my love, I’ve been saving it all for you.”
Though the passion was strong between them, Delyth was relieved to discover Gwyn had lost none of the tenderness he’d always shown her, as he gently undressed her, and expressed his love for her. Afterwards, they lay entwined in their nakedness. Gwyn dozed as Delyth gazed through the window at the hills beyond. It’s a relief to know some things haven’t changed. After all the excitement, a supreme peace wrapped itself around her.
Chapter 3
Next morning, Gwyn was seated at the table, reading The Observer, as he’d always done, when Delyth served him eggs on toast. He looked at them with horror, pushing them away with such force the plate toppled off the table onto the floor. It cracked into several pieces, leaving mess everywhere. “How dare you serve me this mush! I haven’t fought for six years to come home to the same powdered eggs I’ve had to put up with while I was away. Where are the proper eggs?”
“There aren’t any. We’ve had to make sacrifices too, you know.”
Gwyn looked up to see fear in Delyth’s eyes. He got up and put his arms around her. She stood rigid until he let go. Then she got the dustpan and brush to clean up the mess. He went back to reading the newspaper. Delyth cooked him two more pieces of toast, spread them with butter and jam and gave them to him with a cup of tea.
“This is worse than the war. At least we didn’t have the jam watered down and spread that thin.”
“I’m sorry, but the ration books don’t go far and we’ve all had to find ways of making things last. This country’s no paradise you know. All the government’s money has gone into the war effort. We’ve had to make do with what’s left.”
“This isn’t what I was fighting for,” Gwyn mumbled from behind the newspaper while he ate his toast.
When he finished his tea, he left the table and stomped off outside, ambling along the road, familiar since childhood, with its old stone terraces on either side. He gazed up at the Daren Colliery, where his father had worked most of his life. Little had changed in the last six years but he no longer belonged here. The war had changed him too much. He came to the Colliers Arms on the corner, recalling happy times he’d spent there with his dad and mates. It still looked the same but was closed of course, at this time of morning. Perhaps I’ll call back later and see if any of the lads are about. He turned the corner, making his way down to the canal. The water was a bit murky but he thought he caught the movement of fish amongst the tangled reeds. He turned right along the towpath, seeing the farmland on his left, reaching across to the tree-covered hills, below an almost cloudless sky that showed signs of a warm day ahead. To his right, trees boarded the canal, providing some privacy to the terraces above. Gwyn sighed. His life had adapted to a different rhythm, and the peace and security of home were like a storybook he’d outgrown.
All that had sustained him through those turbulent years was his dream of home but now the reality shattered that dream, leaving him with a sense of alienation. It seemed strange with all the hardship he’d endured, with reasonable equanimity, that he should find returning home so bewildering. The rules that had provided the parameters for his life for six years no longer worked and he was somehow behind the times. He had to find a new purpose and meaning now. Perhaps part of his discomfort was connected to his apprehension about finding a way of bringing Delyth on board with his vision for the future.
*
Delyth returned to the kitchen and made herself a second cup of tea. She sat down with it at the large, wooden table. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. If only I were going to work, as usual, it’d be easier to cope. But that was not to be. With the return of soldiers to their old positions, women had been downgraded to their previous jobs. She couldn’t face the humiliation of going back to the typing pool, to be ordered about by men who knew far less than she did. Delyth had resigned her position, assuming Gwyn would want her at home to look after him. Now I’m not so sure. Pulling herself together, she made her way upstairs to make the bed.
The door banged as Gwyn returned. “Come here, girl.”
She walked slowly down the stairs.
Gwyn looked at her as if she were a stranger. “There’s got to be some changes around here. I’ve decided we’ll take in a couple of boarders to help make ends meet. They can share the back bedroom. You get it sorted out while I go see about getting my old job back. I’ve got some business back in Swansea too, so I’ll be a while.” With that, he was gone.
Now, what am I to do with myself? After washing the dishes, Delyth trudged back upstairs, where she saw Gwyn’s ugly kit bag on the bedroom floor. It was open, with smelly clothes hanging out. Delyth wasn’t sure if Gwyn would want her to unpack it, but with nothing else to do, went ahead, putting the dirty clothes into a neat pile to be washed in the old, tin bath. I’ll give them a good soak before I scrub them.
Her life had certainly changed from when she’d managed an office full of women. Then, she felt her day had a purpose and she was treated with respect. But looking after a house and husband was a woman’s lot and she knew she had to get on with it. Gwyn’s letters had made it clear he’d suffered during the war. It wasn’t going to be plain sailing to start with. God give me strength. She bent over to rub the clothes together in the sudsy water.
It was much later in the day when she was interrupted
from reading a book by the sound of voices coming down the street. Gwyn strode into the house, slightly the worse for drink, with two men she’d never met. Both looked a bit rough and ready, with unkempt, greasy hair and dirty clothes.
Gwyn pointed to her. “This is the little woman.” He directed his gaze at his wife, “Delyth, these are our boarders, Paul and Thomas. Show them their room and get us a bite to eat.”
Delyth did as she was bid, leading them upstairs to the back bedroom. She’d made up the two single beds with clean sheets, now covered by warm eiderdowns. The old, timber furniture had been in the house when she’d come to live there. “I’m afraid there’s not a lot of hanging space in the lowboy but the dressing table has good, deep drawers.”
“We’ll be fine here. It’s a bright, cheerful room.” Thomas, the taller, leaner of the two, dragged his hand through his dark hair. “I like the new curtains.”
At least someone noticed.
“Thanks for taking us in, Mrs Jones.”
“Call me Delyth.”
“Well Delyth, we’re ever so grateful. Accommodation is hard to come by all over the country now, with so many soldiers returning.”
“Gwyn was a great sergeant,” chimed in Paul. A wide smile brought life to his moon-shaped face with its receding hair-line.
“Oh, so you all knew each other during the war?”
They looked at her in stunned silence.
Delyth left them to unpack and made her way back down the stairs.
She sat down beside Gwyn. “So there’s to be no discussion about taking in boarders then?”
“Aren’t you going to ask me how I went today with getting work?”
“Did you have any luck?”
“I start back at my old job at the steelworks tomorrow. I’ve lined up work for both the lads as well, mind.”
Parallel Lives Page 2