‘Thank you, Mr Richards.’ Edyth made a valiant effort to control herself. ‘Now, we can’t allow the tea and crumpets go to waste. If you wouldn’t mind pouring it.’
‘It will be my pleasure, Mrs James.’ But even as Mr Richards poured the tea and used the silver tongs to place a buttered crumpet on a porcelain plate for her, he knew they were both thinking the same thing. Time was the one thing Edyth James might not have. Would circumstances change for Sali Bull before Edyth’s frail health gave way and she joined her husband in the burial ground behind Penuel Chapel?
The first thing Lloyd did when he reached home at nine o’clock was to ask the brake driver to help him put the trunk in Sali’s bedroom. He hid his parcels in his wardrobe, walked downstairs, hung his overcoat in the hall and removed the letter Mrs James had given him together with the ring from the pocket. He found Sali in the kitchen dipping nuts and small pieces of marzipan into melted chocolate.
‘I thought you’d stop off for a drink,’ she said, flustered at being caught out.
‘It looks as though you’re determined to have us eating like kings on Christmas Day,’ he commented, when he saw the layers of sweets she had placed between sheets of greaseproof paper in eight separate tins.
‘They were meant to be a surprise. I bought the ingredients in Connie’s this morning.’ She didn’t want him to think that she’d put the chocolate, nuts and other expensive ingredients on his father’s household account.
‘I promise to look astonished when I open my tin on Christmas morning. There is one for me, I take it?’
‘And your father, brothers and Harry. The other three are for Connie and Megan’s families and my sister-in-law Rhian. Homemade presents are all right, aren’t they?’
‘Very acceptable.’
‘And you won’t tell Joey and Victor? I’d hate them to think that they have to get Harry or me anything.’ She scoured a nut in the bowl, picking up the last vestiges of chocolate before putting it on a tray to set.
‘I won’t if you allow me to taste one.’
‘That’s bribery.’ She set three of the sweets she’d made on a plate, handed it to him, then carried the tray into the pantry where she slid it out of sight on the top shelf.
‘These are very good,’ he complimented, as she replaced the lids on the tins and cleared the table.
‘Thank you.’
He waited until she had wiped down the oilcloth on the table before setting the ring, the twelve pounds she had given him, and the letter in front of her chair. She paled as she recognised the writing.
‘You told my aunt where I was?’ she charged accusingly.
‘I left the things you gave me in Mr Richards’s office, but unfortunately, as I was the only client he saw today, he guessed it was me who had abandoned them there. He asked if I’d meet your aunt –’
‘And you went!’
‘I didn’t tell her where you were, Sali. She is worried about you and Harry.’ He pushed aside the plate she’d given him. ‘Why don’t you sit down and check that it is the right ring and read your letter while I make us some tea.’
She opened the box.
‘Is it the right one?’
‘Yes. But you’ve given me back the money ...’
‘Mr Goodman insisted that he owed your father twelve pounds.’
‘And I’m sure he didn’t. This is charity.’
‘When I tried arguing with Mr Goodman, he accused me of calling him a liar. As it was, I practically had to prise the ring away from him. He asked me all kinds of questions.’
‘What questions?’ Her voice was shrill with alarm.
‘Where I got the pawn ticket, and how you and your boy were. Like your aunt, he’s concerned about you, Sali. And if you hadn’t told me about him giving you your coat and valise, I doubt he would have given me the ring. He also told me to tell you that it is worth two thousand pounds and if you ever sell it, not to take a penny less than eighteen hundred.’
‘He said that?’
‘Yes. Now read your letter.’
‘I’ll read it later.’ She pushed the ring and the letter into her overall pocket. ‘You’re not just saying that Mr Goodman wouldn’t take the money?’
‘No, Sali,’ he said seriously. ‘I wouldn’t lie to you about something like that.’
She finally pocketed the roll of banknotes.
‘Mrs James told me that she enclosed a cheque for you. Enough for you and Harry to start a new life.’
‘That was foolish of her. If Owen Bull ever discovers that I have money he’ll come after me and take it away, just as he did my dowry.’
‘How would he find out about it, Sali?’ he enquired logically as he warmed the teapot with hot water. ‘It is obvious that Mr Goodman hasn’t said a word about you pawning your ring to anyone and I can’t see your aunt or Mr Richards rushing to your husband to tell him you have money. So why won’t you tell them where you are?’
‘Because Owen might follow them if they tried to visit me, or break into my aunt’s house to look for letters if he suspects we’re in contact with one another.’
‘You are paranoid.’
She went to the window and fiddled with the perfectly draped curtains. ‘You don’t know Owen, or what he is capable of doing, not just to me, but Harry, my aunt, even Mr Richards.’
‘What I do know is that you have an irrational fear of him.’ He picked up the kettle and poured boiling water into the teapot. ‘You do feel safe, here in my father’s house, don’t you?’
‘I did, when no one knew where I was,’ she qualified.
‘I didn’t tell them, Sali.’
‘They might have guessed and Mr Richards has your address. Don’t try to tell me he hasn’t. He writes to you here. I’ve seen his letters.’
‘I didn’t tell him you were in living in the same house as me, Sali.’
She turned away from the window. ‘I’m going to bed. Please,’ she indicated the sweets she’d given him, ‘either eat those or put them away. I don’t want the others to see them.’
‘There’s one more thing, Sali.’
‘What?’
‘Your aunt gave me a trunk full of clothes for you. She said it’s your trousseau. I left it in your room.’ The door in the basement banged shut. ‘Do you want to carry on quarrelling with me in front of my brothers?’
‘No.’
‘I promise you, I didn’t drop so much as a hint as to where you are living to anyone in Pontypridd.’
She left the room. Lloyd ate the last sweet and lifted down four cups and saucers from the dresser. He simply couldn’t understand Sali. She was living in a house full of men well able to protect her, Harry and her aunt, should Mrs James chose to visit her, yet she was still terrified that Owen Bull would track her down. Why couldn’t she understand that no one could force her to do anything she didn’t want to do?
And there was the cheque that Mrs James had told him she’d enclosed in her letter. She hadn’t mentioned an amount but he didn’t doubt it was a substantial sum. Together with the money she could raise on the ring, Sali could buy herself a small business far away from Pontypridd, Tonypandy and Wales, and keep herself and Harry in comfort. He knew it was selfish of him, but he hoped she wouldn’t use the money to start a new life elsewhere. During the last few months he had become accustomed to having her around.
My Darling Sali,
I am writing this in the hope that you will read it. I love and miss you and Mansel more than I can ever express in a letter and I wish that I had been able to say goodbye to you, Sali. I understand why you had to leave, and I am sorry that I couldn’t protect you and the boy from Owen Bull.
I feel myself getting older by the hour. I do not say this to worry you or gain your sympathy, I have enjoyed a long life and for the most part it has been a good one. I was blessed with a loving, caring husband, two children I was privileged to bear and of course you and Mansel. It was hard to lose all of you, but Mari is looking after me better than
anyone of my age has the right to demand of a companion and, if I am lonely, it is only for the people I love.
As I have grown older, I have found it easier to face unpleasant facts, especially the imminence of death. Should you discover that I have passed on, please, do not shed any tears for me. I have more to die for than to live for now, and my faith and trust in God tells me that Gwilym, my children, my parents and your father are waiting for me to join them. The only problem I have is how to ensure that you and Mansel, wherever he is, inherit the businesses and my estate.
Mr Richards, wise man that he is, has convinced me not to leave my estate to you directly, as that will give Owen Bull cause to track you down and take your inheritance just as he took your dowry, so on his advice, I have left everything to your son, naming you and Mr Richards among others as trustees until he comes of age. I have inserted a clause precluding Owen Bull and Morgan Davies from becoming trustees.
I have no idea how you are supporting yourself and your son. I enclose a cheque for five thousand pounds, made out to I. Bull, your son’s name. I hope that you are in a position to cash it and invest it, although Mr Richards tells me that I am putting the money at risk, as legally, Owen Bull is the father of your son and can commandeer his assets.
I do understand why you cannot visit me, but please remember that you and your boy have friends who will do everything in their power to help and protect you.
God Bless both of you,
Your loving Aunt Edyth,
Sali stared at the trunk Lloyd had set at the foot of her bed. She could just imagine the reaction if she walked into a bank in Tonypandy dressed in the finery she used to wear and used the cheque to open an account for Harry. It would be all over the Rhondda in five minutes that the mother of a child who had thousands of pounds was keeping house for the Evanses. And should the gossip reach Owen’s ears it would only serve to give him an added incentive to hunt them down and imprison them in squalor in Mill Street a second time.
She folded the cheque into the letter, replaced both in the envelope and stowed it in the dressing table drawer below her underclothes. It would be easier to tear the cheque up and forget about it, than decide what to do with it. And if she had only herself to consider she would have destroyed it. But she had Harry to think about and five thousand pounds was more than enough to set any young man up for life.
She allowed herself a small congratulatory smile, she hadn’t done too badly on her own. As Lloyd had said, she was safe in the Evanses’ house – so long as Owen remained in ignorance of her whereabouts. If only she could be sure that he would never find her.
In the meantime she had a Christmas to look forward to. Wholesome food to cook and the look on a small boy’s face when he came downstairs on Christmas morning to find the horse and cart he wanted under the Christmas tree.
Chapter Eighteen
‘You are spending Christmas Day with us, Sali?’ Billy Evans asked at the tea table on Thursday.
‘If that’s all right with you, Mr Evans?’ She placed a liver and bacon casserole in front of him and returned to the hob to fetch a pot of mashed potatoes.
‘I was hoping you would. So, what are we eating?’ He ladled a small portion of the casserole on to a plate for Harry.
‘I have two chickens ready to be killed and Iorwerth up at the farm has promised me a goose as well as a leg of pork,’ Victor announced.
‘For how much?’ his father enquired shortly.
‘The price of shoeing his horses last summer.’
‘So, it looks as though we’ll have plenty of food. Do you mind cooking it, Sali?’
‘If you say no, I’m going next door for Christmas dinner,’ Joey chipped in before she could answer.
‘Megan would have enough sense to throw you out.’ Victor poured Harry a cup of milk.
‘I ordered a few extras from Connie. On my personal account,’ Lloyd added, when his father gave him a penetrating look. ‘They’ll be delivered tomorrow morning, Sali.’
‘Are Connie, Antonia and Annie coming up for dinner on Christmas Day?’ Mr Evans asked Lloyd.
‘If they are, they haven’t mentioned it to me.’
‘They have every other year.’
‘Three extra people for dinner will mean additional work for Sali,’ Lloyd warned.
‘I don’t mind.’ Sali set a bowl of mashed swede in front of Mr Evans and took her place at the table.
‘In that case, tell Connie that we’re expecting them when you do her accounts tonight, Lloyd.’
‘You coming up to the farm with your Uncle Joey and me to get holly and a Christmas tree for the parlour, Harry?’ Victor leaned towards Harry and cut his liver into bite-sized chunks.
‘Can I, Mam?’ Harry looked to Sali.
‘We won’t be late,’ Victor promised.
‘And I promise to be a good boy, Mam,’ Joey grinned.
‘You don’t know the meaning of the word, Joey,’ Lloyd chafed.
‘No one’s complained to you about me lately, have they?’ Joey enquired, an injured expression on his handsome face.
‘If they haven’t, it’s only because you haven’t been caught out,’ Lloyd retorted.
‘You can go, Harry, but only if you wrap up warm,’ Sali qualified. ‘And no climbing in the cow pens or pig sties. Your boots were filthy the last time you went up there.’
‘Goody.’ Harry set down his spoon and clapped his hands.
‘As soon as we’ve finished eating, you boys can give me a hand to get the Christmas box down from the attic. As Sali’s made a cake and puddings we may as well make it a proper celebration,’ Billy glanced at Harry who was manfully working his way through his dinner, ‘for Harry’s sake.’
‘Look what we found when we were looking for the Christmas box, Harry.’ Joey dropped a cardboard box on the hearth rug, knelt down, opened it and pulled out a homemade fort, complete with a regiment of lead soldiers, half of which had black crosses painted on their backs.
‘The ones with crosses are the enemy,’ Joey explained. Harry picked one up. ‘Soldiers need someone to fight.’
‘I’m not sure I want my son playing war games,’ Sali said doubtfully.
‘Looks like he already knows all about them.’ Victor commented, as Harry lined up soldiers on the ramparts. He went to the cupboard and took out a duster. ‘This is to clean them with when we come back from the farm.’
As Harry was so delighted with the fort, Sali relented and told him he could have it ‘on loan’, but it would always belong to Joey and Victor. Five minutes later, she felt as though she had three children playing at her feet because Joey and Victor seemed to be enjoying themselves as much as Harry, especially when they found a couple of miniature cannons that fired matchsticks with sufficient force to knock over the soldiers. They finally left when she reminded them that they had to go to the farm. A few minutes later, Lloyd walked in with another box.
‘If that’s more toys for Harry, I won’t let him accept them,’ she informed him tartly.
‘You’d rather Joey’s old fort rotted in the attic than be played with?’
‘No,’ she conceded, realising how ungracious she had sounded. ‘But I don’t want him –’
‘Spoiled, we know. This is the Christmas box and don’t go expecting too much in the way of fancy decorations.’ He dumped it on the table. ‘There’s nothing in there up to Danygraig or Ynysangharad House standards. Just a motley collection of homemade bits and pieces.’
‘I wasn’t expecting anything.’ Sali was stung by the inference that her upbringing would lead her to expect better than the Evanses could provide.
Realising she’d taken his casual remark as criticism, he murmured, ‘I shouldn’t be long down at Connie’s. I’ll give you a hand to decorate the tree when I get back.’ He waited for her to reply. When she didn’t, he picked up his hat and left.
Sali washed and dried the dishes, and restored the kitchen to order before opening the box. Lloyd was right about the mot
ley collection. Beautifully woven straw stars were packed between meticulously carved and painted wooden animals and tiny, crocheted angels in silver and white wool, but below them was a layer of crudely drawn and cut-out paper lanterns, moons and cribs.
Names were printed in pencil in childish scrawls at the bottom of the lanterns and she tried to picture the men as small boys running home from school, proudly clutching their ‘makings’ and eager to offer them to their mother. She found it easy to conjure images of Victor and Joey as children, but not Lloyd. There was an air of authority about him that defied her imagination.
‘Sali?’ Megan was in the doorway, a pile of parcels in her hand. ‘Are you all right? You looked as though you were miles away.’
‘I was.’ Sali pointed to the clutter on the table. ‘It’s odd to unpack another family’s Christmas decorations. They are so personal, I feel as though I’m snooping.’
‘Mrs Evans wouldn’t have thought of it like that.’ Megan dropped her parcels on to the easy chair. ‘I wish you could have met her. I know she would have liked you.’
‘And I know from the way she organised this house, she would have hated another woman running it and looking after her family.’
‘Maybe it wouldn’t have worked if you had tried to run the house together,’ Megan agreed, ‘but I’m sure that she is smiling down at you now, because you keep her house as clean and welcoming as she did.’
Sali’s faith had been so badly shaken by her uncle and Owen Bull that she wasn’t at all certain there was an afterlife, but she was loathe to offend Megan by questioning her faith. ‘Like a cup of tea?’
‘I’d love one.’ Megan picked up one of the parcels and Sali saw a label with ‘Joey’ printed on it tied to the string. ‘Mrs Evans gave me these a month before she died and asked if I’d keep them for her until she felt well enough to finish them. I put them at the back of my wardrobe and forgot about them until this afternoon when I went to hide some sweets I bought for the children’s stockings. They are pullovers that Mrs Evans knitted for Mr Evans and the boys. She always started making her Christmas presents early in the year.’
Beggars and Choosers Page 31