The Changing Valley

by The Changing Valley (retail) (epub)

  ‘You do get tired, don’t you? Is that why you don’t have time for friends?’

  Fay looked away from him. He was intelligent, but he seemed incapable of understanding one simple fact. She did not enjoy the free and easy camaraderie of the village. Even Phil, the postman, would stand for irritating minutes, holding back the letters in his hands until he had asked a dozen questions and passed on items of so-called news. Everyone was crowding her, expecting her to be someone different from how she had always been, simply because she had married Johnny Cartwright. As if she should become the same sort of person as those filling Ethel Davies’s house day after day, or just ‘popping in’ to Netta for endless cups of tea and an exchange of gossip. She reminded herself that meeting the man at lunchtime was in no way responsible for her present strange mood.

  ‘Yes, I do get tired,’ she said, giving up trying to explain. ‘I want my spare time to be spent with you, Johnny.’

  He pulled her to him and she bent her head to rest on his shoulders. Unhappy she might be, but with a little pretence she could at least keep it to herself.

  ‘Hungry?’ Johnny asked and as she shook her head, he said, ‘Me neither. Let’s go to bed.’

  He pressed her close to him and kissed her. She returned the kiss with hunger and warmed to his love, his arms protecting her from her doubts.

  ‘Yes, Johnny, let’s go to bed.’ She moved away from him and walked up the stairs.

  Johnny stayed down a while, inexplicably nervous. He threw away the mess of the abandoned meal, locked the door and went up to the cream-and-coffee-coloured bedroom and watched as she prepared for bed. He didn’t know how to handle her present mood. That she was unhappy he knew but hoped that it was her lifestyle and not him that made her discontented. She smiled at him as he closed the bedroom door and slipped in between the sheets. She was so lovely he felt his breath rasp as he had held it too long.

  ‘Fay, my lovely, I love you and I’ll do anything to make you happy. You know that, don’t you?’

  She opened her arms for him and he got in beside her, taking her in his arms and pressing her slim body against his own. If only he could make her content, make her as happy as she made him every time he looked at her and told himself she was his.

  * * *

  The next morning they were both getting ready to go to their respective jobs. Johnny was on a split shift, giving him the afternoon free.

  ‘Will you be in Llan Gwyn for a few hours today?’ he asked.

  ‘I can be. Shall we meet for a cup of tea?’

  ‘Great. You say where. Remember I’ll be in my uniform, mind. I won’t have time to come back and change.’

  She frowned and then said with a suspicion of a smile, ‘Oh dear, I’ll have to find a dirty little back street where I can hide you in case we’re see by some of my posh customers.’

  She had meant to joke, but Johnny’s face stiffened. ‘Is it my job that makes you unhappy, Fay? Tell me if it is. I don’t know what else I can do, but together we’ll think of something if that’s what you want.’

  ‘I don’t want you to change your job. I think you’d be unhappy if you did. You love driving and enjoy meeting people. And the shifts mean you have spare time in the day, so you’ve got a sense of freedom. No, please don’t ever think I’m ashamed of you or what you do.’

  When he met her at three o’clock he surprised her by being dressed, not in uniform but a pair of grey trousers and a black and grey herringbone-tweed jacket. His shoes were brightly polished and his white shirt gleamed. She greeted him with delight.

  ‘Johnny! You’ve been to all this trouble for me.’

  ‘Worth any amount you are, my lovely.’ He felt the same warm glow of pleasure as always as she took his arm and led him toward the cafe outside which they had met. ‘Thank you, Johnny.’

  ‘No, we aren’t going in there.’ He stopped at the doorway of the small, friendly cafe where they often ate. ‘Not wasting all the effort of racing home and back. Come on, we’re having tea at the hotel.’

  Fay pulled back, afraid of going to the place where she had met the man and shared a few moments of innocent companionship. Superstition, she knew that was what it was. As if Johnny could pick up from the air, or the face of the waiter what had happened the previous day.

  ‘No, let’s go to the usual place.’

  ‘Not today, my lovely. It’s a proper tea with fancy cakes and everything. Come on.’ Refusing to change his mind, he led her into the carpeted entrance of the hotel and to the restaurant. He ordered tea and only briefly wondered if it was expense or something else that had made her hesitate. He did not notice the way she looked around the room as if searching for a familiar face. And only showed mild curiosity when the waiter recognised her.

  ‘Been here recently?’ he asked. ‘He seems to know you.’

  ‘Yesterday, in fact. I came in for a tea-cake and a coffee at lunchtime.’

  ‘Should eat better than that,’ was his only comment.

  The man did not appear and Fay gradually relaxed and enjoyed the hour they spent there. Johnny whispered remarks about other customers and made her laugh, and in a happy mood they left about four o’clock to go their separate ways. Johnny went to change back into his working clothes and Fay to call on three more customers. Both were smiling and each felt that their rocky marriage was on a lee shore again, if only for a while, and for that they were thankful.

  Chapter Eight

  Victor arranged his delivery rounds to fit in with a lunchtime visit to The Drovers. He had bet on three horses the previous day, an accumulator bet with the winnings from the first horse going entirely on to the second and the winnings of the second going on to the third. It was rare to be fortunate enough for the three horses to win and, having seen the results in the previous evening’s paper, Victor was impatient to hold the twenty-four pounds plus in his hand.

  He was at the pub early and stood for a while wondering how he would spend his unexpected windfall. Taking out the morning paper from his overall pocket he studied the runners, contemplating spending at least some of the money on another bet. His luck was obviously in and it seemed a good idea to try again. Not another accumulator. That would be asking too much of Lady Luck.

  He heard the sound of the van as Griff and Archie arrived to collect the betting slips, and he waved enthusiastically to the dark-haired Griff. Griff did not seem very pleased to see him.

  ‘Bit of luck yesterday, Griff,’ Victor called as the man slid from behind the steering wheel. ‘Who’d have thought it?’

  ‘Can I pay you later, Victor? I’ve come out without the cash. Got up late we did and—’

  ‘None of those tricks with me,’ Victor interrupted. ‘You might manage to con Nelly out of a few pounds but you owe me nearly twenty-five pounds and I want it, now.’

  ‘I’ll see how much I get in from the bets. I might be able to let you have some of it today.’

  ‘All of it, Griff. I want all of it, now.’

  Victor was not a large man, and his pale-blue eyes were usually mild but Griff could see that he would not be able to fob him off, not with the large amount of money he had won. Damn it all, who would have guessed that such a stupid bet would have come off? He had not placed the bet, thinking the stake money would be his for the cost of a few words of comfort. Now he had to find all that money. It would wipe out all he had gained by holding bets in the last three months. He glanced across to where Victor stood, puffing nervously at a cigarette, obviously determined that the van would not leave until he had been paid. He had money in his pocket but it was not his. It was the money Hilda had set aside for various bills and would have to be replaced very quickly.

  ‘Coming in for a quick half?’ he asked Archie, and the old man, who spent his days clearing up and burning rubbish up at the forestry, eagerly stepped out of the van and followed Griff into the pub.

  Griff ordered a drink for himself and Archie and surreptitiously pocketed the betting slips and money he’
d taken from the group of men waiting for him. He stood in a corner shadowed by a partly closed curtain and handed out the few small payments, but as he turned to go back to the bar, found Victor blocking his way. ‘Come on, Griff, man, don’t let’s have any bother.’

  ‘You couldn’t see your way to waiting till tomorrow, can you, Vic? I’ll have it for you then, no trouble.’

  ‘I’ll have it now, no trouble,’ Victor said warningly. He knew how wily a customer Griff Evans could be and was determined not to let him get away with even a day’s delay. One day easily led to several, until Griff confused his victim into accepting less than his entitlement.

  ‘All right, I only wanted a favour, a day to get the money from where I left it. No one’s trying to diddle you, Vic.’

  ‘You diddle anyone? Never!’ Victor held out his hand for the notes and silver that Griff handed to him and smiled his thanks. He took out the slip on which he had written his new bet but hesitated as he went to hand it over. He stared at Griff, now drinking his beer and chatting to the men crowded around him, discussing present and past racing, all fawning, begging him to take their money. Luck like winning on an accumulator bet happened very rarely, why should he give it all back? Victor knew the likelihood of still having any of the twenty-four pounds after a few more days of betting was low. He would lose it all for the sake of a few days of artificial excitement. He tore up the list of horses and threw them into the fire.

  Griff drained the second glass of beer that Archie had bought for him and prepared to leave. At the doorway he stopped and said to Victor, ‘Congratulations on the win. Got a cigarette, have you? I’m right out.’

  On an impulse he never understood, Victor gave him the packet. ‘Here, take the lot. I’m giving up smoking, it’s bad for you. Them doctors in America say it causes cancer.’ He threw the packet across to Griff and ordered another half pint of beer. He felt ridiculously pleased with himself, as if he had already succeeded in banishing the long-standing habit. Amy would be pleased. She was always complaining about the smell. He smiled as he raised the glass to his lips. Yes, Amy would be pleased, but he wouldn’t tell her just yet. Already the brief feeling of success was fading and doubts over his ability to manage without the comfort of tobacco were rising.

  He patted the money in his pocket and smiled again. With a sum like this to start with, he might be able to save and get a bit of money behind him. He smile faded a little as he wondered how the money could bring the day when he and Amy were together any closer. He could not see how having a few pounds tucked away could possibly help, but it would give him the sensation, however false, that he was doing something, not just drifting along and day-dreaming about Imogine leaving him, and the divorce magically happening and Amy becoming his own. He put down the glass, waved to the barman and went out to continue his deliveries.

  * * *

  Griff drove back to the fish-and-chip shop where Bethan had the small churn of tea ready for him to take up to the forest for the men’s lunch break. Several had ordered chips and these were wrapped in newspaper packages and tucked in beside the churn. He didn’t speak to Bethan other than to thank her for the supplies and hand over the money for them. As he and Archie walked down the path carrying the churn, Bethan whispered, ‘Mam and Dad are going to watch television with the Owens tonight.’ Griff nodded briefly, a dark eye watching Archie for a sign that the old man had overheard the brief remark and, seeing his vague expression, decided he had not. As he closed the gate, he risked a wink at the smiling Bethan.

  When he went home that evening he asked Hilda if she had some money to spare.

  ‘Only a loan, like. I overdid the holding on to bets and I’m a bit short. Can’t lend me a few pounds, can you?’ He held her back as she went to look in the box where she kept the money for the electricity and rent. ‘No, don’t bother to look now. You must know if you’ve got some extra?’

  ‘Not more than five pounds and that only for a week. I’ve borrowed from the box myself.’

  ‘You’ve borrowed? Not in debt, are you?’ He was startled at the idea of Hilda not managing the living expenses on the little he gave her each Friday. It rarely crossed his mind how she bought food for the three of them, and managed to replace clothing and household items, month by month. ‘There’s your wages from the chip shop. Isn’t there any spare?’

  ‘I gave Pete money this week and last. He needed a part for his motorbike.’

  ‘Soft, you are. The boy is working and should manage on his own.’

  ‘Loves that bike, he does. I can’t bear to see him without it.’

  ‘Without it? Damn, it’s never on the road, always in bits in our garage. Him and Gerry are a right pair for stripping the thing down. You shouldn’t have let him cheat you for the sake of a part he probably didn’t need.’

  Griff felt unreasonably angry with his wife. She should have had bit of money apart from the box money. He wished he had not asked. Now she was sure to go and check how much was there and find that there was more than twenty pounds missing. Damn Victor Honeyman and his accumulator bets!

  Towards nine o’clock he put on the dark-green jacket he used when he went up into the woods and put a shapeless trilby on his head. Announcing that he was going to set his traps, he left the house, walked down the lane and slipped in through the back gate of the fish-and-chip shop. He glanced in through the window of the rooms used by Milly Toogood and her husband, Tommy, and seeing them empty went through the back door of the shop.

  Bethan was serving as he looked carefully through the half-open door between the shop and the passage behind it, but she saw him and gave a brief nod. A young girl was behind the counter with her and he saw Bethan whisper some instructions before she joined Griff in the passageway. Silently they went upstairs to the living room where the curtains were drawn. Bethan closed the door and ran into Griff’s arms.

  ‘How long have we got?’ he whispered.

  ‘Till ten, no longer. Mam and Dad will be bringing Arthur back then. I tried to persuade them to let him sleep in their rooms but he didn’t want to.’

  They kissed urgently and Bethan regretfully warned him that the minutes were slipping past.

  ‘Don’t want them to find you here, not tonight. It’s too soon after last time.’

  ‘I’m always in and out, they won’t suspect anything. Hilda works for you, I do the occasional odd job – why shouldn’t they find me here? Best there’s no secret.’ He kissed her again, his hands reaching under the white overall and finding the plump warm flesh. Bethan wore very little under the prim, white starched overall. Incongruously she always had on her feet a pair of thickly lined boots as the shop was draughty and on the rare occasions when there was time to undress Griff took great pleasure in leaving the boots until the last, seeing in the plump woman the childlike shyness that he loved.

  ‘Fancy wanting to see me in these old boots, Griff Evans. There’s daft you are!’ she would complain laughingly.

  There was no time for any fun and games that evening and he had to ask her a favour so he explained about the bet he had held and which had cost him a lot of money.

  ‘I’ve taken it out of Hilda’s box but I’ll have to get it back in there before rent day,’ he said. ‘She’ll spot the missing notes for sure. I hate to ask you, Bethan love, but could you lend it to me?’

  ‘There’s the money you gave me for Arthur’s new clothes. I can delay buying them for a while, will that do?’

  ‘Bethan, you’re a marvel. Never complain or criticise.’

  ‘We suit each other, you and me, Griff. Pity is that you’re married and we’ll never be able to walk out together and show the world how happy we are.’

  Voices reached them and they hurriedly separated, each adjusting their clothes. Bethan blew him a kiss, pointed to the drawer where she kept the cash box.

  ‘Take what you need, Griff, and put it back when you can. I’ve got to go. Love you,’ she whispered as she slipped out of the door and ran back down t
he stairs to the shop. Griff took twenty-five pounds out of the box which he replaced in its hiding place, then he ran down the stairs and into the storeroom where the sacks of potatoes were kept, to wait until it was safe to leave.

  He walked in the shadows of the back walls to the end of the row near Amy’s shop and, running across the road, went up Sheepy Lane to the distant woods. He walked for a long time setting traps occasionally, studying the ground for likely places to put others, all the time thinking about how he could get the twenty-five pounds back to Bethan. She was good about money, rarely asked him for any, but showed her gratitude in an exciting way when he gave her some to help with the expenses of the boy.

  She never pressured him. Knowing how he felt about her, she had not once suggested he divorce Hilda and marry her. He constantly marvelled at his good fortune. He had Hilda for the basic comforts of a home, and Bethan for practically everything else. Bethan was the joy in his life, Hilda was the firm, reliable base.

  He walked back home in the darkness of the isolated hills, from where he could hear nothing, and see little apart from the shadowy trees and shrubs along his path. On the air he smelt woodsmoke and as he passed Nelly’s cottage on his way down to the village he saw a light in her window. Curious, he crept down the path, hoping those dogs of hers would not wake and start to bark. Peering in through the window he saw Nelly stretched out on the couch, the dogs at her feet, and George snoring gently in the big armchair. The fire was smouldering in the grate and sending a column of grey smoke upwards, rising high in the still, dry air. Griff smiled and retraced his steps. He was not the only man to have found the secret of a happy life. Nelly and George attracted sympathy from people who thought they had nothing. In fact what they had was something so rare that only another contented man could recognise it.

  He reached his house without seeing anyone and carefully replaced the money he had taken from Hilda’s box. He went upstairs and slipped in beside his wife and dreamed of Bethan.