‘If it’s your Dawn you’re looking for, she’s inside ’avin’ a biscuit with Oliver an’ Margaret. Go in, why don’t yer. The only cup left ’as got an ’andle missin’ but the tea tastes just as good without one.’
‘I’ll wait for her here,’ the man muttered. He had the sack of wood at his feet and Nelly shrugged.
‘Put that against the gate, no one’ll pinch it. ’Ere, you can carry me kettle. I filled it a bit full an’ it pulls somethin’ awful on me bad ’ip.’
Reluctantly the man threw aside the sack and took the kettle from her, following her down the path but stopping at the doorway when he saw the roomful of people.
‘Come on in, why don’t yer.’ Nelly poured him a cup of tea as George placed the heavy kettle on the fire. ‘Dawn, pass the sugar for yer dad. Any biscuits left?’
Tad stood just inside the door, ill at ease, sipping the strong tea. He said nothing, only nodding or shaking his head at any remarks directed at him.
‘Blimey, Tad,’ Nelly laughed, ‘you’re worse than Mr Leighton fer bein’ quiet. ’E doesn’t do nothin’ but grunt an’ nod.’
The man raised his chin as if about to protest but changed his mind and gave a half grin, the movement animating the thin face momentarily.
Margaret and Oliver were squashed together in a corner, sitting on a pile of blankets which Nelly had intended to wash but had forgotten. When Amy arrived to collect her daughter, Margaret hesitated to rise. Dawn was standing near them and obviously waiting for the opportunity to take her place beside Oliver.
‘You’re late for your music lesson, Margaret love,’ Amy said.
‘Mam, I don’t want to go. Not tonight. Can’t I miss just this once?’
Nelly’s sharp eyes had guessed the reason for Margaret’s reluctance and said, ‘Why don’t you go with her, Ollie? I’ll tell yer mum where you are so she won’t worry about yer. You likes listening to Margaret play, don’t yer?’
Squeezing through the forest of legs, both human and canine, the two children left and Amy, with Sian in her arms, found a place next to Billie on the arm of a chair.
‘Better than Christmas, this is,’ Nelly said in delight. ‘I wonder ’oo else will be calling? Go on George, find that flagon of beer we bought for tonight, why don’t yer?’
The dogs pricked up their ears and began to bark and push their way towards the door. Nelly opened it by pushing it with her backside and saw Victor walking down the path.
‘’Ello, Victor. Come just in time fer a beer. Not more than a mouthful but you’re welcome to it’. As she said the name she glanced around to see the effect on Billie. The big farmer slipped an arm around Amy’s waist and pulled her closer. Nelly’s dark eyes gleamed in delight. Billie was better for her than Victor. Best they should both be reminded now and then.
‘I’ve come with a message from Phil,’ Victor said as he reached the door. ‘Are you coming to The Drovers tonight?’
‘We wasn’t,’ Nelly frowned. ‘Why, what’s on? Somethin’ we shouldn’t miss?’
‘Only the fourth or fifth meeting called by Bert to arrange the outing,’ Victor smiled.
‘Shall we go, George? You goin’ Billie?’ she asked, deliberately letting Victor know he was there. The name made Victor pop his head around the door to see who else was present and, seeing Amy, pushed his way in.
‘Hello, Amy. Will you be able to go? It should be a laugh?’
‘No, I can’t take Sian and there’s no one to mind her. I bet half of Hen Carw Parc will be there.’
‘Pity. I’ve persuaded our Delina to go. She’d have liked to have seen you there.’
The impromptu party broke up and Tad took Dawn home. Billie walked with Amy as far as the end of the lane then climbed into the Land Rover to drive home. Victor watched them, Billie carrying the baby and laughing with Amy as they reached the road, leaning over to kiss her goodbye before driving off. There was a defeated expression on Victor’s face. He was losing her.
He was losing even the dream of her. It was an impossible dream and with a wife who he could not bring himself to divorce it was a foolish dream, but he needed that thread of hope – little more than a fantasy – that one day he and Amy would be together. It was all he had to help him through the lonely days and the interminably long dark nights.
Seeing her sitting beside Billie, with Billie’s arm resting on her slim waist, had reinforced the fragility of the dream. Billie was free and wealthy while he was married and, with only the small wage he earned, he had less than nothing to offer. Instinctively his hand reached for the cigarette packet and his lighter, but he had vowed to forgo that comfort. He snapped a twig from hawthorn bush and put it in his mouth to chew.
He walked through the village, up Sheepy Lane towards the council house where his wife would have prepared a meal for him to eat in solitary silence. He envied Nelly and George their poor cottage and their meagre existence. At least Nelly was cheerful and content and showed her love and affection for George in everything she said and did.
How little we really need, he thought as he passed Ethel’s cottage with its door standing open inviting anyone who passed to call in and be sure of a welcome. A home where you can relax, someone to call you their love, and enough money to live on without worry. Yes, even George, who had lived for years as a tramp, has more than me. He turned at the beginning of Hywel Rise and decided not to go home. He would go straight to The Drovers and forget his problems in a few hours of friendly company and laughter.
Chapter Nine
It was almost nine o’clock before Nelly and George set off for The Drovers. Walking along the grassy bank beside the road they saw others heading in the same direction. Billie and Mary were walking ahead of them and behind them, catching up, were Johnny and Fay, Milly Toogood and the ‘Pup’, Sybil Tremain, and behind them trailing reluctantly, was Milly’s husband, Tommy.
Tommy was a quiet man who was rarely seen and who rarely spoke above a whisper. He walked behind Sybil, who walked behind Milly, his head bent, ‘as if ’e’s lookin’ fer mushrooms’, Nelly often said. His only and recent claim to fame, was Bert Roberts’ insistence that he act as secretary to the committee called to plan the outing for the darts team. Bert needed someone who definitely wouldn’t argue or answer back and, after years of being married to Milly, Tommy was just that.
The bar was full and people were standing outside in the warm summer evening, discussing their interests, small groups huddled together as if their subjects were state secrets. Griff was there, taking surreptitious bets on whether Bert would achieve a result from the meeting about to begin.
Nelly pushed her way through to the large, less popular bar room. George and the others followed and saw that the tables had been re-arranged so that the centre of the room now had a line of tables and chairs with, at each place, a piece of paper and a pencil.
At the far end Bert Roberts stood, the light of battle in his eye, irritably trying to get his committee members seated, his little wife tucked into a corner to enjoy the proceedings. Nelly and the rest spread themselves around the edge of the room to watch. George and Johnny went to get drinks from the counter in the other bar and the hum of conversation swelled until Bert banged on the table with a small toffee hammer he had brought for the purpose, and demanded, ‘H’order!’
The importance of the occasion and the audience it had attracted gave him an enlarged sense of importance so he added an ‘H’ and shouted again, ‘H’order!’
He shuffled the papers he had in front of him importantly and gestured irritably to Tommy Toogood to sit beside him.
‘Now, I’m calling this meeting to h’order,’ he said briskly. ‘I want to get this matter of the outing settled satisfactorily and if we have time we’ll draw for the next round of the darts tournament.’ In a voice barely heard, Tommy said, ‘I propose we declare the minutes of the last meeting read, so as to save time, right?’
‘Just a minute, Tommy.’ Bert’s voice dropped to low pomposity.
‘On a point of order, there’s plenty of time for proposals after my opening comments.’
‘But you told me to–’ Tommy protested mildly.
‘Tommy, please, no digressions. Now, the purpose of this meeting is for–’
‘Hang on a minute, Bert, you’d better wait for—’ Victor began.
‘On a point of order, please address all comments through the chair.’
‘Who’s the chairman then?’ Victor looked confused.
‘Bert,’ someone explained.
‘It was Bert I was speaking to!’
‘What was it you wanted to say, Victor?’ Bert spoke with patient martyrdom.
‘I think you should wait for young Gerry and Pete. You remember what happened last time they came late. They insisted on being told all that had happened and by the time—’
‘I know,’ Bert snapped, ‘by the time we’d explained, the landlord had called stop-tap and the committee vanished. Well, they aren’t here and I’ve called the meeting to order. Now, where was I?’ He shuffled the papers again.
‘It’s going to be just like last time,’ Johnny whispered.
‘I would like, in spite of absentees, to declare this meeting open,’ Bert announced.
‘I still think we should wait for Gerry and Pete,’ Victor said, then added hurriedly, ‘Mr Chairman, Griff isn’t here either and he sees to tickets and booking the coach and all that.’
‘Yes, he should be here,’ Phil said, looking around for the approval of the others. He was rewarded by a murmur of agreement.
‘Quite right,’ Nelly shouted, ‘’E should be ’ere.’
‘Chwarae teg, be fair, Mr Chairman, Griff should be present.’
‘I agree, he should be present. I’m not trying to do things in secret, am I? He knows when and where the meeting is to start, doesn’t he? He should be here, that’s all I’m saying and I’m justified in starting without him, am I right?’
‘No, Mr Chairman,’ Tommy said agreeably.
‘What d’you mean, Tommy?’ Bert demanded.
‘I mean what I say, boy.’
‘You saying I’m wrong?’
Billie, who was enjoying the confusion said encouragingly, ‘That’s what he said, Bert.’
‘I said you aren’t trying to do anything in secret, Mr Chairman. I answered your first question. You will ask three in a row and you know how it confuses things.’
‘All right, I want a vote that we start without Griff, Pete and Gerry.’ A few put up their hands and Bert made a half-hearted attempt to count them and called, ‘Motion carried.’
‘Wait a minute,’ Billie called. ‘Aren’t you supposed to call for those against? Got to do things by the book,’ he grinned.
‘Yes,’ Archie called, ‘I want to go down as an abstainer.’
‘Yes, Mr Chairman, we’re all abstainers!’
‘Damn me, that’s a laugh!’
At this point, several of the committee stood up and announced their need for further refreshment. Bert turned to complain to Tommy, but he too had hurriedly departed in the direction of the bar.
‘Better than the telly, ain’t ’e’ Nelly shouted to Fay. ‘I feels a bit sorry for ’im but ’e’s good fer a laugh.’
‘I didn’t want to come,’ Fay admitted, ‘but now I wish we’d tried harder to persuade Johnny’s mother to come.’
‘Watching that telly again, is she?’ Nelly sighed. ‘It’s goin’ to ruin everythin’ that telly. Netta would never ’ave missed a show like this before she got that thing.’ She touched Fay’s arm apologetically. ‘’Ere, I’m sorry, you give it to ’er, didn’t yer? Very kind an all that, but, well, it’s one of the changes in the village that I don’t like. People don’t get out and meet. Just sit in their own rooms laughing and listenin’ to folks ’oo are miles away. It’s interestin’ but it ain’t natural, is it? Soon we’ll all be strangers.’
‘I think Johnny and I will buy one before the winter, Nelly,’ Fay told her. ‘It’s cheaper than going to the cinema.’
‘But not as much fun as this silly sod, eh?’ Nelly pointed to where Bert was again attempting to call his meeting to order. He was just beginning his opening announcements.
‘…so we have the choice of racing at Newbury on August 13th, or Chepstow on September 18th. Now can we consider Chepstow?’
‘What about Newbury then?’ Victor asked. ‘Just because you’ve got a sister you want to visit in Chepstow there’s no need to force us all to go there.’
Amid roars of laughter Griff, his son Pete, and Gerry Williams walked in.
‘Hello, boys,’ Pete called, removing his motorcycling gloves. ‘Sorry we’re late. Gerry had trouble starting.’
‘Trouble with the bike?’
‘No, no. Mam wouldn’t let me start till I’d tidied my room,’ Gerry explained.
‘Haven’t you started yet?’ Griff asked.
‘Damn aye. We’ve had a proposal and a vote.’
‘Where are we going then?’
‘Not a vote on that,’ Billie laughed. ‘We voted to start without you.’
‘But we didn’t,’ Bert said, ‘because someone who shall be nameless announced a break for refreshments.’
‘What about going to the races at Newbury on August 13th?’ Nelly shouted. Voices were raised in agreement but were finally shouted down by Bert, who insisted on ‘H’order’, a full democratic discussion, a proposal and vote.
‘Good try, Nelly,’ Billie said. ‘Pity it can’t be that simple.’
The only proposal and vote Bert achieved was to decide on a further meeting on the following night. Because of the tormenting and confusion, he sensibly told the meeting he would announce the venue personally on the following day.
‘Can’t say I blame him,’ Victor said as they all pushed their way out into the chill night air. ‘We did give him a rough time.’
‘Still,’ Billie argued, ‘it was a simple thing to arrange. All he had to do was ask who votes for Chepstow and the thing would have been decided.’
‘Who gave him that rule book?’ George asked.
‘That Phil, the teaser, and he underlined all the useful bits to make sure we had a good laugh.’
‘Poor Bert,’ Nelly said, in a maudlin voice. ‘But ’e’s better than the telly.’
She stood watching the crowd disperse as George called his ‘good nights’ to Phil and Johnny. The two young boys were at the kerb, their motorbikes growling, impatient to be off. Billie had got into his Land Rover and Victor stood hesitantly, obviously in no hurry to get home.
‘Come back fer a cuppa why don’t yer?’ Nelly called, but Victor shook his head.
‘No thanks, Nelly, I’d better get home.’
But she noticed with some displeasure that he set off, not in the direction of the village, but to Amy’s house. ‘A bit late fer calling, ain’t it?’ she shouted.
Bert came out and, with Tommy close beside him listening patiently to his complaints, walked briskly off with Milly and the Pup in pursuit. Sidney and Mr Leighton were talking to George and she went to join them.
‘’Ere, I think Victor’s gone to see Amy. D’you think we should go too? She might be in need of a chaperone.’
‘Home, Nelly,’ George laughed. ‘I don’t think that at her age Amy needs our help.’
* * *
Victor increased his speed, leaving the laughing, chattering crowd behind as he hurried towards Amy’s house. He knew it was late, and understood her concern about her reputation now Margaret was old enough to be hurt, but he had to see her. His fingers reached for the hundredth time for his cigarettes and he regretted not buying any at the pub. He couldn’t go on with this gnawing ache much longer. The need for tobacco made a miserable life intolerable and would continue to do so unless he could see Amy and hear her reassure him that Billie was not going to take her away from him.
There were no lights showing and he hesitated to knock, afraid that she had gone to bed. Yet the curtains were open, and the fire in th
e living room was still unlit. Even in the summer, Amy almost always lit a fire in the evening. She obviously was not in. He walked back down the drive and looked both ways along the road as if expecting to see her approaching. He remembered thankfully that Billie had been at the pub. At least she was not with him.
He leaned against the gate and, picking a twig from the hedge, began to chew it. There was nothing to rush home for. He might as well wait. Then he remembered how Billie had often gone inside, using the key Amy hid in the garden, to light the fire to welcome her home. It was too late for that. She would not thank him for lighting the fire and giving her the task of relaying it the following morning. He pondered the problem. What could he do to help her? It was after ten-thirty and there would be nothing for her to do except get Margaret settled into bed. Hot-water bottles, he thought at last. He would fill them and put them to warm the beds.
Satisfied he had a reasonable excuse for going inside, he found the key and went around to the back door. To his surprise it was open. A brief glance inside showed him that the place had been ransacked. He ran to the phone in the hall and telephoned for the police. He was breathless with shock, his chest heaved as he waited for the police to arrive. What if they suspected him? The excuse for entering a house belonging to someone else now seemed very weak.
He heard the sound of a car engine and opened the front door, expecting to see PC Harris. But it was Amy and Margaret and he went to meet them to explain what had happened before she stepped inside.
‘Victor? What are you doing here?’
‘Amy love, there’s been a bit of trouble.’ He gripped her arms and went on, ‘I’m afraid there’s been a burglary.’
‘Oh no. Not here?’
The Changing Valley Page 16