Johnny would be pleased to see her earlier than expected. Today was a day off and he would be finding it hard to fill in the time, with the rain pouring down. Wipers swishing, she drove carefully off.
* * *
The workmen in Nelly’s house valiantly ignored the rain to finish the outside part of their work, huddled in what had been a porch room overlooking the back garden, filling up the huge hole they had made in the wall. The dogs lay close to the fire which burned sluggishly, their noses as close to the fender as possible.
When Nelly came home from work she had been horrified to see the mess of footprints both canine and human that carpeted the stone-flagged floor. While the men sat on the edge of the new bath to eat their sandwiches, she brought several buckets of water from the tap in the lane and sluiced the worst of it away through the door and down the garden in a brown river. When the worst of it had been brushed away she covered the floor with cardboard.
‘All right, you lot. You can come out now!’ she called and they trooped out like naughty children to find the kettle had finally boiled and the tea was made.
She flopped into a chair to recover, her legs aching painfully from her efforts. When the men had finished their work and turned off the blow-lamp that had been roaring for most of the afternoon, the place smelt of metholated spirits, the floors were again a mess of mud and pieces of litter but the bath, wash-basin and lavatory were all in place.
She heard footsteps but they weren’t George’s.
‘Evie,’ she groaned, looking round at the state of the room which Evie would be quick to complain about but not so willing to help clear.
‘Mother, is Oliver here?’
‘’Course ’e ain’t! I wouldn’t invite ’im with all this mess about.’ Nelly was ready to defend herself against Evie’s criticism of the room but none came.
‘I was late home, Mother, and I don’t know where he is. I’ve phoned Amy but she wasn’t there. I was supposed to be minding Margaret too. It’s very worrying.’
‘I’ll go an’ see if ’e’s at Amy’s. If she ain’t there they don’t answer the phone. Amy tells them not to.’ Wearily she heaved herself out of her chair and reached for her raincoat.
‘Careless of yer, wasn’t it, Evie?’ she said. ‘Leavin’ two kids alone and wanderin’?’
‘And what had you been doing with yourself all day?’ Evie retorted, glancing around the filthy room. ‘Sitting down listening to the wireless and waiting for George to come home to all this?’ She was gone before Nelly could get breath for a reply.
* * *
When Amy stepped off the bus, trying to unfold the push-chair and keep Sian covered against the rain, she looked across at her house, hoping Margaret was there. How could Evie be so careless? She always felt guilty if Margaret was not in someone’s care. Sheila’s words about it being impossible to work and be a mother came back to her like a criticism. At this moment, as she hurried up her drive, she thought the girl was right. Opening the door she called and was surprised when both Margaret and Oliver came out to greet them. Behind them stood Victor.
‘I came home early and saw these two trudging across the fields behind Oliver’s house. They were going to spend the time until you came home in their tree house.’
‘Sorry Margaret, love, but Oliver’s mother promised that you could stay with her. She must have forgotten,’ apologised Amy.
‘It isn’t the first time, is it?’ Victor whispered when the children had returned to playing records. ‘How can you trust someone like that? It isn’t like you to be so careless about Margaret’s safety.’
Amy glared at him furiously. How could he think her less than a caring mother? ‘Me, careless? How can you say that? I’m trying to do two jobs, shop and home, as well as look after Sian. I have to leave her with other people sometimes and I don’t like doing that, but there’s no alternative. Evie assured me she was not going out today, then I was told she was driving through Llan Gwyn! I’ve been frantic with worry!’
‘Sorry, Amy, I didn’t mean to criticise. You do a marvellous job, I know that. But it was such a shock, seeing them wandering out in the rain and heading for the wood. They’re only ten years old and…’ He stopped and took her in his arms.
Amy allowed herself the luxury of one kiss before pushing him away. She glanced at the door of the living room and he, seeing her concern, took her wet coat and hung it over a chair to dry.
‘Can I feed Sian before I go?’ he asked. ‘My dinner will probably be in the dustbin so there’s no rush. Imogine gives me half an hour and no more.’
‘I’m cooking sausages and there’s enough for an extra one if you’d like to stay,’ Amy said, still with an edge of steel to her voice. ‘But first I’m going to ring Evie and tell her what I think of her!’
While Victor sat and fed Sian, Amy tried to telephone Evie but there was no reply. Then there was a knock at the door and a voice called, ‘Amy? Have you got Oliver in there? ’Is mother’s gorn off an’ fergot ’im!’
‘Come in, Nelly.’ Amy slammed down the receiver. ‘He’s here.’
‘Evie failed ’er drivin’ test an’ today she was offered an extra lesson so she went, thinkin’ she’d be back. But rain caused a flood the other side of Llan Gwyn an’ when she got ’ome and found ’e wasn’t there she ran up to me in a fine state. I said I’d come ’ere while she tried Netta and Ethel.’
‘Road flooded, rubbish!’ Amy said angrily. ‘Sheila saw her driving through town just before our bus left! She forgot!’
Oliver insisted on eating the sausages Amy had cooked and Nelly sat waiting for him to finish. ‘Let ’er sweat fer a bit,’ she muttered. ‘Call herself a mother!’
The phone rang and Nelly stood to answer it. ‘I’ll see to this, Amy. You finish yer meal. I expect it’s my Evie.’ But it was Billie on the phone and Nelly smiled with a certain gloating satisfaction at Victor as she announced, ‘It’s Billie Brown and ’e wants to take you out. I’ll stay with Margaret an’ Sian if you wants me to.’
Amy thought of how chilled she still was after the afternoon out in the rain and of the ironing waiting to be done, but she was still smarting a little at Victor, so she nodded.
‘Tell him yes, will you Nelly? And thanks for minding the kids.’
‘I’m off then,’ Victor said disconsolately. He kissed Sian and waved at the other two before leaving without a word for Amy.
Amy turned to hide the tears that had sprung to her eyes. She had to drive him out of her life, she had to.
Billie called for her at seven and they were in time for the main film. Half way through he fell asleep and Amy left him there and caught the bus home.
Chapter Sixteen
The morning following the day of heavy rain broke calm and clear. The sun travelled across the walls of Fay and Johnny’s bedroom and woke Fay, touching her face with the promise of warmth, disturbing her sleep long before the alarm began its strident demand. Johnny was still sleeping. He looked very young lying there completely relaxed, his moustache a dark shadow on his face, his black hair tumbled and long across his forehead. She must remind him to get it cut again, it grew so fast.
She stood at the window for a while, looking out across the newly washed fields, so rich a green they were dazzling. Sheep grazed contentedly as if the downpour had never happened. The sun touched her bare arms and she luxuriated in the glow. It was going to be an exciting day, she just knew it.
She closed the bathroom door quietly and began to run her bath. The water ran from the taps and caused a gushing, foamy swirly pool below and as she watched she gradually became aware of a slight churning in her stomach.
‘Those cockles,’ she whispered in dismay.
She climbed gingerly into the bath and lay back, hoping that the queasiness would go away, but it became worse and she had to leap out of the bath and lean over the toilet. Johnny heard her retching and came in, his sleep-dazed face a blur to her as she looked up.
‘Fay, lovely, what is
it?’
‘Those cockles I ate yesterday,’ she said ruefully.
‘Cockles? I thought you weren’t keen on seafood?’ He put her dressing gown around her shoulders and led her back to the bed.
‘I bought them for you and I ate them,’ she explained. ‘I can’t understand why I was suddenly overcome with greed. I’d just eaten lunch.’
He propped her up on several pillows and went to make a cup of tea into which he put a slice of lemon, just as she liked it.
‘Sip this slowly, lovely, and I think you should rest today, and not even think about work.’
‘I’ll stay here for a while and see how I feel,’ she said. ‘I doubt if it will last very long.’
An hour later, she got up, bathed and dressed and felt well enough to begin her day’s visits. Johnny watched her go with consternation. She was still unwell, even though she had tried to hide her pallor under heavier make-up than usual.
‘Call the depot if you don’t feel well enough to drive home, wherever you are, and I’ll come and fetch you,’ he called as she went out of the door to the car.
‘I won’t go far,’ she promised.
She was bitterly disappointed. Today, she had hoped to meet Dexter, spend an hour with him, enjoying the friendly conversation and the sensation of wickedness that added to the excitement. But how could she risk going now? The embarrassment of a further bout of sickness would ruin everything.
She drove slowly towards Swansea, having decided to make local calls only. She felt weak, standing was an effort and it was hard to be normally polite and interested in her customer’s requirements. She wrote the small order in her notebook, then drove to her second call. From where she parked the car, she had to walk through the market, where busy stall-holders were selling fruit, vegetables, fresh bread and meat, besides clothes, carpets and a dozen other requirements. At one end were the stalls selling the locally caught fish. She smelt the cockles straight away, and her stomach churned hungrily. Women gathered the cockles, going out with a horse and cart on to the sands of Penclawdd, then taking them home to clean and boil them. They then brought them to market in large baskets covered by spotlessly white cloth to sell them. One seller, seeing Fay’s hesitation, held up the glass with which she measured the cockles and called, ‘One bag or two, cariad?’
Fay shook her head and hurried out before greed could overcome common sense.
* * *
With schools closed for the summer holiday, buses were filled with families heading for the local beaches and trips into town and country. For those unable to go further afield, the streets were their playground. There were hoops, bowled along with short sticks, balls of every size, cricket stumps being drawn on the pine ends of houses and boys gathered into teams to compete. Whips and tops were in evidence on every corner, with applause rising for those able to keep the tops spinning longest. Skipping ropes both short and long were popular with the girls and several found ropes long enough to reach from pavement to pavement, allowing a dozen children to leap in and out of the turning rope, chanting rhymes.
Bicycles were in demand, boys and girls queuing for a turn, and bogies, made from the base of an old pram or a box on to which wheels had been added, a rope attached to the front to guide it, reappeared after the winter’s hibernation. Up on the council houses a new craze had begun. Roller skates were placed on the ground with a large book on top of them and on this primitive transport, boys and girls would sit and whizz down Heol Caradoc or Hywel Rise, their feet up until they were needed for braking, then lowered so the back of the heel slowed their wild progress. The shoes worn by these book-riders were rapidly worn down to the linings, but the children were unaware of this as they screamed in fear-touched delight down the steep hill.
Evie had a nasty shock when she drove down from the top of the estate where she had been practising reversing and three-point turns with her driving instructor. She suddenly saw a swarm of children in front of her hurtling down the hill squatting on books and occasionally falling off into the road. She glared at her instructor.
‘This is ridiculous. How some people can allow their children to be in such danger amazes me. It must be stopped, now.’ She started the car cautiously driving past the halted, staring children and went to see Constable Harris.
So the game was stopped and before someone was seriously hurt, but the children were resentful and no one played with Oliver who, unknown to Evie, had been one of the instigators of the game. Disconsolately, he went from his new friends to tell Nelly, who for once supported his mother.
‘Gawd ’elp us, Ollie. You might ’ave bin killed an’ then where would George an’ me be? Devastated, that’s what.’
To compensate for the loss of his friends and fun, she suggested he and Margaret had a picnic in the den. As if on cue, Dawn arrived at the door and she was invited as well.
‘Better hide them shoes of yours first, Ollie,’ Nelly laughed, ‘your mum’ll guess quick as a wink what you’ve bin up to once she claps eyes on them!’ She found the sandals she had bought for his day in Mumbles and threw the worn-down shoes in the ash bin. So the three children played in the wood, near enough for Nelly to hear if they needed anything, and Nelly sat in the garden, reading an article about the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, and listening to her wireless.
* * *
When Nelly’s bathroom was finished, she hesitated for days before using it. She spent more time polishing the porcelain and cleaning the floor than actually making use of the facilities. With George’s encouragement she began to find the toilet an advantage at night, then gradually accepted the value of it during the day and early morning. The floor of the bathroom was grey Welsh slate and this was scrubbed and buffed so the room shone and smelt pleasantly of soap and lavender polish.
George had taken the opportunity of a bath as soon as it had been available. The small back-sitting room which had never been used now had a fireplace which heated the water, and he lit it each Sunday and, on the third Sunday, Nelly decided she would bath too. It wasn’t a new experience, she had bathed at Evie’s once or twice, but having her own was different.
It was seven o’clock in the evening before she finally went into the small room that had been a porch room and turned on the taps. She poured in some pleasant-smelling powder that Amy had given her and, testing the water temperature nervously, stepped in. She lay in the deep warm foam and laughed aloud.
‘Smashin’ this is, George,’ she shouted. ‘Should ’ave ’ad one years ago. My Evie’s done something right fer once.’
So the pattern of the summer days went on. When the weather was fine, the three children were either in Nelly’s garden playing on the swing that Billie Brown had made for Oliver, or playing in the woods near by. Evie came occasionally to complain about the state of Oliver’s clothes and to search for the pair of shoes that had gone missing, but seemed content to have her son out of the way, leaving her free to attend the coffee mornings and other social ‘musts’ for the wife of a man who planned to stand for the local council.
Life, for Nelly, with the children around her every day, was perfect. She went to and from work with the big dogs straining at their leads, and up and down to the shop to buy supplies for her temporary family, singing and declaring her contentment to the world.
When the days were wet or cold, Amy often gave Nelly the money to take the three children into town for a visit to the cinema, and they would frequently stand for an hour and a half to get in, and would sit enthralled, while Nelly produced sweets from her old leather-cloth shopping bag, and an occasional cake, ignoring the complaints about paper-rustling.
Dawn seemed content and no complaints had reached Nelly about her, but she gave Nelly a pound one day, saying it was from her father. At once Nelly thought she might be up to her usual tricks.
‘What d’you think of that, George?’ Nelly said, holding out the pound note Dawn had given her. ‘Makes you wonder where Dawn got it. She says it’s from ’er dad, but I ’ave me
doubts.’ Nelly suspected the girl of stealing, and had missed a few shillings from her own purse, but said nothing, hoping that as friendships grew and the girl felt less a stranger in the village, the thieving would stop.
‘Besides,’ she said to George, ‘I don’t fancing tellin’ Tad what I suspect. It might be my turn for a black eye! Quieter ’e might be, but placid ’e ain’t!’
For George too the end of the summer holiday was sad. He loved to see the children enjoying the freedom and took pleasure from hearing their shouts and laughter as he came across the fields after his day’s work. Nelly and the children were often at the gate feeding the horses and making sure they had fresh water in the old bath they used as a trough. The three children would climb the gate and run to meet him, arguing about whose turn it was to carry his food bag for him.
Nelly usually sent them home soon after George arrived, knowing he needed a rest after a hard day’s work on the farm but not before he had heard all about their day and they had asked about his. Dawn had asked permission to visit Leighton’s farm and take photographs and George had been impressed with the results.
‘For a child she seems to have an unusual talent for seeing the picture in ordinary events,’ George told Nelly. ‘I wonder if she will continue with it and make it her career?’
‘So long as she doesn’t use ’em for blackmail, little devil,’ Nelly said, reminding George of the exhibition at the school with a grim smile. ‘I don’t altogether trust ’er, an’ she tells lies, George. She’s bin saying things that ain’t true about Delina fer a start. I ’ates lies, never could stand lies.’ She did not add her fears about where Dawn was finding the money for her expensive hobby.
* * *
Tad left Dawn reading a library book and went down the hill and along the lane to Nelly’s cottage. He was not going to find this easy, having punched George in the face once, but he had to thank them for the care and enjoyment they had given his daughter during the school holidays.
The Changing Valley Page 29