The Changing Valley

by The Changing Valley (retail) (epub)

  ‘But it’s dark soon,’ he said. ‘Mother wouldn’t let me.’

  ‘Tell her you’re coming to my house. We won’t stay long. I’ll tell Mam I’m coming to see you.’

  Their plans made, they walked up the lane separately and passed Nelly’s cottage, where the door stood open as always, her oil lamp already shedding a fan of light across the path. They saw the vague shapes of the two dogs at the door, staring into the evening gloom. The dogs did not bark as the children passed the gate, the only sign of their being aware of them the gentle thump of their long tails on the cinders. The children ran on undetected by Nelly or George.

  In the tree house it was chilly and Margaret took off her coat and wrapped it cloak-like around her to increase its warmth. There was a blanket there but it was damp and smelt of mildew, a symbol of the failure of the place. Oliver looked in the tins they had brought earlier that summer and found a few hard and inedible biscuits.

  ‘Why don’t you like coming here any more, Margaret?’ Oliver asked.

  ‘That Dawn! She always comes and spoils our games.’ As she spoke they heard rustling in the trees near by and they held their breath. Dawn was entering the clearing, the thin beam of a torch slanting ahead of her feet as she trod with care around the encroaching branches of bramble; painful prickly traps for the unwary.

  Margaret gripped Oliver’s hand, silently pleading to him not to call out. They sat, hardly daring to move as the girl walked to the foot of the tree on which they were perched, before departing the way she had come.

  ‘We should have called to her,’ Oliver whispered when the trees had swallowed up Dawn in their darkness. ‘She is a friend and Gran says we should be nice to her.’

  ‘She doesn’t have to do everything we do!’ Margaret grumbled. ‘I don’t want you to take her to meet the gypsies when they come back for the winter. And I don’t want her to go to Uncle Billie’s farm either.’

  ‘Why?’ Oliver asked in exasperation. ‘You might be living there if your mam marries Uncle Billie and you’ll be glad of friends calling. It’s a long way from the village.’

  ‘Mind your own business about my mam.’

  ‘Well, she is going to marry him, isn’t she?’

  ‘Nothing to do with you. Or that Dawn!’

  ‘Gran says we have to be kind to her because she hasn’t got a mother.’

  ‘Well, I haven’t got a father, have I? So what?’

  ‘It’s worse without a mother. Everybody knows that.’

  ‘You’d still have your Gran, and George.’

  ‘You’d still have Mrs French!’

  ‘She wants me to go away to a school where I’d live in and not come home every night. Just come back for holidays.’

  ‘Your mam would never let her take you away!’ Oliver was so shocked his eyes were suddenly clear in the semidarkness, the whites glistening like pale lanterns.

  ‘Mam would be glad I think. There would be more time without me to look after.’

  ‘More time for what?’

  Margaret frowned, then answered irritably, ‘Just more time, silly!’

  * * *

  Delina was leaving the bus at the bottom of Sheepy Lane on her way home from school when the books she held across her arm slipped and fell to the ground. Sheila, who had been on the same bus, stopped and looked around. There was a groan of sympathy but no offer of assistance came from her pursed lips.

  ‘What a shame. You should have used a bag, much simpler,’ she said as Delina picked up the last of the books and settled them once again on her arm.

  ‘If I’d had a bag I’d have used it. If I had known I would have all this marking to do, I would have taken one.’ Delina spoke quietly but with an edge of irritation. Really, it wouldn’t have hurt the girl to offer some help.

  ‘Yes, we don’t always plan what happens, do we?’ Sheila said, waiting for Delina to catch up with her. ‘I wouldn’t have expected the rain to stop or I wouldn’t have brought my umbrella. Life is full of surprises, isn’t it? And shocks!’

  ‘Isn’t it.’ Delina wondered how Sheila could have had an affair with Maurice and not expect it to end in disaster.

  ‘I didn’t dream you’d steal Maurice from me,’ Sheila went on. ‘Now that was something unexpected.’

  ‘Steal him?’ Delina stopped and the books began to slide once again. ‘How can you think I stole him? He wasn’t yours, so how could I have stolen him?’

  ‘I loved him and we had a baby on the way. What’s that if it isn’t belonging?’

  ‘It wasn’t as simple as that. He treated you badly, but I don’t think he loved you, Sheila. Even you must realise that.’

  ‘You think he loved you?’

  ‘Of course. We were going to be married.’ Delina began to walk faster, wanting to get away from this stupid conversation.

  ‘Don’t talk daft! Love him? If you really loved him you wouldn’t be here on your own, you’d be in Australia! You’d have fought to keep him. I would have. I’d have done anything to keep him. You only thought of yourself and what people would think! Come on, admit it. It was a fair-weather love that floundered as soon as there was a storm.’ Sheila was pleased with that analogy. Quite poetic.

  ‘You’re very rude, Sheila. You ruined my wedding plans and now you accuse me of not loving the man I intended to marry!’

  ‘Intended. Now there’s a word. Intended to marry him as long as he was as perfect as you think you are! Why didn’t you go on with the wedding? Why didn’t you defy Ethel and all the old biddies of the village and tell Maurice that whatever happened he was your man? Tell me that, Miss Prim-and-Proper Honeyman. Tell me that!’

  Sheila ran on, in a hurry now to get away from the woman who had ruined her life. She heard a squeal of rage and turned briefly to see the pile of books once more falling in an untidy heap on the lane.

  Her eyes were full of unshed tears, her chest heaved with pent up unhappiness. She had not intended to speak to Delina in such a manner and had, in fact, been polite to her on the previous occasions when they had met. But today had been a bad day. She could see a future that held nothing but the ordinary and Sheila hated the ordinary.

  She had failed to sell to the first customer and her manageress was very superstitious about that, taking it as an augury for the day. Then Sheila had laddered her stockings and because of the manageress’s insistence had to spend her last shillings on a new pair. But it was none of these things that had caused the outburst.

  It had surprised her with its fury and she admitted that it had taught her the truth. Something she had tried not to admit to herself even in the darkest hour of the sleepless nights, when dreams of the future flitted through her mind in a stream of adventures and handsome men. The truth was, she still loved Maurice. Of all her dreams, the one in which he returned, or sent for her, was the one she spent the most time imagining. She felt a childish impulse to run back and kick Delina’s books all over the lane.

  * * *

  Delina picked up the books and, shaking with anger at Sheila’s outburst, did not hear the footsteps approaching. She had just succeeded in balancing the now disordered books on her arm when they slithered uncontrollably down. Tad knelt and gathered them into a neat pile and, placing them on his own arm, proceeded to take a bag containing the rest from her. ‘Please, let me help you home with these.’

  ‘Thank you, but I can manage.’

  ‘You clearly can’t, Miss Honeyman. I saw them fall twice and once you get angry with inanimate objects the chances of managing them decreases dramatically,’ he smiled. ‘I know all about anger and what it does to you.’

  ‘There’s no need—’

  ‘No need, but I would be happy to help you.’ He walked on, leaving her no alternative but to follow.

  ‘The truth is,’ he said, when she was close enough to talk, ‘I envy you these books. Just carrying them gives me pleasure.’

  ‘You envy me the hours of marking I have to do once I have eaten? When most people
will be sitting down enjoying the wireless or the television?’

  ‘I would give a lot to be carrying books home, to study and do what I wanted to do before war interrupted everything. I – I suppose that’s partly why I’m so ill-mannered at times, for which I am very sorry.’

  ‘Oh, really, Mr Simmons. I can’t accept that! Your behaviour can’t be blamed on the fact you didn’t recommence your studies once war finished. It’s been over nine years, you know!’

  ‘Dawn is ten. I had married in haste – a desire for the ordinary in a frightening world. I thought I would be happy in a completely different sort of life from the one I had planned as soon as I was relieved of my uniform, wanting nothing more than a peaceful and quiet life with my wife and little girl. I thought, during those dreadful days, that it would be enough. When my wife died it all seemed such a waste. Dawn was the only good thing to come out of it and even with her I have had more disasters than successes.’

  ‘Do you resent Dawn for being the reason you didn’t go back to your studies?’

  ‘No!’ For a moment the flare of anger threatened to stop the conversation. Then his blue eyes softened and the thin jaw relaxed. ‘No, I have never, for a single moment regretted Dawn. I just wish there was some way I could look after her properly and go back to university.’

  ‘There isn’t, unless you find foster parents for her and I’m sure you’ve already considered that idea.’

  ‘Yes. So I will continue working part time in a factory, brushing floors and clearing up mess made by other men. Men doing the sort of work I expected to be overseeing one day.’

  ‘Bitterness is a disease and if you don’t treat it, it will kill you,’ Delina spoke firmly, and held out her arm for her books. ‘Forget it, or do something about it.’

  ‘What can I do?’ He continued to walk beside her, still carrying the books, past his house and up the hill to the gate of Delina’s house. There, he handed her the books and put the bag on her doorstep, before turning away, calling back, ‘Thank you for listening, Miss Honeyman.’

  Delina watched him go, a wave of sadness weighing on her shoulders more than the books had done. She wanted to help once her initial anger had gone. He really did need someone to talk to, someone sympathetic who would make him consider the options and come to some decision about his future before it was too late. For Dawn’s sake, she told herself firmly, for Dawn’s sake, she might start making enquiries and let him know if she discovered any way out of his situation.

  * * *

  Once Griff had been arrested for the burglaries, people in Hen Carw Parc relaxed. Archie no longer felt unease every time he returned home. Women began to be less fussy about locking doors when they went out for a few moments’ gossip with a neighbour, and there was an air of relief that things could return to normal. Then food began to disappear.

  Amy delivered orders from her shop by means of a boy on a carrier bike. Since Freddie had gone, the messenger boy had been Gerry Williams’s younger brother, Merfyn. He came after school twice a week and took boxes packed with groceries, two at a time, on the carrier bike, walking up the hill and coasting back down. Amy had never missed a single biscuit since Merfyn started delivering for her and was surprised when a customer insisted that a full half pound had been missing from her order.

  She replaced the biscuits and searched to see if the bag had been placed in another order by mistake, but they were never found. A few days later, apples were reported missing then a whole list of sweets from half a dozen orders. Amy told Victor, who promised to take an hour or two off and watch the boy on his rounds.

  It was almost five-thirty one September evening when he saw a figure ease out of the shadows and run down the path of Nelly’s house to take something Merfyn had just left at her door. He decided to watch the thief a while longer. There was always the chance that Nelly had told her to help yourself to something. It was Dawn Simmons, he had no doubt of that, although she wore an over-long grey plastic mac and ran at a crouch that succeeded in disguising her effectively from a casual glance. Victor had expected it to be her so he saw through the half-hearted disguise immediately.

  He followed her to two more places where, as soon as Merfyn had deposited the box, rung the bell or knocked on the door, she would run to take something from it and disappear into the shadows once again. At the fourth place the order was a small one; only a few items in a small cardboard box. Dawn picked up the whole thing and ran with it, just as the door was opened, melting into the darkness as the woman came out of the lighted room, but clearly visible to Victor. He had seen enough.

  Shouting for her to stop he headed after her, calling her name as he ran. She threw the box of groceries behind her as she turned a corner and, as Victor leapt aside to avoid it, off balance, he could not avoid running into the man coming towards him. It was Tad.

  ‘Stop that daughter of yours!’ Victor shouted as the girl darted away from them.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Tad demanded. ‘Leave her alone!’

  ‘Catch her, she’s a thief!’ Victor managed to avoid Tad’s outstretched arm and grab Dawn. ‘Come here you little pest!’

  ‘Leave her alone.’ Tad’s fist shot out and caught the side of Victor’s face. For a moment Tad’s fist seemed to hover in the air, then suddenly Victor stood dazed by the blow, watching a stream of chocolate and biscuits fall from under Dawn’s mac. Then he pointed and in a nasal voice distorted by the pain in his face, he said, ‘See, man? Bloody little thief, she is, and all you can do is pretend it isn’t true!’

  ‘Dawn?’ Tad questioned, and as the girl began to sob, he asked, ‘Dawn, why have you done this?’

  ‘I didn’t do anything, Dad. Nelly gave me the sweets and he frightened me, chasing me in the dark and…’ she dissolved into a tearful, shaking child.

  Tad’s impulse was to hug her, tell her it didn’t matter, that he would sort it all out. But he knew that this time he couldn’t presume she was telling the truth. This time he had to find out exactly what had happened. If Dawn was not lying, then he would make sure Victor Honeyman remembered this night for a long time. His fist pulled back ready for another fierce jabbing blow. But the thought that this was Delina’s father made him hold back.

  * * *

  Nelly had heard the knock on the door which, having given up the effort of trying to close it over the uneven stone-flagged floor, she’d left ajar. She put down the fish she was preparing to bake for the following day in time to see Dawn push through the gateway. She glanced down at the order at her feet and checked the most likely items and saw at once that the chocolate she had ordered was missing. She called the dogs and gave chase. Dawn had obviously knocked to check if the house was empty and, receiving no response, presumed it was and helped herself to the chocolate.

  Fear for the girl was uppermost in her mind as she lifted the long apron she wore over her dress and ran up the path and out into the lane. The dogs, thinking it was a game, raced round and round her, threatening to trip her up and she stopped and pretended to throw a stick to send them chasing back the way they had come. She puffed up through the council houses, heading for Dawn’s house, and was in time to see Tad hit Victor.

  ‘’Ere, you! Less of that!’ she shouted and the dogs, who had been searching for some invisible stick, swooped, barking on the trio.

  ‘What you ’itting ’im for?’ Nelly demanded between gulping breaths. ‘It’s ’er what wants a smacked arse if you ask me!’ Still panting, she held her hand out to Dawn. ‘Come on, ’and it over. Me an’ George an’ Oliver was goin’ to enjoy that chocolate while we listened to the wireless tonight.’

  In the light of the street lamp she saw the pile of chocolate, sweets and biscuits on the ground at Dawn’s feet. She pointed to it and glared at Tad.

  ‘Well? What you goin’ ter do about it then? First off you ought to apologise to Victor.’

  ‘He can keep his apology, Nelly. All I want is for him to stop his daughter being a bloody nuisance before she g
ets into real trouble.’ He turned away and Nelly stared at Dawn, her face threatening with the lamplight twisting her features into mask-like shadows.

  ‘Dawn?’ she asked, in a growling voice. ‘What ’ave you got to say?’

  ‘Nothing,’ the girl muttered, her head bent low.

  ‘I think you ’ave. And fer a start off, I think you ’ave to tell your dad a few truths. Like what really ’appened when you asked Delina for a lift ’ome from town.’

  ‘I have only raised a hand to you once in all your life, Dawn,’ Tad said quietly, ‘but I swear that if you don’t start telling the truth now, I’ll make you so sore you won’t sit down for a week. Now, as Nelly suggests, we’ll start with when you say Delina refused to lend you money to get the bus home from town, shall we?’

  ‘I don’t want you to marry Delina and have me sent away to school like Mrs Prichard is sending Margaret!’ Dawn sobbed.

  Nelly pricked up her ears. ‘What’s this about Margaret goin’ away to school? What’s that got to do with pinchin’ things?’

  ‘Let me, please, Nelly,’ Tad asked.

  ‘Margaret’s mother is sending her away so she can marry Billie Brown the farmer. She told me.’

  ‘I see, so you think that by stealing, you will stand a better chance of not being sent away? This is ridiculous, Dawn.’

  ‘Not the stealing. That was a dare. I make myself do three dares every day. Sometimes I spit on the floor in front of Mr Chartridge’s house, sometimes I spread mud on someone’s car and once I let down the tyres of Pete Evans’s motor bike. I – I take things – for a dare,’ she finished lamely.

  They all stood huddled around the lamp-post, the stolen items still at Dawn’s feet, no one making the decision to move somewhere more private.

  ‘Stealing could get you sent away from me. I’ve already told you that, Dawn. They’ll say I’m not bringing you up properly and take you away to someone who will keep a sharper eye on you.’