The Rocking Stone

by Jill Rutherford

  Davy had made a new friend, Rhys. They were the same age and had started to stay out late drinking in the more disreputable pubs and Davy came home drunk on many occasions. Then things started to change and Davy became secretive but at the same time, he was bubbling over with excitement. He was hiding something.

  ‘What are you up to, young man?’ Aunty would ask. ‘There’s something afoot, I can tell.’

  ‘Nothing, Aunty,’ Davy would invariably reply. But he became more secretive and his eyes shone like polished jewels.

  One Sunday morning Aunty Annie and I were at church as usual and Dad was at work. He always worked Sundays as that was the one day the pit was closed and he and his assistant could go underground and check everything was as it should be. They checked for gas too and it always took a long time. He was very thorough.

  Aunty and I returned home earlier than usual as she wasn’t feeling well. Normally, we would have gone straight to the kitchen, but as it was a Sunday, we went straight to our parlour, the room we kept best for Sundays – and we stumbled into a scene that was to change us all forever.

  Davy and Rhys were on the floor in front of the cold fireplace, naked and ‘doing things to each other,’ was the way Aunty described it.

  Aunty and I froze in the doorway. ‘My God,’ she said quietly, ‘so that’s how it is.’

  The boys froze. The horror in their eyes was pitiful.

  And then Aunty turned her back on them and instructed me to do the same. ‘Get yourselves decent you devils incarnate,’ she hissed. I could hear them moving about in haste. I heard Rhys whisper, ‘Those are my underpants.’

  Finally, Davy said, ‘We’re decent now, Aunty,’ in a shaky voice.

  We turned around and the look on both their faces was of shame and embarrassment. Davy looked at Aunty and then at me and then down at the floor.

  ‘What’s going on, Davy?’ I asked. I couldn’t understand it. It was bad enough doing it outside of marriage with a girl, but two boys? I’d never heard of such a thing. My confusion must have shown in my face as Davy looked up at me again with pleading eyes. He said nothing.

  Aunty drew herself up to her fullest height and ordered Rhys out of the house. ‘Now!’ she yelled, as Rhys stole a look at Davy. I’d never seen Aunty like this before. She was scary. Whatever it was that they were doing, I knew it was bad.

  ‘Don’t go,’ Davy pleaded, looking at Rhys.

  The look between them was something I had never seen before. It was full of love . . . intimacy . . . apology . . . a plethora of emotions and feelings that made my heart ache for them. Whatever it was between them, I knew then I wanted to experience it too. To feel such a way for another person was something I had not been prepared for, not dreamed possible. And here was Davy, my younger brother, showing such things for another boy. I was shocked and envious and didn’t know what to do.

  ‘Out!’ Aunty yelled.

  I saw Rhys mouth the words, ‘I’m sorry,’ to Davy as he walked reluctantly to the door. I stepped into the room so that he could pass while Aunty stood unyielding, looking straight ahead. ‘You never set foot in this house again,’ she hissed as he went out of the door.

  Davy looked stricken, and I knew then what it looked like to have a broken heart. He couldn’t hide it, probably didn’t know how. Maybe Davy’s heart and spirit had not been broken as badly as mine. He could still love and that gave me hope for my own feelings. All these thoughts went through my mind in seconds and I pulled myself together to face the now, not what might be in the future.

  Davy continued to stand in front of the fireplace. The room was small and we were all uncomfortably close together.

  ‘Well. What have you got to say for yourself?’ Aunty barked.

  ‘Aunty, I . . . I . . . can’t . . . .’ Davy stumbled over his words. He looked at me with pleading eyes, but I couldn’t help him this time. I had always looked after him but now, with this, it was a Davy I didn’t know or understand.

  ‘Out with it, boy,’ said Aunty, ‘what have you got to say for yourself?’ Her voice was cold and authoritative and Davy crumpled onto a chair with his head bowed, looking at his feet, he took a breath that went deep and shuddered.

  ‘Aunty,’ he whispered, and I had to struggle to hear him, ‘I can’t help it. I love Rhys and he loves me. I know it’s wrong and we tried not to, but we just have to. That’s all there is to it. We just have to.’

  ‘Rubbish, boy, there’s no have to about it. You just don’t do it that’s all. Life is not for your enjoyment, it’s about duty to your family and respectability in the community. And people don’t respect two Nancy Boys indulging in their perversity. It’s disgusting, that’s the last you’ll ever see of Rhys Richards. I forbid you to see him again.’

  Davy looked at her with such loathing I thought he was going to strike her. ‘You can’t tell me what to do, I’m eighteen. I can join the army at eighteen. I’m a man now.’

  ‘And I’m telling you that, by law, you are not a man until you’re twenty-one and it’s me and your father who are responsible for you until then. I’m telling you to pull yourself together and do the right thing. Cut off all ties with that Rhys, he’s a bad influence on you, and whatever you do, don’t tell your father.’

  ‘I won’t stop seeing Rhys. I can’t stop seeing him.’ His voice was pleading and he looked like a whipped dog who didn’t know what to do to make it better.

  ‘Well you can’t stay in this house if you continue to indulge in such disgusting things. I have to live here with my neighbours, so does Kate and your father.’

  ‘Aunty,’ I’d found my voice at last and I touched her on the arm, trying to calm her, ‘I don’t mind if it’s what Davy wants. I don’t want him to leave.’ I couldn’t imagine my life without Davy in it. He had been part of me forever. We were joined together by something more than just blood. We had helped and encouraged each other. ‘I don’t know what’s happening. Can’t we stop all this and be calm?’

  ‘No we can’t,’ she said harshly. ‘Davy has to realise what this kind of behaviour means. It’s against God and nature. It’s not something I can tolerate. I’d almost prefer it if he were a murderer.’

  ‘Aunty,’ I shouted, ‘how could you? Davy’s not a bad person. He’s . . . he’s Davy, that’s all. He’s my brother. I don’t understand you or what Davy feels, but is love that bad? Love is love after all.’

  ‘How dare you!’ retorted Aunty. ‘One man loving another like . . . like that . . . is not love, it’s just disgusting.’

  ‘It’s not! It’s not!’ cried Davy. ‘It’s beautiful and I can’t help it, neither can Rhys. It’s how we feel. I’d rather die than give him up. I mean that, I can’t give him up.’

  ‘Then you’ll leave this house right now, young man. I’ll not have someone like you in my house a minute longer.’

  ‘I’m going. You’ll never see me again, not if I see you first.’ With that, Davy picked up his shoes and ran out of the house. I ran after him and caught up with him outside the front door as he struggled to put them on.

  ‘Oh Davy, come back. Please. She’ll calm down. You can’t leave me. What will I do without you? Please for my sake, please come back and apologise to Aunty.’

  ‘I can’t. I’m sorry, I just can’t. You don’t understand.’

  ‘No, I don’t. Don’t you care about us anymore?’

  ‘Of course I do. It’s not about that. But what I feel for Rhys is more powerful than anything. I don’t understand it, but please believe me I have no control over this.’ The neighbours’ curtains twitched and a few looked out and seeing us in earnest conversation, quickly moved away. Davy saw it too, and he ran off down the street. I wished that we lived in the posh detached houses on The Avenue or up The Common, with their long front gardens separating them from the world around them. But for us in our terraced houses built straight onto the street, we had no such privacy. We knew who was rowing, cheating, wife beating, loving or just existing – it was the only e
ntertainment many people had.

  I hoped people would think it was just a family row. And that’s what happened and there were no adverse comments. This was usual in our world. I told people that Davy had gone to live with his friend’s family for a while because of a disagreement with his aunty. Everyone understood that, no more had to be said.

  I found out that Davy had gone to live on the other side of town with Rhys’ family in Coedpenmaen Road. It was less than a half hour’s walk away but it could have been in Timbuktu I felt so isolated from him. He didn’t contact me and that hurt me deeply. It was as if our life together had meant nothing. He could have got a message to me without Aunty knowing. Had he abandoned me? What had I done to deserve such treatment? Anger towards him kept me away, but after a couple of months worry drove me to go and see him, to check he was all right and to find out what was going on. Aunty had gone into herself and was no longer the jolly person she used to be.

  Coedpenmaen Road is a long road of small terraced houses, just like every other street in Ponty, the only difference being in the long length of the street. I found the house and knocked on the door. Davy answered and looked resigned when he saw me.

  ‘Davy, I must talk to you. Can I come in?’

  ‘No, Kate, let’s go for a walk, it’s better.’

  He picked up his jacket and shut the door behind him and I followed him at a trot. He might have short legs, but he could move apace.

  ‘Let’s go up the mountain,’ he said as he turned towards me. ‘I can talk better up there.’

  He was immaculately dressed I noticed as I followed him. Since he had grown up, he had taken to being really fussy about his clothes and always looked like he was going to church in his Sunday best. Even going off to the pit his working clothes were always washed and ironed and were smart. It was a thing he had. I wondered if he ironed all his clothes or was it Rhys’ mother.

  We walked for quite a while, gradually climbing. The mountains surrounding Ponty are not too high and the one behind Davy’s new home is rather soft, curvaceous and comforting. We climbed to the very top and Davy finally sat himself down with his back against a dry stone wall and a view over Ponty in the distance. It was the first time I’d been up here and the town itself was on our left. It was an impressive view with the bowl of the valley stretching out before us as if a giant of old had come along and scooped out a handful of earth leaving a perfectly level bottom where the town was now built and the river flowed and the trains puffed. The Graig led on from the town, ever upwards. I’d never seen it from this angle before. It looked a lot smaller than I’d imagined it would. From this distance, the continuous streets of houses looked like children’s toys rather than real places. I felt like I could pick them up and rearrange them. Surprisingly, it looked rather dull and cramped and I had a job imagining all the thousands of people who lived there. I felt like a god as I looked down and a feeling of power crept up on me as if I was somehow superior to the life that was teeming below me. I’d never had such a feeling before. We were also sat in a slight dip which continued down the mountain in a line. It pointed straight to Davy’s new home and I wondered if that was why he liked this spot.

  ‘It’s a wonderful view, Davy. No wonder you like it up here.’

  He remained silent as put his elbows on his upraised knees and his head in his hands and started to cry. I didn’t know what to do so sat next to him and put my arm around his shoulders. We stayed like that for a long time, with his gentle tears flowing. He cried quietly, but then Davy always had. He seemed to gain some control and wiped his face with his clean, white hankie.

  Finally, he said, something so matter of fact that the effect was like an unexpected thunderclap to me. ‘You know he’s dead, don’t you?’

  ‘What? What do you mean?’

  ‘Rhys, he’s dead.’

  I couldn’t speak, I just stared at him. Eventually, I whispered, ‘No. No, I didn’t know . . . I’m so very sorry.’ I put my hand on his arm and he didn’t shrug it away.

  We sat in silence for a while. ‘How did it happen, Davy . . . can you talk about it?’

  He didn’t speak at first and I thought he’d shut me off, until he murmured, ‘I’ll try. But don’t look at me please, just don’t look at me.’

  ‘I won’t, don’t worry, I promise.’ I could understand his not liking to be looked at when he was upset. I was the same. I sat up straight and looked out over the town.

  He took a shuddering breath. ‘Rhys worked in the pit as you know, but not the Albion like Dad, he worked at the Lewes Merthyr. It happened only a week after my row with Aunty . . . after I ran away from you. I went to Rhys’ house and his mother, Mrs Richards, took me in. She’s a good sort and said I could stay there for a while if we didn’t mind sharing Rhys’ room. It was perfect for us. We were very happy, but tried not to show it to Mrs Richards. We didn’t want another row like the one with Aunty.’ He sniffed. ‘He was my life, Kate, you realise that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, Davy, I know he must have been very special because you don’t make friends easily.’

  ‘Thank you, I’m glad you understand.’ He wiped his eyes and blew his nose again. ‘I’m sorry but I’ll have to say this very quickly. It’s the only way I can say it.’ He took a deep breath and looked down and talked to the grass below him. ‘He went off to work as usual one morning and never came back. He was killed in an accident underground. There was a cave-in on the section he was working in, no one else was hurt, but Rhys took the full force of it and died underground. It happens a lot, maybe a pit prop gave out, or there was water above that no one knew about, or the roof there was just weak. Anyway, it happened and killed Rhys. He died instantly, that’s all I have to cling to. I don’t know what to do or think, I’ve been crying ever since.’ I put my hand on his arm but he shrugged it off. ‘Mrs Richards is very good to me and she told me that I can stay lodging with her for as long as I like. She said to take Rhys’ room. She treats me like a son. She says that I am her son now that Rhys is dead. I like her Kate, and I like living with her and Rhys’ sisters. She told me that I am the man in the house now, because all her men have been killed in the pits. I feel like I belong there, it’s funny but true. I feel so close to him when I’m with her. They treat me with respect, like I am a man. Not like at home where Dad and Aunty treat me like a boy still, and a silly one at that.’

  He looked up and across the valley. ‘She calls me cariad, just like she called him and every time she calls me that I feel loved and wanted, and valued.’

  He blew his nose noisily and took another shuddering breath. I’d never heard Davy talk like this before. It was a revelation.

  ‘Don’t think badly of me, please. I know it hurts you and I don’t want to do that, but things are all changed now. I can never go back home to live. It’s just not possible. Dad came to see me a few weeks back.’

  ‘He did?’ I was astonished. He’d not said anything.

  ‘He did. And it wasn’t a nice visit. He asked me when I was going to realise that what we’d done . . . I’d done, was wrong and to promise never to do anything like that again. I told him I could not deny my feelings for Rhys, not under any circumstances. He got very angry and told me that I was no son to him if I didn’t repent.’ He looked at me and his tears welled-up. ‘Is love so bad? Oh, Kate . . . and Aunty looked at me with such loathing that day. I can never forget that look. I can never forgive her.’

  I fidgeted and tried to decide what to say. I’d found out something about Aunty and was unsure whether to share it with Davy. Finally, I decided that it might help him to look at Aunty in a different way. I said, very matter of factly, as if it was nothing, whilst all the time knowing it wasn’t. ‘I think I know why she looked at you like that.’

  ‘I don’t care. I can’t forgive her. It’s like a lump of hate inside me. There was always something not quite right between us and she looked at me in a funny way sometimes. It always unnerved me.’

  ‘Well, just li
sten, let me tell you and you can judge for yourself. When you left the house that day, Aunty was crying and was deeply upset. I tried to calm her, but she just cried the more. I thought that it was strange that she should take on so. There were so many tears. Finally she said a strange thing. She said that if she could give up her great love for the sake of her family and respectability then why couldn’t Davy? I asked her what his name was and she whispered, “Margery,” very softly, but I heard it. She got all flustered and asked me, “What did I say then, Katie love, I can’t remember.” I told her that I didn’t hear her. She looked relieved and said she was going to bed with a headache and rushed upstairs.’

  I looked out over the valley and Davy remained silent. I wasn’t sure he understood. ‘I think she felt about another woman what you feel for Rhys, but gave her up for respectability and family. She was angry with you for putting yourself before your family. To her that was unforgivable.’ I glanced at Davy, unsure of how he was taking this, but he was just staring straight ahead, his face expressionless. ‘I wonder what went on in her life before she married our father. We don’t know, do we?’

  He turned and looked at me. ‘How do you feel about all this, Kate? Do you think it is disgusting?’

  I was jarred by such a direct question and didn’t quite know how to answer, so I decided on honesty. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it before you and Rhys. I don’t understand it, but I love you. I just don’t know what to think and what’s worse, I can’t talk about it to anyone. So I’ve decided not think about it. Just carry on as usual. I’ll pray for you both.’

  ‘Don’t do that,’ Davy bristled. ‘Don’t. Just don’t.’ I looked at him in amazement.