The Rocking Stone

by Jill Rutherford

‘Why not? It can’t do any harm.’

  ‘I don’t want your pity. I’m sorry, but that’s what it would be. You don’t understand and that’s all there is to it. I can do my own praying, thank you.’

  I was shocked and hurt. ‘I’m . . . I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.’

  He was staring ahead looking furious and I was fighting the tears that were welling up. In the silence, he looked at me and his face turned from one of fury to one of love. He look hold of my hand. ‘I’m sorry. I really am sorry, I never wanted to hurt you, I’ll never do that on purpose, you know that . . . you’re my big sister. We’ve always looked after each other.’

  I nodded and the tears came. ‘And I still want to look after you,’ I sniffled.

  ‘Oh, Kate, thank you. But you know it’s impossible, don’t you. We’re all grown up now. We have to live our own lives and . . . well, all I know if that I want to stay with Mrs Richards and her family. Can you understand that? They’ve welcomed me and being with them keeps me close to him. I’ll see you now and again. Ponty’s not a big town.’

  He looked out at the view again. ‘If I’m honest, and I always want to be honest with you, I’ve been unhappy at home for a long time. Dad treats me like a boy still and one that needs his strength and protection. Well, I’m not a boy. I’m a man. A young man and I can make my own decisions. What do they know of me? We never speak to each other . . . you know, really speak . . . say what we mean. It’s all platitudes and keeping the peace. Oh, I know Aunty was good to us when we first lived together and I’ll always be grateful for that but she still treats us like children. We have to move on with our lives. We can’t live in the past.’

  I put my arm around his shoulders and gave him a kiss on the cheek. ‘There, that’s from the past. Do you remember I always kissed you goodnight when you went to bed?’

  He nodded. ‘Of course,’ and I could see a little smile on his lips.

  ‘Well, that’s for then and from now on, we’ll be like grownups. We can shake hands when we meet.’

  He laughed. ‘You could always make me laugh.’ We looked at each other and he turned serious. ‘But you do understand me, don’t you?’

  It was my turn to nod. ‘Yes, Davy bach, I’m trying my best and I am beginning to see it from your point of view, but I’m still unhappy about the whole thing.’

  ‘I know, and I’m sorry.’ He stood up and I struggled up too. He held out his hand and we shook hands solemnly and then smiled at each other.

  ‘Oh, Katie, Katie, I shall miss you.’ And with that, he bounded down the mountain like a goat: surefooted and light. He turned around and waved. I waved back and brushed the tears away and made my way more slowly back down to the town.

  I couldn’t force Davy to come home and I couldn’t force my father and Aunty to accept him again. Goodness knows what Aunty had told my father. I wasn’t privy to it, but he told me he never wanted to speak of Davy again. ‘My son is dead,’ he shouted at me when I mentioned him. ‘Don’t mention his name in this house ever again.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  It’s surprising how small things can change lives: a silly accident, a chance meeting, an unexpected glance.

  It was a beautiful summer’s day as I walked slowly home from work enjoying its warmth. I was lost in thought as I started the long haul up the Graig hill. As I passed an alley on my left, an urgent whispering and giggling penetrated my thoughts and then a movement caught my eye. I turned my head and saw a young man had a girl pressed up against a wall. She was laughing and encouraging him, running her hand up and down his back and pulling him closer, kissing him deeply. She broke off and saw me looking and her eyes turned scornful. She must have read my mind for I was thinking, trollop! What a disgusting way to behave in broad daylight.

  She called out, ‘What you lookin’ at Little Miss Madam?’ The man followed her gaze and our look held. I was shocked by the effect it had on me as my breath caught and my stomach flew up into my throat and I started to shake. I looked away quickly, but his image had burnt itself into my memory. His black hair, a little too long, curly and unruly - had she been running her hands through it? Unreasonably, the thought upset me. His strong body was slim but muscular – a miner I thought. He had a way with him and my reaction scared me. I’d never experienced anything like this.

  His eyes bored into me and to my mortification, he walked away from the girl and came up to me. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to run, but was rooted to the spot.

  ‘Hello,’ he said. His voice was softer than I thought it would be. He must have seen something in my face, because he added, ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to upset anyone, just having a bit of fun.’ I could smell beer on his breath and backed away a bit. He noticed, and looked at me intensely, his eyes softening as he looked into mine.

  The girl grabbed his arm. ‘Come on, Tom, leave her, she’s nothing to do with us.’ But he continued to stare at me. I turned away and started to walk up the hill again with that look of his still burning in front of my eyes. I was feeling confused and flustered – and I said to myself, his name is Tom.

  I’d had a few boyfriends, well, enough to know that this boy was different. Was it his eyes? They were just eyes – brown, and I preferred blue. Was it his black hair? But most of the boys here had black hair. Was it his curls? I didn’t like boys with curls. Sissy-looking for a miner I thought.

  He wasn’t particularly tall, and I liked tall men. He was muscular – as a miner would be, but I liked more sensitive men, like my brother Davy.

  My last boyfriend was a nice boy, but we’d never done lots of kissing – even in private – as they were doing in broad daylight. My boyfriend was always trying though; it was me who wasn’t interested. That’s probably why he gave me up in the end. But seeing those two in the alley had stirred something deep inside me.

  The Graig was small enough for me to bump into him quite regularly after that first meeting – or was he seeking me out? He always said, ‘Hello’, even though I ignored him. He frightened me. It was the first time I’d met someone who attracted me so.

  We both lived on the Graig so that gave us something in common. It was a poor person’s place although it wasn’t a slum, far from it. The people who lived here were fiercely proud and housewives kept their houses spic and span with their doorsteps well scrubbed with carbolic soap and vinegar. But it was overcrowded and because the Graig was built from the floor of the valley to half way up the mountain-side it was very steep, making walking up and down the Graig Hill difficult, especially with shopping.

  The streets are so narrow and closely packed you could hold a conversation with the people living opposite without leaving your house and many of the women did, standing in their doorways, watching their children playing or just looking for company. The Graig was made up of rows of identical terraced houses, built in tandem with the opening of new mines. Ponty itself had a dozen or so big mines with new ones opening up constantly. The town had grown so fast it was called the ‘Wild West of Wales’ and the builders had no time for niceties in their design. Most houses were basic and a mirror image of their neighbour. As their tenants would be uneducated poor folk moving here from all over, wanting to improve their meagre lot, each house was built as fast and as economically as possible.

  I have a fanciful mind and always thought of those streets funnelling off the Graig Hill as being like a marching band. All dressed up in the same uniform, striding on relentlessly in step, playing the same tune of grey brick houses and black slate roofs. An occasional missed note here and there as a pub or a church was built, a squiggle on the ends to get around natural hazards, but soon going back to the same old tune of terraced houses. On they marched, upwards and outwards, eating up the mountain and icing it over with concrete and brick.

  I bumped into him once when I was with Edie. He said, ‘Hello’, and smiled as he walked by, but neither of us reacted.

  ‘You want to watch that boy,’ she said, ‘he’s got a reputation for l
iking the girls too much. He’s always got a different one on his arm. He’s fickle and too good looking by half. Take my advice, stay away from him, Kate. I know you’re twenty-one and almost over the hill and desperate, but you don’t want to be another notch on his belt.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be silly,’ I said, all indignant. ‘I have no intention of getting to know him.’

  She looked at me and grinned. ‘But he is lovely, though. I wouldn’t say no myself.’ She laughed as she added, ‘You know, just a quick fling.’

  I laughed too. ‘Oh, Edie, you’re hopeless, and your husband would have a thing or two to say about that.’

  ‘Well, I do love my big lug, but you know . . . a girl can dream.’

  I did like Edie, she always made me laugh. ‘Well, it’s just as well you’re married already.’

  She laughed again. ‘True, I’m just joking, but if I was single, well, a boy like that’s okay for a girl like me, you know, fun loving and don’t take things too seriously. But for you, well, you’re different – you’re serious, not his sort at all. But he likes you. I can see it in the way he looked at you. Be careful, Kate. That’s all I’m saying.’

  *

  I was walking home from work not long after this. It was my half day and it was hot again and the two bags of shopping I was carrying drew the sweat from me. My arms were stretched and I was tetchy walking up the hill. As I approached one of the houses that fronted the hill, the door opened and a boy shot out, heedless of safety. Nearly all front doors on the Graig opened directly onto the street, and most people stopped to look before stepping out, but kids, well, they’re all the same, especially the boys. ‘Sorry, Missus,’ he shouted as he ran past me. I put my bags down to take a rest and recover from the shock of nearly being knocked over. My fanciful mind took over and I thought, if he had knocked me over and I fell backwards, I probably wouldn’t stop until I came to the bottom of the hill under the railway bridge. I turned to look. It was a long way down. As I turned back I looked up and saw Tom walking down towards me. My heart raced uncomfortably and my nerves tingled. Flustered, I picked up my bags to cover my nervousness.

  ‘Let me carry your bags for you. I’m in no hurry,’ he said as he took them from me before I could say no.

  I started to tremble. This boy was having an effect on me that no one else ever had and I didn’t like it. I didn’t want to encourage him.

  ‘What’s your name? I’m sure it must be a beautiful one.’

  I glared at him.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said with bravado, ‘girls usually like that kind of talk.’

  ‘Well, I don’t.’

  ‘You’ve got nice hair. I like long hair and yours is so wavy, it’s lovely.’

  I glared at him again. ‘I’ll be sure to get it cut tomorrow.’

  We walked on slowly and in silence and Edie needn’t have worried, I didn’t want a Jack-the-lad boy like him as a boyfriend. I’d seen where that led with other people. I wanted better.

  But he wasn’t to be put off. ‘I’m Tom Mallow, by the way. I’ve lived in Ponty all my life, but never on the Graig. Me and my mam and two sisters moved here about a month ago. I’m really glad we moved here now I’ve met you. Where do you live? Can I walk you home?

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ I retorted, trying to take my bags off him.

  ‘Now, now, don’t be like that,’ he said, laughing and holding on to the bags. ‘Come on mun, play fair, I’m not that bad am I?’

  I didn’t answer.

  ‘What do you do, Kate?’

  ‘How do you know my name?’ I was angry and I let it show.

  ‘Oh, come on. A man can ask about a girl he likes, can’t he?’

  ‘No. Not this girl you can’t. Give me back my bags and go on your way please.’

  ‘You don’t like me do you? Why not?’

  I was really angry now. Didn’t he ever listen? He was the kind of man I’d seen turn into selfish husbands with no respect for their wives or children: the kind that never takes no for an answer from a woman. I didn’t want anything to do with him.

  And then, he stopped and put down the bags and turned to me and took my hands in his before I realised what had happened. My hands tingled in his and a wave of excitement shot through me. I was confused and didn’t know how to behave. I looked into his eyes and saw he was triumphant.

  That did it. I had to put an end to this. This boy and I would go no further. I had to be cruel, it was obviously the only way to get him to understand.

  ‘How dare you! And you’re right. I don’t like you. You’re big headed and think you can do what you like. Well, not with this girl you can’t.’ His hold had slackened and I pulled my hands free and went to pick up my bags, but he beat me to it.

  ‘You’re an exciting woman. I like that,’ he said, straightening up.

  ‘Well you can like away, I am no fool and I’m not interested in fools.’

  ‘You think I’m a fool?’ His look was hard.

  It was obvious he was not well educated, so I decided to use the extra learning Aunty had given me. I dredged up some words from books I’d read, words I didn’t normally use. ‘I think you are a disrespectful, antagonistic, philanderer,’ I said to him before I stormed up the hill, feeling pleased with myself. There, that should shock him into dislike.

  But he just laughed as he struggled to catch me up. ‘Oh, I like it,’ he yelled loud enough for anyone to hear. ‘She’s a walking dictionary.’

  I stopped dead and turned and slapped his face. ‘Go back to your trollop. She’s about your level.’

  I stormed up the hill again without a glance and turned into my street. I realised then that he still had my shopping and I worried what I would tell Aunty Annie. She’d be furious. But I wouldn’t go back for shopping. I’d rather die first.

  I’d promised to go to our church at six o’clock to help Aunty Annie polish the silver. She’d gone to visit her relatives in Tonypandy and we agreed to meet at the church. So, a few hours later I left home to meet her. The church was directly opposite the turning for my street and as I approached it I saw someone sitting on the pavement in front of it. My heart leapt into my mouth as I realised it was him. He stood up and leaned casually against the wall. My bags of shopping were on the pavement beside him. I had no choice and couldn’t turn back so I ignored him as I walked passed and went into the church.

  Fortunately, Aunty Annie arrived before long and we started our polishing. I didn’t mention anything about Tom, but then, to my horror, the door creaked open and there he was. A silhouette in the doorway with the sun setting behind him, looking for all the world like some angel come down from heaven.

  He walked inside and closed the door and sat down in one of the back pews. He didn’t pray or anything like that but just sat there and looked sad. The vicar came in and started to talk to Aunty. They looked over at Tom. ‘Who is that young man?’ the vicar asked Aunty. She shook her head, ‘I don’t know, do you, Kate?’

  I couldn’t lie, especially in church. ‘His name is Tom Mallow, that’s all I know.’

  ‘Could I ask you a favour,’ the vicar said. ‘I need to talk to your Aunty about something important, can you go up to him and welcome him to the church. Just a friendly hello and hope to see you again, will do.’

  I swallowed my pride for the sake of Christ. This was his house after all. As I walked reluctantly towards Tom, I rehearsed what to say, but was totally thrown by seeing tears in his eyes.

  Before I could say anything he said, ‘Do you have a father?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I do,’ I found myself answering.

  ‘My father died recently, that’s why we moved here.’ He blinked some tears away and turned his head so I couldn’t see his face.

  My good manners came to the fore, I felt obliged to respond. ‘I’m sorry. Did he have an accident?’

  ‘No, not an accident . . . deliberate . . . someone wanted him dead.‘

  I was shocked. ‘What do you mean?’

 
; ‘He was in the war see, a soldier . . . and those . . . those . . . Hun got him . . . the gas got him too. He couldn’t walk properly. Useless for anything he was. He came home and had to walk on sticks and drag his legs and then he couldn’t even do that as he had no breath and had to be wheeled around in an old pram. Humiliating! It was so humiliating for him. And for us . . . we couldn’t help him you see, couldn’t make it better. What could we do? What could I do? He took it bad. He just up and died one day. Couldn’t take it no longer see. That’s why we moved here.’

  I knew he meant that they’d moved to the Graig because it was cheaper than where they lived. The Graig was the cheapest place in Ponty. I wondered about his family, but didn’t ask.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said again, trying to fathom this strange boy.

  ‘I got a job at the Maritime. It was better for me to change pits. My dad’s pit had too many memories . . . present and past.’

  ‘Where was that?’

  ‘The Albion.’

  My stomach flew up to my mouth as I stifled a gasp. Memories of my mother telling me of her father dying in that awful disaster flooded my brain. Whenever anyone spoke of The Albion Pit it had the same effect on me. I couldn’t help it. But I didn’t want him to know.

  ‘. . . we lived near it in Cilfynydd, see,’ he was saying. ‘He worked there until they laid him off – him and hundreds of others. It was a bad time, too many miners chasing too few jobs. They put the wages down and people like my dad, decent men who wanted a fair day’s pay for a fair day’s work, were thrown out and replaced by others desperate enough to work for starvation wages. He was out of work for a long time, well like so many of the men, and then, when the war started, my mother persuaded him to join the army.’

  ‘But they were crying out for miners then to replace the young men who’d joined up. Why didn’t he stay?’ I could have bitten my tongue off. It was no business of mine.

  But he didn’t seem to mind. ‘Well, he joined up as soon as the war started, before they knew so many miners would be needed to stay. My mother was struggling to feed us and he’d get a shilling a day in the army. So he went to fight. He was too old really. He was forty, but they took him because he’d been a soldier before, when he was a young man. Experience I suppose.’ He had his elbows on his knees, looking at the floor. ‘My mam, she’s so upset.’