And then the hearse arrived and we parted. ‘I have to go now,’ I said wiping my tears. He nodded and I kissed him again and rushed into the house to tell Aunty that Dad was here.
I found her among a bevy of distant relations and close friends. I held her coat out for her. ‘He’d be proud at the turnout,’ I said. She took my arm as we made our way to the front door, where she stopped me by putting her hand on mine.
‘How are you, Katie love? You sure you’re up to all this in your condition?’
‘I’m fine, Aunty. Don’t worry about me. I’ll tell you if I’m not.’
She nodded and I opened the front door and she stepped outside.
‘My God,’ she said, stopping suddenly. I’d assumed she knew of all the people gathered outside. ‘My God,’ she repeated. ‘Oh, Matt, Matt.’ She buried her face in her hankie and sobbed. I gently led her to the official car we had hired for our immediate family.
The hearse was parked directly outside the house and my father’s coffin was covered with so many wreaths it was difficult to see it. I knew people had gone without to buy these wreaths and it touched me deeply.
The miners had lined up in front of the hearse, two abreast, like soldiers, with their straight backs, jackets done up, bowler hats squarely on their heads, and their black shoes shone like mirrors glistening in the sunlight. They stood higgledy-piggledy, mates with mates, tall and short all mixed up together. I realised just how respected my father was for miners don’t turn out in such numbers, and on parade, for just anyone.
When we were ready, the miners started marching slowly in front of the hearse. I’ll never forget their backs, for that was all I could see, walking ahead like ramrods. The hearse, all black and gleaming like polished coal, followed them, with our car behind and the rest of the mourners walking behind us.
It must have been a sight to behold as the long procession made its way down Rickards Street into Wood Road and followed it down to the Catholic church, then round and up into Cemetery Road. The car windows were open a little and all I could hear was the tramp of feet on the road. A discordant, reassuring, incredible noise that sent goose-pimples throughout my body and filled me up with such emotion I don’t know how I didn’t burst. Aunty spent the journey grimly looking ahead with a body so tense I wonder she didn’t break. She held my hand so hard, it hurt for days afterwards.
It took us about half an hour to get to the cemetery, and in all that way, no one spoke a word that I could hear. As we passed people in the street they stopped and stared, men took off their hats and Catholics crossed themselves.
Ponty hadn’t seen a funeral like this, for one man, in a long time. I was deeply touched and it sent shivers of pride and excitement through me that I belonged to such a society: one that can put on such a show for one of their members. Not someone important – just my father, a man respected.
*
It was a few weeks later that the backlash came. It was all about Aunty. She got her statutory compensation for my father’s death and made the decision to move back to Tonypandy, which she did quickly and without fuss.
Tom was furious, ‘She’s buggered off and left you then,’ he said spitefully, ‘fine stepmother she is’. Actually, Aunty had confided in me but asked me not to tell anyone. She said she’d had a good marriage and that my father was a fine man. She didn’t regret anything. But that life was now past. Davy was lost to her and I belonged to another family, one where she wasn’t welcome. She said she’d been a valley girl before her marriage and was always uncomfortable in the largeness of Ponty. She wanted to return to the valleys where she had some relations and the smaller town life felt more comfortable to her. We both agreed that this was the best course of action for her. She’d offered me half of the compensation, but I’d refused it, knowing that she needed it more than me. I had Tom to look after me, she had no one now. Only my father’s compensation and her widow’s pension to last the rest of her life. She knew she’d never marry again she said. I wished her luck and promised to visit whenever possible.
‘She should have given you something, a few pounds from his compensation, after all, he was your father,’ Tom said.
I didn’t tell him I had refused her offer on the compensation money. He would never have forgiven me for not taking it so I held my tongue. I owed her so much – everything really. I needed to give her something back for my own satisfaction. That was more important than the money to me.
I thought of my parents being united again in death. They’d been apart for so long but I know he never forgot my mother. I could see it in his face. He’d kept the two pictures of Italy, the ones my mother loved so much and had them on his bedroom wall, as my mother did. Aunty Annie knew of their history and gave them to me. I put them on my bedroom wall, opposite my side of the bed. I don’t think Tom even noticed.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was when I was seven months pregnant, that our lives changed forever. Dudley had been even more obnoxious to me and he’d started to “bump into” me several times a week. Every day I had to go into town to shop, down the Graig Hill, finding its steepness more difficult with each passing month. I often had to stop to recover my breath. Dudley would suddenly appear from around a corner or an alleyway and say things like, ‘Why, Kate, darlin’, nice to see you. How’s the little baby? Are you going to call him Dudley? We had such a good fuck, Kate. What will Uncle Tom say when he sees the baby’s red hair? I’m sure it’s mine.’
‘Bugger off, Dudley,’ I’d hiss and was angry with him again for forcing me to use the words of the gutter for it was the only language he took notice of.
He’d often walk next to me and whisper things like, ‘Fuck me, Katie. No one will know. You’re already pregnant. I’m yearning for you, my dick’s hard even thinking about it. Come on, Kate, let’s do it again.’
It was like a Chinese torture with his non-stop barrage of abusive language and suggestion. I was stuck between Tom and Dudley like a butterfly caught in a net. The more I struggled the deeper I was caught up. It was a living nightmare that made me angry and upset until, finally, Tom noticed.
It was a cold spring and I was uncomfortable with the baby who kicked forcefully inside me. I’d panic and think, it couldn’t be Dudley’s, could it? Then I’d tell myself not to be silly, I’d had my monthly before the wedding.
Tom and I were sat in the kitchen drinking tea, him in his armchair and me on an uncomfortable kitchen chair, having yet another row. Our relationship had deteriorated over the past few months. I felt powerless and trapped in Dudley’s family, unable to avoid him, and by Mrs Mallow always being there. I was not adjusting to my new life well.
‘Keep your voice down Tom,’ I pleaded. Your mother will hear us, she’s only upstairs.’
‘No, she’s not. She went out to her church meeting when you were out the back, but quite frankly, I’m fed up of always having to talk in whispers. This is my house, I’m the man here and I’ll talk as loud as I like. And I’ll love my wife as loudly as I like too.’
I kept hold of my mounting irritation. The baby kicked hard and I put my hand over my stomach. ‘Then we won’t love each other ever again, because I can’t bear your mother listening in from the other side of the wall. It’s embarrassing and I can’t face her next morning. She looks at me sideways in that way of hers. She doesn’t like it, she’s jealous. She resents me being with you. She wants you for herself.’
‘For God’s sake, you’re being silly.’
‘I’m not,’ I snapped. ‘She undermines me every way she can and I don’t know what to do about it.’ I so wanted Tom to understand how I felt. ‘Help me, please. I’m so unhappy.’ I despised the pleading in my voice.
He turned on me. ‘What do you mean unhappy? Are you sorry you married me? Is that it? Is that what this is all about? Why, Kate? Why?’ He stared into space with a big frown on his face. ‘We were so happy before we married and now it’s all changed, you’ve changed. You’re not the girl I married. Is it
me? Don’t you love me anymore?’
I was shocked by his words. Did he really feel like that? ‘Oh, Tom, of course I love you. This is difficult for me to say . . . but . . . I can’t get close to you. You work so hard and when you come home you go out drinking with your mates, or mope and argue with me. You always take your mother’s side in everything. I feel like an intruder who’s coming between you.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. It’s all in your mind.’
‘It’s not, please believe me. She’s trying to take me over, and I don’t know how to stop her without a big quarrel, and where would that leave us? I don’t want to lose you, but I feel like I am. I’m losing you to your mother and you don’t mind. You never stick up for me and always take her part.’
Tom stiffened as he clutched the arms of his chair and his knuckles turned white. ‘How dare you talk about my mother like that. She’s been very good me – and to you. You sound ungrateful and I don’t like that. It’s not nice.’
‘Of course I’m grateful to her, but she’s always here. She does your bath and washes your back. She knows I don’t like it, don’t like her seeing you naked and that’s why she does it. It’s power over me.’
‘Now you’re being stupid. We’re a mining family. Women always help their husbands and sons to take their bath. It’s just practical. You don’t expect us to come home from the pit, exhausted and get out the bath, boil the water, fill it and lounge and relax with soap suds and perfume like Lady Muck do you? We need to get in and out as fast as possible, get our dinners and some kip and get on with the little time we have above ground.’
I was getting more upset; he was deliberately misunderstanding and patronising me. I tried again but it came out all wrong. I was shouting when I didn’t want to shout. I knew I was losing control but couldn’t stop. ‘She wants to keep you to herself and shut me out – and she’s succeeding. She hardly ever goes out, I can’t be alone. If I decide to go for a walk she comes too, “To keep you company,” she always says. She’s wearing me down, even more than Dudley is.’
My breath caught as I realised what I’d said. I looked at the floor, wishing I could bite back those words. Tom was silent and I dared not look at him. He was motionless and I could feel the intensity of his stare.
To my horror, I began to shake. Gently at first, but soon my hands and legs shook uncontrollably. I started to cry, big gulping sobs that took me by surprise. I was out of control. All the trauma, fear and dread of the last year overcame me as my world collapsed.
I don’t know how long I sat and sobbed but it seemed eternal. I felt ashamed that I couldn’t control myself. It had never happened to me before. I felt like another person, someone I didn’t know.
I was very aware of Tom. He hadn’t moved at all. Finally, as I started to calm, he said in an ice-cold voice, ‘What‘s going on between you and Dudley?’
I gasped, I couldn’t help it.
‘I know there’s been something. I told myself that there was nothing to it. That you wouldn’t do that to me, but now I wonder. Tell me Kate. TELL ME!’
‘Nothing!’ I yelled. ‘Nothing has been going on.’
He shot out of his chair. ‘Don’t lie to me,’ he said as he paced up and down. ‘I know when you’re lying. There’s been something. I can feel it in my bones. That bastard would do anything to get back at me, even steal my own wife if he could. Is that what’s been happening? Is he stealing you away from me? Because if he is I’ll kill him.’ He stood over me, threateningly.
My head was spinning, my body shaking. I’d lost the ability to think straight.
‘No, Tom, please. It’s not like that. I would never let Dudley near me if I had the choice.’
A silence hung.
‘What do you mean . . . if you had the choice?’ His voice was icy. ‘Tell me before I knock it out of you.’ He had never spoken to me like that before and I was scared. I tried to gather my wits. I couldn’t let him discover the rape.
‘I swear to you, nothing has been going on. It’s just Dudley being Dudley. He just speaks dirty to me whenever he has the chance and it upsets me.’
That silence again.
‘What do you mean, whenever he has the chance?’ His voice was rising in anger. ‘When does he have the chance? Do you give him the chance?’
‘No. No. No. Never!’ My brain was spinning.
‘Well, there must be times when he gets the chance otherwise he can’t say those things to you.’ His aggression made me scream my innocence as he probed with his words. Determined to get whatever it was out of me.
Without warning, he changed tack and went down on his knees in front of me and put his arms around me saying whatever had happened was not my fault. Whatever it was, he didn’t blame me.
His sudden change of tactics fooled me into relaxing and I felt my old Tom was back, the way he was before our marriage when I could say anything to him.
‘You don’t know Dudley as well as I do,’ he said.’ ‘You don’t realise what he’s capable of.’
The words came out unbidden, before I realised I’d uttered them.
‘I do know.’
‘What do you know, Kate? What do you know about Dudley?’ He kept his voice soft and caring. ‘Tell me. It’s all right, cariad. Nothing can harm you. You’re my wife. But I must know, I must put my mind at rest. Please tell me, it would be better to tell me because it can’t be any worse than what I’m imagining. Please tell me.’
His caring and sympathy went straight to my core. The strain of everything overcame me and, without warning, the words burst out: uncontrollable, unstoppable.
‘He raped me!’ I whispered.
‘He what?’ Tom said, equally quietly.
I couldn’t look at him. I had no way out of this but the truth. ‘He raped me. Three weeks before our marriage he came into my house when I was alone and raped me. He said he told you that he would f-f . . .’ I forced out the word, ‘fuck me before you did. He was going to ruin me for my husband. That’s what he told me and that’s what he did.’
I glanced at Tom then, and saw his disbelieving look turn into deep anger. I could see his mind working its way through the events in the lead up to our marriage. Small sparks of memory developing into an understanding. His face turned dark. He finally realised I was telling the truth. The facts fitted.
He stood up slowly, and walked away from me. He turned and stared at me with such a look I felt the devil had surfaced.
‘Is the baby Dudley’s?’ He asked in a quiet, cold voice.
I gasped. ‘No, thank God. It’s your baby Tom. I had my monthly after the rape and before our wedding. There’s no way it can be Dudley’s.’
He didn’t know whether to believe me or not. I could see his chest heaving. I tried to pacify him. ‘Please believe me, it’s your baby. It’s yours, I promise you.’
‘Did he hurt you?’ He asked it so quietly, I hardly heard him. I looked down at the floor and couldn’t stop the tears flowing as my sobs came back. I was broken. My spirit crushed. I realised then that I was just an ordinary woman who’d tried to be strong and not let things cower her but there is only so much one person can take. I think I could have kept control of myself if Tom had ranted and raved at that moment: shouted and been abusive. I could have used that as my crutch to prop me up and continue in my world of living apart from everyone else. Of not letting them see my weaknesses, of pretending that I was happy and contented. Suddenly, all that broke like a mirror crashing to the floor and my real image, behind the mirror, was laid bare for all to see. Especially to Tom, for he looked at me then with new eyes. The love he had for me had been stripped away. His eyes were cold and rage was developing in them.
But he kept his voice low and quiet. ‘I want you to tell me all about it, Kate. How did it happen? What did he do to you? I must know for my own sanity. Tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out. I need to know. Please do this for me.’
‘I can’t,’ I pleaded. ‘Please don’t make me li
ve it again. I’ve tried so hard to bury it. I couldn’t bear to live it again.’
‘Kate, for God’s sake, it can’t be as bad as the terrible thoughts I’m thinking. Please tell me.’ He walked up and down the kitchen like a caged tiger. Finally, he looked out of the window with his back to me. ‘You didn’t . . . you didn’t . . . like it did you?’
His words hung in the air, spiteful and barbed.
How could he think such a thing? Does he not know me at all? Is there so little understanding between us? I knew that comment was the end of us. I couldn’t forgive him thinking of me like that. He had no real understanding of who or what I was. He saw only his image of me.
‘How dare you say that to me,’ I screeched. How could you think such a thing, let alone say it?’
He turned around fast and faced me. ‘You haven’t denied it,’ he accused.
In a fury, I flung myself at him and hit him on the chest with my fists, screaming, ‘No. No. No. I did not enjoy it. It was hell. I’ve lived in hell ever since.’
Tom held me at arm’s length, looking at me intently. I pleaded with my eyes. I had to make him understand.
‘He ruined my life,’ I sobbed. ‘He ruined me for you. He took away everything I had to give you. My virginity and the tenderness I felt for you. It was all taken away before I had the chance to give myself to you. I couldn’t do that afterwards, Tom. I curled my emotions into a tight ball protected from everything. I can’t uncurl those emotions because I think I would kill Dudley if I did. I want to kill him. And that frightens me. Sometimes I wish I had never met you because then I would not know Dudley. He would not have come into my life and ruined it.’
Tom pushed me away and started to pace again. ‘That bastard has ruined everyone’s life. I swear to you, I’ll find him and kill him.’
‘Tom, please no. Don’t do it. He’s not worth it. I can’t lose you, you’re my husband and we’re about to have a child. Think of the child. Oh, please, think of the child.’
The Rocking Stone Page 16