Winners and Losers

by Catrin Collier

  ‘All of you are going to chapel? Even your father and older brother?’ Joyce’s late husband had been a fellow Marxist and friend of Billy Evans and she couldn’t visualize either father or son sitting in a chapel pew.

  ‘They’re waiting with Sali at the end of the lane. If you’re ready, Megan, we should go,’ Victor prompted.

  ‘I’m quite ready, Victor. Don’t worry, Mrs Palmer, I’ll be back on time.’

  ‘Enjoy the service.’ Joyce looked after their retreating figures and wished she could leave her lodgers to their own devices for once, and join them. Not because she had any pangs of conscience about missing chapel. But she had a feeling that this was going to be one service the Baptists wouldn’t forget for a long time.

  ‘Where’s Harry?’ Megan saw Sali, Lloyd and Mr Evans waiting at the end of the lane, but there was no sign of Sali’s son.

  ‘Connie, Annie and Tonia invited him to high tea.’ Victor offered her his arm and she took it.

  ‘A tactical high tea?’

  ‘Harry loves going to Connie and Tonia’s for tea; they don’t mind him cheating at snap,’ Joey said from behind them.

  ‘Is it possible to cheat at snap?’ Megan asked Victor doubtfully.

  ‘Joey’s done his best to teach him.’

  ‘I heard that,’ Joey said.

  ‘You were meant to.’

  Megan smiled at Lloyd, Sali and Mr Evans. ‘Good evening.’

  ‘I trust it will be for us –and everyone else.’ Mr Evans lifted his bowler hat, as Ned and Betty Morgan walked down the hill towards them. ‘Ned, Betty, dry evening for once, even if it is a bit cold,’ he added, in an attempt to force a reply.

  Ignoring the pressure of his wife’s fingers digging into his arm, Ned agreed. ‘It is that, Billy.’

  ‘We must be going. Billy, Lloyd, Sali, Joey, Victor, good evening.’ Betty deliberately omitted Megan’s name.

  ‘Have you heard that Victor and Megan are engaged?’ Billy stood in front of Betty, preventing her from walking on. ‘Would you like to see the ring, Betty? It was Isabella’s but she didn’t wear it very often.’

  Drawing strength from the presence of Victor and his family, Megan dared to speak. ‘As my father won’t give his permission for me to marry Victor, Mrs Morgan, we’ll have to wait until I’m twenty-one. And even then the wedding will be small because it’s unlikely he will allow any of my family to attend.’ She removed her glove and held her hand in a pool of lamplight.

  ‘We were hoping that when the time comes, you’d help us to arrange the wedding, Betty,’ Sali broke in, taking advantage of Betty’s surprise at the news.

  ‘Megan’s only eighteen so she has three years to go, and in my experience it doesn’t take anywhere near that long to arrange a wedding,’ Betty replied to Sali while continuing to ignore Megan.

  ‘I’m nineteen, Mrs Morgan, so it’s less than two years,’ Megan corrected shyly.

  ‘With this strike -’

  ‘Are you suggesting that we have to starve for another two years before management capitulates to our demands, woman!’ Ned exclaimed.

  ‘No -’

  ‘We’d better get along to chapel or we’ll be late,’ Billy broke in. Ned and Betty’s arguments could be long and noisy, as he had discovered after years of living in the same street.

  Lloyd tipped his hat to Betty and walked ahead with Sali.

  ‘Does the minister have friends in the Swansea Valley who know your father?’ Victor asked Megan, as they followed.

  ‘Everyone knows everyone else in the farming community in the Swansea Valley.’

  ‘So your father is likely to find out that you’ve been to chapel with me and my family.’

  ‘Almost certainly.’

  ‘And what happened in the theatre last night?’

  ‘I hope not.’ Megan said, ‘Good evening,’ to the crowd outside the chapel door but just as she’d expected, they ignored her.

  Mr Evans acknowledged the people he knew, adding, ‘You all know Megan Williams, my son Victor’s fiancée.’

  ‘Victor, engaged? You do surprise me, Mr Evans.’ Betty Morgan’s sister Alice Hughes joined them, hoping to hear some juicy gossip.

  ‘Megan is engaged to your son, Mr Evans?’ The minister stood before the chapel door, dressed in an old-fashioned black frock coat and tall hat.

  ‘Yes. Mr Walker, isn’t it?’ Billy offered the minister his hand. ‘I hope you have no objection to my sons, Mrs Jones and I attending the service this evening?’

  ‘None of you are Baptist.’ The minister’s disapproval was evident.

  ‘No,’ Lloyd agreed equitably. ‘But we are all thinking of converting.’ He looked Mr Walker in the eye, daring him to call him a liar.

  ‘God’s house is open to all, isn’t it, Mr Walker?’ Ned challenged.

  When the minister didn’t offer a reply, another voice cut through the crowd. ‘That’s what it says in the Bible. Isn’t that right, minister?’

  Everyone turned to see Sergeant Martin in full uniform standing on the steps flanked by half a dozen constables.

  ‘It does, Sergeant Martin,’ Mr Walker agreed hastily, overawed by the sight of so many officers heading into his chapel.

  ‘Even police officers, and assistant housekeepers who run their lodging houses?’ The sergeant stepped up alongside Megan and she shrank closer to Victor, who guided her towards the chapel door.

  The minister hesitated for a split second. ‘Of course, sergeant.’ He stepped aside and allowed Victor and Megan to enter.

  ‘You’ll thank your father, brothers and Sali again for me. I would have never found the courage to go to chapel on my own tonight.’ Megan halted outside the kitchen door of the lodging house.

  Victor pulled her towards him. ‘Yes, you would have.’

  ‘Not without you.’

  ‘Much as I hate to admit it after the man arrested me and Joey, Sergeant Martin helped. You don’t like him, do you?’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘From the way you avoid looking at him.’ He slid his hand beneath her cloak.

  ‘He gives me the creeps. I don’t know why,’ she added in the hope of allaying any suspicions Victor might have. She was all too aware that Sergeant Martin could make even more trouble for Victor and his family than Constable Wainwright if he chose to. And she didn’t dare mention the chocolates.

  ‘He’s never said or done anything to you?’ Victor questioned after he kissed her.

  ‘You’ve seen him, he’s always polite.’

  ‘Too polite,’ Victor qualified. ‘Even when he arrested me and Joey he did everything by the book, unlike the sergeant who arrested Lloyd and half killed him. All the same, you’ll stay out of his way?’

  ‘I don’t need you to tell me to do that.’ She wrapped her arms around his waist. ‘I felt like part of your family tonight.’

  ‘You are. Pick you up at twelve o’clock next Saturday?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ Megan stood on tiptoe and raised her head to receive another kiss, which tasted salty since he had forgone tooth powder for block salt to economize.

  Although both of them were aware of his father, brothers and Sali waiting for him at the end of the lane, she clung to him, burying her head in his shoulder, luxuriating in the scents she had come to associate with him. The clean, antiseptic tang of carbolic soap, the oily odour of his woollen overcoat, the smell of his leather gloves, but even more than the scents, she revelled in the sense of security she felt whenever his arms were around her.

  ‘You’ll take care of yourself, until next week, Megs.’

  She knew that he was as reluctant to leave her as she was to let him go. ‘I will, if you promise to keep yourself safe.’

  ‘You don’t have to worry about me. I have too much to live for to risk my neck.’ He gave her one last smile, turned and walked quickly away.

  She watched him join his father, brothers and Sali. When they moved out of sight, she depressed the latch on the kitchen door, w
alked in, removed her gloves, cloak and hat, hung them on the stand and washed her hands.

  The crockery and cutlery for supper were ready, stacked on trays, waiting to be taken into the dining room. She glanced at the clock. Half past seven. The first supper sitting was at eight, the last at nine. She wondered which one Sergeant Martin would opt for.

  ‘Good, you’re here nice and early, Megan. Everything all right in chapel?’ Joyce walked in, newspaper in hand, her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Palmer.’

  ‘You look tired, but little wonder the way I work you. As soon as the last sitting of supper is over you can go to bed.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Palmer.’ Megan attempted a smile but she couldn’t help feeling that it was only the beginning of a long and tiring evening.

  At half past ten, Megan climbed the stairs to the top floor and went into her bedroom. Feeling slightly foolish she checked the wardrobe and looked under the beds before locking the door. She undressed, washed and changed into her nightdress. A quarter of an hour later Lena still hadn’t come up and she could hardly lock her out of their room. Hoping that Lena would turn up soon, she turned the key, checked that the door would open, moved the candle as far away from the curtain on the window sill as possible and dived into bed.

  She sat up watching the door, fully intending to wait for Lena so she could ask her to lock the door behind her. But, as the minutes ticked by she rested her head on the pillow and closed her eyes, only for a moment ...

  She woke with a start. The candle had burned low and the flame was guttering in a draught.

  ‘Lena?’ Pulling the bedclothes to her chin, she sat up and looked around. There was no one in the room. She picked up the bracelet watch Victor had given her last Christmas. The hands pointed to eleven. Lena had to be in the house. She wouldn’t dare come in later than half past ten. Perhaps she had come in the bedroom when she’d been asleep and gone back downstairs for something she’d forgotten. Then she saw the box of chocolates on the chest of drawers. One thing she was certain of. They hadn’t been there when she had prepared for bed.

  ‘Sorry I’m late. I didn’t wake you, did I?’ Lena crept into the bedroom at midnight.

  ‘You didn’t come up earlier?’ Megan asked urgently.

  ‘No. I came in at half past ten and helped Mrs Palmer with the washing-up. It seemed to take for ever.’

  Megan picked up her watch and glanced at it again in case she had misread it. She often helped Mrs Palmer with the supper dishes and they always finished them by eleven o’clock. ‘Did you have a good time?’ she asked suspiciously.

  ‘The best.’ Lena sat on her bed and unlaced her black leather boots. They had cost her entire first week’s wages, and although she had bought herself two dresses, a skirt, blouse and underclothes since, they remained her favourite possession.

  ‘You’re sure you didn’t come up earlier?’ Megan pressed, half hoping that Lena had found the chocolates outside the door and brought them in.

  ‘No, why do you ask?’

  Megan had put the chocolates out of sight in her drawer and had already decided not to return them to Sergeant Martin again but to throw them away. ‘No reason.’

  ‘Fred –Constable Wainwright took me to a hotel,’ Lena gushed, high on excitement. ‘I’ve never been in one before. We had a lovely meal, and a maid waited on us. I had brown soup, roast pork, roast potatoes, parsnips, spinach, gravy, apple sauce, a glass of wine and for afters we had iced cabinet pudding. Have you ever had iced cabinet pudding?’

  ‘Yes, once,’ Megan replied shortly. ‘Which hotel did you go to?’

  ‘The White Hart. Do you know they have private rooms upstairs?’

  ‘Yes, they rent them out to travellers.’ Megan also knew from indiscreet hints dropped by her uncle that the landlord wasn’t averse to renting out the rooms on an hourly basis. ‘You didn’t eat in a private room, did you?’

  ‘Yes. It was heavenly, just like a posh house. There was a table, two chairs, two easy chairs, a big huge couch and a bed.’ Lena had the grace to blush when she reached under her pillow for her nightdress.

  ‘Lena, ever since I walked in on you the other day I’ve been meaning to talk to you. You don’t really know Constable Wainwright -’

  ‘Oh, but I do. Look.’ Lena unpinned a cheap garish brooch from her winceyette blouse and held it out for Megan to admire. Even from three feet away Megan could see it was gilt and glass. ‘It’s the very first present I’ve ever had from anyone in my entire life.’ Lena sat back on her bed and continued to study it.

  ‘It’s lovely, Lena,’ Megan said quietly, not wanting to upset the girl. But she couldn’t allow the subject to drop, not after ‘Fred’ had touched her breast and whispered, ‘Shipton’s right. All you women are the same, begging for a man to give it to you.’ If he talked to her that way, how serious could he possibly be about marrying Lena?

  ‘Does Mrs Palmer know about you and Constable Wainwright?’

  ‘Course not. He was angry when you walked in and saw us together the other day. He only calmed down when I reminded him that you’d promised you wouldn’t tell anyone about us because you didn’t want me to lose my job.’

  Megan realized that Lena either hadn’t heard the threat Fred Wainwright had made about Victor and his family, or else had conveniently forgotten it. ‘Haven’t you ever wondered why he doesn’t want anyone else to know that he’s courting you, Lena?’

  ‘He’s explained all that.’ Lena went to the washstand and poured water into the bowl. ‘It’s because the policemen on duty here aren’t supposed to get involved with people who live in the town.’

  ‘But he’s not always on duty,’ Megan pointed out logically. ‘He has free time and surely he can see anyone he wants to and do what he likes then.’

  ‘He said all the officers have been warned not to get involved with the local girls because of the strike. It’s like there are two sides. He’s on one and because I’m from around here, I’m on the other.’

  Given the antagonism between the strikers and the police, Megan could understand the warning, but it didn’t make her any the less suspicious of the sincerity of Fred Wainwright’s ‘courting’. ‘Lena, you do know that if you let him ... do what he wants with you,’ she finished tactfully, ‘you could have a baby.’

  ‘He says I won’t, because he’s careful.’

  ‘Then you’ve been all the way with him!’ Despite what she’d seen Fred and Lena doing, Megan was shocked, given the short length of time the police had been in the valley.

  ‘We went to the White Hart because someone always walks in on us when we try to do anything here.’

  ‘Then where were you until now? And don’t say doing the dishes.’

  ‘It’s Fred’s night off and all the men in his room are working, so we were able to sneak in there for a little while. Although I’m surprised he wanted to after the time we had in the White Hart. And I let him do whatever he wants to me because I love him and he loves me. Besides, I like the things he does to me,’ Lena added defiantly. She dried her hands and face and undressed and Megan couldn’t help but contrast the way Lena stripped naked in front of her with her modest attitude the first night they had shared a room less than a week before.

  ‘Most girls wait until they get married before making love because they are afraid that their boyfriends will take advantage of them,’ Megan advised.

  ‘Fred’s promised to marry me as soon as the strike is over. And like he says, why should we wait? This month, next month, there’s no difference. I’ll have a ring on my finger soon enough, and when I do he’ll take me back to London with him. He said it’s a huge city, even bigger than Cardiff. And there’s all sorts of things there, parks with lakes that you can rent boats on and row around, restaurants, hotels, theatres, even a zoo with lions and tigers.’ Lena jumped into bed, sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. ‘And he says he’ll buy me ...’ She fell silent at a knock
on the door.

  ‘You girls should be sleeping not gossiping.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Palmer.’ Megan slid down in her bed. But even as she blew out the candle she sensed that she wasn’t going to get a good night’s sleep. Lena was naive, and Fred Wainwright ... she hated to think that he was using Lena, but she found it difficult to believe he was doing anything else. She couldn’t deny that he was good-looking but she didn’t believe for one minute that he intended to marry Lena or take her back to London with him. Quite aside from the threats he’d made about Victor and the Evanses and the way he’d treated her, there was something cold and calculating about him. Just as there was about Sergeant Martin. And the thought of the sergeant entering her bedroom and watching her sleep made her afraid –and somehow violated.

  For the first time since he had moved into Sali’s bedroom, Lloyd knocked on the door instead of simply walking in. ‘Victor’s just gone down to pick up Megan,’ he told Sali through the closed door.

  ‘We don’t have to leave for another half hour, do we?’

  ‘No, but he couldn’t sit still so my father sent him packing.’

  ‘Lloyd, we’ve been man and wife in all but name for so long, you don’t have to talk to me through the door just because we’re getting married today. And considering we’ll be travelling down on the same train to Pontypridd, that superstition about the groom not seeing the bride before the ceremony doesn’t apply to us anyway.’

  Lloyd opened the door and gazed at Sali’s reflection in the mirror. She was sitting in front of the dressing table, pinning up her hair. Her suit was plain, just as she’d told him it would be, a deep rich russet that brought out chestnut highlights in her hair. Her blouse was cream silk ornamented with ruffles of lace at the sleeves and throat and she was wearing a cameo brooch he’d given her clipped at the neck. She saw him watching her in the mirror and smiled back at him.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ he complimented. ‘I can’t believe you’re actually going to be my wife two hours from now.’