‘Nelly,’ one of them pleaded, ‘can we borrow your cart to take our guy around?’
‘Go on then, but bring it back in good condition,’ she warned. She felt in her pocket where she had put some coins ready for her bus fare. ‘’Ere, you can ’ave three pence to get you started.’
In the main road several other groups of young hopefuls were begging pennies for the guy to earn money for fireworks. Hidden by a mask but unmistakable to her, she saw Oliver.
‘Does yer mother know what you’re doing…? Silly question!’ she said. ‘Don’t worry Ollie, I’ve got a few fireworks put away for bonfire night. I’ve been putting a few coppers aside each week in Amy’s shop. Five shillings’ worth I’ve got, but some of that was from a win on the ’orses – don’t-tell-yer-mother!’
When she reached town, the rain which had been threatening all day began to fall. A wind sprang up blowing the rain into her face and making Nelly and her suitcase lose balance at every corner. Once she had sold the clothes to Mrs Greener, the case waved about worse than before and it was a relief when opening time came at the pub and she could go inside and find a seat.
The wet dogs curled up at her feet and she ordered two packets of crisps and a glass of stout. The crisps she shared with the dogs and the stout quickly disappeared. Two more glasses followed and, her damp clothes drying in the warmth of the bar-room, Nelly felt herself dozing.
When she got up to order another drink she felt cold and although she moved to sit as close to the fire as other customers would allow, she couldn’t get comfortable. She watched the dart players for a while, sometimes shouting encouragement, sometimes losing track of the game, but the evening was not a success. She missed George.
The room filled up and she was warmer despite there being several people between herself and the fire. She failed to make friends with anyone, they were all in their own groups and refused to allow her to join in. Swallowing her fifth glass of stout, she went to the counter, pushing her way through the men who always huddled against the bar as if they had earned a proprietary right by long tenancy, and she bought a couple of bottles to take home.
With difficulty, and by annoying several of those standing near, Nelly opened her suitcase and slipped the bottles inside. Pulling the sleeping dogs to their feet, she headed outside.
In the doorway she met Maurice, and the girl with him was Sheila Powell.
‘’Ello Maurice. ’Ave one fer me will yer? I’m off ’ome. Got wet an’ I’m feelin’ a bit chilled.’
‘Come and have one with us,’ he invited. ‘You know Sheila don’t you? Coming to live above Amy’s shop.’
‘Yes, I know who yer are.’ A grimace more than a smile accompanied the words.
‘You won’t let on you’ve seen me, will you?’ Sheila said in her high voice. ‘Mam thinks I’m out with the girls from the shop.’
‘Old enough to do what you want, ain’t yer?’
‘Yes, but it’s difficult living at home. It’s rows all the time if I don’t do what Mam and Dad say.’
‘Get yourself a place, why don’t yer?’
‘On three pounds fifteen a week? Fat chance!’
‘What about your place, Nelly. Got a room to rent for her?’ Maurice asked.
‘No bloody fear! I’d find meself a real ’andsome man, not a girl!’ She laughed her loud laugh and pushed past them to the pavement.
The cold hit her and she bent against the wind as she hurried to the bus stop, her suitcase swinging and the bottles inside clinking. She stood back from the kerb and watched for the bus from the shelter of a shop doorway, the dogs leaning against her for warmth so that she bent and covered them with her coat.
‘Back in time for The Goon Show with a bit of luck,’ she said from between chattering teeth.
The wind began to gust, bringing showers into their inadequate shelter, and Nelly decided to have a stroll and look at the shop windows. A radio attracted her attention and she dreamed of owning one and having music and laughter all day. ‘’Eaven that would be, Bobby. But that one’s electric and that wouldn’t work off me oil lamp!’ She returned to the bus stop as the double-decker turned the corner, splashing muddy water across the kerb, and stopped for her to get on.
‘Upstairs with them dogs!’ the conductor shouted.
‘’Ang on to this then.’ Nelly pushed the suitcase at him and puffed her way up the stairs as the bus moved off.
She didn’t go to Netta Cartwright’s. She was cold and wet and hoped to get home and save the fire. She knew she had not banked it up properly, with Phil arriving and her being in a hurry because of him. Just her luck if it was out. ‘Straight ’ome for us, boys,’ she said, then stopped, ‘We was goin’ to ’ave some fish an’ chips! I nearly fergot.’
Dragging the wet dogs and the ungainly suitcase, she crossed the road and joined the queue at Milly Toogood’s daughter’s fish shop. A soggy end to an evening out an’ no mistake, she thought as the steamed-up door opened and the warmth escaped into the night.
‘Don’t bring them dogs in ’ere,’ a voice shouted as her foot touched the step.
‘Piss off then and keep yer rotten chips,’ Nelly retorted, pulling the dogs back outside.
‘It’s bread an’ fish paste for us and it’ll go down a treat with a bottle of stout,’ Nelly told the dogs. She began to sing defiantly as she climbed up the lane, ‘She can keep ’er fish an’ chips, she can keep ’er fish an’ chips, I’d rather ’ave me fish paste any day.’
* * *
After the mixed emotions of the first love-making, Sheila began to meet Maurice regularly. The illicit affair had at first frightened her with its intensity, and she lay awake worrying at night. Then she had seen how other girls looked at Maurice and she began to enjoy not only the sex, but also going out with him and feeling more adult than she had felt before. She smiled when she thought of Freddy’s nervous fumblings. Maurice didn’t take no for an answer, but he knew what a girl wanted: someone strong and masterful, reliable and mature.
They met at exciting times; in the small hours of the morning, when it was still dark, he would bring a blanket and a flask of tea and they would share a magical picnic in the secret darkness. At night, long after her parents slept, he would come and throw a pebble at her window and they would snuggle together in the garden shed.
She told no one about the meetings, apart from hinting to her friends about the exciting man she was in love with and who was desperately in love with her. The girls at the shop had only seen Freddy and thought she was inventing the other man to cover her embarrassment at going out with a boy younger than herself. Her parents were a bit concerned at the number of times she went to the pictures with girls from the shop, but they believed her, hoping that her previous behaviour with men was past and forgotten.
The staff in the dress-shop where Sheila worked ran a Twenty Club between them. At the beginning of every twenty weeks they drew numbers from a hat and the number they drew decided which week they would have twenty pounds to spend. Sheila managed to join by telling her mother she earned a pound less than she actually did. Week seventeen was hers and she could go along to a large department store with a voucher and spend the twenty pounds collected.
On Friday morning, when the pay envelopes were handed out and everyone put their pound note into the collection, she was given her voucher and she signed the side of the list of names with a flourish. Seeing Maurice regularly was great fun, but she was desperately short of clothes. It had been all right when she had gone out occasionally straight from work with one of the girls. The green skirt and cream blouse they all had to wear was perfectly adequate, but she couldn’t dress like that for Maurice. Her Twenty Club would help.
To justify the commission the manageress received from the department store, she allowed the recipient of the voucher an extra long lunch-break to spend it. With the precious piece of paper in her purse, Sheila made her way to the store to enjoy herself. There would have been a discount on any clothes sh
e had bought in the gown-shop, but she needed other things as well as dresses. She would buy more, cheaper clothes plus a few accessories to help extend them.
She walked around the displays shaking her head at the assistants who came to help. She made a mental list of the places she and Maurice would be likely to go, extending her ideas as her hopes of a long-term affair grew. He would be so proud of her in her smart new clothes that he would speak to her mother about marriage and bring everything out into the open.
She admired a Pringle twinset but abandoned it without regret. It cost far too much and she didn’t need expensive things to look good. She wanted something smart for when they went to an out-of-town pub for a drink, and something dark and practical for the visits to the woods. Her heart leapt at the memories. And she needed shoes. She ought to abandon the slim high heels she loved and choose something flat, but then she looked at them and shook her head. No need to go that far. But she did buy a pair of ballet-style shoes and two pairs of nylons, plus the thread to mend them. She chose a skirt and two men’s jumpers, and the rest she spent on beads and scarves, digging into her money to buy a pretty slim gold belt with an ornamental buckle, and a wide one to wear with the men’s jumpers that would almost reach the hem of her skirt.
Maurice would be so impressed. It was early days, but she knew he meant it when he talked about marriage and she firmly believed in love at first sight. Bonfire night would be so romantic and she was determined to go out with him then. She had a plan to persuade her parents she would come to no harm. Freddy would help her there.
Walking back to the shop with her parcels she was as excited as a child at Christmas. She imagined the admiration in Maurice’s eyes as she wore each outfit. Her mind whirled with ideas for combining the new skirt with some blouses and the new jumpers. There was a radiant smile on her face which, when she met Freddy waiting outside the staff door, seemed to be for him.
‘Freddy, what are you doing here?’
‘Come to see you of course. Why else would I be standing here? Got time for a coffee?’
Sheila shook her head, her eyes full of regret. ‘Sorry Freddy, really disappointed. I’m late already.’
‘I came to ask if you could come with me to the bonfire party,’ he said in a rush as she made to go inside.
She turned to face him, her blue eyes enormous and shining with pleasure. ‘Freddy! That would be lovely!’ What luck. He was falling in with her plans without even knowing it. ‘I’d love to, but only if your sister Margaret will come with us.’
‘Margaret? But why?’
Sheila could hardly tell him that by going with a fifteen-year-old boy and his eight-year-old sister her mother would be reassured. ‘Take it or leave it. I’ve got to go now.’
‘Give me a kiss to make up for my disappointment and I’ll ask her.’
She turned her face upward for him and for a moment the kiss was less casual than she intended. Smiling, she went into the shop. Everything was working out perfectly; she would go to the bonfire with a couple of innocent kids, and ditch them to meet Maurice.
Several families had clubbed together and planned their own bonfire but the biggest was on the field behind Evie and Timothy’s house. Evie had complained, of course, but to no avail. The field belonged to Leighton and had been used by the village every year since old Caradoc Owen, who was over ninety, was a boy.
But this year there was a slight change. The bonfire was being delayed from the fifth to the following Saturday. It would also be lit a few hours later than usual, so the darkness would show fireworks to their full effect. During the night of the fifth there were several parties, mostly in people’s back gardens for young children, but most had saved their fireworks for the communal party.
The rain miraculously kept off for the few days before the party, and with fresh paper to start the wood burning, it was expected to go well. Early in the afternoon children began to gather, collecting further supplies of wood and chattering in excited voices. There would be potatoes cooked at the edges of the huge fire, supplied as usual by Mr Leighton. Some were stolen and eaten raw by those impatient for the festivities to begin, but most waited, just handling them and imagining the mouth-watering taste as they would receive them hot and black, singed from the ashes.
Dressed in their oldest clothes, Margaret and Oliver walked up to the council houses with Freddy. At Sheila’s house Freddy knocked and waited until Mrs Powell opened the door and invited them inside.
‘It’s all right, Mrs Powell, I’ve got Margaret and Oliver here. Best we wait outside.’
The door closed again and Freddy stood with the others, trying to concentrate on the garden and identify the remains of the dying plants.
When the door opened again a darkly-dressed Sheila emerged. She wore what looked like a navy school mackintosh with a belt loosely tied around her waist, flat black shoes, and socks which came up to her knees. Her long hair fell about her shoulders, loosley tied at each side, and on her head was a dark beret. Freddy thought she looked more like a school girl than Margaret, who was wearing a short jacket and trousers. She made him feel uneasy.
Mrs Powell followed her daughter to the gate and said to Freddy, ‘Look after her now, she’s in your care.’
‘She’ll be all right with us, Mrs Powell,’ Freddy promised.
Mrs Powell stood and watched as they walked down the hill fading from her sight between street lamps until they disappeared at the corner of Hywel Rise.
Mrs Powell was a sharp-faced woman who always wore a frown. She went back into the house and stood at the window, looking down at the point at which her daughter had disappeared.
‘What’s the matter?’ Ralph Powell asked.
‘I don’t know. I’m uneasy about her. She’s been out so much lately and I know I can’t stop her but I’ve a feeling there’s a man involved somewhere.’
‘Forget it Mavis. She’s old enough now to go out without us being told everything about where she goes. She let this boy, Freddy, call so you could see who she was with, what more can she do?’
‘We could go to the bonfire ourselves, make sure she is there.’
‘I was hoping for a night in, listening to the wireless,’ Ralph grumbled.
‘We could walk down there just for a few minutes to see what’s going on?’
‘It’s a kid’s party, for goodness sake. What could be going on?’
‘It was a kid’s party once before, remember? I’ve got a feeling, that’s all.’
Ralph switched off the radio and stood up with a sigh. ‘Come on then. I can see I’ll have no peace unless we go. Though I think you should let her alone. She’s twenty-one now and all that was a long time ago.’
The trouble with Sheila had begun nine years before with a letter asking them to go and see the headmistress of her school because Sheila was ‘bothering the boys’. Later, at a children’s party, Sheila had undressed and danced on the table among the jellies and iced cakes, to the amusement of everyone except Mavis and Ralph Powell.
After that occasion they always met her from school and took her there. When she left to start work they continued to keep a close watch on her, meeting anyone who showed any interest in her and refusing her permission to go out with boys. Pregnancy was a constant nightmare as they couldn’t watch her every moment of the day. There had been rumours about several young boys living near but these they investigated and decided were inventions.
There had only been a problem once since they had come to live with Mavis’s mother, who helped keep on eye on her. Neighbours had complained that Sheila had been seen putting clothes on the line wearing only a small bra and even smaller pants. Only now, several years after that last unfortunate incident, did they feel they could leave the grandmother’s house and go back to living as a family without the extra pair of eyes to watch the girl.
Mavis had been content to let Sheila go out with Freddy Prichard, knowing he was only fifteen, but had been alarmed when she saw how large he was and h
ow grown-up he looked with his glasses and the moustache.
‘He’s a bit big for his age, overweight most likely, but he seems polite enough. Boys are different now. All those years without a father to guide them when the men were all taken to be soldiers. It made the girls go wild and the boys mature too quickly.’
‘Yes,’ Mavis agreed. ‘I blame the war for our Sheila.’
‘Freddy’s father wasn’t in the war though. He disappeared before the wedding you might say.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Amy Prichard isn’t married and never has been.’
‘Oh my God,’ Mavis fluttered. ‘Like father like son! Sheila’s gone out with a seducer! Come on, let’s find her before we’re too late.’
‘Don’t be daft. There’s nothing wrong with Freddy. Or his mother either. Leave Sheila be. She’s twenty-one and there’s nothing we can do if she means to go wild.’
‘Yes there is, Ralph Powell. We can protect her like we’ve always done! Come on!’
Taking a coat from behind the door, she threw it at her husband and put on her own jacket, fastening it as she hurried out.
* * *
Freddy walked with Sheila, listening to her chatter about her new clothes and the excitement of having twenty pounds to spend, while Margaret and Oliver ran on ahead. ‘You didn’t spend it all, did you?’
‘When I had a ten shilling rise last year I didn’t tell Mam. Then I persuaded her I needed more cash for my bus fare and food and she let me keep an extra ten shillings and I put the money into a Twenty Club. What she doesn’t know won’t keep me awake nights, will it?’
‘I’d have bought a new bike,’ Freddy said a little wistfully. ‘Not that I’ll need one for a long time, I’m going into the army.’
‘You’re not! Fancy signing your life away. Not old enough for conscription are you? Going in proper?’
Valley Affairs Page 10