‘Letter there from the council,’ he said as he kissed her welcome. He felt her stiffen in his arms.
‘Open it, will you’ she said, ‘while I take off my hat and coat?’
Johnny tore open the envelope and read the letter with a look of horror on his face. ‘Fay! What have you done?’ he yelled furiously. He ran up the stairs and, glaring at his wife, waved the letter in the air. ‘You secretly arranged for someone to see where we live and condemn it as unfit for habitation! What d’you think Mam will think of this? Have you no thought for her at all?’
Fay was frightened. She had never seen Johnny even remotely angry with her and he had never raised his voice to her before. Even when she was being her most difficult he had never been anything but gentle and understanding.
‘I knew you wouldn’t agree if I asked you first,’ she whispered.
‘I know now, you treated Mam to the pictures and tea in town and I thought it was a generous thought, while all the time you planned for the housing inspector to look at our home and say Mam had given unfit accommodation. How could you do it, Fay?’ He stared at the letter again but the words danced in front of his eyes. ‘And as for us moving to St David’s Close, forget it!’
Johnny stormed back downstairs and Fay shrank down on the bed. No tears came but she shivered all over and she felt sick. She had been so sure Johnny would listen to her and understand her reasons. She couldn’t stay in one room any longer. The insult to Netta Cartwright was not intended, and indeed had not been a conscious thought. Thoughtless, that was what she was, thoughtless!
In despair she tried to think of what to do. Seeing Johnny so angry, she was convinced he would never forgive her. If only she had taken him or Netta into her confidence, persuaded them it was right to get a place of their own without waiting to buy a house. She could have persuaded Johnny, and Netta would have supported her, they were so good. But it was time they moved out and the house on St David’s Close was the one she wanted.
Darkness came and she still sat on the edge of the bed without moving to put on the light. She heard voices downstairs and knew Johnny was telling Netta what she had done. Childishly she wished she could climb out of the window and not have to go downstairs to face them.
The smell of food wafted up the stairs but did not make her hungry, only more nauseous. She undressed, changed into a nightdress and creamed her face ready for bed. She would wait until the house was quiet before she ventured into the bathroom to clean her teeth. It was unlikely that Johnny would be coming up to sleep with her tonight.
The front door banged and the gate swung on its hinges. She looked out and saw Johnny walking away towards the church and the school. He would be going to see Maurice. Then the tears started, tears of guilt and self-pity. She curled up on the bed and allowed them to fall.
She didn’t hear the bedroom door open, but a shaft of light across the bed made her look up to see Netta with a tray of sandwiches and tea.
‘Come on, fach, you’ve got to eat or you won’t sleep.’
As Fay began to cry again, loud and unrestrained, Netta put her arms around her.
‘There, there, let it come. I know how unhappy you’ve been sharing this little house, and wanting your own things about you. Need to show your personality, especially being newly married. That’s what makes sharing through and through difficult. You aren’t a cluttery, over-crowded, ornament-strewn sort of person, and you hate people to think you are. This house is full of all the people who’ve lived in it, not your sort of place at all. I can see how smart you’d make a house of your own. Johnny would be so proud of the way you’d make it. No clutter at all, and there’s you having to live amongst mine.’
‘I’m sorry if I offended you, I didn’t think.’
‘I remember when I first came to live here with my mother-in-law. Gas light then of course, and her unwilling for me to change to electricity. I thought I’d help her one day and took all her photographs off the top of the chest-of-drawers and the small tables. I left a vase of flowers instead. There’s a cheek I had, thinking I was helping, saving her the bother of dusting them. But she needed them all, and it was her home, not mine. I was busting to cry that day, but I didn’t.’
Netta’s quiet voice went on soothing Fay until she was able to drink the tea and eat a sandwich. They went downstairs and Netta said, ‘Now I’m off to see Nelly. Promised for ages that I’d go and see her. Tonight seems a good night. I’ll be back at eleven.’
Leaving Fay sitting beside the fire waiting for Johnny’s return, Netta took a torch and set off for Nelly’s cottage.
It was ten o’clock when Johnny returned. He glared at Fay and she rose to make a cup of tea which she handed to him with a shaking hand.
‘I’m sorry, Johnny. I always seem to be saying that to you, don’t I? But I really am ashamed of being so cruel to your mother. She doesn’t deserve it. I just didn’t think of how she would feel.’
He reached out but did not take the cup. Instead, he held her wrist and pulled her down beside him, the tea-cup wobbling precariously.
‘Why don’t you talk to me about important things? You make me feel so useless. We’re married. I love you. Why do you always keep things from me?’
‘I want my own way too much I suppose. I hate sharing a house. Your mother understands.’
‘So would I, if you’d bothered to talk to me about it.’
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you out of my plan. It’s your life too.’
‘We never intended it to be forever, just until we could save for a house of our own. Yn wir, it’s lucky we are to be able to live here. Mam is put out too, remember, just to give us a chance to save.’
‘I’m ashamed of hurting her, but I promise you, I won’t forget how I feel about her and you at this moment. I’ll find a way of making up for what I’ve done.’
The tea cup still wavered about in her hand and she pulled away from him and lowered it to the floor. When she sat up again, Johnny’s arms were around her and crying, laughing, they hugged each other.
‘I’ll never keep things from you again.’
‘See you don’t,’ he said gruffly, kissing her with more urgency. ‘Share everything in future, right?’
‘Everything,’ she promised with a final sob.
‘And as for the council house, well, perhaps you were right there. Not the way you did it mind, Iesu mawr, Mam would have helped if she’d been asked! But perhaps we were too ambitious to expect to buy quickly enough to make the temporary arrangements work. We’ll take the house. But no more secrets.’
‘Never again.’
When Netta got back the house was silent and she smiled and gave a sigh. A dangerous moment had passed safely. There would be other storms but, for the moment at least, the waters of their marriage were calm.
Chapter Seven
Evie was in the bathroom getting the curlers out of her short, bubble-cut hair. There was a meeting that evening and she was going with Timothy. They were to go and collect Mrs Norwood Bennet-Hughes on the way and Evie was quite excited at the prospect of travelling with such an important person. She carefully unrolled her hair and brushed out each tight roll before making smaller curls around her finger with the tail comb.
‘Oliver,’ she called when she heard her son come in from school. ‘Come and hold the mirror for me, will you?’
‘Mother, Father said he would be about half an hour,’ Oliver reported. ‘He has a meeting with the teachers to talk about the Christmas decorations.’
‘Oh. Well, I hope it is only half an hour, I don’t want us to be late calling for Mrs Norwood Bennet-Hughes.’
She handed him a mirror and stood him on a chair to hold it so that she could see the back of her head. ‘Now hold still while I do this bit.’ She worked away, complaining from time to time when Oliver grew tired and allowed the mirror to tilt. When she was satisfied she lifted him from his chair. ‘Go and read your book. I’m leaving you with Margaret Prichard this eve
ning, so you’ll have to do your reading straight away.’
‘Must I?’ he pleaded. ‘I’d like to start on the model ship I bought in town. Can’t I read later? Perhaps at Mrs Prichard’s? Margaret won’t mind.’
‘How can I help you if you won’t help yourself?’ She pushed the book into his reluctant hands and he sat back sulkily.
‘It isn’t fair,’ he grumbled.
‘That’s your answer to everything you don’t want to do. Don’t you want to be a good reader? Are you satisfied with being the worst of your father’s pupils?’
‘I’m not the worst.’
‘Oh, so that’s all right then is it? As long as there’s someone more useless than you?’
He opened the book and wandered downstairs, not seeing the pages for the tears in his eyes. He sat in a chair near the window and looked up at the hill and the woods beyond. It was dark, but he would rather be out there in the cold with Nelly than in the warm, comfortable room with a book.
When Evie came down wearing a simple, tight-waisted dress with a long full skirt that swayed about her calves, he asked her for help.
‘Mother, what’s this word?’ He pointed to a page, following her across the room as she practised walking on her new high-heeled shoes.
‘Oh, Oliver! Can’t you work it out for yourself? That’s what reading is, looking at it and gradually understanding it, not asking the moment you get stuck!’ She really believed she was helping the child, encouraging him to overcome his learning difficulties.
‘Dad says it’s all right to ask once,’ he defended. ‘How can I understand when reading the letters sound like rubbish?’
‘You call him “Father”, and yes, it’s all right to ask about a strange word, but you’ve had this book three weeks and you still can’t manage it. I despair of you sometimes.’
‘Can I take it to Gran – Grandmother,’ he quickly amended.
Evie glanced at the clock. Where was Timothy? He had to bathe and get dressed and there was so little time.
‘Can I, Mother?’
‘What now, Oliver?’
‘Can I take my book to Grandmother? She listens while I read and it’s better then.’
‘No Oliver, you can’t. Get changed out of your school clothes. I’ll be sending you to Mrs Prichard’s soon. You’ll go home with her and Margaret when the shop closes.’
Oliver thankfully threw down his book and went to his room.
* * *
The meeting took place in Cardiff and was concerned with the number of houses in the area still without proper drainage. Not a subject Evie liked to think about, but she needed to know a little about it if Timothy were to become a councillor.
On the journey home Mrs Norwood Bennet-Hughes asked about the situation in their own village. At once Evie panicked. This was dangerous ground. But surely her mother wouldn’t come into the discussion? She would die of shame if Mrs Norwood Bennet-Hughes heard about the place in which her own mother lived. It would ruin Timothy’s chances immediately.
‘Most of the farms have cesspits,’ Timothy said. ‘Some are already on main drainage, as is the village, except for a few isolated houses. I don’t think the problem is a serious one in this area.’
‘What a lovely night.’ Evie said, frantically changing the subject before Timothy mentioned Nelly.
‘There’s my own mother-in-law, of course,’ he went on, unaware of Evie’s dismay. ‘Her cottage is definitely—’
‘Look out!’ Evie squealed and the car shuddered to a halt. ‘Sorry dear. I thought I saw something. It must have been a fox, we do get a lot of them around here.’
‘Yes, Mother-in-law had her chickens killed by one only a few weeks ago.’
Evie began to whisper a prayer.
‘You were saying? Her cottage…?’
‘Yes, Mother-in-law’s cottage is one of the isolated ones. Perhaps she would be entitled to some help to get a drainage system?’
‘I’m sure there are more deserving cases.’ Evie’s voice was little more than a squeak.
‘Nonsense, my dear. Give me her address and I’ll send someone along.’
‘It’s a quaint little place. Mother-in-law lives simply but happily, but I’m sure she would be even more content if that problem were solved.’
Timothy continued discussing Nelly and beads of sweat broke out on Evie’s forehead. Surely he’d stop before telling Mrs Norwood Bennet-Hughes that Nelly used the woods for a toilet? When they had dropped her off at her large house on the outskirts of Llan Gwyn, Evie began to storm at Timothy.
‘Well, that is definitely that! Timothy Chartridge, I can’t believe how stupid you are! It’s the end of any hope you had of being elected to the council. What were you thinking of? When they see how my mother – your mother-in-law – lives, they’ll laugh at the idea of you being a councillor. Help others, when you can’t even persuade your mother-in-law to live decently?’
‘It’s her life. We shouldn’t allow it to affect ours.’
‘How can we help it?’
‘By not apologising for her and not pretending she’s any different from the way she is.’
‘There might be a happy end to this disaster,’ Evie said more calmly. ‘Once they see the place they’ll probably have it condemned.’
* * *
Evie met the new tenants of Amy’s flat the following day. Sheila and her mother were dragging boxes out through the front door for the dustmen to collect.
‘Good afternoon,’ she said, politely.
‘Oh, hello. I hope it’s all right to put this out early. They call tomorrow, don’t they?’ Mavis said. ‘There’s so much to get rid of now the unpacking is finished.’
‘No one would dare complain, we’re all used to having Amy’s rubbish strewn all over the pavement,’ Evie said. ‘Settled in happily are you?’
‘Yes, such a relief to get a place of our own again. We moved in with my mother for a time,’ Mavis explained. ‘My daughter was such a busy child, I needed an extra pair of hands to cope and keep her amused.’ She patted Sheila’s arm affectionately.
‘Oh, children!’ Evie said. ‘Family matters are such a worry at times. Not that I have any trouble with dear Oliver, a bit lazy that’s all. But you’re never free are you?’
At that moment the sound of laughter filled the air and, looking across the road they saw a group, including Nelly, coming towards them. In the group were several gypsies. Evie turned swiftly away, then decided it was useless to pretend, this woman would know soon enough. She knew how impossible it was to persuade Nelly to fade into the background.
‘That,’ she gestured, ‘is my mother.’ The way she spoke encouraged sympathy.
‘Oh, you poor woman.’ Mavis looked interestedly at the group. ‘Which one?’ she asked innocently.
‘That must be obvious!’ Evie snapped. ‘My mother isn’t a gypsy!’
She glared at Nelly who, head back, laughing her loud laugh, was being dragged along as usual by those enormous dogs. With chagrin she decided that the gypsies would have been preferable.
‘My father was, of course, very respectable,’ she said firmly. ‘He would have been horrified at the way she has let herself go since his untimely death.’ She walked off head high, angry with the embarrassment Nelly had once again caused. She times her appearances to cause the most distress to me, her own daughter! Abandoning her intention to buy some items from Amy, she went home.
* * *
Nelly and her entourage of friends approached the shop door and were met by Amy, who was just beginning to bring in the vegetables from the pavement. Amy greeted them with: ‘If you’re buying you can stay, but if you’re selling, I’m closed!’
‘I’ve come to buy, Amy,’ Nelly said, offended. ‘They’re on their way to sell their flowers up on the council estate an’ ’ave offered to ’old me dogs while I come in.’
‘Sorry, Nelly. What can I get you?’
‘Big potaters fer doin’ under me fire.’
‘I was coming to see you when the shop closes,’ Amy said, weighing some potatoes and putting them into a bag. ‘Will you be in?’
‘Yes, I’ve just finished fer Mrs French, an’ I won’t move far once I gets ’ome. Stay an’ ’ave a baked potato, why don’t yer?’
‘Thanks, but I have to get back, there’s still a lot to do and I’ve only the evenings and a Sunday.’
Clara stood in the doorway, holding back the dogs, who were straining to get inside.
‘Tell your fortune, lady, if you’ve a touch of silver for my palm.’
Amy was about to tell her to go when she changed her mind. ‘Yes,’ she smiled, ‘Why not? I only hope it’s something good. I could do with a bit of cheering up.’
It was early-closing day and the shop was empty as most people had gone home for lunch, so Clara went in, handing the dog’s ropes to another woman, who held the big basket of wooden flowers. Nelly beamed with delight and sat down on the crate of cabbages.
The till had been counted so Amy took a shilling from the paper bank bags and offered it to Clara, who frowned sadly. Amy sighed too and added eight half-crowns.
‘A guinea,’ she said. ‘That should do it.’ Clara took the money and began to study Amy’s hands. She nodded, sighed, frowned and finally said, ‘I see a marriage.’
‘Fat chance!’ Amy laughed.
‘A marriage for you, not for you to attend. There’s a house where there is much happiness. A baby too. I see a gurgling baby and you tending it, cooing over it, it belongs in your arms.’ The hands were lowered and Clara looked up at the disbelief on Amy’s face. ‘A sad time of partings, but a coming together again.’
It was obvious Clara had finished and Nelly held out her soil-stained hand and asked, ‘Anything fer me, Clara?’
Clara looked at the grubby, work-worn fingers and said, ‘I see a visitor, a very welcome one and soon.’
‘I ’ope it’s George,’ Nelly sighed.
Clara smiled. The news that George was on his way had reached her a few days before through the travellers, and she had waited for this convenient moment to tell her friend so it would seem she had read the news in her palm.
Valley Affairs Page 14