Amy’s reading had been one of Clara’s rare ‘true’ ones. There was to be a wedding, it was not certain how far away it was, but the wedding and the baby in Amy’s arms were there. She wondered about the baby. Amy was without a man, Nelly had told her, and she was reaching an age when babies were less likely. Only time would tell.
* * *
Amy had bought herself a bicycle. It took a bit of nerve to get on it outside her house and ride to the shop but, having done it twice, she felt more confident as she rode home to collect some things she planned to give Nelly.
As she rode she thought of the gypsy’s words. A marriage! Clara just meant to please her. But how wonderful it would be to belong to someone, to have a person who cared about you and looked after you. Yes, that was just a little hope put in the reading to please her. But the baby? No chance of her having another child. Unless Freddy? But no, he was too young and there wasn’t anyone else. Then she remembered her sister. Prue, of course! The crafty old woman had known about Prue’s baby, it was common knowledge now, and she had known that Freddy had gone into the army, hence the time of parting. The wedding was to make her think the guinea well spent.
Satisfied she had cleared up any mystery, she was smiling when she reached the house. Ah well, a fool and his money are soon parted, she reminded herself. But she did not begrudge Clara the guinea. The gypsies had a hard time and would spend the money wisely. They never had more than the necessities of life.
From her neatly stacked stock of linen she chose a pair of coloured kitchen towels, a few white tea-towels, a new floor cloth and a dishcloth and put them into the basket on her bicycle. She also took a few tins of soup and vegetables and, satisfied, set off back along the road and up the lane to call on Nelly.
She got off to push the bicycle as the lane grew steeper, and parked it against Nelly’s gate.
‘Get the tea on, Nelly,’ she shouted, and gathering her gifts, she went down the path.
She was surprised when Nelly did not at once appear at the door. The dogs barked but did not leave the doorway. She pushed them aside to go in and was alarmed to see Nelly sitting on her big chair. She was obviously in pain.
‘Clara didn’t see this, did she?’ Nelly said in greeting. ‘I twisted me foot on a stone and went ploughin’. Me knees is full of grit an’ me ankle’s a bit sore.’
‘I’ll go to the shop and ring for the doctor.’ Amy said, putting down her parcels and heading for the door, but Nelly stopped her.
‘I ain’t ’urt that much! Make me a cup of tea and put some of that in it will yer?’ She pointed to a bottle peeping out from behind a cushion. She pulled up her dress to show the torn stockings and the cut knees.
‘What are you going to do, put some gin on that too?’
‘What a waste! No, I’ve got some ointment that’ll bring out the grit a treat. It’ll be good as new in a day or so.’
Insisting on Nelly staying put, Amy began to tidy up the room, glad she didn’t have to persuade Nelly to sit still. She gave the towels to Nelly. ‘Put these out when your visitors come.’
Nelly frowned. ‘Visitors?’ Then she smiled. ‘’Ere, you don’t want to take what Clara says as actual. Visitor fer me might have meant you was comin!’
‘I mean someone from the council to talk about putting the cottage on drainage.’ Amy glanced at Nelly’s face and knew she had not been told. ‘Hasn’t Evie been to see you?’
‘I ain’t spoken to ’er. Why? What’s ’appened?’
When Amy had explained, Nelly looked even more troubled. She couldn’t tell Amy, but she was worried about the ownership of her cottage still. If they began making enquiries, she would lose her home. She only half listened as Amy filled the larder with tins she had brought, and hardly noticed when the couch cushions were plumped up and covered with a woven bedspread.
‘Do you still have those army coats on your bed?’ Amy asked and when Nelly nodded absently she said. ‘Take them off, and I’ll bring you one of my bedcovers for a loan.’
‘Thanks, Amy.’
‘And Nelly, go easy on the “juice” will you? Just until after they’ve been. You know how daft it makes you at times.’
‘All right, Amy. Thanks, you’re a real pal.’
Amy left, telling Nelly to stay put and give her leg a chance to mend. ‘But as soon as you’re better,’ she said as she walked up the path, ‘get rid of those empty bottles!’
As soon as Amy was out of the way, Nelly stood up gingerly and with a few soft oaths at the pain, she put her coat on and went to see Mrs French. She would have to confide in someone and Mrs French would help if she could.
* * *
Mrs French was surprised to see Nelly back, this time without her dogs.
‘Nelly? Did you forget something?’
‘I got a problem and I could do with some advice. Got a moment, ’ave yer?’
‘Of course. Come in.’
Nelly explained about the death of the cottage owner and the subsequent hoarding of the weekly rent. Mrs French frowned.
‘I really don’t know what the situation would be. I think it would belong to the Crown if there was absolutely no one to inherit. I’ll ring my solicitor and without giving him any names, ask him to enquire.’
‘That will cost money, won’t it?’
‘Don’t worry. Just promise me six of your hens’ eggs when they start to lay.’
When Nelly had limped away, Mrs French telephoned to make an appointment to see her solicitor the next day.
Nelly paused outside Mrs French’s house, partly to rest her leg and partly to decide whether or not to go and see Netta. Then she saw a van pull up outside the Cartwrights’ house and, unashamedly curious, she walked to her friend’s gate and watched as Johnny opened the door and beckoned to the van driver, who was carrying a television set with the assistance of his mate.
‘Blimey, Johnny! Won the pools, ’ave yer?’
‘Come on in, Nelly, you can hold Mam up when she sees what we’ve bought her!’
Nelly forgot her aching knees and bustled in behind the delivery men.
‘What’s this?’ Netta met them at the living room door.
‘For you, Mam. From me and Fay to thank you for being so good to us.’ Johnny made this speech, laughing in delight at the surprised look on his mother’s gentle face.
The engineer fixed the set on a table in the corner and, with his assistant on the roof, tilting the H aerial one way and then another, fiddled with the knobs on the set until he was satisfied that the picture was as clear as he could get it.
All the time, Netta stood beside Nelly, both of them watching as the test card appeared and disappeared, stretched and shrank as the man made adjustments.
Netta offered the men tea but it was Johnny who brought in the tray. Netta couldn’t take her eyes from the set.
‘You can see why some call it the goggle box!’ Johnny laughed, kissing his mother affectionately.
When the men finally left, Netta sat down and said in amazement, ‘Well, I never did!’
‘It’s because of the council house,’ Johnny explained. ‘Fay and me, we’ve settled for the council house in St David’s Close. Still save, we will, but not as hard.’
‘Smashin’ idea,’ Nelly approved. ‘Got a garden, ’as it?’
‘Come and see! Mam’s coming so you can come together.’
‘Blimey, everyone is movin!’ Nelly looked anxious as she remembered the cottage. ‘I ’opes it ain’t an omen. I’ve got someone comin’ to look at me cottage. I don’t want to be told to move.’
‘Who’s coming?’ Johnny wanted to know.
‘Somebody to do with plumbin’, so Evie says.’
Johnny guessed why she was worried. ‘We would start a riot if someone tried to move you. Don’t think of it.’
‘Just think. I might ’ave to go an’ live with my Evie after all. Fate worse than death that’d be!’
There was a knock at the door and Netta tore herself away from
the wonders of the screen to open it. Bert and Brenda Roberts stepped in.
‘That right you got a television, Netta?’
‘Yes, indeed. Johnny and Fay bought it for me. Seventy-five guineas they paid.’ Netta led them into the living room and squeezed herself into a seat beside Nelly so the newcomers could have the couch. A while later, just as he was making tea for them all, Johnny answered the door again. This time it was Phil and Catrin from next door, and Phil had sent a message to his mother.
‘Don’t mind if we have a look-see, do you Netta? We thought of sharing the cost and buying one for Mam now she’s got the electricity, and we wondered what sort of reception we’d get.’
Netta ran out of milk and Maurice was sent back for some when he arrived with Ethel an hour later. Netta didn’t see much television but she hadn’t enjoyed herself so much for ages.
* * *
Nelly did not know who to expect on the day of the inspection. She sat and waited, dressed uncomfortably in a green dress which she had been given by Dorothy Williams. It was a bit tight, but by wearing a long cardigan, stretched around her ample hips, she looked fairly respectable. She wore lisle stockings held up with bands of elastic and her feet were forced into a pair of small shoes which were impossible to walk on without the occasional wobble.
On the table of the living room were the plates, cups and saucers that were usually packed away in a cupboard, and some cakes and scones which she had spread with some of her precious butter ration and covered with one of Amy’s white tea towels. The dogs, much to their confusion, were tied up in the garden. Nelly had even managed to dig over the surface of the chicken run to make it look neater. Now there was nothing left to do except sit and wait, and worry.
She heard a car coming up the lane, its engine whining at the steep gradient. She stared at the gate, watching for her visitor, and was surprised to see, not a man with sheaves of papers and a worried frown, but Mrs Norwood Bennet-Hughes.
‘Bloody ’ell, Evie’s posh friend. Now I know I’m in trouble!’
‘Mrs Luke?’ The woman smiled and held out her hand to Nelly, who stood silently in the doorway, too afraid to speak in case she said the wrong thing. ‘We are trying to discover how many homes in this area need improvements. I think your beautiful little cottage might well be one of them. May I come in?’
‘Beautiful?’
‘Yes, it’s one of the most attractive places in the village. I’ve noticed it when I’ve passed. On the way to the castle you know, for various entertainments.’
Before she entered, she looked back and admired the chickens and asked about their predecessors who had been killed by the fox.
‘I hope you have made these secure,’ she said. ‘It would be terrible for you if that happened again.’
‘Like friends, they are,’ Nelly began, but stopped for fear of offending.
The dogs were straining on their ropes to greet the visitor and Nelly was surprised when the woman went and talked to them, rubbing them behind the ears, which made the dogs look so ecstatic that they both laughed.
‘Untie them if you wish,’ she told Nelly, ‘they won’t bother me.’
‘Chickens an’ all?’ Nelly asked, and did what was suggested.
They went inside and when Mrs Bennet-Hughes gasped with delight and began talking about the advantages of cooking on the big range, Nelly forgot her nervousness and they began to chatter like old friends. Cakes were eaten, tea drunk and the dogs lounged across the two pairs of feet, for both had taken off their shoes. The chickens walked in and Nelly crumbled a cake on the floor for them and they scratched about, their necks stretching and bobbing as if attached to their feet with invisible elastic. Mrs Bennet-Hughes stood up to leave with genuine regret.
‘I’ll see what can be done about the lack of a water supply,’ she promised.
‘I ain’t got no money, Mrs ’Ughes or Bennet or whatever you calls yerself.’
‘Don’t worry, no one will involve you in a debt you can’t pay.’ Silently, she determined that Evie and Timothy would help. Nelly Luke was a dear little lady and deserved a little support from her wealthy daughter.
‘I will make arrangements for someone to measure up and decide where the drains will go, but it’s nothing for you to concern yourself with, my dear. Leave it all to those who are paid for it.’
The matter of drainage was nothing at all to do with Mrs Norwood Bennet-Hughes but she had been curious to visit the cottage and meet Evie’s mother, and perhaps explain some of Evie’s tension and snobbery. But now she had met Nelly and enjoyed their tea and chat together so much, she was determined to help all she could.
Nelly gave an enormous sigh of satisfaction when she had seen her visitor back to her car. ‘A real lady, that is,’ she told the dogs. ‘An’ Evie would never get on with ’er the way I do. Used to posh people I am, being a daily ’elp.’ She went back in, still barefoot, having given up the uncomfortable shoes as soon as Mrs Bennet-Hughes had sat down. ‘Come on boys, let’s go an’ tell Netta all about me visitor.’ Shutting the chickens in and gathering the rope leads for the dogs, she set off down the lane, wearing her smart dress, the old navy coat fastened with a pin, and wellingtons. She was singing at the top of her voice.
Evie was at the corner.
‘Mother, I understand Mrs Norwood Bennet-Hughes has called on you. And you dressed like that!’
‘’Ad a lovely chat we did. Real lady, an’ she liked me cottage, an’ she liked me cakes an’ me dogs an’ chickens. Real nobs ain’t snobs,’ she said, and laughed loudly at the rhyme. Evie shuddered.
‘’Ave you ’eard that Fay an’ Johnny’s movin’ to a council ’ouse?’ Nelly asked. ‘Does that mean you’ll cross them off your list of acceptable people now?’ She laughed again. ‘Snob, that’s what you are.’
‘You, Mother, will not be crossed off my list of acceptable people. You’ve never been on it!’
* * *
Maurice was a regular visitor to the Honeyman household. He and Delina spent every spare moment together, and their outings usually ended with an hour or so in the house on St David’s Close.
He found himself taking an interest in things that he had rarely thought about before meeting Delina and when they weren’t out at a concert or the cinema or for a meal somewhere in town, they spent their evenings mounting pictures for her pupils, or preparing pressed flowers and wild plants for the school.
Delina introduced him to all sorts of new pleasures – classical music especially, rather than the popular tunes he had previously loved. He looked around him and observed more birds and wild creatures and marvelled at their beauty. His eyes had been blind until Delina opened them for him with her enthusiasm for everything around her.
One evening in late November Delina brought home a collection of metal tubes of varying lengths. With Maurice and Victor’s help she made a frame and looped string through holes in the top of the tubes, creating a set of musical bells to be used in the school carol concert. They had a lot of fun trying out different tunes and some worked and others did not. There was laughter and sheer enjoyment for them all except for Mrs Honeyman, who always seemed unable to join in. She would sit in her corner, hardly looking at what went on, listening to the radio turned down low, or humming to herself. For a while, Maurice was afraid she was ill, but there were times when she livened up and talked quite brightly and cheerfully. After a while Maurice observed that it was only when Victor was out that she changed.
From the few clues Delina gave, it seemed that the marriage had never been a happy one and when Victor had been accused of giving Harry Beynon goods he had not paid for, that finished it. Before that incident her sulking moods had frequently lasted for weeks at a time, but since then there had been no break. She simply did not want to speak to her husband; she was convinced he had brought shame and humiliation on them all and nothing anyone said would make her change her mind. Maurice could see that Delina kept the atmosphere at home cheerful and when she went, t
he household would be a very gloomy one.
The bells were packed away to be delivered to the school the following day and Maurice left for home. He said goodnight to Delina and walked down Heol Caradoc into Sheepy Lane. The air was damp and cold with the last of a rain shower. He pulled his overcoat tighter around him, tilted his trilby lower to protect his face a little, and crouched into a run. As he reached the track leading to the house the rain increased and he looked at the lights ahead of him, thankful to be in sight of the comforting warmth.
* * *
Sheila Powell sat at the window of her bedroom, looking down the village street. It was dark and although the rain had temporarily ceased, the sky was threatening. But she was determined to go out. It wouldn’t be the first time she had got cold and wet waiting for Maurice.
A bus passed and in its headlights she watched a couple walking hand in hand, obviously in love. They stopped to kiss and Sheila felt envy stealing through her.
When the flat was silent and the clock showed eleven-thirty, she slipped silently down the stairs, her shoes in her hand. Pausing only to put them on, she ran across the road, anxious now that she had left it too late and Maurice would have already gone inside.
She reached the house just in time to hear him running, slipping on the muddy ground up the track leading to the house. He showed no pleasure when she greeted him, but she forced herself to ignore the harshness in his voice.
‘Sheila, what are you doing here, and so late?’
‘I thought I’d come for a chat.’ She casually opened her coat to show him that underneath she wore only a thin night-dress.
‘Go home, Sheila. You’ll freeze to death standing here.’
‘You can warm me if you like.’
‘Go home. It’s over between us, we’ve both agreed. You’re a super girl but not for me. Don’t waste your time.’
Valley Affairs Page 15