Valley Affairs

by Valley Affairs (retail) (epub)

  ‘It’s that Delina, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘She’s been to see your mother, hasn’t she?’

  ‘She’s been to tea, yes. Why?’

  ‘You never took me to meet your mother. Not once. I’d have loved to come to tea.’

  ‘I never took any of my girlfriends until Delina.’ Maurice was getting a bit anxious. Sheila showed no sign of leaving and her shrill voice might wake his mother. He turned back up the track, hoping she would follow him.

  ‘Go home now, like a good girl.’

  ‘Good girl? Is that what you want then?’

  ‘What I want is nothing to do with you. I don’t want you!’ He spoke softly but Sheila could hear the anger in his voice and stepped back in dismay.

  ‘Maurice!’

  ‘I’m sorry, but there it is. It was good fun but it’s over. Now get home.’ He pushed her towards the lane, his hand on her back until they were in sight of the road, and he watched as she crossed over. With a sigh he turned and walked slowly back up the lane.

  He did not hurry. He was wondering how to explain her to Delina. Everyone who saw her thought she was a tart, and anyone seen with her would have a reputation difficult to live down. He wished he had never given in to the temptations she so blatantly offered. If Sheila talked to Delina, and he thought her quite capable of that, his future happiness could be in tatters.

  Ignoring the now heavy rain he walked slowly up the track to where the dim light of the gas lamp gleamed faintly from his mother’s living room. He took out his key in case the door was locked, though Ethel rarely bothered. Sheila was waiting in the porch. Her hair hung dark and damp down on to her shoulders, and her eyes looked huge in the shadows.

  She had watched how slowly he walked and had climbed over the hedge after throwing her coat over it to cover the sharp twigs. Then she had run up the field, the grass wet and icy cold on her feet, her shoes abandoned at the hedge.

  ‘One more time, Maurice, for old times’ sake.’

  It was tempting. The wildness of her rain-soaked hair and pleading eyes set his body tingling with desire. With Delina things did not go any further than kisses, and it was hard to restrain himself, after years of taking what girls offered. Now, with Sheila here and willing…

  ‘No. Go home. I’d – I’d only be using you.’

  ‘Maurice, I’m so cold and wet…’

  Maurice did not speak but, taking her arm, walked her back down the lane. He waited while she walked across the road and then, whistling nervously, he turned once more towards home.

  * * *

  Nelly and Netta had been to the cinema that evening to see Ma and Pa Kettle, and The Sword and The Rose. Nelly went back to Netta’s for a cup of tea and a bite of supper and the conversation turned to the new affair between Maurice Davies and Delina Honeyman. Nelly loved a romance and this love at first sight was just perfect in her eyes. So she was surprised and disappointed, when, much later, she was out walking her dogs and saw a figure darting across the road and going into the side door of Amy’s shop. Maurice was watching her, and when the door closed softly he went back up the lane, whistling cheerfully.

  ‘Some bleedin’ romance,’ Nelly muttered sadly.

  Chapter Eight

  The day Fay and Johnny moved out of Netta’s cottage and into their council house, Nelly hurried through her morning’s work for Mrs French and knocked on Netta’s door at one o’clock.

  ‘I’ve come to see if I can do anything to ’elp,’ she announced as her friend invited her inside.

  ‘Fay has everything organised down to the last screw!’ Netta laughed. ‘But it would be nice to have your company. Fay and Johnny are up at the new place.’

  The van arrived to pick up their few boxes almost as they spoke and, when it was loaded and the men had drunk their tea, Nelly climbed on board.

  ‘I’ll go an’ see if they wants any ’elp up there, if not I’ll walk back.’ She held on to the side of the van and shouted with laughter when it started off and nearly dislodged her from the seat she had made for herself among the boxes.

  To Nelly the place already looked surprisingly neat, but Fay, who hated even temporary disorder, was glad to see her.

  ‘If you could give me an hour I would be very grateful. There’s all the china to wash. It’s been in store since I moved from Mother’s house and it’s filthy.’ Fay showed Nelly what she wanted done and Nelly rolled her sleeves up over her fat arms enthusiastically.

  ‘Lovely job that’ll be, dearie, with plenty of ’ot water just like at Mrs French’s. I’ll enjoy meself.’

  While Nelly washed dishes, Fay unpacked boxes and put the contents neatly away. Phil Davies dashed in, apologised for not staying to fix the curtains as promised, muttered something about a complaint and raced off on his bicycle as if a demon was chasing him.

  ‘Fastest I’ve see Phil move since Leighton’s bull followed him across the field!’ Johnny laughed.

  Nelly was full of admiration for Fay’s orderliness. ‘Just like Amy you are, young Fay. Gets things sorted even before you starts. Clever I calls that. I’d be in a muddle fer weeks, I would, if I had to move.’ She went silent then, suddenly remembering her fear of losing her home. When she had finished the dishes, she walked sadly back to the village, though she had to smile when she saw Phil frantically running up St Ultyd’s road, sweating and pushing his heavy bicycle.

  ‘Look out, Phil,’ she shouted, ‘they’re after you!’

  ‘Some bugger is and that’s a fact!’ he puffed back.

  Nelly passed Constable Harris too, but she turned away from his friendly greeting. She was a criminal, living in a house she had no right to. She couldn’t look him in the eye and sidled past her eyes downcast.

  She called in to report to Netta.

  ‘Very smart it is, Netta, and your Fay, she ain’t ’alf worked ’ard. All tidy like you’d never believe. An’ neat? She ’ad your Johnny measurin’ where to put pictures, would you believe. Not just stickin’ ’em up like you an’ me would. Measurin’!’

  Although she enthused about Fay’s organisation and neatness, the Cartwright’s new home was too much like Evie’s for her ever to feel at home there. Sparse was the word for it, she decided. Plain walls and very few pieces of furniture, and although it was true that they hadn’t got their home complete yet, she guessed it would never have more than the downright minimum. A small table with a shepherdess statue and a bowl of flowers, which Fay had miraculously found time to arrange, were the only decoration so far and Nelly suspected it would stay that way.

  She realised she had been silent too long and added quietly, ‘Your Johnny’s bought ’er a lovely bunch of flowers an’ she’s got ’em in pride of place on a polished table near the winder.’ She looked at Netta who seemed a little sad. ‘’Ere, why don’t we go to the pictures again?’

  ‘I can’t, really. I’ve promised to go and see the house once it’s straight and—’

  ‘There’s a comedy on at the Plaza. Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis. Good laugh they are. An’ Sidney Taffler’s in the other one,’ Nelly coaxed.

  Netta thought for a moment and then said, ‘Yes, I think I will. Better than sitting here listening to the silence.’

  ‘Or the television!’ Nelly laughed, her crooked teeth showing.

  Later they met up at the bus stop after Netta had seen and admired Fay and Johnny’s new home. When Nelly had walked down the lane, she wore wellingtons, which she left, poked upside down in Netta’s hedge, for when she returned.

  They waited in the queue for half an hour before getting inside and, to Nelly’s delight, they were given a seat in the back row.

  ‘Smashin’ this is,’ she chuckled, ‘watchin’ all the courtin’ couples. Pays fer the dark, not the film, some of ’em!’

  Her loud comments made one couple move and their places were taken by Maurice and Delina. Netta tried to hush Nelly, knowing how foolish young people could feel, but Nelly couldn’t be stopped.r />
  ‘Come fer a quick cuddle, ’ave yer? It ain’t easy on a bike, is it?’

  ‘Go away, Nelly,’ Maurice groaned. He handed her a bag of toffees. ‘Here, take these to keep your mouth busy.’

  ‘That’s his Delina,’ she whispered loudly to Netta.

  ‘Meet us after, Nelly, if you want a proper introduction. Shh!’ hissed Maurice.

  ‘Leave the love-birds alone,’ Netta said with a soft chuckle.

  ‘They aren’t really in love. Not like your Fay an’ Johnny,’ Nelly confided, remembering how Maurice had met Sheila in secret.

  Nelly settled down to enjoy the sweets and the film. Maurice and Delina were still there when they reached the part where they had come in, and with a pat on their shoulders and a hoarsely whispered ‘Good-night’, Nelly and Netta made their way along the dark row to the foyer. They wrapped their coats firmly around them before stepping out into the night to hurry to the bus stop.

  Nelly knew how strange it would be for Netta to go back to an empty house for the first time in many years, so she invited herself in. ‘Just fer a cuppa in case me fire’s too low, got to get back then fer me dogs,’ she explained unnecessarily.

  Maurice and Delina waited until they were sure the two women were safely on the bus before they, too, left the cinema. They had come on their bicycles and although it was bitterly cold, they were not dismayed at the prospect of the ride home. Bicycles were their only means of transport and they were used to the discomfort.

  Delina wore an old fashioned pixie hood which hugged her head and kept the wind from her ears. It was unglamorous compared to her usual elegant clothes but Maurice found it very appealing, like everything else about her.

  They walked up Sheepy Lane, pushing their bicycles, each with an arm around the other, in contented silence. Before they came to the end of the hedge-lined lane and lost their privacy, Maurice stopped and kissed her. She smiled up at him, her face a beautiful misty oval in the darkness.

  ‘I’ve very happy when I’m with you, Delina,’ he said. ‘I want to spend every moment with you. I hate the time we’re apart.’ He stopped. It sounded so like he had sounded so often in the past, with so many other girls.

  ‘I’ve said things like that before,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve been out with lots of girls, it seemed natural, but I do feel different about you. I want to protect you and love you and care for you always. I’d never allow any harm to come to you, Delina. You believe me?’

  ‘I believe you’ve had lots of other girlfriends, Maurice, you’re a good looking man,’ she said, ‘but I hope it’s different with me.’

  ‘You do? Does that mean—’

  ‘Darling, I have to go now. Dad will wonder where I am.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I don’t blame him for worrying about you. Since I met you I’ve understood a lot more about loving and caring.’

  She kissed him lightly and went on ahead, while he stood for a moment before following, running beside his bicycle before reaching her again.

  ‘Tomorrow?’ he asked.

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  When he had seen her safely into her house he didn’t go back down Sheepy Lane but turned off before he reached there. It had become a regular occurrence for Sheila Powell to be waiting for him. She sat in the front window of the flat, faintly silhouetted against the small table lamp, and watched for him. He had sensed her there this evening although he had not looked up.

  Lifting his bicycle on to his shoulder, he climbed through the hedge and walked down the field, parallel to the lane, his shoes heavily coated with mud. Then he pushed through another hedge and into the track leading to his front door.

  The moon lit his way and added a sparkle to the frost on the ground and the tree branches. He looked back up the fields and wished Delina were there to enjoy the spectacle with him. It was as if an artist’s hand had touched everything with silver paint, glinting and dancing along the hedgerow.

  He gave a sigh of contentment. The world was full of wonderful things and he would spend his life discovering them with Delina. He went into the back garden, avoiding the porch where Sheila often waited. He had not seen her for a few days and hoped she had at last given up on their affair.

  He was puzzled and relieved that she had not approached him openly or called at his mother’s house. She was still discreet, though he doubted that it was out of concern for him, more for fear of her parents’ anger. She was twenty-one but was still a child in many ways. He felt a twinge of regret at the way he had used her, only to discard her abruptly when Delina came into his life.

  * * *

  It was late when Nelly left Netta Cartwright’s, having watched an hour of television. She walked back and collected the dogs, whose greeting was ecstatic, and took them down to the main road and along to Sheepy Lane to circle around back to her cottage. It was a crisp, cold night and the moon lit her way clearly. Staying out late chatting with Netta meant she was too wide-awake to sleep and a stroll with the dogs might relax her.

  As she passed Netta’s house, now in darkness, she felt a momentary sadness at the thought of Netta spending her evenings alone. She was used to being alone herself, but Netta had once had a husband and sons and all their friends to fill the small house, and it would be difficult to adjust.

  * * *

  Every morning, after visiting the woods, Nelly took the dogs out and gave them a walk through the trees and usually around the castle ruins. But this morning she rose early and went instead across the fields while there was hardly a glimmer of approaching dawn. She crossed the lane high above the gypsy camp and walked down to the farm where Mary Dairy was already filling her van with the previous night’s milking for her first round.

  There was a stream nearby where the boys of the village often went fishing. It was on land belonging to Billie and Mary, but the trees hid it from sight and it was only occasionally that the boys were seen and half-heartedly chased off. Mary and Billie rented out the fishing to a local hotel and so they had to discourage others.

  It was rare for Nelly to walk this far but it was a beautiful morning, crisp and cold, with frost rimming the grasses and the trees and bushes, spreading a counterpane of silvery white over the fields. She was tempted to wander further and further until she was in sight of the stream.

  It twisted and bent half back on itself, running through meadows where sheep grazed, and around its banks grew willows, shady in summer and graceful in winter. Nelly was admiring the scene when she noticed someone standing in the water a little way off. Her face creased into a smile at the prospect of a chat, she called the dogs and slipped a rope through their collars. As she drew near the man her smile broke out into loud laughter. The figure turned and waved, and Nelly hurried to greet him.

  ‘George! Well fancy! What are you doin’ in that cold water, and almost naked too?’ She couldn’t stop laughing, full of delight and excitement.

  George was wearing only a pair of long underpants and a long-sleeved vest, both of which streamed with water as he began climbing out of the stream. In a pile on the bank were his clothes and an old army shoulder bag which, Nelly knew, held all his worldly possessions.

  ‘Lucky you didn’t arrive sooner,’ George said, jumping up and down to get warm. ‘I’ve only just made myself respectable.’ Water continued to pour from his clothes and Nelly waved a hand at him to hurry.

  ‘Call that respectable? Come on, for Gawd’s sake, get something on or you’ll be frozen stiff as a board.’

  George disappeared behind a willow tree which gave a little privacy. The dogs fussing around him excitedly, he discarded his vest and pants and, after wringing the water out of them, used them as an inadequate towel to dry himself. He dressed with difficulty, dragging his clothes over his still wet skin, and finally emerged dressed in trousers, a sports jacket, and a shirt and tie. As always, his black shoes were highly polished. Under the white beard his face glowed red, accentuating his clear, greeny-blue eyes.

  ‘Nelly,’ he smiled, �
�you’ve spoilt my surprise.’

  ‘That’s a laugh, that is! What could be more surprising than me finding you prancing about like a water nymph?’

  She turned away to pat the dogs, suddenly overcome by shyness. George was a tramp she had met on one of her trips into town, and they had got married to stop Evie making her leave her cottage, but they hardly knew one another.

  Sensing her unease, George chatted about where he had been since they had last met, and told her about the work he was going to do for Mr Leighton.

  ‘I would have been here before this,’ he said as they hurried back up the hill, George jigging about to get his circulation going and playing with the lively dogs, ‘but I had a job of sorts, cleaning up in a small factory, and I wanted to stay until I’d saved some money before moving on.’

  ‘Where have you been livin?’ Nelly wanted to know.

  ‘Nowhere you would enjoy. Rooms sometimes, but while I’ve been travelling back here, in empty houses and the occasional barn.’

  Nelly could see he was shivering and needed to move faster than she could, with her painful hip.

  ‘You go on George. The door’s open, there’s a fire going and the kettle’s sure to be singin’. I’ll follow at me own pace.’

  ‘If you don’t mind?’

  ‘O’course I don’t mind! Go on, before you freeze to death!’ She watched him walking swiftly away across the field, his tall, thin figure disappearing through a distant hedge. Then she began to sing at the top of her voice.

  When she reached home he was sitting in her big armchair and the fire was roaring cheerfully. She smiled contentedly; he always looked right in this room and made it seem more comfortable, somehow. It was nice to have someone of your own, even it was only on occasions.

  ‘Where’s me cup of tea then?’ she said, throwing off her heavy coat and kicking off her wellingtons.

  ‘It’s nice to be back, Nelly,’ he smiled as he handed her a steaming cup.