Valley Affairs

by Valley Affairs (retail) (epub)

  ‘It’s all right. I’m tired anyway. It’s all these clothes Mam made me wear. If we’d fallen in the river today I’d have sunk!’ They laughed together as they walked home.

  * * *

  Maurice was intrigued by Delina’s family and anxious to behave sensitively with them. He had seen clearly the difference in Mrs Honeyman when Victor was not around and he played every scene with this in mind. He was light-hearted and amusing when the mood was right, and quiet and serious when that was the tone set by Delina’s mother.

  The boys seemed dull, though he knew they were good students and spent a lot of time at their books, but they didn’t ever seem to have any fun. It made him wonder how much he might have achieved if Ethel had not been so easy-going but, like Mrs Honeyman, had made him spend more time at useful things instead of giving him the freedom to choose. He still loved his mother, but he began to compare her unfavourably with Delina’s, and gradually her obvious disapproval of her husband influenced his opinion of Vic too. He looked at the garden, still not tidied for the winter, and remarked to Delina that her father might have been kinder if he had attended to his own place rather than Amy’s. To his surprise, Delina supported her father.

  ‘He needs to get away from home and he appreciates a little praise. He might have deserved it, but living with Mam’s constant disapproval must be hard.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ he muttered, embarrassed by his mistake.

  * * *

  When Nelly went to clean for Mrs French, she usually just opened the door and called, then took off her coat and began work. But today was different. Mrs French was waiting at the gate, smiling and waving impatiently, which wasn’t like Mrs French at all.

  ‘Nelly, I have some good news for you.’

  ‘Me?’ Nelly smiled, then her face fell into a frown. ‘Is it about me ’ouse?’ she asked in a hoarse whisper. ‘Really good news?’

  They went indoors and Mrs French invited her into the living room.

  ‘Come and sit down and I’ll try to explain, although it is very complicated.’

  ‘Oh Gawd.’

  ‘I spoke to my solicitor and told him of your dilemma, without saying anything that could reveal who you were. He thinks you’ll be perfectly all right. Apparently, the law does state that in a case of intestacy the property should go to the Crown, but it’s almost certain to be handed over to the person paying the rates and with the most just claim. It would all take time, of course, and you’d have to deal with it through a solicitor. Will you let me go on and get it all settled legally for you?’

  But Nelly had been growing more and more anxious throughout this recital and, at the last, her face collapsed in dismay. ‘That’s that then. I ain’t got no money fer solicitors.’ She slumped into the armchair, a picture of misery. ‘I’ll ’ave to live day to day, ’eart in me mouth every time I gets a letter.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Nelly. He told me that there was no actual machinery in law that would tell the Probate Office what has happened. If you continue to pay your rates and do nothing, it’s possible that no one will ever know. But if you wish, and only if you want me to, I’ll ask him to act for you. No,’ she brushed off Nelly’s protest, ‘forget about the money. He’s a friend and if there are any expenses, I will attend to them myself.’

  ‘What’s all that in plain English then?’

  ‘Don’t think any more about it and leave it to me.’

  ‘Can I tell George? An’ Johnny? ’E tried to find out for me an’ told me to ferget it, but I feel much better about it now you’ve seen a solicitor. Thanks, Mrs French.’

  ‘If I were you I’d tell no one, except your husband of course. If word got to Evie, well, with the best of intentions I’m sure, she might welcome the opportunity to report your unofficial tenancy.’

  ‘Perish the thought. No, on second thoughts you’re right an’ I’ll only tell George.’

  ‘Good, that’s settled. Now, would you like to start upstairs as usual?’

  ‘Mrs French, can I come a bit later? Sorry to mess you about, you being so kind an’ all, but I’d like to tell George. ’E’s only up at Leighton’s and I won’t be more than ’alf an hour.’ She grinned, her lopsided mouth opening in a way that horrified Evie and amused her friends. ‘It’s like winnin’ the pools, this is.’

  ‘Leave it altogether if you want. It won’t hurt for once,’ Mrs French offered. ‘But Nelly, do be careful and don’t say a word until it’s all settled.’ She was thinking of Nelly’s occasional drinking bouts.

  ‘Don’t worry, Mrs French, dearie, I won’t let it out in a celebration drink. Fear of Evie findin’ out will keep me sober!’

  * * *

  ‘How much rent have you put aside, Nelly?’ George asked later that evening when they sat playing the gramophone and roasting in front of a blazing fire. Nelly had been to The Drovers and brought back some bottles of stout and some crisps and they were celebrating quietly together.

  ‘I don’t know. I just put the four shillings in the box every Friday and forgets it. I could count it.’

  ‘I think you should.’ George had been doing some sums in his head and guessed she had well over fifty pounds. But when they did count it up he was delighted. It amounted to sixty-eight pounds and four shillings.

  ‘It should go in the bank,’ George said.

  ‘You’re right, I ought to put it safe, although it’s unlikely I’d be robbed. Leave somethin’ be’ind for me they would, when they see what I’ve got!’

  ‘We’ll put it in the post office,’ George said. ‘But first, I have an idea. Don’t you think you could spend a little of it?’

  ‘No! I daren’t!’

  ‘Well I think you should. Why not treat yourself to a wireless? It would only cost about fifteen pounds and I’ve got five to go towards it. I was going to buy you a special Christmas present before I left, but what could be better than helping you to get yourself a wireless?’

  Nelly shook her head a few more times before George talked her round. When she finally gave way they walked up, late as it was, to tell Mr Leighton that George wouldn’t be there the following morning, and strolled home making plans to go into town for a shopping spree.

  * * *

  Llan Gwyn was full of people doing their Christmas shopping and Nelly was soon as excited as a starry-eyed child. They had come early but so had everyone else. The shops were packed with mothers carrying packages of every imaginable shape. Long pieces of crepe paper and glittering lengths of tinsel poked out of shopping baskets and the children’s faces shone with excitement. In the stores there were forests of hands raised to attract the assistants’ attention. Christmas trees were on sale at street corners and impromptu stalls had been set up to sell cheap gifts and wrapping paper. Nelly thought Llan Gwyn had never been so full, nor looked so beautiful, as she and George admired the food on sale and the wonderful toys. Nelly watched the children’s faces, fascinated. She liked best the little girl whose arms rocked in a dream of owning one of the beautifully dressed dolls in a shop window.

  George picked up a card game.

  ‘Lexicon,’ he shouted to Nelly above the babble of voices. ‘That might be a good present for young Oliver.’

  ‘That’s a good choice, George. ’Ere, give it to me and buzz off out of the way a minute, will yer? I’ve seen a little somethin’ I want to buy for you.’

  When she had made her purchases, including a neatly boxed razor and soap for George, he made her hide while he chose a card to give her. They were laughing like children when they pushed their way back out on to the street.

  On occasions they lost sight of each other in the crowds, but gradually they made their way to the shop where they intended to buy the wireless. Nelly had given George the money to carry, and watched as he carefully counted out the notes and coins. There were slight doubts in her heart when the money was slipped into the till and the wireless was theirs, still a niggle of fear that someone would knock at her door and demand the rent for the six
years since she had last paid it.

  The wireless cost sixteen guineas and was promised for delivery later that day.

  ‘I don’t think there’s another thing I need in the world, George,’ she told him as they walked to the long bus queue with their assorted parcels. ‘Not a single thing.’ Except for you to stay for always, she added silently, but she kept that dream to herself. She had promised never to try and persuade him to give up his freedom, but it would be nice if he was always there.

  ‘I think we should spend the evening wrapping the presents we’ve bought,’ George said. ‘It would be a pity if young Oliver came and spoilt the surprise by seeing what we’ve got him.’

  ‘I doubt we’ll see ’im for a while, too busy enjoyin’ the preparations I bet.’

  But she was wrong.

  * * *

  They returned to Hen Carw Parc a little after two o’clock and they trudged up the lane with their parcels, stopping now and then to adjust the more difficult ones and rearrange their carrier bags. The sound of children’s laughter reached them before they were in sight of the gate. The swing was still proving a great attraction.

  ‘Look at that, George,’ she said, as they watched Oliver and his friends milling about on her newly dug soil. ‘Swn Y Plant. What a name fer the place, eh? Sound of Children.’ She laughed loudly, too happy for words.

  While George unpacked their shopping and changed his clothes, Nelly poured lemonade for the thirsty children and found them some biscuits. She and George stood in the doorway watching them, rosy-faced, enjoying their winter picnic.

  By the time the wireless arrived, later that afternoon, there was a rabbit roasting in the oven beside the roaring fire, and a small bottle of gin and two of stout. It was going to be a night to remember.

  They listened to the wireless all evening, and even forgot the gin. Ray’s a Laugh, Larry Adler and music right up to midnight. The room was almost as hot as the oven in which their meal had cooked and they were full of good food and contentment. It was hard to leave her chair and go up to bed, but Nelly eventually did, leaving George comfortably ensconced on the couch against the back wall, where he would see the first light through the window facing him. Nelly was still smiling when sleep came.

  They rose late the following morning when Phil Davies dragged George out of a deep sleep. He banged on the door and George sleepily opened it to find Phil standing there, holding a Christmas tree.

  ‘Where’s Nelly?’ Phil asked, making for the chair closest to the fire, which he began to poke and coax into life.

  ‘Still in bed,’ George laughed. ‘We stayed up late listening to that.’ He pointed to the new radio.

  ‘Best way to wake her then.’ Phil turned the switch and the room was filled with the sound of a Christmas carol.

  Nelly came down in a crumpled dress and an army greatcoat. She was unperturbed at seeing Phil. She patted the shiny wireless.

  ‘What d’you think of that, then? What a Christmas we’ll ’ave this year. That our tree?’

  ‘I won’t be here, Nelly,’ George said quietly. ‘I told you I’m leaving in a day or so.’ He handed her a cup of tea made with not quite boiling water, and sat back again on the couch. ‘But Christmas Day is less than a week away.’

  ‘I mustn’t stay.’ Phil sipped his tea, dying to ask questions but afraid to interfere.

  Nelly fussed with the kettle, hoping for a better pot of tea than the one George had made so impatiently. She did not argue any further. She knew George was on a visit only, but each time he came she hoped he would not go away again. When they had married, she had promised never to ask him to change his life for her. Difficult as it was, especially now with Christmas so close, she kept her word.

  * * *

  The morning was dark and there was a drizzly rain when George packed his few belongings into his bag. Nelly gave him a separate parcel with some food for the first part of his journey and had put in her present to him too. His tidiest clothes he left with Nelly.

  ‘Don’t sell them in town,’ he teased, ‘I’ll be back.’

  ‘Soon, George,’ Nelly said quietly, forcing a smile. ‘Soon.’ She watched as he walked up the garden path, his clothes neat, his white beard a beacon in the gloom, his shoes shining like new paint. What a time of year to be wandering. Christmas would have been such fun with someone of her own to share all the small excitements. Silly things, like pulling a cracker and reading the stupid jokes. Cooking an extra special meal, and listening to the wireless. It was on now, sending music out into the bedraggled garden.

  ‘Thanks fer me present, George,’ she shouted as he disappeared behind the tall, straggly hedge.

  ‘Enjoy it,’ he called back, his voice already sounding like an echo of something fading, no longer a part of her life, only a memory.

  ‘Come on, dogs,’ she said, fixing the rope leads on Bobby and Spotty. ‘Time I wasn’t ’ere. Mrs French’ll be wonderin’.’

  She spent longer than usual cleaning Mrs French’s house, finding extra jobs and giving everything an enthusiastic rub. She delayed returning to the empty cottage; this evening there wouldn’t be the excitement of waiting for George to finish his day’s work and come home.

  The dogs tried to pull her along but her footsteps dragged. She looked across at the fish and chip shop, but no, she wasn’t hungry. She wished Amy’s shop was open but it was shut for lunch. Still unwilling to face her cottage she walked past the houses and the church, and the school with its windows bright with decorations. As she passed she caught the beautiful sound of children singing a well-known carol and tears came to her eyes.

  * * *

  George set off through the woods with a heavy heart. His thoughts were with the cottage near the edge of the trees where he knew he would be utterly content. The sense of belonging, the day spent doing work he enjoyed then strolling home to a warm welcome, a hot meal and Nelly to spend the evening with. To go to bed relaxed and drowsy to lie and look forward to another perfect day. It was hard to walk away.

  Yet walk away he must. He had married Nelly as a trick so that Evie couldn’t make her leave her beloved cottage; he didn’t want anyone to think he was using that same trick to find himself a comfortable lodging for life. Yet he wanted so badly to stay.

  If he had done something to get himself out of the mess he had made of his life, could boast of some effort to get away from the monotonous existence of moving aimlessly across the country from one dreary place to another, then he would have been able to stay and put down roots for himself in Hen Carw Parc, but he had not. It was Nelly’s generosity that gave him the chance and he could not bring himself to accept it.

  He lifted the shoulder bag higher and increased his pace, trying to get away before he found the temptation to return impossible to resist, but he did not travel far. He walked in a circle around the small village deciding eventually to settle somewhere close by for the first night; the place was a magnet that refused to let him go.

  * * *

  School had broken up for the holiday but the building was being used for rehearsals for the church carol concert. The sound of children singing usually made Nelly happy but today it only added to her sadness.

  ‘I know I should be glad to have George for a little while now and again,’ she told the dogs. ‘Some never ’as even that much ’appiness, but I wish ’e could stay. Gets on so well we do.’

  The children came out into the yard as the rain stopped and Nelly searched the faces in the hope of a word with Oliver.

  ‘Hello, Gran.’ He appeared at her side suddenly. ‘Where’s George?’

  ‘Gone again,’ she said sadly. ‘You know ’ow ’e ’ates to stay anywhere fer long. ’E said to give you ’is love and ’e’ll see you again in the spring. ’E said you an’ ’e would go after a trout and we’d ’ave a picnic in the woods and cook it over a fire.’

  ‘That’ll be great, Gran. Pity he won’t be here for Christmas though, I’ve made him a present.’

  ‘
Mind it for ’im.’

  Nelly walked on; through tears the fields blurred and she let the dogs take her wherever they wanted to go. When she felt the rain on her face again she turned back, but still did not go up Sheepy Lane and home. Instead she went to wait for Amy to open the shop.

  There was the usual rush of customers when Amy unlocked the door but today it didn’t diminish. Everyone in the village seemed to want to buy or order things for the Christmas holiday. Behind the post office counter piles of parcels waited for the van to collect them. And on the walls Nelly could see various lists, some in red, some green and some blue, all telling Amy of goods on order for delivery on Christmas Eve. One list was headed ‘Turkeys’.

  ‘Never ’ad a turkey,’ she said to anyone who would listen. ‘’Ad a chicken once, but I don’t want one this year after all, Amy,’ she raised her voice over the hubbub, ‘so you can cross me name off.’

  ‘Why, what’s happened, Nelly? Spent all your money on that wireless?’ Amy shouted back.

  ‘No point, me bein’ on me own again, as usual. George is gone. ’E didn’t want to interfere with me plans and spoil a family Christmas,’ she pulled a face as she said that, adding, ‘So I’m all on me own. Don’t want a chicken, not just fer me an’ the dogs.’

  ‘Come to us if you like,’ Amy said at once. ‘I keep on asking Prue but she’s said “no” so far.’

  ‘I’m going up to Fay and Johnny’s,’ Nelly’s soft voice said. ‘I’m sure there’d be room for one extra.’

  ‘What about your Evie?’ Someone asked and Nelly pulled a face.

  ‘Some Christmas that’d be! Got to behave meself when I goes there.’ She burped on her empty stomach and laughed loudly. ‘Couldn’t do that fer a start!’

  She sat on a sack of dog biscuits for a while looking around at the silver-wrapped tangerines and the shiny apples, the chocolate money and the sugar mice. This was the first Christmas since rationing was brought in that people were able to buy as many sweets as they wished. They had been de-rationed only the previous February, although sugar stayed on ration until September.