Valley Affairs

by Valley Affairs (retail) (epub)

  ‘Still gallopin’ about like one of Leighton’s lambs, are yer? Or ’ave you got time to stop for a cuppa?’ Nelly asked.

  ‘I’ve finished. I left yours ’til last so I could stay and chat for a mo’.’ Phil said, taking the teapot and making a brew. ‘Mam wants to know if you’d like to come up on Christmas night. You know she usually has a crowd in. She’d like you to come.’

  ‘Lovely!’ Nelly’s dark eyes shone. ‘But I don’t know if…?’ She looked at George, afraid to presume he was staying.

  ‘You as well, George, if you’re not leaving us again,’ Phil coaxed and George smiled.

  ‘Thank you. I’d love to accompany my wife to your party.’

  ‘Smashin’!’ Nelly laughed. She turned away to hide shyly from George’s look. It was hard not to forget her promise and beg him not to leave again. ‘’Urry up with that tea, why don’t yer?’ she said to Phil. ‘I thought you’d changed from a snail into a grey ’ound!’

  Phil noticed the piles of clothing from the cleared room upstairs that had been thrown into a corner.

  ‘It’s all rubbish to be thrown into the bin,’ Nelly explained.

  ‘I might be able to find a use for some of it,’ Phil surprised them by saying. He rubbed the side of his nose and smiled secretively. ‘Not a word, mind. It’s for a bit of fun at Mam’s party.’ He sorted through the dresses and shirts and packed a few items into a paper carrier.

  Leaving the two men still talking, Nelly went down to see Oliver. She did not go down Sheepy Lane, which would have been quickest, but turned left out of her gate and walked first to Netta Cartwright’s where her friend was half-heartedly draping a few garlands around the walls of the living room.

  ‘It’s very strange, this,’ Netta sighed, ‘not having anyone here for Christmas. I don’t know what to be doing with myself. I’m going to Fay and Johnny’s for the whole of the holiday and I can’t accept that I have nothing to do.’

  ‘None of the boys home then?’

  ‘No. All far away and not in need of me, Nelly.’

  ‘Johnny will want to show off his new wife and ’er cookin’. It’s their first Christmas for Gawd’s sake!’ Nelly spoke a bit sharply. ‘Don’t begrudge ’im that, do yer?’

  ‘No no, not a bit. I just wish I had something to do, that’s all.’

  ‘There’ll be plenty to do when you get to their ’ouse, I bet yer.’

  ‘Washing up?’ Netta said sadly.

  ‘’Ere, you comin’ to Ethel’s on Christmas night?’

  ‘Yes, I don’t think Johnny would miss that.’

  ‘I’m takin’ a few scones, got some stale milk an’ with a bit of jam. You takin’ anythin’, like a few mince pies?’

  Nelly went on to visit Evie, leaving Netta busily gathering the ingredients for making pastry.

  Evie was smiling! Nelly looked for the reason; it could surely not be for her? But there was no one else. She followed her daughter into the house, expecting the smile to fade, and found Oliver and Timothy playing a game of whist in the living room. They were laughing too. Nelly felt her heart expand with happiness. Oliver was positively glowing.

  ‘You’ve been teaching my son a few skills without me knowing it,’ Timothy said in his quiet voice, but Nelly sensed no criticism. She waited for him to explain.

  ‘I began to teach him whist and he’s winning every game. He tells me you and he, and George, play quite often.’

  ‘E’s a clever boy, didn’t Clara say so?’ Nelly hesitated, glancing at Evie in alarm. The mention of the gypsies might be enough to spoil the happy mood, but Evie ignored the comment.

  Nelly watched for a while, cheering when Oliver won a trick and booing at Timothy’s rare successes. There were no unpleasant effects from his hours in the cold and, from what she could see, many good ones.

  ‘George is stayin’ a while longer,’ she announced and again waited for the outburst that did not come. ‘Ethel ’as invited us both to ’er party. Nice that’ll be.’

  ‘We’re going to a party too,’ Evie said.

  ‘Smashin’. You’ll enjoy that, Oliver.’

  ‘Oliver won’t be coming. It’s for adults.’

  Evie stared at Nelly defiantly, sensing that her mother disapproved of her leaving her son so soon after his attempt to run away from her. She moved slightly and placed a hand on Oliver’s shoulder. Timothy and Oliver seemed unaware of the silent battle between the two women.

  ‘What’s ’appening to Oliver?’ Nelly demanded, her dark eyes full of pent up rage.

  ‘I haven’t made an arrangement yet. I’m sure Amy and Margaret would love to have him.’

  ‘So would George an’ me. We’d gladly give up the party.’

  ‘No, Mother, that isn’t possible.’

  ‘Amy can’t look after ’im. She’s goin’ to Ethel’s too.’ There was victory in Nelly’s voice.

  ‘We’ll see. I’ll telephone her.’

  ‘Do it now, why don’t yer?’

  It was obvious from the responses Evie made that Nelly was right. When the receiver was replaced, Evie looked at Nelly angrily.

  ‘I didn’t arrange it!’ she said defiantly.

  So it was agreed that Oliver would go with Margaret and Amy to Ethel’s on Christmas night. Nelly went home jubilant. ‘What a Christmas this is goin’ to be!’ she shouted as she went back into the cottage and told George the good news.

  * * *

  Christmas Day began in much the usual way, with the fire to see to and breakfast to prepare, the dogs to walk and the chickens to feed. Nelly felt an unusual urge to attend church and she and George slipped into the back pew and sang and listened with the rest, leaving just before the service ended.

  They walked arm in arm through the winter woodland, the dogs about their feet, then back to the chicken roasting in the oven. The afternoon was spent listening to the wireless which was broadcasting a Christmas programme of excerpts from all Nelly’s favourite comedies. They listened avidly to the description of the Queen’s journey to Barbados and New Zealand and concentrated carefully on the Queen’s speech which followed. Finally they slept, sated with food and drink, until the room had grown dark and the fire gave only an occasional flicker.

  * * *

  Ethel’s house was full of activity. Besides the last-minute cooking and setting out of food, Johnny and Phil were organising a few entertainments. Ethel could hear their muffled laughter but didn’t try to discover the reason for it. Best let them get on with it.

  Maurice had surprised and disappointed her by going to Delina’s family for Christmas dinner. It was unheard-of not to have all the family together – that is, until marriage changed things. Maurice and Delina had only just got engaged. The hurt took some of the pleasure out of the day, though they had both promised to be there for the evening gathering.

  The room was not large, and there were not enough seats for the crowd expected and, to add to the squash, Phil and Johnny insisted on bringing in a small table and a stool which they placed in a corner and draped with material that looked suspiciously like the skirts of ancient dresses. Ethel was in no doubt that someone was going to be teased and tormented for the amusement of others. She thought about her future daughter-in-law and wondered how the quiet, gentle young girl would cope with the uninhibited fun about to begin. She hoped her introduction to the Davies family would not affect her love for Maurice. It wasn’t really true that you married a man and not his family, different upbringings and inherited attitudes and beliefs were often inseparable. From what she had heard, the Honeymans were not noted for their lively sense of humour.

  * * *

  The prospect of Christmas in her new house had excited Amy but the reality had been disappointing. Freddy had not come home and the atmosphere of warmth and comfort she had hoped for had not materialised. The house had too many empty spaces and didn’t fit easily around her. The decorations seemed sparse and hollow and even the tree with its new baubles was like a new hat worn with a shabby co
at. Nothing felt right.

  Working every day had made settling in a more prolonged affair and the place was still not as welcoming as a home should be. It would wrap itself around her eventually, she knew that, but she had depended on the Christmas period to give her that feeling of belonging. With Freddy absent, the feeling still evaded her.

  Prue did not stay very long once the meal had been cleared and although Amy understood how difficult this first Christmas must be for her, without Harry to cook for and make all the extra touches for, she was unable to hide a sigh of relief when her sister left.

  During the afternoon she played some of the new games they had been given with her daughter, and they passed the hours in a relaxed and contented mood. As darkness came and they drew the curtains and heaped extra coal on the fire, she was glad they were going out. The prospect of the evening at home seemed long and lonely, even though Margaret was with her.

  * * *

  In Fay and Johnny’s smart new home, the hours passed slowly for Netta. The meal had been excellent and the welcome as warm as she could have wished, but Netta couldn’t help watching the clock, which tormented her with its slowness. After so many years of arranging everything for the busiest day in the year, she felt lost and sat fidgeting. Joining in the occasional bursts of conversation, and watching the clock hands drag themselves around, she wished she had invited Nelly and George to dinner with her.

  Making the excuse that the fire would need attention and she did not want to go back to a cold house, she made her escape and went home, to sit in her quiet living room and sip tea and wonder, not for the first time, whether all her future Christmases would be as empty.

  * * *

  At Evie and Timothy’s Oliver played with the pieces of Meccano which Nelly had bought for him in a second-hand shop. Through the morning and for most of the afternoon he concentrated on making a working model of a crane. Timothy lent a hand and Oliver occasionally had to revise his father’s help. He was completely absorbed and the day sped by. It came as a surprise when he saw Evie beginning to dress for her party. He wondered if the party he and Margaret were going to would be as boring as it sounded.

  * * *

  Maurice spent most of Christmas Day with the Honeymans. He and Delina had decided to marry in April and the initial discussions had begun. He was rather anxious when Mrs Honeyman mentioned the number of bridesmaids, and the choir and bells, and the large reception which would be held in the hotel in town.

  ‘But won’t that be expensive?’ he said hesitantly. He knew Victor had been a delivery man all his working life. How could such a large wedding even be considered?

  ‘Leave that to me,’ Mrs Honeyman said, smiling at her daughter.

  Maurice looked about him and wondered if, somewhere in the distant past, Mrs Honeyman had been wealthy. Certainly not since she had married Victor, he guessed. The furniture in their house was heavy and old, but had once been beautiful, perhaps a remnant of better days, and certainly of a much larger home than this council house near Hen Carw Parc. The cutlery was large and heavily patterned and the glasses, although they weren’t in full sets, were crystal.

  The house always lacked brightness in spite of some of the beautiful things it contained. He wondered how such surroundings had managed to produce a beauty like Delina. Even now at Christmas time there were no frills, only a rather bare tree in a corner.

  The boys were dressed in grey trousers and grey pullovers, and Mrs Honeyman wore a loose, dark green dress without anything to disperse the gloom. Only Victor had made a defiant gesture and wore sand-coloured trousers and a yellow pullover. But it was Delina who shone. Her dress was simple, but Maurice guessed it was very expensive. It was a fitted style with a high neckline and she wore it with a thin silver belt. A necklace of silver and earrings to match were her only jewellery but she looked lovely. He thought with sudden guilt that the house would be a gloomy one indeed, once he had taken from it the jewel which was Delina.

  After they had eaten a light meal of cold turkey and salad, they walked down the hill and through the muddy path to Ethel’s house, where a different sort of celebration awaited them. Maurice hoped Delina would not be embarrassed at the lively crowd and the nonsense that his mother attracted, not realising his thoughts matched Ethel’s exactly.

  * * *

  Amy had left for Ethel’s early. She could not stay another moment in the quiet house and as soon as Oliver had arrived she had taken both children for a walk through the village, around the back lane past the shop, and up through the fields, with only the street lights behind them to guide their feet. Then, back to the road and up the lane to pass Nelly’s cottage. They walked by the trees at the edge of the wood, Amy’s torch flickering on the bare branches and the thicker profile of the firs.

  She had no real purpose in mind, just a need to get away from the walls that seemed to enclose her and cut her off from the rest of the living world. Margaret and Oliver thought it great fun and they ran about her, pretending to be afraid of the dark.

  Sudden voices behind them gave them a real fright until they recognised Nelly’s loud laugh. Amy called and waited for the couple to catch them up, so it was a crowd who were the first arrivals at Ethel’s that Christmas evening.

  * * *

  Preparing for the invasion to come, Ethel had settled on a high chair near the door to the back kitchen as rising from a lower chair was painful. So the first arrivals made for the couch to settle comfortably before the crush.

  George stood behind Nelly, unsure of how well he would be received. He knew that everyone in the village referred to him as ‘The Tramp’ and he was afraid that people would be uneasy in his company. He leaned against the wall, prepared to watch and take little part in the proceedings.

  Constable Harris arrived soon after them and brought a flagon of beer.

  ‘Budge up Nelly,’ he urged, ‘there’s room for one more on that couch.’

  Billie and Mary Brown came, and as Constable Harris squeezed in beside Nelly and Amy, Billie groaned in disappointment.

  ‘Big man I am,’ he complained, ‘got to have a bit of couch or I’ll fill the room so’s no one else’ll get in.’

  He went to stand near George and when old Mr Leighton arrived with Sidney, Nelly was pleased to hear the four men in lively conversation. She turned her head so she could hear what was being said. They were discussing the advantages of electric fences, with Billie in favour and Mr Leighton arguing about the difficulty of watering the animals between the narrow sections of the fields.

  ‘What a conversation fer Christmas,’ she shouted. ‘You should be talkin’ about angels an’ ’eavenly choirs. Not electrocutin’ cows!’

  ‘Lord,’ someone joked, ‘what an idea!’

  ‘The cattle were lowing, the baby’s awake, but the little lord Jesus no crying did make…’ Billie began and others joined in one by one until everyone was singing. The words varied as people forgot the original ones but no one minded the occasional mistake.

  Margaret stood on the table and sang a solo that touched everyone’s heart, her clear and pure voice filling the room with a carol that Monica French had written and taught her during her music lessons. Nelly tried to coax Oliver to sing but he shook his head and slumped down in his seat, so she sang a song herself.

  ‘Not a carol,’ she explained, ‘I can’t never remember the words.’ Without leaving her seat she sang, ‘By A Babbling Brook’, only just reaching the high notes and making Amy and Constable Harris cringe and cover their ears. Billie Brown quickly handed her a beer, but whether to refresh her or to stop her no one was sure.

  A table in the corner was hung with material that Nelly recognised from the bundle Phil had taken. It was causing a lot of comment but no explanations were offered. A stool was set behind it. Who could it be for? All Johnny would tell them was that at ten o’clock they would have their questions answered, when their special guest arrived.

  Johnny began singing a song that could go on for ev
er, ‘Did You Ever See Such A Funny Thing Before’ and after fifteen verses, each more embarrassing than the last, Ethel stopped it as she heard the beginning of the verse about brother Morgan and his organ. There were cries of disappointment.

  ‘None of that sort of thing when Delina gets here, mind,’ Ethel warned. If she ever does, she thought bitterly. ‘Come on, Fay love, pass these plates around, will you? Perhaps a bit of grub will stop them singing disgusting songs and frightening the cats.’ She passed a pile of plates and Fay and Johnny began to distribute them among the forest of hands eagerly waiting for the food. There were huge platters of sandwiches, some of egg and others filled with brawn which Ethel had made. There were vegetable pasties flavoured with Oxo and brushed with egg to improve the look of the low-fat pastry.

  Ethel watched the food disappear and refilled the plates with cakes. Nelly had brought some scones and there was fruit cake in a large slab, which Ethel called ‘cut-and-come-again cake’. Amy had sent some iced fancies, and from the oven beside the fire Netta’s hot mince pies appeared.

  Ethel watched to make sure no one was forgotten, and all the time her dark eyes glanced repeatedly to the door, waiting for Maurice and Delina. She had been so certain they would have been among the first to arrive. Their engagement was just as much a cause for celebration here as at the Honeymans’.

  She shivered at the possibility that she was going to be excluded from all the joy and excitement of the wedding preparations. Even her offer to make the cake had been refused.

  ‘Shall I go and fetch them, Mam?’ Phil suggested, seeing the look in her eyes and guessing the cause. He was angry with his younger brother. ‘Thoughtless sod, I bet he’s forgotten the time.’

  ‘No, give him a while longer,’ Ethel said. ‘Better he doesn’t come than if he comes on sufferance.’