Valley Affairs

by Valley Affairs (retail) (epub)

  ‘It’s how I started, and how I finished, really,’ Ethel smiled. ‘I came here as a bride to live with my in-laws, and here I still am forty-three years on. I know young people want a place of their own, but I’ve been so happy here I wouldn’t change a single thing in my life. Except this old rheumatism which slows me up something terrible.’

  Phil arrived then and when he heard about the two rooms, asked for the address.

  ‘That’s Mrs Rees,’ he said, frowning in concentration as he visualised the houses in St Illtyd’s Road. ‘She’s Sheila Powell’s grandmother – you know, Sheila Powell who lives above Amy’s shop.’

  Maurice felt his face stiffen with shock. That was the last place he wanted to live! Anything to do with Sheila was unwise. She hadn’t bothered him for a while, but he knew that the slightest excuse would bring her back.

  ‘Isn’t it a bit far?’ he said. ‘Surely there’s somewhere down on the main road? We’ll ask Amy to put a card in her window asking for rooms. There’s sure to be someone who’ll be glad to earn a bit of rent.’

  To his relief, Delina agreed. Still, Maurice did wonder if it might not be better to look in Llan Gwyn. He could easily travel to work from there, and it would be nearer school for Delina too, and further away from Sheila Powell.

  Sidney came with some eggs and some illegal cream made by Mr Leighton, and he was followed by Catrin and Netta who had come to offer rations for the cake making.

  ‘No need, Delina’s mother has it all in hand,’ Ethel said, trying not to sound disappointed.

  ‘Delina and her mother came to see me and Rita about the girls being bridesmaids. Delyth is quite excited, but we aren’t too sure about Megan. Being only four she’s a bit worried about it. The new dress appeals though,’ he laughed. ‘Six bridesmaids she’s having, that will cost a bit.’ He looked at his future sister-in-law. ‘Your dad a millionaire, is he?’

  ‘No, but my mother’s family have agreed to pay for my wedding. I’m the only girl and it’s their one chance to make a grand occasion of it.’

  When the house was quiet again, Ethel sat and smiled happily. To have Maurice home and settled and so obviously in love was a dream come true. She had been so afraid he might not come back to Hen Carw Parc after his years in the army. She picked up the tea cosy she was crocheting and her fingers began to work swiftly. She would finish it by tomorrow and give it to Delina to add to her rapidly growing ‘bottom drawer’, ready for their new home.

  She wondered why Maurice had not wanted to look at the rooms in St Illtyd’s Road. Perhaps it was too close to an ex-girlfriend, she chuckled. He certainly went out with a few when he first came home. Phil always let her know what he was up to – and probably exaggerated much of it to make me laugh too, she thought as she snapped the wool and reached for a needle to finish off the tea cosy.

  * * *

  Freddy had been given a lift most of the way home when he came on leave that March. It meant he had to walk a few miles, but the prospect of seeing his mother and Margaret made the journey effortless. He had a rucksack on his back and a small canvas bag in his hand. He whistled as he came towards the village from the direction of Llan Gwyn, the early morning sun bright behind him.

  He heard a bus approaching from the opposite direction and wondered if Johnny would be driving it, but smiled when he was near enough to see that it was the forestry bus, waiting for Archie Pearce as usual. Nothing changes, he thought as Archie rushed out of his house and, half-dressed, clambered into the bus where the impatient driver revved the engine into snorts of disapproval.

  The village was still quiet, and he looked up at the closed curtains in the flat above the shop, remembering Sheila, disappointed that in spite of her promises she hadn’t written. He watched the curtains as he passed, hoping to see her look out, but they remained closed. He shrugged. His disappointment had not faded, but he realised she was nothing more than a dream. Girls like Sheila were for a quick fling but not for anything permanent.

  Amy gave a scream of delight when he opened the back door of ‘Heulog’, dropped his bags and opened his arms to her.

  ‘Mam, it’s great to be home again.’ He hugged her and shouted as Margaret ran in and hugged them both. Then they all talked at once. He congratulated Margaret on her exam result, and they discussed the news of Maurice’s wedding.

  ‘Delina?’ he asked with a frown. ‘I thought…’ He hesitated. Better not mention Sheila if Maurice was marrying someone else, but Sheila and he had seemed so close…

  ‘I did write and tell you,’ Amy laughed. ‘Didn’t you read my letters?’

  Amy had to leave as soon as they had eaten breakfast. Thursday was a busy day with a lot of people wanting their weekly orders.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ Freddy suggested. ‘I’ll give you a hand, then go and see Maurice. Working at Leighton’s is he?’

  ‘No! Working for your Auntie Prue. I told you that, too.’

  ‘We’ve moved a couple of times and I think some of your letters must have got lost. I don’t remember hearing about Maurice’s job or his wedding.’

  ‘It happened suddenly. Love at first sight,’ Amy said. ‘It’ll be quite soon, early April I believe. Will you be able to get home for it?’

  ‘I’ll try. Not very likely though.’

  ‘Sheila Powell asked for your address, didn’t she, Mam?’ Margaret said.

  ‘I haven’t heard from her.’ His blue eyes seemed to brighten, Amy noticed, as he added, ‘Perhaps that one went astray too. I’d better ask her.’

  They walked to the shop, Freddy pushing his bicycle with Margaret on the crossbar. There seemed to be so much to talk about after his absence, letters only touched the surface of the news.

  The village was waking up as they neared the shop. Nelly was standing with her dogs, waiting for Amy to open up, Milly Toogood’s daughter was cleaning her shop, a few people waited for the bus to Llan Gwyn. Freddy’s heart seemed to stop when he saw Sheila run across the road and stand in the queue of people, but he only waved and didn’t go to talk to her. There was no point really, first she had teased him and she then had made it clear what she thought of him. He wondered vaguely how she felt about Maurice getting married. Was she upset? Or did she look on every affair as short-lived anyway? He thought he would ask her if she had written though. A letter and a photograph of a girl like her wouldn’t do his image any harm with his new friends.

  ‘Know her well, do you?’ Margaret had seen the brief salute. ‘Fancies herself she does.’

  ‘She’s very pretty.’

  ‘Shop assistant she is, but she calls herself a saleswoman and calls the shop a saloon.’

  ‘Salon,’ Amy laughingly corrected.

  * * *

  Amy forgot all about Sheila and her parents as her work filled every moment, but as the time came for her to close, she heard Mrs Powell coming down the stairs. She walked past the window, tutting at the boxes still outside, and entered the shop, her eyes glaring angrily.

  ‘Now what?’ Amy muttered. ‘Something else wrong with the flat?’

  ‘I need to talk to you urgently.’ Mavis said.

  ‘I haven’t much time. I have to finish here then go home to cook—’

  ‘This is more important than cooking!’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Our daughter is pregnant, and I believe your son is responsible.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Amy reeled with shock as she took in Mavis’s words and it was a moment before she could reply. Denial, ridicule, disbelief all passed through her mind and for a moment she even thought of the words of the gypsy, who had seen her caring for a baby. No, not Freddy, it couldn’t be.

  ‘Freddy is barely sixteen,’ she said at last.

  ‘He’s a man. And he’s the only one I’ve even seen with Sheila. She denies it of course, won’t say who the father is, but she’s a simple girl, an innocent child, and I can’t let him get away with it. Why should he? In this life you pay for what you do. Break the r
ules and you have to accept the consequences.’

  The shrill voice went on and on, while Amy wondered what to do. Best to say as little as possible, except to deny it, she decided.

  ‘I’m sure you’re mistaken. If Sheila herself won’t blame Freddy, why should you presume he’s responsible? I’ll talk to him,’ she went on quickly, refusing to allow Mavis to interrupt and turn the conversation into a slanging match. ‘I’ll talk to him and we’ll discuss it again. If necessary.’ She ushered the woman out of the shop and pulled down the blind. She pushed the bolt across with unnecessary force, overcome by anger.

  Amy stood for a long time in the silent shop, her nerves jangling and her hands tightly clenched. How could she deal with this? For a moment a wave of self-pity overwhelmed her. She was always alone. Everything important or worrying had to be faced alone. She thought of Harry and wondered what his advice would be.

  Deny it, his voice seemed to whisper in her ear and she frowned. Would she accept anyone else’s advice about her son if there were someone to discuss it with? No. There had been so many times before when she had faced things alone. She was too used to making her own decisions.

  Remembering her own lonely pregnancies she felt a pang of sympathy for Sheila, but refused to allow that to cloud concern for her son. Sheila must be secondary, but she knew she would make sure, so far as she could, that the child was cared for properly and lovingly. Babies are the innocent ones, not the girls like Sheila. Or herself.

  It was late when she finished cashing the till and doing the books and when she left Freddy and Margaret were waiting for her.

  ‘Thought we’d walk back to meet you, Mam,’ Freddy said, taking the basket of groceries she carried.

  Amy stared at him. He was taller, and seemed to have filled out since the army had taken him from her. He was a man and, she guessed, quite capable of making love to a woman. She tried to pretend, tried to think of him as a child, who wanted nothing more than a day’s fishing to be happy. But walking beside him, hardly reaching his broad shoulders, it was impossible to deny his adulthood.

  Margaret was laughing, trying to guide the wheels of the bicycle through puddles, when Freddy caught sight of Amy’s face and saw her distress.

  ‘Something wrong, Mam?’

  ‘I’ll tell you later,’ she said quickly.

  ‘I see,’ Margaret said. ‘That means it doesn’t include me!’ She skipped ahead, leaving Freddy and her mother alone.

  ‘Mind the road and walk, don’t run.’ Amy warned as they reached the place where the road narrowed.

  ‘What is it, Mam?’ Freddy asked again.

  ‘Mavis Powell came to see me.’

  ‘More complaints about the flat?’

  ‘No. About you.’

  ‘Me?’ His eyes behind the glasses clouded. ‘What have I done?’

  ‘Sheila is pregnant and she says you are the father.’ The words came out quickly.

  ‘Not true, Mam.’

  Amy looked up at him and sighed with relief. She believed him completely. ‘Thank goodness for that. I’d hate to see you mixed up with that one, she seems like nothing but trouble to me.’

  ‘Sheila’s all right. I’ve been out with her once or twice but we never – there’s no chance I’m the father of her baby. I promise you that.’

  ‘There’s a load off my mind. I’ll talk to her tomorrow and tell her to look somewhere else for her scapegoat. Fancy her thinking that a young boy like you would… Well, at least that has set my mind easy.’

  Too young, Freddy thought as he passed his Auntie Prue’s house. He couldn’t look across, afraid to see her and be reminded of the terrible thing he had done. That pregnancy must be obvious now and he felt a shiver of dismay pass through him from head to foot. If Mam only knew how easily Auntie Prue could prove he was not too young!

  * * *

  How gossip filtered so quickly through the village was always a source of amazement to Amy, and the news of Sheila’s pregnancy seemed to spread faster than normal. The only two who seemed unaware of the gossip were Delina and Maurice, who were oblivious to everyone but each other. Everyone else who came into the shop spoke of it, but the fact that Freddy’s name was included worried and annoyed Amy.

  ‘No! Freddy is not the father and I’ll sue anyone heard repeating that he is!’ She flared up, when the third person congratulated her on the prospect of being a grandmother.

  She ran up to the flat, and when there was no reply, pushed a note under the door warning them not to spread untrue rumours about her son. Ralph and Mavis came into the shop and, without waiting for it to empty, insisted that Freddy must accept responsibility.

  ‘There’s no mention of her being even seen with anyone else,’ Mavis screeched at Freddy. ‘You were seen with her in the park, outside her shop, walking in the lanes, and standing outside the house late at night, calling for her to come out. And her in her night-dress too. No one else has ever been seen with her except you. And don’t forget her father and I saw her half undressed at the bonfire party and who did she go with? You!’

  ‘There were others,’ Freddy confided to Amy after several days of this. ‘One of them was Maurice and I can’t tell anyone that, can I, not with him and Delina getting married in a few weeks’ time.’

  ‘I think you must, Freddy. I doubt if Maurice was the only one. She’s the sort of girl who likes men and would never settle for only one. Neighbours who live next door to her grandmother complained about her walking about half naked, and—’

  ‘I don’t want to hear, right Mam? I only know I didn’t make her pregnant.’

  ‘Then tell someone about Maurice and any other boys you know about. Please, Freddy. You can’t have your life spoilt because of loyalty to Maurice Davies, friend or not.’

  ‘You tell Mrs Powell, Mam. I know it’s cheating, but it won’t be so bad if it isn’t me who says it.’

  * * *

  Mavis Powell hadn’t been to work for days. In fact, the way she felt, it was unlikely she would ever work again. She saw Sheila off to the bus, and Ralph out to meet his friend who gave him a lift, then sat with another pot of tea, wondering what to do to make Freddy face up to what he had done. She was still sitting, unwashed and with her hair uncombed when there was a knock at the door.

  She fastened her dressing-gown and ran her fingers ineffectually through her hair before going downstairs to answer it. Probably Phil Davies, the post, she thought. But it was Amy, smartly dressed in a costume of pale beige, with a green jumper, a plastic mac over her arm, emerald and diamante earrings dangling and sparkling in the morning sun. She made Mavis feel scruffy. She straightened the gown around her and began to apologise for her appearance.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve—’

  ‘Don’t worry, this won’t take long.’

  Amy pushed her way in and waited impatiently for the woman to go back up the stairs. She looked so determined that Mavis went without a word of protest. In the living room the dishes still sat on the table, and the ashes lay where they had fallen from last night’s fire.

  ‘I’m sorry about—’ Mavis began again.

  ‘Freddy is not the father of Sheila’s child and he is far from the only man your daughter has been seeing. I have three other names for you. No doubt you’ll find plenty more!’ Amy stood at the door of the room, and Mavis was foolishly reminded of a mother cat defending her young.

  ‘Maurice Davies is one,’ Amy continued ‘and I’ll bet that once you stop trying to implicate my Freddy, you’ll find plenty who have seen Sheila and Maurice together. Pete Evans and Gerry Williams are two more for you to be going on with. With a reputation like Sheila’s, there’ll be plenty more. And don’t try to stick this on Maurice Davies either. He’s getting married in a few weeks to a decent young woman so he’s not likely to fall for your threats! Accept what she is and make the best of it, that’s my advice!’

  ‘And you’re a fine one to give advice, with your record!’ Mavis retaliated at last.

>   ‘Just don’t spread any more lies about my son or I’ll complain to the police. Right?’

  Amy stormed down the stairs and walked around to the back entrance of the shop. Her hands were shaking as she unlocked the door. At lunchtime she saw Mavis catching a bus into town. That evening, Mavis and Sheila alighted from the bus and walked up the lane towards Ethel’s. Amy shrugged. Well, what did it matter if they were pestered for a while? It would give her and Freddy a break.

  * * *

  Rumours spread fast, and the knowledge that Ethel was disappointed that she was not able to make Maurice’s wedding cake was a topic of conversation in several gatherings. When it was suggested that she might make a second one for all the friends who would call at the house, Ethel was delighted.

  In March 1954 fats were still on ration, but Ethel was determined that Maurice should have the best possible cake and her many friends helped out. Rations of butter came in slowly and steadily. Nelly gave her two ounces two weeks in a row, and Phil’s wife, Catrin, mixed half butter and half margarine to make her contribution.

  Amy received her supplies in bulk and when she had weighed out the small pats into greaseproof paper, she gave the butter-smeared sheets that had wrapped the fifty-six pound slab to Ethel. Many others gradually swelled her collection.

  One tin was already made and packed away in Ethel’s cool larder. The second was in the oven sending tantalizing smells through the house.

  ‘Soya flour will have to do for the marzipan layer,’ she was explaining to Delina as they washed the basins and bowls she had been using. The big mixing bowl still stood on the scrubbed wooden table when Maurice came home from work. He came in, sniffing appreciatively and taking in the scene. After kissing Delina and his mother he picked up the bowl and, like a child, began to clean it with his fingers.

  ‘Marvellous, Mam. Deeelicious! I can’t wait.’

  There was a mock battle underway as Ethel tried to take the bowl for washing, when through the open door they saw visitors coming. This was hardly unusual, the house was rarely empty, but unless they had come to bring a gift, as so many of the villagers had done, they couldn’t think why Mavis Powell and her daughter were visiting.