Authors: Catrin Collier
‘There have been times when I’ve wanted to.’
‘Like now?’
‘I’ve never wanted to run from you. But then you’ve never made it that tough on me.’
‘I could. Especially if you carry on dilly-dallying about picking up that telephone.’
Trevor looked into the frying pan. The bacon still needed another few minutes before it became crispy, and Laura hadn’t even broken the eggs yet. He had no excuse. If he was going to telephone Andrew he might as well do it now and get it over with.
He went into the hall, picked up the receiver and dialled the operator. He had to wait three minutes for her to make the connection, and when she finally did, the telephone at the other end seemed to ring with a hollow note as though it was trying to tell him there was no one around to pick it up.
He imagined the empty rooms, immaculately and exquisitely furnished in the modern, art deco blond wood pieces Andrew admired. Then he looked at his watch. Six o’clock. He should have asked Bethan what time Andrew went to the hospital. He didn’t even know what department Andrew worked in, or if he was on call.
For all he knew Andrew could be on night shift in casualty.
‘Hello.’
The voice didn’t even sound like Andrew’s. Perhaps the operator had connected him to the wrong number.
‘Could I speak to Dr Andrew John, please?’
‘Speaking.’ The voice was curt. Trevor was beginning to regret his decision.
‘I didn’t recognise your voice. It’s Trevor here.’
‘Something’s wrong with Bethan?’
‘No.’ Trevor took a deep breath. ‘The baby.’
‘It’s bad.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘It looks it.’
‘I’ll telephone the Cross and see if they can get someone to take over my shift. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
The line went dead. Trevor looked at the receiver for a moment before replacing it.
‘Well?’ Laura asked.
‘He said he’d be down as soon as the hospital got a replacement for him.’
‘Let’s hope he’ll be of some use to Bethan when he gets here. Do you want your eggs with runny or hard yolks?’
Bethan sat on the edge of her bed, watching and waiting. She heard the alarm go off in the room Eddie shared with William. It continued to ring, and she realised that both boys must have remained downstairs. Seconds later it was joined by the tinny, angry sound of Charlie’s alarm in the front room below her, but that was silenced almost as soon as it began.
Nerves stretched to breaking point, she left Edmund lying in the centre of her bed and walked across the landing to Eddie’s room. The clock with its cracked face stood on a chair next to the bed.
She picked it up and silenced it just as Diana’s clock started clanging. She felt like screaming. The same number of alarms went off in the house every morning.
Today was no different. She couldn’t expect the world to stop just because Edmund was ill. Edmund! She returned to her bedroom and laid her hand, yet again, on the baby’s forehead. Was it her imagination? No! He was definitely a little cooler. Just a little. Did this mean that he was going to get better, or...
‘I’ve brought you another tea, Beth.’
‘Thanks.’ She tried, and failed to smile at Eddie.
‘Friday’s always a lousy day on the round,’ he said awkwardly. ‘So I thought I’d stay here. There’s one or two things I’ve been meaning to get around to for a while.
The shed needs tidying, and if there’s any leftover paint in there I might give the outside walls a coat. And then again, if I stay I could help you with the housework,’ he offered. ‘I’ve watched Mam clean and black lead the stove often enough to be able to do it myself. I can carry the rugs out and beat them on the line, and although I might not be a great cook, I can do a decent fry-up at a push. Ask Charlie if you don’t believe me. It was me who took over the cooking when Mam had to see to Uncle John last autumn when he went down with an attack of pleurisy.’
‘It would be good to have you close at hand, Eddie,’ she replied. It would be useful to have someone she could send to fetch Trevor at a moment’s notice.
‘I’ll go and see to the breakfasts.’
‘I’ll be down in a moment.’
‘You bringing the baby downstairs?’
‘I think I’ll have to. I don’t want to leave him up here all alone. Do me a favour, move the day cot from the corner by the stove to the back corner next to the dresser. His temperature’s dropping, but I still don’t want him to get overheated.’
‘Wouldn’t both of you be better off up here until it’s quiet? You know what it’s like with everyone back and forth to the washhouse, doors opening and closing and draughts whistling everywhere.’
‘You sure you can manage the breakfasts?’
‘I’ll bring you up some of my toast and porridge,’ he boasted, hoping Diana would have time to show him how to make porridge. The last time he’d had a go William had asked if he was trying to invent a new cement.
‘I’d rather eat in the kitchen after everyone’s left.’
‘Don’t forget to drink your tea,’ he reminded her.
Bethan drank her tea and fought the temptation to pick up Edmund and nurse him. When the cup was empty, she left the bed, switched off the light, drew the curtains and pulled down the sash as far as it would go. Was the sky lighter than usual over the mountain? Perhaps spring was turning into summer after all. She had a sudden yearning for the warmth of the sun and the brightness of midsummer flowers.
She listened to the sound of water splashing as Diana washed in the bedroom next to hers. She heard footfalls descending the stairs and Eddie’s voice hushed and self-important as he told Charlie and Diana about the baby’s illness. She blessed him for taking the task upon himself.
It was far easier to sit and watch her baby in the growing light, doing nothing in particular, than face the family with the news.
She held her breath so she could monitor the baby’s. Laying her fingers lightly on his forehead she felt his temperature steadily continue to decline in the face of the cool breeze that blew in through the window. She pulled the cotton sheet around him, laid his thin woollen shawl lightly on top, and continued to watch and wait, holding her breath every time he breathed in, only exhaling when she was certain that he’d breathed out.
Silently praying until he drew his next breath. Hoping against hope that there’d be another ... and another ... and another.
‘It’s bad then?’ Diana stirred a handful of salt into the porridge pot.
‘I think so,’ Eddie replied uncertainly, superstitiously hoping he wasn’t precipitating anything dreadful by putting his worst fears into words. ‘Doctor Lewis said he’d call again before he begins work in the hospital.’
‘You know what a heavy sleeper I am. You should have woken me,’ Diana said reproachfully.
‘I would have if there’d been anything for you to do.’
Diana laid a burn-scarred wooden board in the centre of the table, carried the porridge saucepan over to it, and left it steaming while she went to the dresser to fetch bowls.
‘Bethan said she’d eat later, but it might be better to take it up to her while it’s hot,’ Eddie said thoughtfully.
‘Let me make up the baby’s bottle first. She won’t eat until Edmund’s fed.’
‘Have you got time?’
‘I’ll make time.’ She jangled the keys in her skirt pocket. ‘The only people likely to complain if I open up five minutes late are the customers, and they can wait. Wyn’s too busy with the other shop to worry about what I do with mine.’
‘Lucky you, having an easy going boss,’ William joked in a voice loud enough to carry back to Charlie, who was cleaning his shoes in the yard. ‘Mine’s a slave-driver.’
‘Four beef carcasses chopped and jointed for the boss’s Cardiff shops by ten,’ Charlie ordered as he washed his hands under the running tap. ‘Then you can start on the lambs and lights we’ll need for the stall tomorrow. And this afternoon you can slice all the cooked meats in the shop, and boil up those hams I bought.’
‘See what I mean?’ William moaned to his sister. He was deliberately avoiding the subject of Bethan and her baby, although he felt their presence in the room above him as keenly as the rest of them. Clowning around and banter had always been his way of coping.
‘I could send a message to Wyn. Perhaps his sister could take over the High Street shop just for today,’ Diana began doubtfully.
‘There’s no need,’ Eddie interjected. ‘I’ve already told Beth that I’ll stay home today and help her.’
‘Help her by all means,’ William said warily. ‘But please don’t cook tea. My stomach hasn’t recovered from the last bacon you fried. As a substitute for shoe leather it might have had a future, but as bacon ...’
‘Oh God, who’s that now?’ Diana complained as there was a loud rapping on the door.
‘The doctor probably.’ Eddie pushed his spoon into his porridge and left his chair. ‘I’ll let him in.’
Diana mixed the baby’s milk powder in boiling water. Leaving the bottle to cool she picked up her own breakfast.
‘Yoo-hoo, it’s only me.’
‘Mrs Richards, at this hour. Pity help us,’ Diana muttered as she swallowed the last of her tea.
‘Sorry to come over so early, but I thought you’d like to know.’ Mrs Richards gave Charlie an arch look as he sat at the table in his shirt-sleeves with his collar hanging loose around his neck. ‘The bailiffs are round Phyllis Harry’s. They’re throwing her and that baby of hers out on the street. Fred the Dead waited until he made his money from the funeral, and not one day more. If you want my opinion, the man ought to be shot. Even if it is Phyllis Harry he’s evicting.’
‘Mam, I don’t know why you want to see the minister. Every time you talk to him he upsets you.’
‘I won’t have anyone else telling him and the deacons what you’ve done, or where we’re living.’ Lena pulled her knitted hat firmly down over her head.
‘Why? What’s the difference? They’ve already forbidden me to enter the chapel, what else can they do?’
Alma carried the new hand towels Bethan had bought her as a house-warming present from the kitchen into the bathroom.
‘I need to talk over what you’ve done with someone I respect. I need to know what people will think of you ...’
‘Mam please, don’t start that again.’ Alma returned from the tiny bathroom to the equally small kitchen. ‘Charlie has given me a job, and us a better roof over our head. There’s no reason for people to talk. It’s purely a business arrangement. He still intends to lodge with the Powells. He’s happy there,’ she emphasised, embroidering the brief conversations she’d had with Charlie.
‘It’s all very well for you to say he won’t be living here. He’ll be working downstairs every day. This is his flat, you’re in his power. He can do whatever he wants with you ...’
‘Mam, you make him sound like Fu Manchu.’
Lena wasn’t impressed by her daughter’s attempt at humour. ‘All I’m saying is that if the minister has a word with this new boss of yours, tells him what a decent girl you are, then he might be more inclined to stick to the bargain he’s made.’
‘The last thing I want is for anyone from the chapel to speak to him. Don’t you see, it would ruin everything. Charlie overlooked a lot of gossip when he gave me this job.’
‘But that still doesn’t make moving in here right. Alma, please listen. My father was a deacon, well respected in the chapel. There are businessmen in the congregation. Some of them might be looking for help. Ben Springer who owns the shoe shop is always taking on girls. If I ask the minister to put in a word and Ben agrees, you could tell this man –’
‘His name is Charlie,’ Alma shouted angrily.
‘What kind of a name is that? When I was a girl people called their employers sir. They showed respect.’
‘Charlie’s real name is unpronounceable, not that it matters. It isn’t a person’s name that’s important, but the way they are; and I wouldn’t work for that slimy toad Ben Springer if you paid me double wages, and neither will anyone else. That’s why he’s always looking for girls.’
‘Working for a married man could go a long way to making you respectable again.’
‘Respectable! Respectable! Is it respectable to live in the workhouse? Because that’s where we’d be going if it was up to your damned minister.’
‘Alma, your language,’ Lena sat down heavily on the kitchen chair.
‘When are you going to realise that the congregation of that chapel you think so much of would be quite happy to sit back and watch both of us be put out on the street. They wouldn’t lift a finger to help. They’d enjoy it,’ she added cruelly, wanting to make her mother face the facts. ‘But if you want to, go and visit your minister. Just remember we don’t have anywhere else to live, and this flat goes with the job I’ve taken.’
‘You told me you’d paid the rent on Morgan Street until today,’ her mother said.
‘I have,’ Alma agreed grimly. ‘But that didn’t stop Fred Jones from taking someone else’s money from tomorrow. We couldn’t go back to Morgan Street now even if I wanted to, which I don’t. The house has already been let to someone else.’
‘You can’t walk through here.’ Bobby Thomas fingered his bruises as he blocked the door set into the garden wall of Rhiannon’s house when Charlie, flanked by William and Eddie, crossed Graig Avenue.
‘I’d like to call in and see Miss Harry,’ Charlie murmured softly. Eddie and William squared up threateningly behind his back.
‘She’s at the front of the house. If you want to see her you’re going to have to walk round to Phillips Street.’
‘Who says?’ Eddie stepped in front of Charlie and thrust his nose close to Bobby’s. Bobby didn’t step back; he merely let out a long, low whistle that carried piercingly through the cool morning air. The garden door opened at his back and two more of Fred’s rent collectors stepped out.
‘We’ll walk around, Eddie,’ Charlie said evenly, tipping his cap to Bobby.
‘But we’ve been walking through Mrs Pugh’s house for –’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Charlie interrupted. ‘We’ll walk around now.’
William nudged his cousin in the back. ‘The sooner we go the sooner we’ll be there.’
Much as he saw the need to hurry, Charlie waited until he could be sure Eddie would follow. The three of them finally walked off down the rough road towards Vicarage corner.
‘We saw them off,’ Bobby laughed, crossing his arms over his chest.
‘For the moment.’ James, Fred’s eldest son, leant against the wall, wishing his father was around to see the havoc his eviction order was creating. But the one thing he’d learned in the six months he had been working for the family firm was that his father was
never
around on eviction days. One of the perks of being boss was being able to stay away from the seamier side of working life.
‘I can’t believe that Fred Jones would put Phyllis out on the street with Rhiannon only just in her grave.’ Eddie burned with righteous indignation.
‘Rumour was going around that Phyllis Harry’s son is Fred’s. His wife gave him an ultimatum Wednesday afternoon: either he put Phyllis out, or she left.’
‘Where did you hear that?’ Charlie asked.
‘In the Central, Wednesday night. Williams the milk came in. He lives next door to the Joneses and when he left home to go out, Fred’s wife was crying all over Mrs Williams telling her the story. Apparently Fred used to collect the rents in Phillips Street himself, just about the time Phyllis had to give up her job in the White Palace.’
‘I didn’t know you went to the Central,’ Eddie said, kicking a stone across the road.
‘Now and again,’ William replied airily.
‘Well you never said a word to me about it.’
‘You weren’t there to hear it when I got home. Sometimes I think you live in that bloody gym.’
Charlie quickened his pace. By the time they reached the Graig Hotel he was ahead of them. He paused on the corner of Llantrisant and Walters Roads and looked up the hill.
The front door of Rhiannon’s house was wide open, and a crowd had gathered. Two men were carrying out her prized china cabinet. Even from that distance he could hear the crashing and smashing of the ornaments it contained.
‘The bastards haven’t even emptied it.’ Eddie clenched his fists.
Charlie sprinted up the hill, Eddie and William running behind him. A woman stepped out of the crowd and shook her fist furiously at Bobby, who had obviously walked through the house to face Charlie and the boys when they arrived.