He wondered when she would manage to get to see them, and whether Eric might let her stay overnight when she did finally manage it. He dismissed that idea almost immediately. He would never have the courage to ask, but perhaps Mrs Evans might let her stay there with Lizzie? He abandoned that idea too as he remembered how poorly Mr Evans was. Then his face brightened. Perhaps she would fit in just a short visit before Christmas? Even if they only saw her for a few hours it would be better than nothing, although she hadn’t mentioned that she had any plans to come. But then even if she didn’t, it was almost November already and his mam had told them before they left that they might be home for Christmas.
Home for Christmas! The thought brought a grin stretching from ear to ear. Eric was all right, and Soho Gus and Sparky were great friends, but there was nowhere like home and never would be.
Chapter Twenty-Five
As Bonfire Night approached, the village children began to prepare a huge bonfire on the green opposite the smithy where Lizzie lived. Every day as they passed it on their way to school, the boys would wonder at the way it had grown overnight.
‘I ain’t never seen a bonfire as big as that,’ Gus marvelled. ‘Come to fink of it, I ain’t never seen a bonfire at all. There weren’t room to light one round where I came from. Not wivout settin’ light to the houses, anyway.’
Danny chuckled as he stroked Albert. Gus had allowed him to carry him some of the way to school and his whiskers were twitching, making Sparky giggle.
‘Did you ever ’ave a bonfire, Danny?’ Gus enquired.
Danny nodded as his mind went back in time. ‘Yes, we did, as a matter o’ fact. Before they built the Anderson shelters we used to ’ave one on the gardens at the back. Eeh, it were grand. Me mam used to buy us rockets that went as high as the stars. She’d stand ’em in empty milk bottles an’ then me dad or Mr Massey, that’s our neighbour, used to light ’em an’ off they’d go. The neighbours all used to give us their old clothes so as we could make a Guy Fawkes, an’ fer a few nights before we lit the fire we’d stand on the street corner with him an’ ask passersby fer a penny fer the guy. With the money we made we’d buy sparklers. They were me favourites, ’cos once they were lit yer could wave ’em about an’ write yer name in the dark wi’ ’em. An’ then me mam an’ Mrs Massey would push spuds into the side o’ the fire an’ we’d split’em open when they were cooked and put butter in ’em.’
Gus and Sparky listened with envy, thinking Danny’s family must have been quite well off. Where they came from, every spare penny was spent on food, and even then there was never enough of it, which was why they were both so taken with Wales. By now they were almost at the school gates and were just about to enter them when someone running across the cobbles made them look back across their shoulders.
Mrs Roberts, who Sparky was staying with in the village, was running towards them, her huge breasts jiggling up and down as she ran. She was brandishing something in her hand, and as she drew closer, the boys were alarmed to see it was a piece of yellow paper.
‘Bleedin’ ’ell,’ Gus muttered under his breath. ‘It looks like a telegram.’
They stood silently as Mrs Roberts wheezed up to them. ‘Tell . . .’ she struggled to get her breath as she draped a chubby arm about Sparky’s slight shoulders. ‘Tell the teacher that Sparky won’t be in this morning, boys, would you? I have something to tell him that would be best told back at home.’
Sparky was staring up at her uncomprehendingly as the two boys solemnly nodded. Then she gently turned the little lad about and led him back the way she had come.
‘What the bloody ’ell were all
that
about?’ Gus mumbled.
Danny handed Albert back to his owner. ‘I’ve no idea, but we’d best get in else we’ll be late, an’ then we’ll ’ave Miss Williams breathin’ down us necks.’
Gus popped Albert back into his top pocket and then the two boys silently entered the school.
Sparky didn’t come into class at all that day, but during the afternoon there was a tap at the classroom door and the children all turned in their seats to see Mrs Roberts beckoning to Miss Williams.
‘
Blant, pawb i gyfrif.
’ Realising that she had resorted to her native tongue in her consternation, Miss Williams immediately corrected herself. ‘Children, everyone to count,’ she barked as she sharply rapped on the blackboard with a lethal-looking cane. ‘I shan’t be a moment. Whilst I’m gone, you are to get on with your arithmetic, do you all hear me?’
‘Yes, Miss Williams,’ the class chorused as she barged past them. They all bent their heads to the books in front of them, but many of them were watching the window that ran all along the side of the classroom where they could see Miss Williams and Mrs Roberts talking. At one point during the conversation, Miss Williams’ hand flew to her mouth and she looked distressed, but when she re-entered the classroom some minutes later she was once again in control of herself.
‘Children, your attention, please.’ She rapped on her desk with the dreaded cane as the children’s heads slowly rose to look at her curiously. ‘I’m afraid I have some very sad news for you all,’ she began. ‘As you are all aware, John - or Sparky as he is known to you all - is staying with Mr and Mrs Roberts in the village. Sadly, she has just informed me that he has received some very bad news. During an air raid on London last night, Sparky’s family were all killed. The time ahead is going to be very difficult for him, so I want you all to promise me that when he returns to school, you will all be kind to him.’
‘Bu . . . but what will happen to him now then, miss?’ Gus asked tentatively. ‘Will he stay on wiv Mrs Roberts?’
‘I have no idea what will happen to him long-term, Gus,’ she replied truthfully, ‘but yes, I would think he will certainly be staying with the Roberts family - until the war is over, at least. I should imagine he will then be transferred to an orphanage somewhere.’
Lizzie, who was sitting in the front row, promptly burst into tears as she thought of poor Sparky’s plight. How awful it must be for him to have lost every single one of his family all in one go.
To everyone’s amazement, Miss Williams then revealed a side of her that none of them had ever seen before when she went to Lizzie and stroked her hair soothingly. ‘There, there,
cariad
, ’tis a dreadful thing that has happened, to be sure, but we can all help him through it. War is a terrible thing all round, but then we must always look on the bright side. It can’t go on forever, now can it?’
As Danny stared miserably down at his grubby hands he wasn’t so sure, and he felt Sparky’s pain. How would he and Lizzie feel if anything were to happen to their mam and Lucy? Lizzie glanced across at him and he knew that she was thinking exactly the same thing.
Bonfire Night came and went, but the huge bonfire on the village green was dismantled and never lit. Word had spread that no bonfires should be lit anywhere in the country. London was being heavily bombed and the villagers agreed that although Wales was a long way away, they could not risk drawing attention to themselves.
Sparky eventually returned to school, his eyes sunk deep into their sockets and red-rimmed from crying. His lips had taken on a bluish tinge. Both Danny and Gus desperately wanted to tell him how sorry they were for what had happened, but somehow they couldn’t seem to find the right words so they remained silent and life went on as before, for them at least.
As the middle of November approached the mountain-tops were covered in snow and the inhabitants of Sarn-Bach woke one morning to find the landscape coated in a thick frost. Both Danny and Lizzie were enchanted with the sparkling trees and the rooftops of the cottages that looked like something out of a fairytale, but Gus did nothing but complain about it.
‘Bleedin’ weather,’ he was constantly heard to say. ‘Trust us to get stuck in the middle o’ nowhere. It’s enough to freeze the ’airs off a brass monkey ’ere.’
Lizzie giggled, a rare occurrence nowadays, for the mood was sombre in the smithy cottage.
‘Mr Evans has been poorly all night,’ she told the boys on the way to school one day. ‘The smithy hasn’t been open fer ages now an’ he doesn’t even get up to sit in the chair any more.’
‘Don’t sound like he’s gonner be ’ere fer much longer,’ Gus commented. ‘Sounds to me like he’s about ready to kick the bucket.’ He had the good grace to look ashamed when Lizzie glared at him.
‘That’s an awful thing to say, Gus,’ she admonished him. ‘Mr Evans is really nice.’
‘Well, I dare say ’e is, but that don’t mean that ’e can’t snuff it, does it?’
Lizzie tossed her head and flounced away in front of him as Gus chewed on his lip. ‘I reckon yer could say I put me big bleedin’ foot in it there, eh?’
Danny nodded grimly. ‘You said it. I wonder what will happen to Lizzie though? If Mr Evans dies, I mean.’
‘I dare say she’d stay on wiv the old dear - though I don’t think she’d much like that. Old Blodwyn probably means well, but I reckon Lizzie feels a bit suffocated by her sometimes, don’t you?’
Danny nodded in reply. Lizzie was unhappy and it showed, and on more than one count. He knew that she found Mrs Evans overbearing, but she was also fretting because as yet, she still hadn’t received a single letter from their mam, though he’d had two so far. He had mentioned the fact to his mother in his last letter to her, and when her reply came she had assured them that she had written to them both, so why had Lizzie not received any of hers?
‘Yer don’t reckon that Mrs Evans
could
be keepin’ ’em from her, do yer?’ Gus asked when Danny mentioned it to him.
‘But why would she do that?’
‘Perhaps she wants to keep Lizzie all to ’erself,’ Gus suggested sagely. ‘I mean, fink about it. She don’t barely let ’er out of ’er sight, an’ you ’ardly ever see Lizzie dressed in any o’ the clothes she came wiv now. She always seems to be wearin’ somefin’ that belonged to Mrs Evans’s daughter . . . what were ’er name now? Megan. If yer were to ask me, I’d say it ain’t ’ealthy.’
Danny was inclined to agree with him, as that little worm of unease wriggled its way around his stomach. But what could he do about it? He couldn’t talk to Eric about it. If he did, the man would think he was mad. And if he wrote his concerns to his mother, she would worry herself sick. After giving it a lot of thought he decided that the best thing he could do would be to keep quiet, but to watch the situation closely, or at least, as closely as he could.
As they were walking home from school one day, Soho Gus had a brainwave.
‘Why don’t we go down to the beach?’ he suggested. ‘The rockpools will likely all be frozen over an’ we could skate on ’em.’
Danny was sorely tempted. He could never have enough of the beach but was concerned about what Eric would say. Only two days ago, he had been severely scolded by Eric for being late home from school when he and Gus had gone off on one of their adventures.
‘Shouldn’t we go home first an’ tell the folks where we’re goin’?’
‘Nah. If we do that, they’ll only say we’re to wait till the weekend,’ Gus replied scornfully. ‘It’s gettin’ dusk already an’ yer know what they’re like. They still treat us like babbies whenever they get the chance.’
They’d come to the opening that led down the steep hillside to the beach below, and Danny eyed it longingly. Seeing his hesitation, Soho Gus told him persuasively, ‘I could show yer some o’ the caves down there, while the tides out. I guarantee yer ain’t never seen nothin’ like it. The villagers reckon they were used by pirates years ago to store fings in. Just imagine, we might get to find some treasure, then we could buy our families a house here an’ they could all come to stay out the way o’ the war.’
‘Well . . . I suppose just half an hour wouldn’t hurt,’ Danny said doubtfully, and before he knew it he was scrambling down the cliff in hot pursuit of his friend. Once they reached the deserted beach, Danny stared at the sea in awe. Just as Soho Gus had told him, the tide was some way out and the waves were thundering onto the sand in great frothy clouds of spray before being snatched back out to sea, as if by some unseen gigantic hand. The sky overhead was the curious colour that lingers between day and night, a mixture of purples and soft mauves, and he wished that he had his paints there so that he could try and catch it on canvas.
In no time at all, their gas masks and satchels were discarded and they were racing along the beach with all the energy of youth, enjoying the feel of the wind in their hair. They skidded across icy rockpools giggling in gay abandon as they went. When they came to the caves that were sunk deep into the side of the cliff, Danny peered inside the shadowy interior.
‘It’s a bit dark in there, ain’t it?’ he ventured, concerned that Gus would think he was a scaredy-cat.
Gus ignored him and plunged fearlessly inside. ‘Come on, it’s great,’ he called, his voice echoing hollowly off the dripping stone walls.
Danny tentatively followed him, his eyes stretching wide as he stared into the gloom. The caves were enormous and went so far back into the cliff that he was amazed.
‘Let’s see if we can’t find some treasure then,’ Gus shouted, and soon they were in their element as they scurried here and there. The only treasure they unearthed, however, were shells, which Danny crammed into his pockets with the intention of passing them on to Lizzie the next day.
They were so absorbed in their treasure-hunt that they soon lost track of time, but eventually it became so dark that they could scarcely see the entrance to the cave. ‘Do yer think we’ve been here fer more than half an hour?’ Danny asked as he upended an old crate that stood against the wall of the cave.
Gus shrugged as he straightened and stepped over an indignant crab as it scuttled out of his way.
‘I ain’t sure, but I dare say we’d better get back, else they’ll be sendin’ a search-party out fer us.’