Beggars and Choosers (22 page)

‘He is looking for Rhian and the baby,' Sali murmured.

‘He won't find them,' Mari declared confidently.

‘You've heard from them?' Sali lifted her head from Mari's shoulder. ‘Are they well? Are they –'

‘They are fine, and they can do what they like to me, I'll not tell Owen Bull or anyone else where they are.' She looked to the door. Seeing no nurses in the corridor, she closed it. ‘Rhian is working as a kitchen maid and she has found a woman, a good kind woman who has a boy of her own, to look after your son.'

‘Where are they?'

‘Not too far away,' Mari hedged.

‘Please, I must see them ...'

‘And you will, as soon as you leave here,' Edyth consoled.

‘Owen says he is going to take me home.'

‘So he can beat you again? That is out of the question.' Edyth dismissed.

Mari opened her handbag and pulled out an envelope. She removed a letter and a photograph. ‘Doesn't he look fine? Quite the young boy.' She handed the photograph to Sali.

‘Exactly like his father,' Edyth said wistfully.

Her son stood in front of a canvas backdrop painted to resemble an ornate eighteenth-century garden, complete with Grecian urns and broken columns. He was wearing one of Llinos's white linen, drawn-work aprons, and holding a teddy bear that looked so new, Sali suspected it was the photographer's prop.

‘When was this taken?' Sali drank in every detail. The wary, confused expression on the child's face, the sturdy chubbiness of his legs, the way his mouth almost turned up at the corners but didn't.

‘My sister had it taken –'

‘Your sister,' Sali broke in eagerly. ‘The one who is a housekeeper in Tonypandy?'

Mari put her finger to her lips. ‘She found Rhian a position and someone to look after the child.'

‘What if Owen finds out where they are?'

‘We must take care that he doesn't.' Edyth pursed her lips as the bell rang. ‘We seem to have been here less than five minutes. Damn that man for coming here.'

It was the strongest language Sali had ever heard her aunt use.

Mari proceeded to empty her bag on to the bed. ‘I brought you some preserves, a fruitcake, an apple tart and a bottle of my raspberry syrup. The sweets and this bottle of cordial are from Tomas, who sends you his very best. And you know what that means.'

‘You shouldn't have.' Sali stared at the pile of gifts.

‘Don't worry, there is nothing there that your uncle knows about and what he doesn't know about, he can't miss. He is just the same as he was the day he moved into Danygraig House and so is your mother. When I next write to Masters Geraint and Gareth and Miss Llinos, shall I send them your love?'

‘I thought I heard voices.' The sister opened the door. ‘Mrs James, Mrs Williams, I am sorry, but I will have to ask you to leave.'

‘We are just going, Sister. If you would be so kind.' Edyth took the sister's hand to steady herself as she left the chair.

‘Geraint, Gareth and Llinos don't know I'm here, do they?' Sali asked.

Mari shook her head.

‘Mother?'

‘Your mother doesn't know what day of the week it is, bless her, let alone what is happening in the town. Your Uncle Morgan knows you are here and who put you here, as does everyone in Pontypridd. Take care of yourself. Another week or so and you will be safe with Mrs James, She'll take care of you.'

Chapter Twelve

‘Can't you sleep, Mrs Bull?' The duty night nurse walked into Sali's room to find her staring blankly at the ceiling.

‘No.'

‘Are you in pain? If you are, I could give you some tablets or a sleeping draught.'

‘No, thank you.' Sali tried to smile and discovered it wasn't her imagination. The pain in her face was lessening. ‘With all the sleeping I've done for the past five weeks I'm just slept out.'

‘It is strictly against regulations, but as you are in here on your own and wouldn't disturb anyone, I could put the light on so you could read.'

‘I'd like that, thank you.'

‘There's a copy of last week's
Observer
in the sister's office. You could find out what has been happening in the town.'

‘Please.'

The nurse brought Sali a cup of heavily sugared tea along with the paper. She sat up and opened the paper. It was such a simple thing to do, drink tea and read in bed, but it had been a long time since she'd had the leisure to read a newspaper.

The Christmas before her father died, she reflected. Since then her life had deviated drastically from the plans she had made with her father and Mansel. Plans that had seemed cast in iron at the time. Since then, she had witnessed her Uncle Morgan's transformation of Danygraig House from a happy family home into a mausoleum where everyone went about ‘their duty' in fear. She smiled as she recalled the weeks of happiness she had enjoyed with Mansel when they had planned their wedding. And ...

Refusing to think about her life since the day Mansel had vanished, she smoothed the first page of the paper, which was covered in advertisements, turned it, and scanned the first article that caught her attention.

She sipped tea and read about Miners' Federation Meetings, Licensing Offences, and a diatribe by someone who signed himself ‘Onlooker' on the sad state of social life in Pontypridd, which he attributed to the high pay ‘given to' colliers; the drunkenness, crime, lunacy and lustful practices indulged in by the overpaid miners and the inability of the churches and chapels to deal with the situation and channel young men's energies into more useful occupations.

It was the type of article her father had loved to read aloud to her and Geraint and discuss with them afterwards. The remembrance of those conversations made her realise just how drastically her horizons had narrowed since her marriage. Until she had been admitted to hospital she hadn't talked to anyone other than Owen, Rhian, Iestyn and her baby for over three years and what was worse, she hadn't thought of anything other than housework and pleasing Owen so he wouldn't find cause to beat her.

She had ceased to think, to read, to attend concerts, visit the theatre or do any of the things that had meant so much to her when she had been growing up. The knowledge was painful. She had become one of the women her father had despised, who couldn't see further than the walls of their own houses and never voiced an opinion other than that of their husbands.

She turned over the page and looked at the list of misdemeanours at the Police Court. When she reached halfway down the column she sat bolt upright and reread the paragraph.

Following an incident at the home of Mrs Edyth James, Ynysangharad House, Pontypridd,
Mr Owen Bull, butcher, of Mill Street, Pontypridd, was bound over in the sum of £20 for six months to be of good behaviour. The defendant apologised to the court and stated that at the time of the offence he was of the opinion that members of his immediate family were inside Ynysangharad House. The solicitor for the defence undertook to see that the fine was paid within a fortnight.

Owen had gone to her Aunt Edyth's house and made a scene. She imagined him shouting on the doorstep, demanding Rhian return to Mill Street with the baby. Her aunt hadn't told her, because she knew if she did, she would never persuade her to move into Ynysangharad House. There was no way that she'd put her aunt's life or the lives of her aunt's servants at risk. Knowing Owen as she did, she realised he was quite capable of turning up there drunk, and ready to attack anyone who stood in his way. She recalled the thinly veiled threat he had made that afternoon.

Leave me and you, and whoever you run to, will suffer.

He hadn't said what he would do to make them suffer, but then, there was no need. She fingered her swollen, cracked cheekbone. He didn't have to tell her what he was capable of doing to her, her son, Rhian, or her aunt, because he had already shown her.

After the ward maids had cleaned Sali's room the following morning, her Uncle Morgan walked into her cubicle.

‘Don't disturb yourself,' he said, as she instinctively clutched the edges of her lace bed jacket together. He pushed aside the stool and sat on the chair, staring at her, making her feel as though he could see right through her jacket and nightgown. ‘I regularly visit the infirmary to offer spiritual comfort to those unable to attend chapel through ill health and I decided to call on you. Is there anything you want to tell me?'

‘No.' She began to tremble. First Owen, now her uncle. Owen had made her life a hell. Her uncle had raped her. And both visited and sat with her as if they had never treated her anything other than benevolently.

‘Ask me then?'

She shook her head.

‘I thought you'd at least want to enquire after your mother's and siblings' health.'

‘How are they?' She looked through the open doorway for a nurse she could call.

‘Your siblings are in rude health. Your mother is failing. But then perhaps you heard how they are from the housekeeper yesterday. Mari did come to see you?'

Sali pulled the bedclothes to her neck and huddled beneath them. If she answered ‘no' and her uncle knew for certain that Mari had visited her, she would be damned in his eyes. But if he wasn't sure whether Mari had visited her, and she told him Mari had, he'd dismiss the housekeeper.

‘You refuse to answer?'

‘I was ill yesterday,' she muttered.

‘Too ill to recognise your visitors?' He paused. ‘No matter. I was told by a reliable witness that she was here.'

She realised that if Owen were still on speaking terms with her uncle after his arrest, he wouldn't have wasted any time in informing him that he had seen Mari with her aunt.

‘I have dismissed her, and engaged a more suitable housekeeper for Danygraig House.'

‘Mari has been with us since before I was born.'

‘Us,
Sali?' he said. ‘You forget yourself. I spoke to Owen after Evensong yesterday. He told me he had visited you. You are truly fortunate to have such a forgiving, Christian man for a husband. All he could talk about was your return to his house and the fold. Admirable sentiments from a man driven to drink by your behaviour.'

Driven!
Sali could not believe that she had heard her uncle correctly.

‘We had a full deacons' meeting. Owen testified before God that he had visited a public house for the first time in his life and it was your recalcitrance that drove him there. You sinned and he paid for it. Yet, although that night cost him his brother's life, he is prepared to forgive you and take you and the child back into his home.' He leaned very close to her. ‘I was sorry to hear that his sister has taken the child and left. You do know where they are?'

Tight-lipped, Sali shook her head.

‘You are not only defying your husband, Sali, but me, your senior male relative.'

‘I don't know where they are.'

‘And I don't believe you. But, I will leave you to your thoughts and conscience for twenty-four hours. Perhaps you will have an answer for me tomorrow morning.'

‘I cannot tell you what I don't know.'

‘One more thing, Sali.' He left his chair, glanced into the corridor and closed the door. ‘You are not thinking of leaving your husband, are you?'

She curled into a ball and opened her mouth, preparing to scream if he touched her.

‘You have brought enough grief to your family without courting more dishonour and disgrace. Your mother and I would rather see you dead and in your coffin than living apart from your husband.'

‘You would prefer me to die than live?'

‘If you should leave your husband, yes. I now see and understand that Owen Bull has cause to be disturbed by your sinful arrogance and pride. Pray, Sali, pray to the Lord for guidance and humility. A wife's happiness is only to be found in unquestioning obedience to her husband. I am sorry to see that you are taking so long to learn that simple lesson.' He opened the door, placed his hat on his head and walked away.

‘I hear you couldn't sleep last night, Mrs Bull.' The sister bustled into Sali's cubicle and ran her fingers over the window sill and locker, to check the ward maid's work. She frowned disapprovingly when she saw the
Pontypridd Observer
folded on a stool next to the bed. ‘Where did– you get this? It's against regulations for patients to read newspapers.'

‘I hardly looked at it.' Not wanting to get the night nurse into trouble, Sali avoided answering the question.

‘Do you think you will sleep tonight?'

‘Yes,' Sali lied.

‘Good. Sit up and I'll put down your pillows for the night.' She adjusted the metal support frame in the bed head, lowered Sali's pillows, retrieved the newspaper and switched off the light. ‘Sleep well. See you in the morning, Mrs Bull.'

‘Goodnight, Sister, and thank you.' Sali stared blankly into the darkness. Soon, she would have to leave the infirmary and then what? She ached to be with her son. But, after Owen's veiled threats she couldn't go to Ynysangharad House. Her uncle, on his own admittance, would rather see her dead than living in Danygraig House and she couldn't, wouldn't, return to Owen Bull.

She thought of Mansel and how he had disappeared without a word. It would take courage and money to build a new life for herself and her son. Much as she hated the thought of parting with it, she could pawn the engagement ring Mansel had given her. It might raise enough money to keep both of them until she could find work. As what? Even if she had completed her teaching certificate, no authority employed married women as teachers. And no respectable household would employ a woman who had left her husband, even as a skivvy. If she left Pontypridd she might be able to pass herself off as a widow ... But there was still Harry. How could she work and take care of him? She couldn't abide the thought of him living with another woman now; if the arrangement were to become permanent she thought she would go mad.

After tossing and turning on the hard narrow bed for hours she crept out of her cubicle and went to the bathroom. The duty nurse was slumped over the desk in the middle of the ward, her head resting on a book, sleeping. Sali read the clock on the wall. Four o'clock and she hadn't closed her eyes. She was exhausted but she might never have another or better opportunity. She went to the bathroom and washed. Returning to her cubicle, she pulled the door until it was almost closed, then moving stealthily and silently, opened her locker.

The shops opened early on a Monday morning and none earlier than the pawnbroker. She had seen the queues of women, waiting to pawn their wedding rings so they could buy food for the week after their husbands had drunk away their wages on Saturday night. All she had to do was dress, leave the hospital, get the money, catch the train to Tonypandy and look for her son – and make sure that no one followed her who would carry news of her movements back to Owen, her uncle, or, the one person in the world who would be most hurt by her disappearance, Aunt Edyth.

She lifted out the underclothes, woollen smock and canvas overall that had been stripped from her when she had been admitted and the ward maids had since washed and ironed. Below them was the brown paper parcel that Rhian had put on the stretcher when they had carried her from Mill Street. She struggled to untie the string and the paper crackled alarmingly as she unfolded it. She lifted out her skirt and probed the waistband beneath the button. It was still there, securely sewn into the band. She looked around for something she could use to unpick the stitches. Settling on a hook from her corset, she ripped at the thread until the ring Mansel had given her tumbled into her hand.

The gold and diamonds shone, even in the muted light that came through the crack in the door. She lifted the half circle of diamonds to her lips, kissed it, and closed her fingers tightly around it. If ... if only ...

No! She couldn't afford to think about Mansel, not now. She had to move forward, not dwell on the past, for her son's sake. If only she knew how he was coping, living with strangers. Mari had said the woman her sister had found was kind and had a boy of her own, but she was bound to be kinder to her own child than Harry. And what if he didn't like living with them, or preferred living with them to living with her? Given the miserable life they'd had with Owen, she couldn't imagine a worse home than Mill Street.

She opened her hand. She had clutched the ring so hard, it left an impression in the palm of her hand. It was the last link to her past and it was going to be difficult to let it go, but pawning it was the only option left to her if she was going to forge a future away from Owen Bull. Setting the ring on her locker, she stripped off the bed jacket and nightdress her aunt had given her and dressed in her underclothes. This was no time to daydream. She had to escape from the infirmary, find a job, make a home and get her son back.

She dressed hurriedly in her underclothes, corset, stockings and the black suit that was now far too big for her. After lacing on the boots that had been parcelled up with the suit, she looked down on the sum total of her worldly possessions. One Welsh flannel smock, one pair of heavily repaired, rough working boots that Owen had given her and a canvas khaki overall. Her aunt had brought in what she regarded as the absolute essentials for a lady: three silk and lace nightdresses, two bed jackets, three sets of fine lace and silk underclothes, a dozen lace and muslin handkerchiefs, a toothbrush, soap and bottle of lavender water. She didn't have a hat, coat, gloves, towel or even a hairbrush, but then, she reflected philosophically, she had so little hair it didn't need brushing.