The Emerald Valley (72 page)

Decisions, decisions … sometimes during the last few years it had seemed life consisted of nothing else. Even now, while taking a short, well-deserved holiday staying with Jack and Stella, she could not leave them behind. But the decision she was making now was one of the most pleasant she had had to reach.

It was March 1932 and Amy was making up her mind to buy a plot of land on which to build a house.

I can't pass it up, she thought. It's too perfect in every way!

The moment it had come on to the market she had felt the tiny, satisfying thrill she was coming to recognise when she was confronted with something good: a piece of land within easy reach of the yard, sufficiently high up the hill to be beyond reach of the flooding river, with a pleasant outlook, surrounded on three sides by allotments, bounded by mature trees and fronted by the lane which led to the Mill. An ideal site for a house, secluded yet accessible and already in her mind's eye she could see the way it would be – red brick, perhaps, with bay windows each side of the front door, a gravelled drive and a garage for her Model T Ford. She had made enquiries from Eddie Roberts straight away, for he had now moved from insurance into the business of buying and selling houses, and was working for the firm of auctioneers and estate agents who had that piece of land on their books.

There was a high reserve price on the plot, Eddie had told her – because the vendor was in financial difficulties, Amy suspected – and she had held off from making a decision to bid for it there and then. What was more, the auction was to be held at the George during the week she was on holiday.

‘That decides it then, I suppose,' she had said a little glumly. ‘I can't let everyone down – this holiday has been planned for so long!'

Eddie, giving his impression of ‘Honest Joe', had leaned on the polished counter of his office so that his face came in line with hers.

‘Tell you what I'll do for you, Amy. If you decide to go for it, give me a ring and I'll put in the bid for you – I can't say fairer than that, can I?'

‘All right,' she'd agreed. ‘I'll think it over, Eddie.'

Now, with the auction arranged for the following day, she knew that the time for thinking was over. If she wanted the plot, she had to phone Eddie Roberts with her offer tonight.

Do I want it enough to perhaps pay over the odds for it? she asked herself. And almost immediately the answer was there, clear and unquestionable: Yes, I do want it. Almost without realising it I have set my heart on it. And it would be a fitting crown to my success, the right kind of house for the proprietor of Roberts Haulage.

As she lifted her chin from the sheltering collar of fur, the wind whipped her hair across her cheek and blew breath back into her throat, fanning her excitement. Oh yes, it would be such fun to plan a new home, so satisfying to be amongst the elite who lived not in ranks and terraces but in a detached house, and to know that she had achieved it out of her own efforts, her own enterprise. Once before she had contemplated moving, but that had been a step down into the poor area of Batch Row. How different this would be!

I've not done badly, Amy thought with justifiable pride and knew this was an understatement. When she had begun, she had nursed only one ambition – to keep going the business which Llew had started. But from that small seed Roberts Haulage had grown into a profitable and highly successful concern. And now she was going to build her final edifice to Llew's memory and she must call it after him – after the Welsh village where he had been born, perhaps. That would be nice and very fitting.

Her mind made up, Amy turned, looking for a moment out to sea; and as she watched a gull detached itself from the rolling grey water, spiralling up into the mist above. So the white specks tossing on the waves were not all sea-horses. There were seagulls too, seagulls who rode out the storm and then rose, wheeling and crying, to soar on the wind.

And that's a little how I feel, Amy thought. I rode out the storms and now I'm up there, soaring, experiencing the exhilaration and the tiny twinge of fear. I know what it's like to be high, high, high!

So I shall go back to Jack's and phone Eddie. What will he think, I wonder, when he knows that I've made up my mind to go for the land? I suspect he won't like it much.

That thought too gave her pleasure and she turned again, walking back along the beach, now anxious only to set her latest plan in motion.

Charlotte heard the news as she so often did, from Peggy.

‘So your Amy's after that plot of land down by the Mill, then! It'll be lovely for her, won't it? So near to her yard. Oh, she has got on well, Lotty.'

Charlotte's eyes narrowed; this was the first she had heard of it! But she had no intention of letting Peggy know that. It was so humiliating, your own daughter doing things and you not knowing a thing about it.

‘How did you get to hear?' Charlotte asked.

‘They were talking about it in the Co-op. I expect it came from Edna Denning at the call office. She doesn't miss much, that I do know, and I saw her coming out as I went in.'

‘Hmm!' Charlotte snorted. ‘Something ought to be done about her. It's not right that she should listen in to people's conversations.'

‘No, it isn't really.' Peggy didn't sound very concerned, though. She had never used a telephone in her life, so the thought of Edna Denning listening in to conversations had no personal relevance. And besides … ‘I'm not sure I wouldn't do the same,' Peggy admitted with a chuckle. ‘All that news going right through your own front room! It must be very tempting!'

‘But not
right
at all!' Charlotte insisted. ‘Telephone conversations are private – or ought to be. You have to pay enough for them!'

‘But what about your Amy? You must be proud of her, Lotty. Come to think of it, I should think you must be proud of all of them. What with Jack teaching and Ted doing well in Australia and Harry – well, he'll be manager soon, from what I can hear of it.'

‘Not for a couple of years yet. He can't take a manager's post until he's twenty-five,' Charlotte said, but it was true – she
did
feel a thrill of pride when she thought how well her children were doing. When at first Harry had started studying, she had thought he might be over-reaching himself, but last year he'd taken his Second Class Certificate of Competency and passed with flying colours; the manager had wanted him to miss it out and go straight for his First Class, and Charlotte thought privately that if he had done that, he would have passed it just as easily. But Harry had been cautious, explaining that with a Second Class he would be able to start shot-firing right away and keep an eye open for under-managers'posts to apply for, whereas if he failed the First Class he would still be stuck on the starting line and handicapped by the knowledge of failure as well. But he had done well, without a doubt, and the fact that one day he would probably be running a pit, and responsible for the lives and welfare of men like his own father and brother, gave her a glow of pride whenever she thought about it.

Ted was doing well by all accounts, too. He didn't write as regularly as Charlotte would have liked, but then he had never been much of a pen-pusher and his letters when they did come, though hopelessly out of date, seemed to radiate a spirit of optimism. Ted and Rosa were happy in Australia. The work was hard and they missed England, but the money which was there to be earned more than made up for that. Already they had their own house and though his description of it had made Charlotte wrinkle her nose and think: ‘It doesn't sound much like
my
idea of a house!' she supposed that in a different country one must expect things to be different, and if Ted and Rosa were happy with it that was really all that mattered. And it certainly seemed they were happy – and now their first baby was on the way. When the letter bearing the news had arrived, Charlotte had shed a private tear. It seemed so long since she had waved good-bye to Ted on his wedding day – and now there was going to be a new baby, her grandchild, and she might never even see it. It was all very well for Ted to write that they would be coming home for a visit as soon as they had saved the fare; Charlotte was under no illusions – that was a promise he might never be able to keep. Australia was such a very long way away!

But if he was still in England, he would probably be out of a job, Charlotte consoled herself. Far too many men were out of work and though Jim fortunately had managed to keep his employment at the pit, Dolly's Victor had been on the dole for a while after Captain Fish had died suddenly the previous year. The new owner of his house had not required the services of a gardener/handyman and Dolly and Victor had been in what Charlotte termed ‘a hole'until Victor was fortunate enough to get himself taken on by the council. Now he was sweeping the roads, and though this was not exactly Charlotte's idea of an ideal occupation, at least it meant that Dolly had a wage packet coming in to feed and clothe the family.

Yes, all in all, the children had all done very well and if it was true that Amy was going to buy a plot of land and build herself a house, that was good news too – though Charlotte could not help wishing that her youngest daughter would settle down and marry. It wasn't right really, her doing a man's work, and there were plenty of ‘good catches'about whom Amy could have for a husband if she wanted them, Charlotte was sure. But there it was, whenever she said as much to Amy she had ended up getting her nose bitten off, so it was prudent to keep her opinions to herself. Amy had always done as she pleased and Charlotte could not see her changing now.

‘You know, from the time your Amy was a little girl I always knew she was going to do well for herself,' Peggy said now. ‘You could see it in her then, couldn't you? Yes, when I heard she was after that plot, I said to myself: Well, I always knew it. I always knew Amy was going to be a somebody And I was right, wasn't I? And to think
I
brought her into the world!'

Charlotte said nothing.

‘Let's just hope she sees you and her father all right now she's so well-off,' Peggy commented.

Charlotte drew herself upright. ‘She doesn't owe me anything, Peggy.'

Peggy looked surprised. ‘But you're her mother. It's only right …'

‘She didn't ask to be born,' Charlotte said sharply. ‘None of them did. I've done my best for them because they're my children, but I shan't look for anything in return. So long as they come to see me from time to time, that's all that matters to me.'

It was a forward-looking view, out of step with the Victorian view of the family still mainly adhered to, and even as she said it Charlotte was not sure she believed her own words. But with children as independent as hers, what other way was there of looking at things?

I suppose she'll tell me all about it when she comes home again, Charlotte comforted herself. And at least Peg doesn't know it was news to me. That's one thing to be grateful for!

Amy came home from Minehead at the end of the week.

‘It hasn't really been holiday weather, has it, missus?' Herbie said when she put in an appearance at the yard, and she was forced to agree. But then, who could expect to be able to go to the seaside in March and paddle or sit in a deck-chair on the beach?

‘The children enjoyed it – Jack's so good at thinking of things for them to do and Stella feeds us up like Christmas turkeys,' she said. ‘As for me – well, it gave me a chance to do a lot of thinking I never have time for at home.'

‘I bet you'm glad to be back, for all that,' said Herbie, who had never spent a night away from his own bed in his life and never wanted to.

Amy smiled. ‘I must say I'm not sorry,' she agreed.

It had been good to take a break, but now she was eager to be back in harness and keener than ever to set her plans in motion for her new house.

She intended to get in touch with Eddie Roberts immediately she reached the office that first morning, to see how the auction had gone – just how much her plot had cost her, and what the next step would be. Indeed, as she passed the plot on her way to work she stopped for just a moment to look at it proprietorially, planning just where the house would stand, where the drive would best lead in from the road and whether there would be room to have apple and plum trees in the back garden – something she had always dreamed of. But once at the yard there were so many jobs to catch up on that there was no time for contacting Eddie until late afternoon, and when eventually she did find the time to put through a call to him, it was only to be told he was out of the office.

‘Can I take a message?' the young lady clerk asked.

‘You can tell him I rang, yes,' Amy said, leaving her name and noticing the hesitation in the girl's voice when she discovered to whom she was speaking.

Is that because I'm his sister-in-law, or do I merit respect in my own right? Amy wondered, faintly amused and deciding on balance that it was probably the girl's awe of Eddie which lay behind her deferential manner. After all, Eddie was quite an important person these days – not only in charge of the estate agency but also a public figure. He had put up for the council at the last elections and been one of the ‘Labour Six'who had been elected
en bloc.

‘He'll want to be in touch with me about the land at Mill Lane,' Amy explained now.

‘Yes, I see. Well, I wouldn't know anything about that,' the girl said awkwardly. ‘You'll have to speak to Mr Roberts himself.'

‘Ask him to call me, will you?' Amy instructed and put the phone down, thinking: Eddie, you're slipping. You should have somebody in the office who can fly the flag better than that when you're not there!

By the time she was ready to go home Eddie had not called back and she made a mental note to contact him again first thing in the morning. The sooner all this was signed and settled, the better she would be pleased.