The Hills and the Valley (19 page)

Perhaps when the deed was actually done he would feel better about it, Joan would be a good wife, not a doubt of it. She would make him a comfortable home, cook him the sort of wholesome food he was used to and, if the other evening was anything to go by, do a little more than simply keeping him warm in bed. They would have children, three or four probably since Joan had always said she favoured a big family, and he would settle down to being the head of the household. Not a bad prospect for any man of twenty-five. Alec only wished he could feel a little more enthusiastic about it.

He went into the little living room and switched on the wireless. He'd been lucky to get hold of it, he thought, as it warmed up and Donald Peers'voice came crackling through. It wasn't a new set – he had bought it from a man he worked with – but he had got a different battery for it and besides being a source of entertainment the wooden cabinet was attractive enough to make it a very acceptable piece of furniture. The same man had said he might be able to get hold of a gramophone, too – if he did it would be worth splashing out a few shillings on. If Joan could spend all his money on frills and furbelows for the wedding, darned if he didn't see why he shouldn't have a gramophone!

It was when the Donald Peers song came to an end that he heard the knocking at the back door and went back through the kitchen to answer it, wondering vaguely who would come calling. One of his mates, perhaps, suggesting he should slope off a bit earlier to the Miners Arms tonight? Alec did not think that in his present state of mind he would take much persuading.

He opened the door and the light spilling out showed him the slight figure of Bryda Latcham standing on the doorstep.

‘Oh, hello!' he said, surprised and awkward suddenly.

‘I'm sorry to bother you.' Her voice was hesitant.

‘That's all right. You'd better come in. If a warden sees this light showing we shall be for the high jump.'

‘Oh …' She hesitated. ‘No warden is likely to be coming round the back here, is he?'

‘No, s'pose not.' Perhaps she was afraid of being in a house alone with a man, he thought. Not surprising, considering the way her husband treated her. A moment later this idea was negated when she said:

‘I was wondering if you could do something for me. The light has gone in my kitchen and I can't see to get the bulb out. Eric's out – he won't be back until gone ten – and I can't see to do a thing.'

‘Oh, right you are. I'll come round.'

‘You don't mind me asking?'

‘Course not.' He closed the door behind him and followed her next door. As she had said her kitchen was in almost complete darkness, lit only by a faint glow which crept in from the hall, and he almost fell over a chair which she had placed beneath the light fitting.

‘Sorry …' she said.

‘It's all right.' He climbed onto the chair, removed the spent bulb and replaced it with one she handed to him. There was a click and the light came on.

‘Oh, that's better!' she said. ‘I hate being in the dark. Stupid really I suppose, but …'

‘No, it's nothing but a nuisance. I hate it myself.'

In the glow of light which came from beneath the faded shade he could see the kitchen now as well as feeling it – a nice kitchen, homely and sparklingly clean in spite of the comfortable clutter, a heap of laundry waiting to be ironed on the oil-cloth topped table, two flat irons piled on the gas ring, a stewpan soaking in the sink.

He got down from the chair, turning to look at Bryda. And saw the livid mark at the side of her mouth, darkening to a deep purple bruise just above the line of her jaw. His stomach turned. As she realised he had noticed her hand flew up defensively covering the mark. But before he could stop himself he heard himself say: ‘Has he been hitting you about again?'

The moment it was out he knew he should not have said it. Her eyes went dark and she seemed to draw back into herself.

‘What do you mean?'

Leave it! the voice of caution urged him. But he could not.

‘You know very well what I mean! He beats you up, doesn't he?'

‘Well, he …' She looked even smaller and more vulnerable now, on the defensive again. ‘He doesn't mean it.'

‘How the hell can he not mean it?' Alec said. ‘How can you possibly hit a woman and not mean it?'

‘He – he's got a temper. He gets drunk. He's always sorry afterwards.'

‘I should bloody well think he is!' Alec exploded. ‘I wish I could get my hands on the bastard!'

‘No!' she protested violently. ‘You mustn't say anything, please!'

Her eyes were huge in her thin face and she laid a trembling hand on his arm. Alec felt the pit of his stomach fall away.

‘For Christ's sake …' he muttered.

And somehow she was in his arms.

For long moments suspended in time he held her. Then it was over. She drew away and he let her go, standing awkwardly, still stunned by the strength of his emotions. Her head was bent, eyes downcast behind a curtain of hair that almost hid her face. She could not look at him.

‘I'd better be going,' he said roughly.

She moved then, looking up quickly.

‘Don't go! Stay and have a drink – we always keep a bottle of beer in the house. Unless of course you're busy …'

He did not need asking twice.

‘No, I'm not busy. There's nothing left to do in the cottage really.'

‘You'll be moving in soon, I suppose. You're getting married at Easter, aren't you?'

‘Yes. Supposed to be.'

She was bustling about now, trying to behave normally, fetching the beer, a bottle opener and a glass. Alec watched her, feeling a little as though he had already drunk more than was good for him and wondering why Joan never had this effect on him.

Bryda spread a freshly laundered shirt out on the table and took a flat iron off the gas ring, handling it carefully with a thick crocheted holder.

‘It's funny really. I don't know a lot about you seeing we're going to be neighbours,' she said.

‘No. We went to the same school though, didn't we?'

The awkwardness was still there but as they chatted it lessened. Bryda worked steadily at her ironing. Alec broke into a second bottle of beer.

When the clock in the living room chimed ten she became anxious again.

‘P'raps you'd better go. If Eric were to come home and find you here …'

Let him! Alec thought recklessly, emboldened by the two pints. Then I could tell him what I think of him and perhaps give him a taste of his own medicine into the bargain! But he knew that he would not be the one to suffer. It would be Bryda who would taste Eric's revenge when he was not there to see fair play. He got up.

‘I'll see you again then.'

‘Yeah. See you again.'

‘Thanks for the beer.'

‘Thanks for doing the light.'

He hesitated in the doorway wishing he could take her in his arms again. From the other side of the table she smiled at him and it seemed the smile lit her face, blotting out the marks beside her mouth and the dark shadows under her eyes. He felt as if the pit had dropped out of his stomach.

‘Night,' he said.

‘Night.' He went out into the clammy darkness and closed the door behind him.

Harry was in his office at the Miners'Welfare Building. On the desk in front of him lay a file of legal papers relating to an appeal against dismissal by one of his members, to his left a pile of correspondence awaited his attention, at his right elbow a cup of coffee cooled and congealed.

There was a tap at the door, and Elinor Vranch, his highly efficient secretary, popped her head in.

‘Mr Eddie Roberts to see you, Mr Hall.'

‘Oh yes.' Busy as he was, Harry put the cap on his fountain pen and laid it down on the blotter. ‘Show him in please, Miss Vranch.'

Not a flicker of surprise showed on the carefully made-up features.

‘Very well, Mr Hall.' She went out and Harry heard her say: ‘Mr Hall will see you now, Mr Roberts, if you would care to …'

‘It's all right. I know the way.' The door opened and Eddie Roberts came into the office. ‘Afternoon, Harry. What did you want to see me about?'

Eddie Roberts, Amy's brother-in-law, was a big man. Physically, he closely resembled his dead brother Llew – he had the same brown hair springing from a deep ‘widows peak', the same clear blue eyes and good strong features which looked boyish in spite of the scattering of lines and paunches which had come from approaching middle age – and a liking for a little more whisky than was good for him. Here the resemblance ended. Llew's face had been characterised by openness while Eddie had a slightly shifty look; Llew's eyes had been frank and friendly, Eddie's were narrow and calculating. He had put on weight around his middle so that he was now solid rather than whippy but curiously it gave him no substance. Harry did not like him.

‘Come in, Eddie,' he said easily, concealing his feelings. ‘Have a seat.'

Eddie glanced at the watch which he wore on a chain across his waistcoat.

‘I can't be too long. I have some calls to make. Business, you know.'

Once upon a time Eddie had set up as an estate agent in the town but it had not been a success. Now he made his living selling insurance door-to-door.

‘I won't keep you long, but I thought it was best to ask you to call in when you were passing. It's a bit more private here than most places.'

Eddie's eyes narrowed. ‘Why should we want privacy?'

‘Because I'd rather no one overheard what I have to say to you.' Again Harry indicated the chair. ‘For goodness sake sit down man. I can't talk while you're bobbing about there.'

Eddie sat. ‘Go on then. It's about this business of you being put forward as a candidate for prospective Labour member, I suppose.'

‘Well no, actually, it's not,' Harry said. ‘It's about you, Eddie, and since you're in a rush I'll come straight to the point. I have reason to believe that you have been taking backhanders in exchange for contracts we arrange on the council.'

Eddie's jaw dropped. If Harry had had any doubts that his suspicions were correct they were dispelled in that moment; Eddie's guilt was written all over his face. Then he quickly recovered himself.

‘What a bloody awful thing to say!'

‘It's true though, isn't it?'

His directness disconcerted Eddie once more. A dark flush rose in his cheeks. ‘And what proof have you got, I'd like to know?' he demanded.

Harry sat back in his chair, the leather patched elbows of his sports coat resting on the rounded wooden arms. ‘At the moment, none.'

‘Well then, I ought to have you up for libel!' Eddie blustered.

‘I dare say if I did a little investigation I could come up with the proof without too much trouble,' Harry continued smoothly. ‘Take that load of stuff you've had delivered to build yourself an air raid shelter for one thing. It shouldn't be too difficult to discover whether that was paid for, and if it wasn't the fact that it was you who swayed the council to give a contract to Thorne Sand and Gravel would look decidedly fishy. Then there's the business about Welsh's drainage system up at Riddicks Cross. And they are just two instances. I could name others, but I won't. I'm sure you get the gist of what I'm saying.'

‘I can have an air raid shelter if I like! Nothing wrong in that!'

‘Not if you pay for it like everyone else, no. But I don't think you did. Notice I say “think”. The point is, Eddie, if I
knew
I'd have to do something about it and that would be very embarrassing for all concerned. Which is why I'm having a quiet word with you about it rather than going out for the proof I'm sure I'd find if I did.'

Eddie's face turned an even deeper shade of red.

‘What are you going to do about it then, Harry?' he asked.

‘At the moment, nothing. I don't want to cause a scandal. It wouldn't be good for the council or for the party. But if ever I have cause to suspect again that you're doing your eye good I shall have no alternative but to ask for an investigation.'

‘I see.' Eddie blundered to his feet. ‘You Halls are all the same, aren't you? Too damned big for your boots.'

‘There's no need to be offensive,' Harry said steadily. ‘And I hope you're not about to bring my sister into this because if you do I shall feel a good deal less charitable.'

Eddie snorted, on the point of saying more, then thought better of it.

‘I won't detain you any longer,' Harry went on. ‘I've said what I had to say and I hope that will be the end of it.'

‘It won't be the end because I shan't forget this in a hurry!'

‘Well, that's up to you, Eddie.' Harry stood up. ‘I'll see you at council. Close the door on your way out, will you?'

For a moment Eddie glared, then turned and stormed out of the office. As the door slammed after him Harry sat down again, sighing. He rather thought that when Eddie Roberts had had time to cool down and think things through he would see sense. There would be no more suspect contracts and payments in kind through the back door. But Harry was in no doubt as to one thing. Like Amy before him he had managed to make a dangerous enemy.

At eight o'clock on Good Friday evening the bar at the Miners Arms was already crowded. All the regulars were there but tonight it was Alec Hall, usually one of the quieter of the customers, who was the centre of attention. Tomorrow he was due to be married and everyone was anxious to buy him a drink, make a joke at his expense, or hand out a piece of advice.

‘Drink up, lad, and I'll get thee another,' Ewart Brixey said, draining his own glass. ‘This be your last night of freedom. You might as well make the most of it!'

‘I'm all right, Ewart, thanks all the same. I've still got half left.'