The Hills and the Valley (48 page)

‘Twenty-four hours,' he said, trying to smile. ‘And I assure you, I intend to make the most of it!'

When Maureen had at last been persuaded to go to bed Amy and Huw sat talking in the fading light of the fire. Any thought of attending the function in aid of the Comforts Fund had been abandoned for Amy had no intention of going out with Huw home safely after so long. There was so much to talk about and Amy assumed that Huw's slightly withdrawn air had something to do with the experiences he had been through. Ralph, however, was more perceptive and although he had no inkling of the reason behind it he knew instinctively that Huw wanted to talk to Amy alone. He made some excuse about wanting to check on his ARP post and went out.

‘I can't understand them not giving you more leave, Huw,' Amy said, getting out her cigarettes and offering him one. ‘I know we're fighting a war, hut all the same I think it's a bit much expecting you to start operational flying again without a break. How do they know you're fit?'

‘I was given a thorough medical as soon as I got back. They came to the conclusion that the French doctor who looked after me did a pretty good job.' Huw flicked his lighter, igniting both Amy's cigarette and his own.

‘Well, I still can't understand it,' Amy said. ‘I should have thought at least a week at home would have done you the world of good.'

Huw was silent for a moment wondering whether it would make things better or worse to tell Amy the truth. In some ways it seemed pointless. When she had warned him not to become involved with Barbara she had only been doing what she had thought she must and he knew it was unfair to blame her for what had happened. But this was something she had a right to know.

‘I feel like taking it up with the Air Ministry,' Amy was going on. ‘It's not right, Huw, and …'

‘Never mind my leave, Amy,' Huw said. ‘There's something else I want to talk to you about.'

She tilted her head to one side, a tiny frown puckering between her eyebrows. ‘You sound very serious.'

He drew on his cigarette. After the French ones he had become used to it tasted unsatisfyingly mild.

‘I've been living here all these years under false pretences,' he said.

She tucked her feet up into the chair, sitting on them like a child.

‘What on earth are you talking about?'

‘You took me in because you believed Llew was my father. That's right, isn't it? That's what you told me?'

She nodded. ‘That was the reason in the beginning, yes. But …'

‘Suppose I told you he wasn't?'

She stared at him uncomprehendingly. ‘Huw – what is this? He was your father. Your mother told me so.'

‘I don't think she was telling the truth.'

She passed a hand over her eyes. ‘Huw – I know it's hard for you to accept that you and Barbara are brother and sister, but …'

‘We aren't. Just before I was shot down I was in South Wales. I took a trip to Ponty to have a look at my old home. I talked to the woman we used to live next door to. I mentioned my father – Llew. And she told me I was mistaken. Llew wasn't my father.'

‘But your mother said …'

‘I know. I think she did it because she was desperate. Llew had been good to her, helped support me. But he wasn't my father.'

‘Then who …?'

‘Eddie,' he said. ‘Eddie Roberts was my father.'

‘Oh my God!' she said. The cigarette was burning down unheeded in her fingers. ‘You mean he knew all the time and he let me …'

‘Yes. It's not very nice, is it, knowing that bastard is my father.'

‘Oh Huw!' She could hardly take it in yet already all the implications were there, flapping at her like a flight of disturbed bats. ‘Dear God, I never knew. I never for one moment suspected …'

‘I know. Don't think I blame you, Amy. You only did what you thought was right. But it's a mess, isn't it?'

‘Oh Huw, I'm so sorry …'

‘I was coming back,' he said. ‘I was coming back to tell you and put things right with Barbara only I never got the chance.' He paused. ‘Is she happy, Amy?'

She ground out her cigarette and wrapped her arms around herself.

‘I think so. She's never given me the slightest indication that she's not. But I didn't want her to marry him, Huw. It was all much too soon. I know he's the type to sweep any girl off her feet but … I couldn't help feeling it was on the rebound. She worshipped you, Huw. Something died in her after you left. I can't describe it. It was as if a light had gone off. Oh, if only I'd known! If only I'd persuaded her to wait …'

‘Well, it's too late now,' he said bleakly. ‘As long as she's happy, that's all that matters.'

It wasn't and they both knew it. But as he said, it was much too late.

‘The pig,' Amy said, thinking of Eddie. ‘The bloody sanctimonious pig! Do you know they wanted you to be sent to the Reform School, he and his mother, because they were worried about what people would say about the Roberts family? He had the gall to tell me the scandal would ruin his business – men wouldn't want him calling on their wives to collect insurance if they knew that his brother … And all the time it was him!'

‘Do you think he knew?' Huw asked.

‘He must have. Oh, I wish he was here now! I'd like to wipe the grin off his face! I'd like to …' She looked up at him. ‘What do you want to do about it, Huw? Do you want to confront him with it?'

He was silent for a moment. ‘I don't think so. I don't see the point in bringing it all up again now. If Barbara was still free and single and you didn't believe me it would be different. I'd drag the truth out of him somehow. But Barbara is married to someone else – and you believe me anyway. Don't you?'

‘Yes,' she said. ‘Yes, I do. I'd believe anything of that slimy object. How someone like him managed to father a son like you is what I can't understand.'

He pulled out his own cigarette case and offered her one. She shook her head. He lit his own cigarette. There was something else he had to say.

‘It won't make any difference will it Amy – to us?'

She caught his hand, holding it between her own. She could feel the ridged skin where it had been burned, and twisted inside with love for a boy she had taken in who had grown into a young man to be proud of – a young man who had inherited none of his father's unpleasant characteristics.

‘Of course it won't, Huw,' she said. ‘Not on my part. But will it make any difference to you?'

‘Not to the way I feel about you, Amy. I just thought that maybe now you know the truth you might wish you'd let me go into that home.'

‘Never!' she said. ‘I'd never wish that.'

The telephone shrilled. For a moment neither of them moved.

‘Who can that be at this time of night?' Amy asked.

Inexplicably she felt frightened. This was a night when anything could happen. Ralph … she thought. But there had been no air raid warning.

‘I'll get it,' Huw said.

He got up. A moment later he was back.

‘It's for you. Peggy Yelling.'

‘Peggy? On the telephone?' She hurried into the hall. ‘Hello – Peggy?' Her voice was anxious.

‘I'm sorry to worry you, Amy, but I'm ringing for your Mam. It's your Dad. He's been taken bad again and I don't like the look of him at all. We've sent for the doctor. But I think you ought to come, Amy, soon as you can.'

Amy felt the pit of her stomach fall away. For years she had been expecting a call like this. Now it had come and she could only feel sick with dread.

‘All right, Peggy, I'll be there right away.'

She replaced the receiver and turned to Huw, who was standing in the doorway.

‘It's my father. I'll have to go.'

‘Do you want me to come with you?' he asked.

‘No. You stay here. Ralph will be home soon. Tell him I don't know when I'll be back.' Already she was reaching for her coat from the stand, slipping into it. ‘Oh Huw – what a home-coming!'

‘Don't worry about me, Amy,' he said. ‘And don't worry about Maureen either. I'll take care of her.'

She squeezed his hand. ‘Thank you, Huw,' she said.

Her heart was thudding as she drove along the Rank. All was darkness, even now. No lights showing at the windows to tell her which households were still up. Not so much as a glimmer even from her mother's windows. But there was a car parked outside and she knew it must belong to Dr Hobbs.

She parked, hurried to the door and lifted the latch. The murmur of voices reached her from the kitchen. She went in. The tiny room seemed overcrowded. Mam, sitting at the kitchen table, feet planted wide apart, skirt falling between splayed legs, hair rumpled behind the kirby grip as if she had been running her fingers through it. She looked old suddenly, old and white and heavy lidded. Harry, stood beside her, pullover buttoned incorrectly beneath his overcoat as if he like Amy had answered a summons in haste. Peggy Yelling hovered as she always did in moments of crisis, her smooth placid face looking worried. And Dr Hobbs was kneeling beside the sofa where James lay.

The uneven rasp of his breathing filled the room. As Amy entered the doctor rose, shaking his head slightly. Amy ignored the others and looked at her father. He had been propped up so as to assist his breathing but every bit of his being was concentrated on it all the same. His eyes were closed with the effort of trying to take air into lungs turned concrete-hard with the accumulation of dust. Amy had seen his ‘turns'before but knew that this was worse than any. He was dying.

She ran to the sofa, knelt down beside him in the space vacated by Dr Hobbs and took his hand in hers. Already it felt cold.

‘Dad!' she said. There was no response but that awful rasping breathing. ‘Dad, it's me! It's Amy!'

His eyes opened. Tired eyes, faded blue and rheumy, looking at her as if he was already a great way off. Then his chest heaved again with the effort of drawing breath.

‘Amy,' he said, his voice surprisingly clear. ‘Our Amy!'

‘Don't try to talk, Dad,' Harry said, coming to stand beside Amy.

James looked at her for a moment longer and only he knew that he was seeing not a grown woman with children of her own but a little girl in petticoats with ribbons in her hair, a little girl who had brought sunshine into his life. Then his eyes closed again, his fingers clasped hers convulsively and he drew one last shuddering breath.

‘Dad!' Amy sobbed.

Her hand still clasped his as she moved to make room for Dr Hobbs. He bent over James, then straightened.

‘He's gone.'

Now that the rasp of his breathing was stilled there was silence in the room, broken only by Charlotte's gasp. ‘Oh no! No!'

‘He's gone, Mam,' Harry said. ‘It's all over.'

Amy did not move. She sat on the floor looking at her father's pinched face already taking on the peace that only death could bring and she seemed to hear his voice saying as he always had in moments of crisis: ‘Worse things happen at sea, m'dear.' But it was only in her head. He would never speak those words again. Tears blurred her eyes and she felt Peggy's hand on her shoulder.

‘Come on, Amy, love. Leave it to me.'

She glanced up uncomprehending. Then as Peggy's meaning came clear she almost cried out. Peggy was going to lay her father out as she had laid out corpses up and down the Rank for years. The thought had always turned Amy cold inside and now suddenly the final impersonality of it offended her.

She looked down at her father's hand, still in hers, at the raised veins, black with coal dust, and saw the hands that had comforted her as a child. Dad had always been the one she had turned to in distress. Mam might have been the strong one, but Dad had been the comforter. It seemed a long time since she had been this close to him.

Gently she loosened her fingers and looked up at Peggy, in her element now for all her genuine concern for a family who had always been her friends.

‘Can I help you please, Peggy?' she asked. And saw the imperceptible softening of her features.

‘Of course you can, Amy. If that's what you want.'

‘I do,' she said. ‘Oh yes, I do.'

James was buried in Hillsbridge churchyard the following week and though their hearts were heavy there were few tears.

He had lived a good life and his time had come, years perhaps after they had expected it. Many miners of his generation had failed to live to see their half-century; against all the odds James had survived beyond his seventieth birthday. And so many young men were dying now, men who should have had their whole lives before them. Every week it seemed they were reported in the
Mercury
, sailors lost with their ships, airmen shot down or crashed, soldiers dying in battle or torpedoed on their way to fight. There were still the blackout deaths, a steady stream of pedestrians killed on the road and older folks who had fallen in their homes in the panic of a raid or because they had been trying to keep the lights low.

James's children were all here with the exception of Ted, far away in Australia, and though saddened by their father's death they had come to terms over the years with its inevitability. They stood, sombre-faced, side by side in the two front pews of the chapel, looking at the flower-decked coffin which contained his earthly remains and cherishing their own memories of him. Charlotte was in the front pew, flanked by Jack and Harry. Her best black straw hat sat squarely on her hair, once as gloriously honey coloured as Amy's and Barbara's, now iron-grey, her black gabardine pulled slightly at its buttons for the relative inactivity of the last few years had caused her to put on weight. Nor were her legs as good as they had been. She had difficulty in standing for the singing of ‘Abide With Me'and Harry glanced anxiously at her as he helped her to her feet.