Black-eyed Devils (5 page)

CHAPTER NINE

‘I wouldn't go out there, if I were you, boy,' Constable Davies advised Tom Kelly. Tom had left the cell where he had slept for most of the morning and was walking towards the front door of the police station.

‘I'm a free man, aren't I?' Tom asked.

‘You haven't been arrested. But you're only as free as the colliery company lets you be. Or do you need reminding that you've signed on with them?' Huw Davies asked.

‘After what happened last night, I don't need reminding.'

‘I've no doubt they'll send someone to pick you up as soon as the streets are safe.' Huw sat behind the incident desk.

‘I overheard Sergeant Martin tell one of the officers that most of the colliers have gone back to the picket lines.' Tom buttoned his ill-fitting tweed jacket and turned up his collar.

‘Most, not all,' Huw qualified. ‘You're a known blackleg. If a collier recognizes you, you're likely to get the same treatment the others had last night. We heard this morning that none of them will be fit for work for at least a week.'

‘The colliery company got more than it bargained for when it took them on,' Gwyn Jenkins, another local constable laughed. ‘Medically unfit blacklegs and expensive hospital bills. I wouldn't like to be in Shipton's shoes. Where was he and the other duty officer hiding when the colliers took the blacklegs out of the stables?'

‘He's explaining that to the Arnold Craggs' agent and the sergeant now.' Huw Davies turned to Tom. ‘Why don't you forget about going to see your uncle for a day or two? If you return to your cell you can have a lie down. I'll bring you a nice cup of tea.'

‘I've had enough of lying down.'

‘Better that than getting beaten up.'

Tom grinned. ‘I've proved I can run fast.'

Huw Davies refused to be amused. ‘It might not be fast enough next time, boy.'

‘Ten minutes. That's all it'll take for me to walk around the corner, talk to my uncle and tell him I'm all right.'

‘Sergeant Martin told him that this morning.'

‘I have a letter to give him. A personal letter.' Tom clutched the folded paper in his pocket. He'd begged a sheet of paper and a pencil from one of the constables that morning and written a note to Amy. He had no envelope to seal it in, but he trusted his uncle to deliver it unread. ‘You can't stop me going, can you?'

‘No, I can't.' Huw Davies saw that Tom was determined to leave. ‘But if you have to go, at least let me look outside to make sure there are no colliers watching the entrance.' He went to the door.

‘Is the street clear?' Tom asked.

‘It is at the moment, but don't take your time. Someone from the colliery company could come to fetch you at any minute.'

‘That's not likely,' Gwyn Jenkins said. ‘They need more than one lucky blackleg who escaped a hanging and a beating if they're going to keep the colliery going without the workers.'

‘Tom, be careful.' Huw Davies found himself talking to a closed door. Tom Kelly had gone.

Mark Watkins had spent all morning standing across the road from the soup kitchen. He was cold, wet, hungry and bored but he forgot his troubles when he saw Tom Kelly round the corner and run up the hill towards him.

Mark waved his arm. Half a dozen colliers armed with planks of wood they'd torn from the colliery railings left the shelter of the lane behind him. They joined Mark, but were careful to stand back out of sight of someone climbing the hill. All they had to do was wait.

Arnold Craggs picked up the jewellery box Anna had given the clerk. He opened it and turned it around on the desk so it faced her.

‘It's been years since we last spoke, Anna. I'm surprised you kept the locket I gave you.'

‘You put a picture of yourself in it. It was the only one I had.'

He pressed the catch. The front flew open to reveal a head and shoulders portrait that had been taken of him when he'd been a young man. On the other side was a photograph of a baby. ‘I wanted to help you.'

‘You did.'

‘Not enough.'

‘I wouldn't let you do more. You had a wife. I was young, foolish and wanted to believe in the fairy tale “Happily ever after”. We had an affair that resulted in a baby. It's an old story, Arnold. All that needed to be said about it, was said years ago.' She picked up the locket, returned it to the jewellery box and closed the lid.

‘I've seen Amy,' he murmured. ‘She's beautiful. Just as you were at her age.'

‘You always knew how to flatter a woman, Arnold. But I've never been beautiful. Not even twenty years ago.'

‘You were to me, Anna. I never stopped loving you. Or regretting what might have been.'

Despite her earlier refusal of a chair, Anna found herself in one of the guest chairs next to the fireplace. Arnold sat on opposite her. Close but not close enough to touch her.

‘You live close to Mary and Jim Watkins. You must have seen a lot of Amy when she growing up.' Arnold sounded envious.

‘I did. Mary and Jim Watkins have done a good job of bringing Amy up, Arnold. They wouldn't have been able to look after her as well as they have done without the money you gave them to buy a house in Tonypandy. And the job you organized for Jim in the Glamorgan Colliery.'

‘You married.'

‘A good man who believes Amy is Mary and Jim's child. He wouldn't have married me if he'd suspected the truth.'

‘Who would have thought that you could have silenced so many gossips by moving a few miles away from Pontypridd?'

‘People in Pontypridd lost interest in me when I moved to Tonypandy with Mary and Jim. I was careful never to leave Mary and Jim's house without my cloak until after Amy was born. So, people in Tonypandy never doubted Mary when she said Amy was her child.'

‘Gwilym Jenkins isn't that good a man, Anna. He's a strike leader,' Arnold said.

‘You know the name of the man I married?' She looked at him surprise.

‘Do you think that I could forget about you and Amy? She is my only child, Anna.'

‘You have no children, Arnold.'

He clenched his fists. ‘Does Amy know who her parents are?'

‘Yes, she does, Arnold. Mary and Jim Watkins are Amy's parents. They nursed her when she was a baby. Looked after her when she caught measles, mumps and chicken-pox. They fed her, cared for her and gave her all the love and attention she could ever want.'

‘If you'd given me the chance I would have loved her, Anna.'

‘As your bastard child?'

‘I would have bought you a house, given you money and all the clothes and jewellery you wanted. Paid for Amy to go to private school.'

‘Where she would have been called a bastard and I would have been called your mistress by people who wanted to be kind. The unkind ones would have called me whore. And rightly so.'

‘You were never a whore, Anna.'

‘It's what the world would have called me if they had found out about Amy. But thanks to Mary and Jim Watkins, and your money, Amy's and my life turned out differently. And, none of it matters. Not now.'

‘Can't we at least be friends, Anna?'

‘No, Arnold. We can never be friends. I told you that twenty years ago and it's truer now than it was then. I asked you about Thomas Kelly. Do you know him?'

‘One of our agents told me he'd signed up Father Kelly's nephew in Ireland.'

‘Tear up the papers Tom signed, Arnold. Your agents tricked him. He's no blackleg.

‘What's Thomas Kelly to you?' He thought for a moment. ‘Of course, you work in Father Kelly's kitchen. He sent you here to beg for his nephew, didn't he?'

‘Father Kelly doesn't know I'm here. No one does, except you and the clerk who showed me in.'

Arnold smiled. ‘Alun's a snob but he's good at his job.'

‘The colliers see the strike as a war. We're on different sides, Arnold. And Amy Watkins and Tom Kelly are caught in the middle.' Anna glanced at the clock above Arnold's desk. It was already twelve o'clock. She didn't have much time to find a ride back to Tonypandy and get there before Gwilym left the picket line.

‘Amy knows Tom?'

‘She loves him.'

‘And Jim Watkins approves.'

‘No he doesn't. And, he'll disown Amy if he finds out about them. I've seen Tom and Amy together, Arnold. It's hopeless to try and separate them. They're in love. Just as.' She fell silent.

‘We once were,' he finished for her.

‘You'll tear up Tom Kelly's contract?' she pleaded.

‘I won't make promises I can't keep, Anna. I did that once before when I told a young girl I'd leave my wife and take care of her. All I succeeded in doing was hurting the only woman I have ever loved.'

Anna looked at him for a moment, imprinting his face on her memory. ‘I know you'll try. Arnold. I've done what I came here to do. I have to go to the market and look for a cart that's going back to Tonypandy.'

‘I'll hire a cab for you.'

‘Can you see the wife of a striking miner, riding back into Tonypandy in style? I'd never live it down. Gwilym wouldn't understand the waste of money. And I certainly couldn't tell him where it came from.'

‘At least let me give you the train fare.'

‘No, for the same reason. I'd have to explain to Gwilym where I got it.'

Arnold took his wallet from his pocket and opened it. He removed two ten pound notes. ‘Give these to Father Kelly for his soup kitchen.'

‘Father Kelly wouldn't take them from you.'

‘You wouldn't have to tell him where they came from.'

‘I couldn't lie. You want to donate, Arnold, do it anonymously through your bank.'

‘I already do.' He left his desk and went to the door.

‘If you have any feelings for Amy, Arnold, help her and Tom. But promise me, one thing. Don't tell her who you are.'

‘And that's all you'll take from me, Anna. A promise?'

She kissed his cheek. ‘Goodbye, Arnold.'

CHAPTER TEN

Tom lay on his back on the pavement. He hadn't seen the blow that had felled him but it had been too hard to have come from a fist. There was a loud ringing in his ears, but it wasn't too loud to drown out Mark's voice.

‘You bastard, blackleg. This will teach you to stay away from decent girls. You say one more word to my sister and I'll kill you.'

Tom saw Mark's boot. A crack resounded in the cold air. Agonising pains burned through his left arm and into his chest. Boots and wooden staves rained down on him. He curled into a tight ball and lifted his right arm in an attempt to protect his head.

Screams tore through the air. He only recognized them as his when the pain was so great he could no longer even cry out.

A familiar Irish voice rose above the curses of the men who were beating him.

‘Dear God, boys. What's going on here? Stop it. Stop it.'

Tom tried to focus on his uncle. He saw his black cassock. His face as he crouched on the ground beside him.

‘Tom, lad. Oh Tom.'

Tom heard Amy scream his name. He heard the sound of running feet, light, dainty feet. The voice drew closer.

‘Mark, what have you done? You brute.'

‘Amy.' He tried to say her name, but the noise he made didn't make any sense. He tried again. ‘Amy.' Then he plunged into merciful, pain numbing darkness.

‘Amy, love, you have to let the men take Tom to Hospital. Father Kelly will go with him.' Realizing that Amy hadn't heard a word she'd said, Betty Morgan looked for help. ‘Where's Anna Jenkins. She and Amy are close.'

‘She went to Pontypridd.' Father Kelly cradled Tom's bloody head in his lap.

‘All Tom did was talk to me, Mark,' Amy shouted. ‘Do you hear? All he did was talk to me.'

Betty and two of the other ladies held Amy back as she closed her fists.

‘At last, the ambulance,' Father Kelly said in relief as the horse raced up the hill.

‘And the police,' Mark said. ‘Scarper boys.'

The strikers ran off. Three of them headed for the mountain, Mark and two others disappeared down a side street.

Amy watched as the driver of the ambulance and his mate loaded Tom on to a stretcher.

‘It's just as well he's out of it,' the driver said to Father Kelly. ‘He wouldn't be able to stand the pain otherwise.'

‘He will be all right, won't he?' Amy pleaded.

The driver looked at her before glancing at his mate and Father Kelly.

‘He will be all right. He has to be.' She slipped through Betty's grasp and ran to the stretcher.

‘The doctors will do all they can, Amy.' Father Kelly hugged her. ‘And all you can do now is let us get him to them as quickly as we can, so they can do their job.'

Betty Morgan wrapped her arm around Amy's shoulders and called to one of the boys who'd been watching the scene.

‘Run down to the picket line outside the Glamorgan and tell Mr Ned Morgan and Mr Jim Watkins they're needed up here. As quickly as they can get here.'

* * *

Jim Watkins faced his son and daughter across the cold hearth in their kitchen. ‘I want the truth, from both of you. Mark why did you beat Tom Kelly?'

‘Because he's a blackleg.'

‘I hate blacklegs as much as the next miner. But you know my views on violence.'

Mark looked across at Amy. ‘I saw Amy kissing him.'

Jim Watkins also turned to his daughter. ‘When?'

‘When I was coming back from the Ty Bach last night. They were outside the front door and they were kissing.'

‘Is this true?' Jim demanded of Amy.

Amy couldn't tell a lie. ‘Yes.'

Jim raised his voice. ‘He's a blackleg.'

‘And I love him,' she said simply.

Jim clenched and unclenched his fists. He'd never hit Amy. But she knew it was the closest he'd come to it.

‘You go to your room and you don't leave this house. Not to go to the soup kitchen or anywhere else. Get upstairs girl.'

Amy walked through the door and up the stairs.

‘I thought you were lucky escaping the round up of blacklegs from the stables of the White Hart. But you weren't that lucky.' Sergeant Martin stood at the foot of Tom Kelly's bed in the men's ward of Llwynypia hospital. ‘The doctor told me he advised Father Kelly to find a burial plot for you when you were brought in.'

‘We Kellys are tough,' Tom croaked. A kick to his neck had bruised his throat and affected his speech.

‘Constable Davies says you refuse to press charges against Mark Watkins and the other men who attacked you?'

‘If I'd ever had a job worth fighting for, I would have done the same as them.'

‘You still want to go to America?'

‘Yes.'

‘The doctor says you'll need to take things easy for a few months. But you'll be able to leave hospital tomorrow.'

‘My uncle wants me to stay with him for a while. But.' A coughing fit prevented Tom from saying any more.'

‘You'd rather not make life any more difficult for him than you already have.'

Tom nodded.

‘I have a message for you from someone who will pay your fare to Southampton, your lodging there and your sea ticket to America? All you have to do is get in the cab they send for you in the morning.'

‘What about the contract I signed with the colliery company?'

Sergeant Martin handed him an envelope. Tom opened it. It contained the paper he'd signed in Ireland.

‘You can tear it up.'

‘Why are you helping me?'

‘I'm just the messenger.'

‘Who are you working for?'

‘I can't tell you.'

‘How is Amy Watkins?'

‘Her father has her locked up – or so I've heard. What do I tell the cab driver? Should he pick you up in morning?'

Tom thought of his uncle. He'd hurt him and his position in Tonypandy enough. But did this offer come from the strikers. Wasn't one beating enough? Were they determined to kill him?

If he left Tonypandy would Amy's father set her free? Her freedom was worth his life.

‘You won't tell me who is helping me?'

‘I can't because I don't know.'

Tom fell back on his pillow. ‘Tell the can driver, I'll be waiting for him.'

Anna checked the contents of the envelope that had been delivered by hand to her house after Gwilym had left for the picket line. Forty pounds in sovereigns. Two first class train tickets from Pontypridd to Southampton. A banker's draft in the name of Thomas Kelly for one thousand pounds. An identical banker's draft in the name of Amy Watkins for one thousand pounds. Two saloon class tickets for a White Star Liner due to leave Southampton for New York in April. And a receipt for pre-payment of a hotel suite in Southampton until April.

There was also an envelope addressed to her. She opened it and took out a sheet of paper. The note wasn't signed and there was only one line.

Wish the lovers Bon Voyage and a long and happy life.

‘I need Amy to help me carry the loaves to the soup kitchen, Mary,' Anna said forcefully. ‘You and Jim can't keep her locked up here forever. It's inhuman.'

Mary carried on peeling the potatoes and carrots she had bought with the boys' strike pay. She wished she could have bought some meat to go with them. ‘Jim doesn't want Amy going near Father Kelly or his soup kitchen.'

‘Father Kelly is the same man he always was. Tom Kelly is in hospital and likely to remain there for some time so Amy's not in danger of seeing him. And, Jim and the boys need reminding that Mark would be facing charges for beating Tom Kelly half to death if Tom hadn't insisted the police drop the case.'

Mary looked at Amy. She's grown even thinner and paler in the six weeks her father had kept her locked in the house.

‘You be back in this house by four. And no telling your father I let you go or neither of us will hear the end of it.'

‘Yes, Mam.'

‘It's freezing out there, Amy, I'd get a thicker cardigan if I were you.' Betty slipped her hand into Amy's. It was ice cold. But there were also two slips of paper hidden in her fingers. Amy pocketed the notes.

‘I'll run upstairs and get one, Auntie Anna.'

The first paper Amy unfolded had been torn from a small notebook. It was bloodstained on the edge and so crumpled it took her a full minute to read it.

Dear Amy,

I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused you. I love you. I always will but after last night I know it is hopeless. Forget me. I will love you for ever, Tom.

The next was written on watermarked Basildon Bond in a hand she didn't recognise.

If you want to go to America with Tom Kelly, get in the cab.

It was unsigned. Amy's first thought was it was a trick. Then she wondered what someone's motives could possibly be for doing such a thing. On impulse she picked up her toffee tin and slipped it into the pocket of her cardigan. She pulled another sweater on top of the one she was wearing, ran down the stairs and picked up the cloak. She slipped it over her shoulders and went into the kitchen. She hugged and kissed her mother.

Mary pushed her away impatiently. ‘What's all this, you're only going to the soup kitchen for a couple of hours.'

‘I just wanted to say thank you and explain about Tom. I couldn't help myself, Mam. I love him.'

Mary carried on furiously peeling potatoes. ‘I know.'

Amy went to the front door and hung up the cloak before leaving the house. Her mother would need it.

The cab was waiting where Sergeant Martin had told Anna it would be, outside the Empire Theatre. Anyone seeing it would assume it belonged to an actor or a manager who had the money to pay the fare.

Amy climbed inside and wound down the window. ‘Auntie Anna?'

‘Wind up the widow and sit back, Amy. You dare not risk being seen. The next stop is the hospital. Go with God,' Anna whispered as the cab drove away.

On April 13
^th
1912, four envelopes were delivered to four addresses in Wales. Each contained a photograph of and Mr and Mrs Thomas Kelly boarding the newest transatlantic steamer of the White Star Line which had sailed out of Southampton on 10
^th
April. The photographs had been ordered and paid for in advance by a firm of solicitors on behalf of a client who wished to remain anonymous.

Arnold Craggs looked at his copy of the photograph for a long time before locking it into a drawer in his desk.

Father Kelly made the sign of the cross over his and said a prayer for a long and happy married life for Mr and Mrs Thomas Kelly.

Mary Watkins cried when she saw it.

Jim Watkins wondered where Thomas Kelly had found the money to dress himself and his wife so well and buy their ticket to New York. He didn't say a word, but he was pleased that Amy looked happy.

Mark Watkins felt guilty and ashamed when his mother put the photograph on the mantelpiece.

Matthew and Jack Watkins noticed that Tom Kelly's injuries had healed well.

Gwilym Jenkins was irritated when Anna cried over the photograph. He couldn't resists saying, ‘The problem with you Anna, is because you've had no children of your own to fuss over, you've ended up setting far too much store by other people's.'