Miss Purdy's Class (50 page)

The train began to lose speed. They were pulling into Aberglyn and he would be there. In a few moments she would be in his arms!

As she stepped out of the carriage onto the darkened station, the train let out a great belch of steam, like a sigh of relief. There were not many people on the platform and she looked around, smiling in anticipation. She could not immediately see him, her eyes looking round hungrily, anticipating the sight of Daniel’s beloved body, which she felt she knew as well as her own. But he did not appear. She stood by the little ticket office, keeping her lips turned up, trying not to feel deflated. He’d be here in a moment – he had said he would be. But the minutes passed.

‘Gwen?’ She turned to see a woman beside her, hair tucked under a little felt hat, and it took a moment to register that it was Shân Sullivan.

‘Oh, hello!’ After waiting alone, Gwen felt uplifted just seeing anyone she recognized. And she liked Daniel’s auntie very much. In the dim lights, Shân looked pale and painfully thin.

‘I came to meet you, Gwen
fach
. Daniel was coming, but he and his uncle have gone and got themselves tied up in a compo case . . .’

‘A what?’

‘Oh, it’s over compensation for injury, like with Billy.’ Shân sounded weary to her bones. ‘There’s another lad lost the use of his legs . . .’

‘Oh, I see.’ Gwen pushed away her feelings of disappointment. Of course a young man being crippled was more important than her. How could she argue with that? And, anyway, it was lovely to see Shân.

They began walking the two miles up from the station. Gwen couldn’t help feeling cross with Daniel that his auntie had had to come all this way in her frail state.

‘I could have come on my own,’ she said. ‘No need to drag you out.’

‘Oh
duw
, no! There’s a terrible thing, leaving you to walk on your own. Billy wanted to come and meet you as well, Gwen, but I hadn’t the strength to push him all the way down here and back, so he’s sitting stewing at home. He’s been like a cat on hot bricks all day. You’ve been very good to him, girl, sending him the books and that.’

Gwen smiled in the dark street. She heard singing coming out of a little church on one corner. ‘Oh, it’s just something to keep him occupied. He seems to love reading so much.’

‘Proper one for book reading, Billy is. Always has been, but of course since the accident it’s meant everything to him.’

Gwen’s arm was aching from carrying her case, but she tried not to show her discomfort. She asked after the rest of the family and Shân said Anthony was spending every waking moment at the NUWM offices making arrangements for the march, which was only two weeks away.

Daniel’s absence was almost made up for by the radiant look of excitement on Billy’s face as they came in through the door. He was in his wheelchair, a piece of blanket over his knees, which he snatched off impatiently as they came in.

‘You’re here – finally! Took you all evening to walk up the hill, did it!’

‘Well, I’m an old lady now, you know that,’ Shan retorted, going into the kitchen. ‘I’ve made us a bit to eat – you settle in and talk to Billy, or he’ll never forgive me!’

Even while Gwen was taking her coat off, Billy was already launching off enthusiastically about
Les Misérables,
what a fantastic story it was and how on earth had Victor Hugo managed to write such a
lot
and the chase at the end through Paris was so exciting! He said it was the best book he’d ever read and he was going to start at the beginning and read it all over again.

Gwen sat down beside him, laughing at his enthusiasm.

‘Well, I’m glad you liked it so much! I’m having to guess what would be best out of what I can find.’

‘Well, you found the best book ever written. Have you read it?’

She had to admit she hadn’t.

‘Oh, well, you read it! I’ve read lots of adventure stories and that – and Jack London’s been one of my favourites, but I’ve never read anything like that before.’

‘And I’ve never met anyone who loves reading so much.’

‘Well, it takes you out of yourself, doesn’t it? Sitting here all day – you know . . .’ He looked crestfallen for a moment, but then smiled. ‘Hope you don’t mind me writing to you?’

‘Mind? Of course I don’t mind. It’s lovely – and your letters are so nice to read. You’ve got quite a way with words, Billy.’

Billy looked so pleased when she said this that Gwen wondered whether to say more, to suggest that perhaps he might want to write other things, but she decided to wait. After all, she’d only just got in through the door.

They chatted as Shân heated the food. Gwen told Billy about her class, about how Lucy was getting on, and Billy laughed at some of her stories. She didn’t tell him about Ron Parks. By the end of the week she had still not got to the bottom of what had happened to Ron.

‘Those men won’t be back yet,’ Shân said, calling them to the table. ‘We’ll eat ours, or there’s curling up with hunger we’ll be before they decide to come home.’

Gwen pushed Billy’s chair into the kitchen.

‘Daniel’s an idiot,’ Billy said, as she walked behind the chair. ‘I mean, I know the party’s vital, and the march and everything – but if I had you here for me the way he has, I wouldn’t be at any meeting tonight, I can tell you!’

Gwen felt a lump rise up in her throat for a moment, both for Billy’s predicament and for herself. She liked being with Shân and Billy, though. It always felt cosy in the steamy little kitchen. She tried to relax, not to imagine each sound, every footfall, was Daniel and his uncle coming back.

‘I hardly see Anthony these days,’ Shân said. ‘If it’s not problems with the dole or compo claims, it’s the march . . . I know they’ve got to do it, but I’ll still be glad when it’s over. Is anyone ever listening in the government? – That’s what I want to know.’

‘Now they’ve got the unemployment figures down in England they don’t care two hoots about us here,’ Billy said. ‘You have to show them –
force
them to listen!’

Hearing the passion in his voice, Gwen immediately felt proud of Daniel again and all he was doing. After all, he could have gone to Birmingham and just looked out for himself. Instead, he was putting all his energy into his people and where he came from.

It was after eleven when the men came home at last. Daniel’s eyes met hers as they came in and she beamed at him.

‘Got here all right?’ He came straight over and kissed her cheek. ‘Sorry I wasn’t at the station.’

‘Not to worry.’ She smiled, free of resentment now.

Before she went up to bed, Daniel came to speak to her in the little hall. Conscious of the others next door, they held each other close and he whispered into her neck, ‘I’m going to have to be at a few meetings tomorrow.’

She had half expected this. ‘It’s all right.’ She knew she had barely managed to sound as if that was true.

Daniel drew back and peered at her in the gloom.

‘It’s such a busy time. So much to do.’

‘I know.’ She hugged him tight. ‘And they need you.’

‘On Sunday we’ll have time – we’ll go out somewhere, start early.’

Her spirits rose. ‘Promise?’

He kissed her. ‘Course I promise!’

He won her round. He always seemed to be able to.

‘Do you think Billy would like it if I took him out today?’ Gwen whispered the question to Shân in the kitchen, out of earshot of Billy.

It was a brilliant, autumn morning. Daniel would be off and away. Why shouldn’t she and Billy enjoy the day?

Shân looked doubtful for a moment, then smiled. ‘Have you got the strength in you, girl? That boyo’s heavier than he looks.’

‘Of course – I’m sure I could manage, if you think it’d be all right?’

‘Oh – he’d love you to, I know he would!’ Shân looked wistful. ‘He doesn’t get out enough. To the odd meeting, or when his father’s got the time. He’d be ever so pleased if you took him – for a little while, mind. Don’t you go overdoing it.’

After breakfast, and when Gwen had kept tactfully out of the way while Shân saw to Billy’s physical needs and helped him dress, they eased his wheelchair out through the door, and Gwen and Billy set out into the golden morning.

‘Where would you like to go – up the hill?’ She leaned down to talk to him and was suddenly uncomfortably aware of a blush rising in his cheeks. It only then occurred to her how much of an effect her physical presence had on Billy.

I must be careful
, she thought, standing up again. She felt ashamed suddenly, realizing that it had never crossed her mind to think of Billy in that way, that he might be interested in her, because he was younger and because – it was an awful admission – he had been maimed, and seemed stripped of his manhood by his injuries. She had assumed somewhere in her mind that he was not whole as a man, that his body was numb, without a man’s feelings. Now she was not sure and felt suddenly confused.

She leaned hard against the wheelchair, pushing Billy up the slope she had climbed with Daniel on that summer morning. There were a few crisp, brown leaves on the pavement, crackling underfoot. The air was full of the ripe smells of autumn: leaves and smoke and a hint of decay, sunlight pouring in at a low angle which seemed to make everything glow, the bracken a deep rust colour on the sides of the hills. Gwen pushed the chair on and on determinedly. The road curved round and, branching off it, she saw a steep track to the right. They had left the houses behind and were climbing steeply so that she had to lean all her weight into pushing the chair. The air was chill, but she was soon sweating with exertion.

‘Shall we go on up there a little way?’ she asked, trying not to let Billy hear how much she was beginning to pant.

‘No – it’s too much for you!’ He sounded anxious and she wondered if he felt safe in her hands.

‘I really think I could – just some of the way.’

‘You can see a long way from up there,’ he said and she could hear the longing in his voice.

‘Well, we’ll do it!’

Bracing herself, her chest level with the back of the chair, she heaved against it and slowly inched Billy up and up the steep incline. Once her foot slipped on a little stone; she almost lost her balance and let out a cry of alarm.

‘What’s the matter?’ Billy tried to look round.

‘Nothing – it’s all right.’

After a time, there was a level resting place off the track. To one side was a rock, flattened on top to serve as a seat, and she pushed the chair over to it so that she could sit down beside Billy. They sat in silence for a few moments, each drinking in the great expanse of the green valley, smudged in parts with black, the little town nestled in its palm. The sound of a train whistle rose from the town, made soft by the distance and the gentle wind.

Gwen then became aware of Billy beside her, of the way his grey eyes were looking along the sweep of the valley with deep, almost meditative attention. She had been about to speak, but she sensed she might be interrupting his thought processes. His head was turned slightly away from her. Gradually, he looked back towards her again.

‘The hills are so close – they seem to have a personality of their own,’ she said.

‘They do. They’ve all got names.’ He pointed around the valley, telling her the names of the rusty peaks. Then he breathed in deeply, as if drinking the air. ‘I’ve never lived anywhere but here.’

She nodded, understanding that the elevation of their position gave him a perspective on his home he rarely had, and of sensing the wider world beyond and all he might be missing.

‘It’s a good place,’ she told him.

‘It is.’ He nodded emphatically, then laughed. ‘Though I don’t know anywhere else to put against it. Good people here, they are.’

‘Daniel’s always talking about it.’

‘Is he?’ He didn’t follow this up, but just kept looking. ‘I only know about anywhere else from book reading. You can go anywhere in a book, the way you can in a dream.’

‘Billy, I’ve really enjoyed your letters.’ She hesitated, and he turned to her with a candid, vulnerable gaze, and she saw, to her discomfort, in that moment the power of his feelings for her. It made her feel sad, flattered and uncomfortable all at once. She looked down in confusion, trying to hold on to what she had been going to say. ‘It’s just – well, the way you write – you’ve got a talent, you know. Describing things, bringing them alive. I wondered if you’d thought about writing other things, not just letters.’

‘I do.’ He was the one blushing now, with shy pleasure. ‘Least, I’ve done a bit – a few stories and that. Don’t know why. Something to do, I s’pose. No one’d want to read them.’

‘I’d like to.’

There was a pause.

‘I’ve never shown them to anyone – not even Mam.’

‘Well, only if you want to . . .’

‘Oh, I’d like to know if anyone – well, if they . . . If anyone else can read them and understand about them. D’you know what I mean?’

‘I think so.’

‘I keep them in a box. Under the bed.’

‘Doesn’t your mother ask what’s in there?’

‘Oh yes, but she’s not much of a reader. She just calls it my scribbling. She doesn’t want to read them.’

Gwen looked out over the valley to the mountain beyond. Clouds were beginning to gather.

‘What about Daniel?’ she asked. ‘You’ve never thought of showing them to him?’

‘No. Daniel’s so clever with his book learning. I thought he’d laugh at me.’

‘Surely he wouldn’t.’

There was a silence, then, in a different tone, casual but solemn, Billy said, ‘Daniel’s not always straight with everyone, you know.’

A cold feeling gripped her. This warning that kept coming. She found she was angry. ‘What d’you mean?’ She heard the hostility in her own voice, but why was everyone trying to sow seeds of doubt in her mind about Daniel?

Billy looked into his lap. She could see him trying to decide what to say. ‘I just mean I haven’t felt like showing him my stories.’

Once she had pushed Billy back to the house, they had a bit of dinner with Shân and afterwards Shân went out to visit a neighbour at Gwen’s urging.

‘I’m so pleased Billy’s got a bit of company,’ she whispered to Gwen in the hall before she went.