Christmas Eve in the Workhouse Page 4

  Mary whispered her name too low for him to catch it.

  ‘Mary McCarthy, Dr Lewis. I’m Megan Powell, her next-door neighbour.’

  ‘You haven’t moved the patient?’

  ‘No, Dr Lewis. I knew not to do that.’

  Trevor lifted the tea towels and looked into Mary’s eyes. He sat back on his heels. ‘If it hasn’t been done, ask someone to send for an ambulance.’

  ‘The Postmistress has a telephone in the shop.’

  ‘I’ll do it right away, Megan.’

  Megan didn’t move. ‘Thank you, Mrs Davies.’

  Trevor looked around. He was accustomed to poverty after completing his training in Cardiff Royal Infirmary. But the poverty in the Cardiff slums was different from the poverty in the valleys. Even when the women in Pontypridd didn’t have two farthings to rub together to buy coal, or wood for a fire, they kept their houses as spotless as the coal dust spewed out by the collieries would allow. When they couldn’t afford soap, they scrubbed and scoured with water and stone.

  As a result, most of the terraced houses in the town were cold and smelled of damp, but there was always a full kettle waiting for a fire to be lit. When it was, the teapot was brought out and hospitality offered even if the tea leaves had already seen more than one brewing.

  Trevor watched Mary McCarthy with a professional eye. ‘You've been in the wars, Mrs McCarthy. If you don’t mind, I’ll take a look at you now. If I should hurt you, let me know.’ He moved the tea towels from around Mary’s head. ‘I’m going to lift your head for a moment, Mrs McCarthy.’ He slipped his hand around the back of her neck and gently lifted. Blood sprayed from the wound in Mary’s skull. Her eyes dimmed. Andrew grabbed a clean towel from a pile on a chair and pressed it firmly against the wound before lowering Mary to the floor again.

  ‘Is Mr McCarthy here?’ Trevor asked Megan.

  ‘He was killed in a pit accident last Easter.’

  ‘Are there any other relatives?’

  ‘Two children, one’s nearly three and one’s eleven months old.’

  ‘Relatives who’ll take the children?’

  ‘Mary’s brother-in-law and his wife are on their way.’

  Mary moaned and Megan tightened her grip on Mary’s hand.

  ‘It’s dark …’ Mary closed her eyes. She breathed out, her lips trembled then relaxed.

  ‘She’s gone.’

  Trevor knew Megan wasn’t asking him a question.

  ‘There was nothing anyone could have done, Mrs Powell. Mrs McCarthy fractured her skull when she hit the floor. It was only a matter of time.’ He pulled the knitted blanket over Mary’s face.

  ‘You asked for an ambulance, doctor,’ Megan reminded.

  ‘It can take Mrs McCarthy down to the mortuary in the Graig Hospital as there’s no family in the house to lay her out or sit with her.’

  ‘Poor Mary.’ Megan wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

  Freda Williams appeared in the doorway. ‘Mr and Mr McCarthy have just arrived in a van …’ she saw the blanket covering Mary and blanched. ‘Mary’s …’

  ‘Gone, Freda. Show Joe and Annie McCarthy in, then give Diana a hand with the children. I’ll be in shortly to tell them they won’t be seeing their mother again.’

  David Williams stepped into the cage. When the winding mechanism slid into gear he looked up for the first sign of the night sky. He’d become accustomed to spending his working hours underground but it had taught him no air was as fresh or as sweet as the first lungful breathed in when the cage reached ‘up top’.

  The cage operator called to David as soon as he saw him. ‘Harry Jones went to the office after he came up, David. Straight after, management sent a message they want to see you.’

  David shuddered as he stepped out of the cage. The second lungful of air brought home the difference in air temperature between underground and the surface. It was cruel in winter. “Bronchial weather”, his Dad called it.

  ‘You go, David,’ his father said, ‘I’ll wait for you in the lamp shed.’

  ‘Been a naughty boy …’

  ‘Less of that, Richards.’ Evan Powell turned to his fellow coal cutter. ‘Management wants to see men for good as well as bad reasons.’

  ‘Not that you’d know anything about that, Richards,’ Will Powell sniped.

  ‘Don’t stoop to Richards’ level, Will,’ Evan ordered his nephew. ‘The sooner we check our tools and lamp in, the sooner we’ll get home.’

  ‘I told my brother not to marry Mary Sullivan.’ Joe McCarthy pulled the blanket back uncovering Mary’s head. She was never strong …’

  ‘She fell off a chair. It’s the sort of thing that can happen to anyone,’ Megan broke in.

  ‘Just look at her. Skinny as a stick of liquorice. A puff of wind would blow her over,’ Joe’s wife Annie was disparaging.

  ‘If by that you mean she was half your size …’

  ‘Perhaps we could see to a few practical things.’ Trevor wished he’d thought to bring one of the staff from the workhouse with him, or even better one of the Parish Guardians. ‘You’ll be taking the children, Mr McCarthy?’

  ‘Me and the wife talked about that on the way over. We’ll be taking the boy …’

  ‘And Mary’s things of course, for the boy to have when he’s older, which is why we brought the van.’ Annie went to the mantelpiece and lifted down Mary’s seven day clock.

  ‘What about Colleen?’ Megan demanded.

  ‘We have three girls of our own,’ Joe continued, ‘so we feel we really cannot take on another girl.’

  ‘She’ll be better off in the orphanage, where she stands a chance of being adopted by someone who can’t have kids,’ Annie added. ‘They’ll be able to give her more than us.’

  Megan was incensed. ‘You’d see your own flesh and blood in the workhouse …’

  ‘Not the workhouse, the orphanage …’

  ‘Same difference.’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Annie snapped.

  ‘Ladies, please.’ Trevor held up his hand as Freda Williams walked in with two ambulance man.

  ‘Dr Lewis.’ The senior man nodded to Trevor. ‘I’m sorry, we’re too late.’

  ‘You couldn’t have done anything for her if you’d been here when she fell.’ Trevor left his doctor’s bag and the death certificate he hadn’t had time to complete, and rose to his feet. ‘Could you take her to the mortuary in the Graig Hospital please, and while you’re there, ask them to send up a representative from the Parish Guardians and a nurse.’

  ‘Will do, Dr Lewis.’

  ‘Shouldn’t the children be called in to say goodbye to Mary?’ Joe asked.

  ‘The children have already said their goodbye.’ Megan stood back to make room for the men to reach Mary’s corpse.

  ‘It might be best if you go into the parlour out of our way, sir, madam,’ the ambulance man looked pointedly at Joe and Annie.

  Annie clutched the clock to her chest and she followed Joe out of the room.

  ‘All of you out of here, now!’ Joe shouted at the neighbours assembled in the passage. ‘Have some respect for the dead.’

  One of the ambulance men left the kitchen and returned with a stretcher and a red blanket. He removed the knitted blanket from Mary’s corpse and looked for somewhere to put it.

  ‘I’ll take that.’ Megan folded it to conceal the bloodstains. ‘Mary knitted it when she was carrying Colleen. I’ll try to get the bloodstains out. Colleen might appreciate it as a keepsake when she’s older.’ She left the kitchen to give the ambulance men more room. Joe and Annie had only gone as far as the front parlour. Annie was sorting through piles of clothes that had been folded on the rexine covered chaise longue.

  ‘Those belong to Wilf Horton,’ Megan informed her.

  ‘I know Mary worked occasionally for him but surely not all of these are Wilf’s. Some must be Mary's.’ Annie shook out a brown wool dress and held it up in front of her.

  ‘Everything in here
is Wilf’s,’ Megan reiterated. ‘Mary was careful to keep the clothes she prepared for Wilf to sell away from hers and the children’s.’

  ‘This frock is Mary’s size …’

  ‘Whether it’s her size or not, it’s Wilf Horton’s. Mary could never have kept on this house on or paid the bills without what Wilf paid her.’

  ‘Not everything in here belongs to Wilf Horton. I gave this to Mary and my brother when they married.’ Joe lifted down the mirror that hung over the mantelpiece.

  ‘Can't you wait until Mary’s in her coffin before stripping her home?’ Megan saw Trevor watching her from the passage. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Dr Lewis, I’ll see if the children need me next door.’

  Chapter Five

  When the maids started preparing the dining room for the inmates’ tea, Bethan, Laura, and their helpers moved out and carried the tobacco, sweets, fruit, and wrapping paper into the committee room. They had just finished setting everything out when Sister Leyshon joined them.

  ‘If you’ve come to help, Sister Leyshon, you’re very welcome.’ Laura pulled a chair out from the table.

  ‘I’m afraid I haven't, Laura. I've come to take Bethan away if she’ll let me. An ambulance has just come in with the body of your aunt's neighbour, Mary McCarthy.’

  ‘Mary McCarthy is dead?’ Bethan was shocked. ‘But she’s barely a year older than me.’

  ‘Apparently she fell off a chair hanging Christmas decorations. Dr Lewis certified death. He’s still at the house, but from what the ambulance men said, there are problems with the children. Dr Lewis asked if a representative of the Parish Guardians and a nurse could visit the McCarthy house but as it's Christmas Eve we haven’t been able to contact any of the Guardians. The master is busy, as is the matron, so I’ve been sent in place of anyone more important but Matron ordered me to take someone with me. As Mary lived next door to your aunt, I assumed you’d know her and the children.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Would you mind coming with me, Beth?’

  ‘I’ll get my cloak.’

  *

  The manager eyed David Williams and glanced back at his record. ‘You’re fifteen, boy?’

  ‘I am, sir.’

  ‘I would have put you at eighteen or nineteen. You’re big for your age.’

  ‘So everyone keeps telling me, sir.’

  ‘Harry Jones tells me you shored up a faulty prop today by yourself?’

  ‘A coal cutter heard it crack, sir. It was in the new shaft. There was a possibility it would bring the roof down and Mr Jones was busy.’

  ‘I'm not complaining, David. From what Mr Jones told me you did a first-class job. He recommended we make you up from trainee repairman to full repairman today. He says there’s nothing more he can teach you and as he’s shorthanded he'd like you to be promoted to his deputy, and after Christmas take on a couple apprentices of your own.’

  David was shocked. ‘Me, become a full repairman?’

  ‘It’ll be five shillings a week more in your pay packet but the position will mean extra responsibility. If there’s still work to be done beyond a shift we’ll expect you to stay until it’s completed. What you say?’

  David eyes shone. ‘I say thank you very much, sir. Christmas has come early for me!’

  ‘Are you telling me that policing in Pontypridd Police Station is so lax, four men can walk into the public area from the cells and steal bags under the nose of those manning the area …’ the alderman was incensed. He and Huw were in the corridor outside the function room of the Gelliwastad Club but they could barely hear what one another were saying above the noise of the children.

  ‘Telephone call, sir.’ The landlady shouted from the Gentlemen Only bar.

  ‘Who is it, Harriet?’

  ‘Police Station, sir, they’re asking for Constable Davies.’

  ‘Excuse me, sir. I told them I was coming here. They wouldn’t be contacting me unless it was an emergency.’

  The alderman humphed. He resented being interrupted mid-flow in his invective against lax policing.

  Huw went into the back hall which was blissfully quiet and picked up the receiver. ‘Constable Huw Davies … Yes, sir … Yes, sir … I understand, sir … the children … Yes, sir … I’ll go there right away, sir … Yes, sir. I’ll ask the alderman but it is Christmas Eve, sir.’ Huw held the receiver away from his ear but the alderman had followed him and was close enough to hear the sergeant bellow down the line.

  ‘We all bloody know it's Christmas Eve, Davies. Leyshon Street! Now!’ He hung up before Huw could get a word in.

  ‘What are you going to ask me?’ the Alderman demanded.

  Huw explained the situation in Leyshon Street.

  ‘Family are there, but they are only prepared to take one child?’ the alderman checked.

  ‘It appears that way, sir.’

  ‘I’ll fetch my coat.’

  ‘It’s Christmas Eve, sir. No one expects you to go,’ Huw remonstrated.

  ‘As I’m the only Parish Guardian without a family, it’s appropriate that I attend. You say the child is only two years old?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Well, she can’t be left in the house by herself. She’ll have to be taken to J Ward in the workhouse.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘We’ll drive to the Graig in my car.’

  Bethan and Sister Leyshon rounded the corner of Leyshon Street to see Wilf Horton arguing with Joe McCarthy outside Mary’s house. Trevor Lewis was in the doorway, looking from one man to the other.

  ‘You're not taking that van anywhere, Joe McCarthy. Those are my clothes, and you’re stealing them.’ Wilf tightened his grip on the back door of the vehicle.

  ‘Those clothes were in Mary’s parlour …’

  Wilf interrupted Joe. ‘Mary works for me, cleaning, pressing, and mending my stock. I pay her to store it in her house.’

  ‘Prove it,’ Joe McCarthy challenged.

  ‘Everyone here knows Mary works for me.’ Wilf looked inside the van. ‘You’ve not only taken my stock. You’ve stolen Mary’s clock and her mirror … ’

  ‘I’ve stolen nothing. Those things belong to the boy now. I’ll look after them for him.’

  ‘I bet you will.’ Wilf turned to see Annie McCarthy barge past Trevor in the doorway. She was carrying a large box. ‘What else are you thieving now?’

  Annie dropped the box and the sound of china breaking filled the hush that had descended over the street.

  ‘I’ve thieved nothing …’

  Sister Leyshon nodded to Bethan. They both stepped forward.

  ‘Where are Mary’s children?’ Glynis asked.

  ‘Colleen’s in our house, Beth.’ Diana volunteered. She was standing on the pavement next to Mrs Davies and Mrs Williams.

  ‘And the boy?’ Glynis looked around.

  ‘Sleeping in Mary’s house. Me and Joe are going to take him in,’ Annie snapped.

  ‘God help him,’ a voice called from the crowd, ‘because you won’t.’

  ‘How dare you …’ Joe closed his hands into fists.

  ‘About to hit a woman now, Joe?’ the same voice taunted.

  ‘Thank God. Here’s the police,’ Mrs Williams breathed.

  ‘And the alderman,’ Glynis added.

  Huw left the alderman’s car and joined the crowd outside Mary’s house. The neighbours fell back to allow him to reach the door. ‘I thought you’d be busy working on your stall on Christmas Eve, Wilf?’

  ‘I would be if it wasn’t for these thieving buggers, Huw. Joe McCarthy has half my stock in the back of his van.’

  ‘Mind if I take a look, Joe?’

  ‘I’ll not open the back of my van for you or anyone, Huw Davies.’

  ‘Well, seeing as it’s already open and Wilf is holding the door, I’ll just take a peek.’

  Joe hesitated.

  ‘If you don’t want to sort this out here, we could go down the police station, Joe.’ Huw won the staring match and
the point. Joe moved aside so Huw could inspect the back of van. ‘Recognise anything here, Wilf?’ Huw asked.

  ‘My clothes.’ He went to grab a handful.

  ‘No need, Wilf. I’m sure Mr and Mrs McCarthy would be glad to return everything they’ve taken out of the house.’ Huw turned to Joe. ‘Just be sure to put the items back where you found them.’

  ‘We’re taking the baby – the things are his,’ Joe protested.

  ‘In which case they’ll be given to him after a search has been made for Mary’s will and it’s been legally proven they now belong to him,’ Huw said.

  ‘Mary didn’t have two coppers to rub together so why should she make a will?’

  ‘The law is clear on that point, Joe. It sets out quite clearly who is to receive what.’

  ‘We’ll have expenses in adopting the child,’ Annie said.

  ‘You’re having second thoughts about taking him?’ Huw asked.

  ‘No.’ Annie went into the house and returned a few minutes later with the sleeping child. She went to the passenger door of the van, wrenched it open with one hand and sat both of them inside, leaving Joe to empty the back of the van.

  ‘So, David, moneybags, what are you going to spend your extra five bob a week on?’ Mr Richards asked. ‘Buying a round on pay nights for your fellow workers, I hope.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Richards.’ David’s father set a half pint of mild beer on the bar in front of David.

  They were in the back room of the Morning Star, the only bar open to miners straight from the pit before they’d bathed and changed out of their coal encrusted working clothes.

  David sipped his half and tried to pretend he was enjoying it. ‘I think Mam deserves a bit extra; as for the rest, I’ll put it in my Post Office account.’

  ‘Reckon you must be well on your way to becoming a millionaire, David, given the way you watched your pennies when we were kids.’ Will Powell took the pint of beer his Uncle Evan handed him

  ‘If the pit closes I know where I’ll be coming to for a handout.’

  ‘I don't think so, Mr Richards.’ David made a face as he finished his beer. ‘If it closes I’ll need every penny I’ve saved to go wherever there are jobs on offer.’