Black-eyed Devils Read online

  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 13th 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 10thApril. The photographs had been ordered and p
aid 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.’