‘Those garlands are beautiful, Mary. Wherever did you get them?’ Megan Powell complimented when she walked into the back kitchen of Mary McCarthy’s two-up-two-down in Leyshon Street. Mary was balancing on a kitchen chair, pinning her daughter’s home-made Christmas decorations along the picture rails.
‘I made them, Auntie Megan,’ Mary’s daughter Colleen said proudly.
‘Made them? How on earth did you manage that, you clever girl?’
‘Yesterday Mam and me painted newspapers red and green. This morning after we made sure the paint was dry, we cut the paper into strips and glued them. Sean wanted to help, but he’s too little.’
‘He painted as well, Colleen.’ Mary stepped down from the chair and scooped up her year-old son from the rag rug where he was playing with a saucepan and wooden spoon.
‘Not proper painting,’ Colleen, who was nearly three, declared.
‘You didn’t paint very proper either, miss, when you were his age!’ Mary put the drawing pins she’d been using on the mantelpiece out of Colleen’s reach.
‘I’m very impressed with the garlands and the tree.’ Megan admired at the small fir tree Mary had put on top of the cupboard in the alcove next to the hearth. It was decorated with stars and moons cut from food tins.
‘Cup of tea, Megan?’ Mary invited.
‘Only if you’re having one.’
‘I could do with one.’
‘I’ll fill the kettle.’ Megan lifted it from the range, opened the door, and went to the outside tap. She beckoned Colleen forward.
‘Here,’ Megan delved into her pocket and pulled out two pennies. ‘I was just in Mrs Davies’s in the Post Office and I noticed she’d reduced the last of her Christmas chocolates.’ She lowered her voice. ‘There’s a sixpence between those two pennies, get something nice for your mam from you and Sean. Knock on my door and our Diana will take you.’
Colleen rushed back inside. ‘Auntie Megan’s given Sean and me a Christmas penny each. Can I go to the Post Office with Diana, Mam?’
‘You can go, but only if you put your coat and scarf on,’ Mary shouted as Colleen ran down the passage.’ Mary sat down and settled Sean on her lap. ‘You spoil her, Megan.’
‘She’s a good kid, she deserve spoiling, especially at this time of year.’ Megan opened the ring on the range and set the kettle on to boil. ‘Here,’ she dug into her overall pocket, pulled out three parcels and set them under the tree. ‘From Father Christmas.’
Mary looked at them. ‘One for me as well?’
‘You deserve a treat, working all the hours God sends, mending, washing, and pressing Wilf Horton’s second-hand clothes for his stall on the market. By the look of the bags under your eyes I’d say you haven’t slept the last couple of nights.’
‘You know the market at Christmas. People are so desperate to buy presents they’ll hand money over for any old rubbish. Some of the evening dresses Wilf had me altering came out of the ark, but when he picked up the last load he said he’d sold the lot and people were still asking if he had any left.’
‘I’m not surprised, the price of new clothes in the shops. Sit down and put your feet up.’ Megan took the teapot, caddy, and two cups and saucers from the shelf next to the stove. ‘You let Wilf run you ragged.’
‘It’s just busy at this time of year. I’m grateful to Wilf. If he hadn’t given me work I can do at home the kids and me would have to go to the workhouse after Sean was killed in the pit. My widow’s pension doesn’t even cover the rent.’
‘Don’t I know it, although it’s got a lot easier since our Will started down the colliery.’ Megan was a war widow who’d only managed to bring her children up by cleaning the Graig Hotel every morning and taking in lodgers.
The kettle began to boil. Megan splashed water into the teapot to warm it. She emptied it outside, spooned in tea, and wet it with boiling water.
‘This is heaven, thank you, Megan.’ Mary set her son back on the rug, took the tea, propped her feet on a stool, sat back in her chair, and looked up. ‘Those garlands do look good.’
‘I wasn’t spinning a yarn when I came in.’ Megan turned an upright chair around to face the range. ‘So what meat have you got in for tomorrow?’
‘A chicken. Wilf brought it up this morning along with chocolate and liquorice for Sean and Colleen. He said it was a Christmas bonus. Bother.’ She looked up as a garland swung down from the corner and swept across the sideboard.
‘Good job you hadn’t put the kids Christmas fruit and sweets on there or they’d be on the floor. I’ll put it back up.’
‘No, I’ll do it. It’s not often we get a chance to sit down and have a chat. You heard about Mrs Lark?’
‘I should think the whole of the Graig has by now. Trouble is, a family that size has too many mouths to feed. No one round here could afford to take them in.’
‘Maybe the boys can get collier boy jobs in a year or two,’ Mary suggested.
‘Not if the rumours of pit closures are true. Our Will’s worried sick, along with all the men who work in the Maritime.’ Megan finished her tea. ‘No rest for the wicked. I have to cook tea for Will, Diana, and Charlie.’ Charlie was Megan’s Russian lodger. The locals had christened him Charlie after finding his Russian name unpronounceable. ‘I’ve kept the best for tomorrow so it’ll be lentil stew and ham bone tonight and a prize for anyone who finds a pink shred of ham in their bowl. Sure you don’t want me to give you a hand to put that garland back up?’
‘I’m sure. That’s Colleen back.’
‘Mam,’ the door burst open and Colleen burst in with Diana. ‘Mrs Davies was selling halfpenny bars of chocolate for a farthing. So I got two, one for Sean, one for me, and an orange for you, Mam.’ Colleen handed it to her mother. ‘And liquorice.’
‘What an awful lot you bought for two pennies. Clever girl.’ Megan kissed Colleen and ruffled Sean’s hair. ‘Time to start cooking the stew, Di. See you later, Mary.’
‘’Bye, Megan and thank you. Right you two,’ Mary turned to Colleen, ‘bread and cheese for tonight so we can enjoy our Christmas dinner all the more tomorrow?’
‘Toasted, Mam?’ Colleen pleaded.
‘If you get the toasting fork. I’ll open the stove as soon as I’ve pinned this decoration back up. You watch Sean doesn’t move off that rug while I’m on the chair.’ Mary moved a kitchen chair into the corner, picked up the end of the garland from the top of the sideboard and lifted it.
Suddenly giddy, she turned to see Colleen standing behind her.
‘Move back, darling …’
She lost her balance and fell. The back of her head slammed on the flagstone floor. She gazed up at the ceiling. The light was fading. Yet she knew she’d turned the electric light bulb on that morning.
‘Colleen …’
‘Mam?’
She could hear fear in her daughter’s voice. ‘Turn the light on, darling.’
‘It is on, Mam.’
Colleen lay on the floor next to her and twined her fingers into hers. Mary tried to lift her head. Her hair was wet, sticky … she hadn’t washed the floor … not today. She lifted her hand, and held it in front of eyes.
‘Colleen.’ She struggled to keep her voice steady, even. ‘Fetch Auntie Megan, quick. There’s a good girl.’
‘Mabel’s the last one, Beth, thank you for your help. I would never have managed without you.’ Glynis Leyshon watched Bethan pull the nit comb gently through the thin hair of elderly Mabel Down, the last woman in the queue.
‘Thank you, Nurse,’ the old women murmured diffidently. ‘You have a gentle touch. Some nurses have drawn blood on my head with a tooth comb.’
‘Not us, Mabel.’ Glynis handed Mabel a blanket to wrap over her smock. ‘You need to keep warm, your voice is hoarse. It sounds to me as if you have a chest infection. Nurse Powell will take you along to see the doctor. I wouldn’t be surprised if he sends you straight to the infirmary.’
‘I’ll still get my Christmas dinner, won’t I, sister?’
‘You most certainly will, and a present.’
‘We had an apple, orange, and nuts last year and all the men had half an ounce of tobacco. I thought that wasn’t fair. Women smoke as well as men, and I had my pipe all ready.’
‘Ask whoever’s on duty if you can swap your fruit for tobacco.’
‘I’ll do that, Sister Leyshon, thank you.’
‘You can go back to your ward once you’ve left Mabel with Dr John, Bethan.’
‘Chance would be a fine thing. Matron delegated the decoration of the dining room to Laura and me.’
‘Poor you. Good luck.’
‘We need it, given the dearth of decorations. There’s nothing useable from last year.’
‘So you’ll be begging round the market stalls last thing tonight?’
‘Looks like it.’ Bethan slipped her arm around Mabel’s shoulders. ‘I’ll take you to see the doctor, Mabel.’
Alf was supervising a silent line of men outside the Committee Room. Not one of them dared utter a word with him watching them.
‘There are screens up round the examination areas, Nurse Powell, so you go in with the lady.’ Alf glared at the men, daring any of them to object.
Bethan took Mabel into the room and sat with her until Ted Harris emerged from behind one of the screens with the major and his stooges. She could hear Trevor speaking behind the other screen, but his voice was too low for her to catch what he was saying.
The major bowed when he saw her. ‘Merry Christmas, Nurse.’
‘Merry Christmas to you and your men, Major.’ The major and his stooges were well-known eccentrics in Pontypridd. She’d often seen them scavenging around shops after they’d closed.
‘Strict isolation, Mr Harris,’ Dr John walked out from behind the screen and handed Ted Harris a sheaf of forms. ‘Given the number of people we have in the workhouse at the moment we should set up a separate scabies ward.’
‘How long until we’re fit to leave here, doctor?’ the major asked.
‘Difficult to say, weeks, a month maybe, but sleeping rough in winter isn’t good for any of you. I’ll have a word with the Guardians, and see if they can find you rooms in a hostel once we have you fit again,’ Andrew John offered.
‘That’s good of you, Doc, but the Guardians …’
‘That’s enough, from you, Major. I’ll take you up to isolation before anyone else gets infected.’ Ted ushered them out.
Andrew smiled at Bethan. ‘Nurse Powell, and …’
‘Mabel, Dr John. Sister Leyshon thought she might have a chest infection.’
‘If Sister Leyshon diagnosed a chest infection, the chances are you have one, Mabel.’
Andrew led Mabel behind the screens. Bethan followed. He opened Mabel’s smock and applied his stethoscope to her chest.
‘Where did you sleep last night, Mabel?’
‘Same place I’ve slept since the landlord evicted me when my old man died.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘Old chicken coop behind the Broadway.’
‘I’m guessing it’s not watertight.’ Andrew folded his stethoscope.
‘Roof and walls let in water.’
‘It’s the infirmary for you, Mabel.’
‘Thanks, doctor. I could do with a bit of a rest but I’ll be going back as soon as the warm weather’s on its way.’
‘That’s Nurse Brown coming in, Nurse Powell,’ Andrew said when he heard footsteps. ‘She can take Mabel upstairs. I hear your artistic touch is needed in the dining room.’
‘I’m afraid my artistic touch will disappoint, Dr John.’
‘I doubt it.’ He broadened his smile when he saw Bethan looking at him. He’d asked her out at the hospital ball, and was looking forward to getting to know her better than work would allow. Given Matron’s non-fraternisation rule between doctors and nurses, they’d both be taking a risk, but when she returned his smile with a tentative one of her own, he decided it was a risk well worth taking.
Bethan left Mabel with Nurse Brown and returned to the dining room. She pushed open the door and stared in disbelief.
Multi-coloured garlands of twisted crepe hung from the sides of the hall to the peaked roof. Foldout paper baubles and bells dangled from the central rafter and strings of tinsel adorned the pillars.
‘Welcome to Santa’s Grotto.’ Glan was poised on a stepladder, fixing a tinsel star to the top of the tree.
‘Watch what you’re doing, Glan, or you’ll have the tree over.’ Laura shouted from the table where she and half a dozen ward maids were wrapping fruit, nuts, and tobacco “presents” for the inmates.
‘Where did you get the decorations?’ Bethan asked.
‘Ask no questions …’
‘And you’ll tell no lies?’ Bethan cut Glan short.
‘Ted Harris came in with four carrier bags. He said they were a gift from some of our grateful Christmas guests.’
The door opened and Huw Davies joined them. ‘Ted Harris really said that those decorations were a gift from grateful Christmas guests?’
‘Uncle Huw,’ Bethan kissed Constable Huw Davies’s cheek. He wasn’t her uncle, but the brother of her aunt by marriage, Megan Powell, which in Pontypridd terms made them close relatives. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Besides getting a kiss from a pretty girl? Looking for stolen Christmas decorations.’
‘Stolen!’
‘Ted Harris did give us these,’ Glan reiterated.
‘And we all know the head male nurse wouldn’t lay a finger on anything that wasn’t his, don’t we?’
‘I swear you have eyes in the back of your head, Huw,’ Ted said from the doorway.
‘First thing the police do with new recruits is drill holes in their skull and put in eye swivelling brackets so they can see themselves coming and going, Ted.’ Huw always spoke softly and slowly. Irritatingly slowly at times, which Bethan had noticed usually unnerved people more than shouting at them would have.
‘If you want to know who gave them to me, Huw, you have but to ask.’
‘Let me guess, Ted.’ Huw looked at Glan.
‘It wasn’t me, Constable Davies.’
‘Or me,’ chorused two of the junior porters.
‘I found out from Alf that Nurse Powell here has been on admittance duty for the best part of the day so it couldn’t be her. And everyone knows that not even butter will melt in the mouth of Nurse Ronconi, so, Ted, I’m guessing these really did come in with the guests who’ve joined you for Christmas.’
‘You’d be right.’
‘That’s an awful lot of decorations. They must have come in more than one carrier bag. Would there have been four, brown paper and string ones by chance?’
‘There might have been,’ Ted agreed warily.
‘Did it take four men to carry them?’
‘Four bags suggest four men.’
‘Wartime heroes?’
‘If you want to see them they’re in quarantine with scabies.’
‘I’ll pass on that one, thank you, Ted, but when the councillors arrive to serve the paupers’ dinner tomorrow don’t forget to thank the alderman for his donation of Christmas decorations?’
‘The alderman? These were his decorations?’ Ted blanched.
‘Picked them out himself for the Gelliwastad Club. But seeing them here, it would appear he gave them away. Generous soul, isn’t he?’
‘You sure you don’t want to talk to the major and his stooges to find out how they got hold of them?’
‘I’m suddenly very busy.’ Huw gazed at the ceiling. ‘You’ve made a good job of the Christmas trimmings. Although I see the nurses’ hands in the artistic arrangements more than the porters. I hope the Christmas dinner is up to the same standard. A merry and peaceful Christmas Eve, or rather what’s left of it, to all of you.’
‘Same to you, Constable Davies.’
‘Glan, go easy on the beer when you come off duty. I’d hate to have to arrest a hardworking man on Christmas Eve before he’s had his Christmas dinner.’
‘Goodbye, Uncle Huw,’ Bethan gave him another kiss.
‘I’ll see you out, Huw.’ Ted left the dining room with him and walked him to the outside door. ‘You’ll be in the Queen’s Hotel later on?’
‘Soon as I’m off duty and changed.’
‘Buy you a pint?’
‘Reckon you owe me two, Ted. For the trimmings.’
‘Thought they were the alderman’s.’
‘It’s my cut for having to inform the alderman exactly what happened to his decorations.’ Huw opened the door and stepped out onto cold, wet Llantrisant Road.