THIS IS ROBIN DAVID’S Field, the one on the right here that runs all the way down to the Riverbank. Dew, it’s a miracle I’m alive, too, after what happened that day when the Wanderers came down from Holyhead to play our Celts in the cup.
That was on a Saturday. In mid-week, we used to go over the wall and across the field to play on the Riverbank after school. Little Ivor Top Row nearly drowned one day when we went there, Huw and Little Ivor and me, to play horses with the reins that Elwyn, Little Ivor’s big brother, had made for us out of all different colours of wool.
Little Ivor was the horse and Huw was the driver holding the reins, and he had a stick to beat Little Ivor with, instead of a proper whip. And I was running behind them as fast as my legs could carry me across Robin David’s Field right here. There were stepping stones to cross the River at the bottom of the field and that’s where Huw was driving the horse to, and Little Ivor was galloping like mad across the field.
And Huw was shouting: Gee up, Poll. Fast as you can now over the stones and across the River.
Poll was the name of Little Owen the Coal’s mare. That’s where Huw got the name from.
The River had been flooded by the rain, and you could only see the tops of the stepping stones. But Huw kept driving Little Ivor onwards, whipping him like hell.
Over the River now, Poll, said Huw, with me behind him. And Little Ivor leapt onto the first stone and from there onto the second stone and from there onto the third. And when he was jumping onto the fourth, right in the middle of the River, he went flying on his backside and slid straight into the water. The reins were long and Huw was only on the first stone behind Little Ivor and I was still in the field by the Riverbank when Little Ivor fell in. But the reins were weak, too, and they broke as soon as Little Ivor slipped.
Jesus, what will we do? said Huw, and he jumped back off the stone onto the Riverbank. Ivor was being carried downstream by the flood, and I was running along the Riverbank to keep up with him.
Huw started shouting Help as loud as he could.
Help, I shouted at the top of my voice. And who did we see jumping across the wall from Post Lane and running like lightning across the field but Elwyn, Little Ivor’s big brother.
Ivor’s in the River, said Huw at the top of his voice, still running for all he was worth.
Ivor’s in the River, I said, just like he did.
By now, Elwyn had caught us up and was running with us. And without taking off his coat or his shoes or anything he dived straight into the River and swam out into the middle and caught hold of Ivor’s hair. And in a flash, he’d brought Ivor back to the Riverbank to where we were standing.
Jesus, it was lucky you came, Elwyn, said Huw.
And there was Little Ivor, lying flat on his back, saying nothing, with his eyes wide open staring up in the air, and Elwyn was wiping his face. And Little Ivor looked as though he was in shock.
Are you alright, lad? Elwyn said to him.
Yes, said Ivor, very quietly.
You two go and get some sticks, Elwyn said to us. Then we’ll make a fire and dry our clothes. We can’t go home like this with our clothes soaking wet.
Damn, said Elwyn, when we’d gathered the sticks and laid them ready. My matches won’t light. They’re soaking.
I’ve got a match, I said.
And within two minutes, we had a real bonfire by the side of the River. And there was Elwyn and Little Ivor jumping about stark naked to keep warm, and Huw and me holding their clothes in front of the fire to dry.
Don’t tell anyone, lads, remember now, said Elwyn.
Dew, you should get a medal for saving Ivor like that, I said.
Jesus, you should, definitely, said Huw.
And remember specially not to tell Mam or I’ll get a hell of a hiding, said Little Ivor.
Maybe I should give you a hiding for being such a stupid little devil and falling into the River, said Elwyn. But we’d better not tell anyone, lads. The old woman will only worry if she finds out. And I’ll only get a row, as well, if one of you opens his mouth.
Dew, you should get a medal, said Huw. That’s what I say, anyway.
And me, I said.
*
Elwyn Top Row did get a medal too, before he was killed by the Germans. But he didn’t get it for saving Little Ivor, his brother, when he fell into the River.
He got the DCM.
That day when we ran to meet him coming home from France along Lôn Newydd, nobody knew that Elwyn Top Row had won the DCM. It was the next day when Elwyn was still tired out and asleep in bed that the telegram about the DCM came. It was me that took the telegram to Elwyn’s house in Top Row. I was on my way home from School at dinnertime and I always called at the Post Office at dinnertime to see if there was a telegram to take to somebody, cos Mr Roberts the Post gave you sixpence for taking a telegram.
Take this to Top Row, he said to me when I went into the Post Office.
And the next day in School, Price told us there’d be no school on Friday and that we were were all going to have a tea party in Stables Bridge School field because Elwyn Top Row had won the DCM.
Dew, that Friday was a great day. There was a procession along the Street from the end of Lôn Newydd right up to the Church Gate, and then up to Stables Bridge School. And we were all in our Sunday best standing on the pavement watching it, and everyone had been given a flag to wave as the procession went by.
The Llanbabo Band were at the front. The band had come all the way from Llanbabo because Elwyn’s cousin played trombone for them. Behind the band was Robin David’s coach and horse, and Robin David was sitting up front in the high seat, driving, with a long whip just like a fishing rod.
The top of the coach was pulled down so that everyone could see inside, and there was Elwyn Top Row sitting in the coach just like a Lord, waving and bowing to us, and smiling from ear to ear. And Mrs Williams Top Row, his mother, was sitting beside him in her best clothes, and looking like a Queen at Coronation time. And Little Ivor and his dad were sitting opposite, looking very important and not smiling at all.
Watch you don’t fall, Little Ivor, said Huw at the top of his voice as everyone clapped as the coach went by. And everyone was waving their flags. But Little Ivor didn’t hear him. And he didn’t see us either, because there were too many people on each side of the Street looking at them. And Little Will Policeman’s Dad and Jones the New Policeman were marching with the coach, one on each side of it.
Behind the coach were the Oddfellows, marching two by two, and every one of them had a long blue sash across his shoulders and around his stomach. Will Starch Collar was there, and David Evans Snowdon View, and Ellis Evans Next Door, and Humphrey Top House, and Bleddyn Evans Garth, and lots and lots of important people, because nobody was working in the Quarry that day.
Come on, said Huw when the Llanbabo Band started playing by the Sixpenny Ha’penny Shop.
And instead of staying where we were, waving our flags, we ran up past the coach and started marching alongside the band. And we marched with it all the way to Stables Bridge School, where the coach stopped and everyone went into the meeting where they gave the medal to Elwyn.
Come on, Huw said after the meeting, or we’ll miss the tea party.
And in we went to Stables Bridge School field and started scoffing all sorts of cakes and sandwiches with the others. And afterwards, there was a procession back from Stables Bridge School, with Elwyn and his mam and dad and Little Ivor in the coach just like before, except that Elwyn was wearing his medal on his chest. And the Llanbabo Band were still playing. And we went along with them and marched all the way down to the end of Lôn Newydd.
Dew, that was a great day.
*
The circus came to Robin David’s Field as well, and the Lion Show. Hey, it was a miracle that Little Owen the Coal was still alive, too, after that time with the elephant. Little Owen the Coal always was a cruel old devil, even when he hadn’t had a drink. We saw him beating Poll the Mare once on Allt Bryn until she nearly collapsed between the shafts. And we were so mad at him that we wanted to stone him to death. But we were too scared of him.
We were standing watching the elephant behind the railings in the Lion Show at the time. A whole row of us laughing at the elephant putting his trunk out through the railings to get nuts and pieces of apple and that sort of thing from us and stuffing them into his mouth.
Watch this, lads, said Little Owen the Coal, and went into his pocket and pulled out a box of matches. And when the elephant put his trunk out through the railings near Little Owen the Coal, he gave him the box of matches. And the elephant put them into his mouth as though they were a nut or an apple, and when he put them into his mouth with his trunk, we saw lots of smoke coming from his mouth. It mustn’t have burnt, because he didn’t go mad or anything, he just looked with his little eyes at Owen the Coal. And we were all hoping that he’d grab Owen round the waist with his trunk and drag him over the railings and sling him into oblivion.
In fairness to Moi, it wasn’t like that with him and the monkeys. Huw and Moi and me had been let in for nothing for carrying the lions’ water for the Show man in the morning. That was a year before Moi died.
How can we get into the Show tonight? said Huw.
Over the wall when nobody’s looking, of course, said Moi.
There’s no need to go over the wall, I said. The Show man said we can bring the water from the River for him and go in for nothing.
Moi had been to Doctor Pritchard’s on the way from School in the afternoon to fetch some medicine for his mam and a box of pills for his Uncle Owen. But we went to the Show before going home. And when we went to see the monkeys, we didn’t have any nuts or anything to give them.
Let’s see if they like these, said Moi, and went into his pocket for the pillbox.
He threw one in and one of the monkeys snatched the pill and put it in his mouth with his hands. And there was the monkey chewing the pill and staring at us and looking as pleased as Punch.
He likes them, said Moi, and threw another pill in. And one of the other monkeys grabbed it and started chewing it like the other one.
After that, Moi started throwing one pill after another to the monkeys, until he had none left and the box was empty.
Jesus, what will I do now? he said. What will Uncle Owen say when I get home?
Say you’ve lost them, said Huw.
Or say you didn’t get them, I said.
When the people went to the Show that night, there was no sign of the monkeys. And the Show man stood up and told the people that they wouldn’t be able to see the monkeys because they’d all been taken ill.
Jesus, I got a hiding from Uncle Owen last night, Moi told us in School the next morning.
What for? Because you’d lost the pillbox? said Huw
Or for saying you didn’t get them from Doctor Pritchard? I said.
Yes, said Moi. Uncle Owen had seen Doctor Pritchard in the street, and he told him that he’d given them to me. And do you know what they were, lads?
Nor me, neither.
They were laxative pills. He’s been constipated for three days.
*
But I wanted to talk about that day the Wanderers came from Holyhead to play in the Cup against our Celts in Robin David’s Field. It had been raining all day on the Friday and on that Saturday morning, but it had turned fine in the afternoon before the game started.
We were sitting on a wall on the opposite side to Post Lane watching people go into the field, Huw and Moi and me. And there they were in one long line almost down to the Church gate, going in very slowly, one after the other, after paying sixpence at the gate. Little lads like us could get in for threepence. Little Will Policeman’s Dad and Jones the New Policeman were standing by the gate watching the people go in.
Dew, it’s bound to be a good game, said Huw. I’d like to see Will Cae Terfyn run rings around the Wanderers’ boys. But I’ve only got threepence and I want to buy sweets for tomorrow and get some chips from Ann Jones’s shop on my way home tonight.
I’ve got threepence too, said Moi. We’ll go over the wall after the people have gone in.
I’ve only got a penny, I said. If I’d gone with Mam to do the shopping instead of coming here, I’d have enough money to pay for all of us.
And there we were thinking how we could get in for nothing when I looked across the road at the gate, where Little Will Policeman’s Dad and Jones the New Policeman were standing.
Look, lads, Jones the New Policeman’s watching us.
Down off that wall, said the policeman. And we jumped down at once.
Up to Post Lane, said Huw.
Yes, the far end of the field is the best place to go over the wall, said Moi.
I want to stay here for a while to watch the people going in, I said. I’ll come after you in two minutes.
And there I was standing with my hands in my pockets, one hand playing with the penny I had, when someone in the row of people who were waiting to be let in waved his hand and shouted to me. I looked behind me, thinking he was waving and calling to someone else, but there was nobody behind me.
Hey, come here, said the man who was waving his hand, and I walked towards him. And who was it but Bleddyn Evans Garth, Ellis Evans Next Door’s cousin, who sometimes came up the Hill to visit Ellis and Grace, and came into our house for a cup of tea when there was nobody in Next Door. He worked in the Quarry.
You’re the boy from Next Door to Ellis Evans’, aren’t you? he said.
Yes.
Are you going to watch the Celts win the Cup?
No, I don’t think so.
Course you are. Here, take this. Come in with me. And he reached into his pocket and put threepence in my hand.
Lor. Thanks very much, I said.
How’s your Mam?
Alright, thanks. I was supposed to go shopping with her this afternoon. But I wanted to watch all the people going into the field. That’s why I came here with Huw and Moi.
Oh, so where have they gone?
Up Post Lane for a walk.
Do they want to go in?
Yes, I think so.
Who do you think will win today?
The Celts, of course.
You should wear a green ribbon like me to show what side you’re on. Here, I’ll cut this in two so you can have half.
Lor, thanks a lot.
And Bleddyn Evans took the green ribbon from his chest and went into his pocket for a knife and cut it in two and gave half to me.
Have you got a pin?
Here you are, take this.
Lor, thanks again.
I looked a proper swell going through the gate into the field with Bleddyn Evans Garth, with the green ribbon on my chest. And when the Celts boys came onto the field, I was shouting C’mon the Celts louder than anybody.
I fancy going over there to find a better place to see, I said to Bleddyn Evans.
Yes, you go if you like. I’m fine right here.
And I walked very slowly up the line to look for a gap between the men who were standing along it, so I could find a good place to watch, and shout C’mon the Celts.
God, look who’s here, said someone, when I’d walked almost right up to the Celts’ goal line. And who should be there but Huw and Moi, looking as guilty as two dogs who’d been killing sheep.
How the devil did you get into the field? You said you only had a penny, said Moi.
Hey, how did you two get in, then?
Over the wall over there, of course, while Little Will Policeman’s Dad and Jones the New Policeman were at the other end.
Hey, you look great with that green ribbon, said Huw.
I got it from Bleddyn Evans Garth, Ellis Evans Next Door’s cousin. He cut the one he had in half with a knife and gave half to me.
Yes, but how did you get into the field?
Bleddyn Evans gave me threepence so I could come in with him. He’s down in the bottom end over there. I came up here so I could see better.
C’mon the Celts, said Huw at the top of his voice as the ball came up to the Celts’ goalmouth and Will Roberts the Goalie leapt for it and kicked it out into midfield.
Look, I said, you’d both better have a bit of this green ribbon to show which side you’re on.
And I took the ribbon off and cut it in three pieces and gave one to each of them and kept one for myself.
HaFa pin? said Huw.
Here you are, said Moi. Everyone will think we’ve paid to get in now.
We can go round to that side, by the River, said Moi. There’s less people and more room over there, and Jones the New Policeman’s coming up.
Dew, that Will Cae Terfyn’s a good dribbler, said Huw when we’d found a space halfway up the touchline on the River side of the field.
And you should have seen Will Cae Terfyn running rings round the Wanderers’ boys, too. Whenever he got a pass from the left wing or the right wing, Will was running down the field with the ball as though it was attached to his feet by a piece of elastic. Then, when he was coming up to one of the Wanderers’ boys, he’d stop dead and the ball would stop in front of him. Then he’d do a little dance on each side of the ball with the Wanderers’ lad watching him like a cat watching a mouse. And before he knew where he was, Will Cae Terfyn had tapped the ball through his legs with the front of his foot and run round him, and left the Wanderers’ boy on his backside in the mud. Then Will was going straight through the others like a knife through butter until he was at the Wanderers’ goal.
They say that Everton and Aston Villa have tried to get Will Cae Terfyn, said Huw as Will was weaving his way towards the Wanderers’ goal.
They won’t get him, you know, said Moi. He’d rather stay with the Celts.
Goal! the three of us screamed at the top of our voices as Will scored the first goal. Will had shot the ball into the net, and there was the Wanderers’ goalkeeper on his belly in the mud, with his feet in the air and his arms out as though he was trying to reach all the way to Post Lane. And all the people on the line were shouting and dancing like lunatics, and all the Celts’ boys were running up to Will and shaking his hand and putting their arms round him and tussling his hair. And the referee had his whistle in his mouth and was running back to midfield.
That Titch is a good referee, said Moi.
We called him Titch because he was a tiny little man, and he had a mop of curly black hair. And when he was running backwards and forwards between the lads, and bending down to watch the ball, with his whistle in his mouth, he looked smaller than Little Bob Pen Clawdd, the one we always made fun of because he was only as tall as he was wide and he was forty. And when Titch was standing up, he barely came up to the knees of Will Roberts, the Celts’ goalkeeper. Dew, he was a tall one.
Ritchie Hughes Pen Garnedd scored the second for the Celts, just before the end of the first half. Ritchie and his two brothers, Albert and Llywelyn, played for the Celts’ team. Dew, they were three good players, too. But Ritchie was the best of the three. He had a kick like a mule in his left foot, and that goal Ritchie scored was the best one I ever saw. He was running alone with the ball down the Celts’ left wing, just where we were standing and shouting C’mon the Celts. And when he’d just crossed the centre line and was zooming past us, he took a shot. The ball flew through the air and was heading for the far corner of the Wanderers’ goal, just under the crossbar, and the Wanderers’ goalkeeper was leaping from the other post with his arms stretched out trying to save it.
It went over, said Moi.
Did it hell, goal, said Huw.
Goal, I said at the top of my voice, and Titch blew his whistle and then everyone shouted Goal at the top of their voice. And then Titch gave a long blow on his whistle to say it was half-time.
The cup’s ours, said Huw, when we’d walked to the Riverbank and were throwing stones into the River to kill time.
Don’t be too sure, said Moi. The field’s all muddy and the Celts’ lads are tired. And they’ll be playing against the wind now, with the sun in their eyes as well.
Then Titch blew his whistle, and we walked back to the line.
Foul, said Moi at the top of his voice, as soon as the game had restarted. There’s a dirty devil for you.
One of the Wanderers’ boys had tackled Will Cae Terfyn from behind and made him slide on his belly through the mud for about four yards. And Titch didn’t take any notice or blow his whistle or anything. He just waved his hand to tell the lads to carry on playing. But the people round the field were screaming like lunatics, and lots of them were swearing and cursing and calling Titch all kinds of names. And Bleddyn Evans and a gang of others with him were having a blazing row on the line with Jones the New Policeman.
And while all this was going on, a little voice from somewhere shouted: Goal! And as we looked, there was the ball in the Celts’ goal and Will Roberts was flat out in the mud. Everyone was quiet for a long time after that.
Two one, said Huw. Jesus, I hope they don’t get another goal.
But between the mud and the tackling and the pushing, the game got dirtier and dirtier, and Titch was always blowing his whistle for a foul. And it was hard to tell who were the Celts in their red shirts and who were the Wanderers in their yellow shirts because the lads were covered in mud from head to foot, and you couldn’t see their colours. And the Wanderers’ lads were forever pressing forward and the ball was always in the Celts’ goal area, and Will Roberts was under terrible pressure and fisting the ball away all the time with his arms going round like a windmill. And the Wanderers’ goalkeeper wasn’t doing anything except walking backwards and forwards and rubbing his hands and his legs to keep warm cos he had nothing else to do.
Will Roberts had punched the ball away three times with both fists together and everyone was shouting Great stuff, Will and C’mon the Celts. And suddenly, Titch blew his whistle and someone shouted Goal! And there was the ball sitting in the mud on the Celts’ goal line and all the lads were round Titch arguing like hell. But the referee was stooping forward with his whistle in his mouth and running for the centre line with the lads running after him, still arguing, and the people on the touchline were screaming like lunatics.
It didn’t go in, lads, said Huw.
I don’t think so either.
Nor me, neither.
But the maddest one of all was Will Roberts the Goalie. There he was, with his face all red, walking up and down and punching the air, and showing the ball in the mud on the goal line to the people around him.
Suddenly, Will Roberts sat down in the mud by the post and put his head in his hands as though he wanted to cry. Then he got up and started galloping like mad towards midfield, where the other lads were still arguing with the referee.
And before anyone knew what was happening, Will Roberts had got hold of Titch by the scruff of the neck with both hands and lifted him off his feet and turned round and was carrying him like that back to the Celts’ goal, and Titch’s feet were kicking the air underneath him, as though he was riding a bike.
When Will Roberts and Titch reached the goal, Will put him down and pointed to the ball in the mud on the line and started arguing with him again. But Titch was still arguing back. So Will grabbed him and pushed his head down until his nose was in the mud next to the ball.
Will you believe it now then, you stupid old bugger? Will said to him.
Everything went completely to pot after that.
A lot of people who were on the touchline ran into midfield and started arguing with the Wanderers’ lads, and some of them were running towards the Celts’ goal to try to get hold of Titch and murder him. But Little Will Policeman’s Dad and Jones the New Policeman were there before them and had put Titch between them and were telling people to keep away. But I’d never seen people so completely wild with anger.
Then Little Will Policeman’s Dad called the lads from the Celts and the Wanderers together and, after talking for a little while, they made a ring around the referee and started to walk off the field with the people walking on all sides of them shouting, and some of them cursing and swearing.
Talk about Elwyn Top Row’s procession. The one with Titch was the most fantastic procession I ever saw in my life.
Then as we were walking down past the Church Gate, with Titch in the lead, and the two policemen one each side of him, and the lads from the Celts and Wanderers behind them, and the people behind them shouting and throwing clumps of grass and mud trying to hit Titch, Moi said: I’m going to get a clump of turf.
No, leave him alone, said Huw.
But Moi went off to look for a clump of turf. And the next thing we saw was this enormous clump of muddy turf flying through the air. But instead of hitting Titch, it landed smack on Little Will Policeman’s Dad’s ear and knocked his helmet off. But Little Will Policeman’s Dad did nothing except bend down and pick up his helmet and put it back on his head and carry on walking until they were at The Blue Bell, where the lads always got washed and changed. And in they went with Titch. And a lot of the people were standing around The Blue Bell arguing for ages. But nobody saw Titch come out, because they took him out of the back door.
Was it you that threw that clump of mud that hit Little Will Policeman’s Dad? said Huw on the way home.
No, definitely not, said Moi. I couldn’t find a clump. Some people are saying it was Little Will Policeman that threw it.
Jesus, he’ll get a hiding when he goes home, if it was him, said Huw.
Dew, that was a terrible day. There’s no one playing football on Robin David’s Field now. Only cattle grazing.