‘Mam, what about Sian? What are we going to do about her? We can’t take her grave with us can we? And who’s going to put flowers on and sort of look after it if we aren’t here?’ He was close to crying.
‘Don’t worry, son,’ said Da. ‘Grandad and Grandma will look after it for us. She’ll have flowers on her birthday and things.’
‘And anyway, Sion,’ said Mam, ‘she’ll always be with us. In our hearts and our thoughts, and that’s what’s really important you know. Not where she’s buried, but in our memories.’
He shook his head and burst into tears. ‘I don’t want to go to rotten America,’ he announced. ‘I don’t want to leave Sian.’ He ran up the stairs.
‘I’ll go and talk to him,’ said Mam. ‘You two finish these dishes.’
Da washed and I dried, silence between us for a while and then: ‘What do you think Dai? Do you want to go?’
‘Yes, Da, I want to go all right. You know I’ve always wanted to.’
‘You don’t mind about school?’
There was the nub of it. Did I mind about school? ‘To be honest Da, I’m not sure. Part of me minds, I think, but most of me is glad we’re going. Gosh,’ I began to get excited, ‘just think of seeing all those places. And seeing the sea. Gosh, I can’t wait. I hope Sion comes round soon, it’ll be terrible if he doesn’t want to go. Will we leave him behind Da?’ I paused. ‘If we’re going to, I’d better stay as well.’
He looked at me in surprise for a moment and then laughed briefly. ‘No Dai, we won’t be leaving him behind. Where we go he goes and so do you. So no more talk of staying behind, right?’
‘Right Da, I just wondered, that’s all.’ Pensively I dried another plate. Mam came back a little later, as we were finishing. She pulled a face at Da and took the towel from me. ‘Go and see if there’s any more dishes in the other room,’ she ordered.
Things seemed to be getting back to normal.
7
The weather stayed fine, with no wind, blue sky and sunlight that gave a tepid warmth. The doctor came on Monday when I was becoming frustrated and beginning to pace around, getting on Mam’s nerves with my whining to be allowed out.
‘You can go for a walk for an hour or so,’ the doctor said, ‘but make sure you’re back after that. And no getting wet and also, young man, no exerting yourself.’
‘That doesn’t leave me with much to do, does it?’ I complained.
‘Maybe not Dai,’ he sighed, ‘but try and understand you’ve had a nasty illness, which could have been worse . . . a lot worse. Now, if you do more than just walk in the fresh air and I hear about it, or your Mam hears about it for that matter, then you won’t go out for another week. Give me your word you’ll behave.’ He spoke sternly.
‘I promise,’ I said solemnly, my hands behind my back, fingers crossed. I grabbed my coat and made for the door. The last thing I heard was the doctor asking: ‘What’s all this I hear about you emigrating, Meg?’
After being cooped up for so long I felt a special excitement at being out and started to run along the street when I remembered I had to walk. I got to number twenty-three and called for Cliff, my closest friend. He was out, down watching the pickets his mother thought. I tried a few more doors – same story. I hesitated, fighting with my conscience and finally told myself that if I walked quickly I could say hullo to the gang and come straight back. It would be a tight hour but I could make it. Just.
It was not the sort of scenery poets wrote about and though daffodils were supposed to be the Welsh national flower, even in spring there were only a few of them waving their golden heads along the route I took. The endless streets of houses were roofed with grey slate and built from local grey stone. Curling trails of smoke covered the sky with their own greyness and the hills, sparsely covered with grass had a few grey looking sheep wandering over them. The
‘Don’t worry, son,’ said Da. ‘Grandad and Grandma will look after it for us. She’ll have flowers on her birthday and things.’
‘And anyway, Sion,’ said Mam, ‘she’ll always be with us. In our hearts and our thoughts, and that’s what’s really important you know. Not where she’s buried, but in our memories.’
He shook his head and burst into tears. ‘I don’t want to go to rotten America,’ he announced. ‘I don’t want to leave Sian.’ He ran up the stairs.
‘I’ll go and talk to him,’ said Mam. ‘You two finish these dishes.’
Da washed and I dried, silence between us for a while and then: ‘What do you think Dai? Do you want to go?’
‘Yes, Da, I want to go all right. You know I’ve always wanted to.’
‘You don’t mind about school?’
There was the nub of it. Did I mind about school? ‘To be honest Da, I’m not sure. Part of me minds, I think, but most of me is glad we’re going. Gosh,’ I began to get excited, ‘just think of seeing all those places. And seeing the sea. Gosh, I can’t wait. I hope Sion comes round soon, it’ll be terrible if he doesn’t want to go. Will we leave him behind Da?’ I paused. ‘If we’re going to, I’d better stay as well.’
He looked at me in surprise for a moment and then laughed briefly. ‘No Dai, we won’t be leaving him behind. Where we go he goes and so do you. So no more talk of staying behind, right?’
‘Right Da, I just wondered, that’s all.’ Pensively I dried another plate. Mam came back a little later, as we were finishing. She pulled a face at Da and took the towel from me. ‘Go and see if there’s any more dishes in the other room,’ she ordered.
Things seemed to be getting back to normal.
7
The weather stayed fine, with no wind, blue sky and sunlight that gave a tepid warmth. The doctor came on Monday when I was becoming frustrated and beginning to pace around, getting on Mam’s nerves with my whining to be allowed out.
‘You can go for a walk for an hour or so,’ the doctor said, ‘but make sure you’re back after that. And no getting wet and also, young man, no exerting yourself.’
‘That doesn’t leave me with much to do, does it?’ I complained.
‘Maybe not Dai,’ he sighed, ‘but try and understand you’ve had a nasty illness, which could have been worse . . . a lot worse. Now, if you do more than just walk in the fresh air and I hear about it, or your Mam hears about it for that matter, then you won’t go out for another week. Give me your word you’ll behave.’ He spoke sternly.
‘I promise,’ I said solemnly, my hands behind my back, fingers crossed. I grabbed my coat and made for the door. The last thing I heard was the doctor asking: ‘What’s all this I hear about you emigrating, Meg?’
After being cooped up for so long I felt a special excitement at being out and started to run along the street when I remembered I had to walk. I got to number twenty-three and called for Cliff, my closest friend. He was out, down watching the pickets his mother thought. I tried a few more doors – same story. I hesitated, fighting with my conscience and finally told myself that if I walked quickly I could say hullo to the gang and come straight back. It would be a tight hour but I could make it. Just.
It was not the sort of scenery poets wrote about and though daffodils were supposed to be the Welsh national flower, even in spring there were only a few of them waving their golden heads along the route I took. The endless streets of houses were roofed with grey slate and built from local grey stone. Curling trails of smoke covered the sky with their own greyness and the hills, sparsely covered with grass had a few grey looking sheep wandering over them. The
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