Hearts of Gold by Catrin Collier

year,’ Maud added proudly.
    ‘There are plenty of others that have done as well,’ Elizabeth commented coldly. ‘And I’m sure their families aren’t losing their heads over it.’
    Without looking at one another, or Elizabeth, everyone tacitly ignored her contribution to the conversation. Time and constant exposure had made the entire family, with the exception of Maud, immune to all but her bitterest pronouncements.
    And Maud was learning.
    ‘Glan has a lot to answer for,’ Bethan said after she ceremoniously blew out the candles.
    ‘Next door’s Glan?’ her father asked.
    ‘He sneaked out lunch time to buy cigarettes and gave Mrs Lewis in the newsagent’s our results. By the time we left the hospital it was over the whole of the Graig. Even Mrs Pugh knew. We’ve been congratulated all the way up the hill.’
    ‘You deserve it, love,’ her father smiled proudly. ‘Hospital ball tonight?’
    ‘Yes, Ronnie’s taking us down in his van.’
    ‘When will he be here?’ Maud asked.
    ‘Half-past eight.’
    ‘It’s five-past now. You’d better get your skates on.’
    ‘Not before she’s eaten a proper meal,’ Elizabeth said sharply, spooning two faggots and a ladleful of peas on to the top plate.
    It wasn’t until they sat at the table that Bethan realised that not only the lodger but also Haydn was missing. Her father saw her looking at her brother’s chair.
    ‘Haydn was mad when he realised he’d miss you tonight; but he brought good news home before we heard yours today.’
    ‘What?’ Bethan asked hopefully, thinking of the coat she’d asked him to buy.
    ‘He’s got a job. Full time. Twelve and six a week,’ Eddie said a little wistfully.
    ‘Where?’ Bethan asked excitedly.
    ‘Town Hall,’ Elizabeth snapped. ‘Low wages and unchristian hours. The Lord only knows what kind of people he’ll come up against there. Working every evening except Sunday, if you please. Four until midnight.’
    ‘It’s permanent, Elizabeth, and a start for the boy,’ Evan interposed.
    ‘A start in what; that’s what I’d like to know?’ She slapped a plate on the table in front of Evan, splashing mushy peas over his shirt front.
    ‘He’s stage hand and callboy, and helps out at the box office,’ Eddie whispered to Bethan.
    ‘Twelve and six a week is no wage for a nineteen year old boy,’ Elizabeth railed bitterly.
    ‘It’s a wage that plenty round here would like to have.’ There was a note in Evan’s voice that quietened Elizabeth. She continued to dish out faggots and peas in a tight-lipped martyred silence.
    She’d had her say and made every one uncomfortable but that was as far as it would go. She’d always balked at out and out argument, because she thought scenes “vulgar”, the kind of thing only the uneducated, unrefined working classes indulged in.
    Her reticence infuriated Evan. He’d grown up with parents who’d made a point of frequently “clearing the air”. They’d also periodically cleared the dresser of plates, and broke the odd window pane or two, but they’d never failed to kiss and make up before bedtime, and Evan was conscious that his own marriage lacked the passion that had characterised his parents’ relationship.
    Loving or hating, at least they’d felt something for one another.
    The only things left between him and Elizabeth were the children they’d made and mutual irritation. But twenty one years of marriage had taught him how to handle his wife, including how to utilise her fear of open discord to gain silence, when he could no longer bear the sound of her carping.
    The Welsh cakes had taken the edge off Bethan’s appetite, but she forced herself to eat, finishing the faggots and peas in less than five minutes.
    ‘I have to get ready,’ she said, rising from her chair.
    ‘Can I help you?’ Maud pleaded.
    ‘You sit down and eat your meal, young lady,’ Elizabeth commanded.
    Bethan filled a jug with hot water from the boiler as Maud spooned up the