The Earth Hums in B Flat by Mari Strachan Page B

with her hand and makes a little gasping noise, just like she did when her new corset got stuck.
    â€˜And,’ I say, ‘she says Mr Owen Number 1 is a dirty old man. Alwenna knows a lot of things.’
    Mam takes her hand from her face. It’s left white marks all around her mouth. ‘That poor old man tries his best. He’s got no one to look after him since Mrs Owen died,’ she says.
    â€˜Alwenna didn’t mean that. It was something to do with her stockings.’
    Mam’s face blooms scarlet. Her pale pink powder stands out like dots on her skin. ‘That Alwenna’s a bad influence. She’s just like her mother, spreading rumours like that. And she’s far too old for you; she’s almost Bethan’s age. It’s high time you made friends with some of the other girls. That new girl, Deilwen, why can’t you be friends with someone like that?’
    â€˜Alwenna’s always been my best friend,’ I say. ‘We’re Kindred Spirits.’
    Mam clenches her fists, then straightens her back and takes deep, steady breaths like Dr Edwards prescribed. Her face goes from red to pink. She takes some bread and cheese onto her plate, but no pickled onions, and begins to eat. Her hands hardly shake at all.
    John Morris prowls beneath the table. He must have finished his lights and smelled the cheese. John Morris loves cheese, especially red, salty cheese. I drop a bit on the floor for him and he purrs as he eats it. Alwenna’s little white kitten couldn’t eat and purr at the same time.
    â€˜Don’t,’ says Mam. ‘It’ll give him worms. And it’s a waste.’
    â€˜Where’s Bethan?’ I say. ‘Is she coming home for her dinner?’ There isn’t much cheese left. And Mam has made a mess of the loaf.
    Mam shakes her head. ‘She’s playing with Caroline. And having her lunch there, too. Lovely flat. I used to clean for old Mrs Cameron when she lived there.’
    I open my mouth and Mam says, ‘With Caroline. And don’t think you can get me off the subject of your wrongdoing. I don’t want you doing anything of the sort again, do you hear me? Cross your heart.’
    I cross my heart but I cross my fingers too.
    â€˜Just look at the time,’ says Mam, ‘You’ve made me late. I’ve got to get some cakes made for tonight. You can give me a hand; it’ll keep you out of mischief.’
    â€˜Can I come to help in the meeting, too?’ I ask. There are always nice things to eat at the Sale of Work meetings.
    â€˜If Bethan doesn’t want to come,’ says Mam. ‘Now get me that new bag of flour from my shopping basket, and be quick about it.’
    Bethan never wants to help in the Sale of Work meeting. I skip to fetch the flour, then the eggs and margarine from the larder and the sugar from the cupboard. Mam snatches them from me and measures out what she needs and beats everything together in her big bowl. She’s doing everything too fast. Like the clockwork mouse Aunty Lol gave John Morris; when I wound it up tight it skittered about all over the floor, crashing into chair legs and the fender and our feet. John Morris was scared of it.
    â€˜Grease those fairy-cake trays,’ Mam says, and when I’ve done that she slaps spoonfuls of batter into them. She drops her big bowl into the sink with a crash that makes the faces in the distemper blink in fright.
    â€˜You scared the faces in the distemper, Mam,’ I say.
    â€˜Don’t start, Gwenni.’ Mam takes an extra-deep breath. ‘It’s just peeling a bit.’ She scrubs off tiny flakes of the paint, and more faces appear. ‘Just peeling. It’s time your father gave the walls a new coat.’
    Will the faces open their mouths to scream out our secrets as the new distemper washes over them like a wave and drowns them?
    â€˜Right. These are ready to go in the oven,’ says Mam. ‘Put