Winners and Losers by Catrin Collier

‘Breakfast in the hall in five minutes, boy.’
    â€˜Yes, sir.’
    â€˜See you later, Harry.’ Sali stooped to receive her son’s kiss. Sensing that it was reluctantly given, with a sideways glance at his playmates, she realized it was probably one of the last he’d give her in public for a long time.
    â€˜Bye, Mam.’ Whooping like an Indian, Harry raced across the yard.
    â€˜He’s come a long way this term.’ Mr Griffiths failed to suppress a grin as Harry pulled down his lower eyelids with his thumbs, stuck his index fingers in his ears and wiggled his tongue at his best friend, Dewi.
    â€˜So I see.’ Sali knew exactly who had taught Harry to make that face and she resolved to have a word with Joey.
    â€˜We’d like to move him out of the babies’ and into the first class, if that’s all right with you.’
    Sali looked doubtful. ‘I don’t want him growing up too fast.’
    â€˜He’s bored where he is, and you were the one who taught him to read. I’d like to do it today if I have your permission.’
    â€˜You have it, Mr Griffiths,’ Sali agreed grudgingly, recognizing that the headmaster was better placed to oversee Harry’s progress within the school than she was.
    â€˜Off to your soup kitchen?’
    â€˜Father Kelly’s kitchen,’ she amended.
    â€˜You have enough donations?’
    â€˜For the moment. You?’ she enquired anxiously.
    â€˜For the moment,’ he echoed. ‘The superintendent of the Neath police force held a collection in his station and sent me a postal order for two pounds fourteen shillings and sixpence yesterday.’
    â€˜You cashed it?’
    â€˜I did. But if the strikers find out -’
    â€˜They’d assume that the Neath police, like all right thinking individuals, understand their grievances and support them.’ Sali repeated a remark Lloyd had made to a member of the strike committee who had argued against accepting donations collected after a football match between the soldiers and the striking miners. ‘No one wants to see children starve, Mr Griffiths.’
    A teacher walked into the yard and rang a handbell.
    â€˜You’re right, Mrs Jones. What is important is that the children are fed. Not where the money comes from to do it.’
    â€˜As long as you don’t stretch the point too far and accept donations from the Collieries’ Company or Leonard Llewellyn,’ she smiled.
    â€˜Those I turned down the first week of the strike. If you’ll excuse me, I must go and help serve breakfast.’
    â€˜Good morning, Mr Griffiths, and thank you for your interest in Harry.’ Sali walked down the road and headed for the centre of town on her way to the Catholic Hall in Trinity Road. When she crossed Tonypandy Square, a woman carrying twins in a shawl, wrapped around herself and both babies, accosted her.
    â€˜Mrs Jones, you probably don’t remember me .. .’ she began hesitatingly.
    â€˜Of course I do, Mrs Richards, you were in one of my classes, and these,’ Sali admired the twins, ‘I take it, are the reason you stopped coming.’
    Beryl Richards pointed to the Colliery Cottages across the road. ‘I live there.’ She leaned closer to Sali and whispered. ‘Victor ... Mr Evans gave us some coal yesterday. ‘
    Expecting Beryl Richards to ask for more, Sali said, ‘Victor risked prosecution -’
    â€˜I know that, Mrs Jones,’ Beryl interrupted. ‘Not many colliers are prepared to help the families of the non-union men but Mr Evans is. And people round here say that you and Father Kelly serve anyone who comes to your soup kitchen, so I wondered if you’d do something for Mrs Hardy and her family who live in the huts.’
    Sali glanced at the row of dilapidated wooden huts that fringed one side of the square. The entrepreneurs who had sunk the first collieries had erected them as