Miss Purdy's Class (35 page)

Ariadne’s lips tightened into a hard line and she sat straighter in her chair, on her dignity.

‘No, I do not hear from Mr Harold Purvis. And I’m not party to any information about his whereabouts. In fact, Mr Purvis is a subject I’d rather not talk about at all, if you don’t mind.’

‘Of course not,’ Gwen said quickly. She wasn’t exactly bursting to talk about him either.

Instead, Ariadne was far more interested in talking about June Hines, the ‘little number’ upstairs, towards whom she seemed to harbour almost unlimited resentment.

‘If I could find someone else, she’d be out on her ear, I can tell you,’ Ariadne declared, teasing a fluffy dot of cream from her upper lip. ‘She stinks like a polecat! But I haven’t even found anyone else to fill the
other
room since that fly-by-night Miss Polensky took off.’ She sighed. ‘George would be
mortified
if he knew how I was having to get by these days.’

Gwen never got to the bottom of what it was that irked Ariadne so much about Miss Hines, but she left to pleas that she come back and rent a room with her again.

‘I’d welcome you with open arms, dear, if you’d consider it.’

‘Well, that’s very nice of you,’ Gwen said as they parted. ‘I’m all right where I am at the moment. I’ll bear it in mind, though.’

Ariadne waved from the step and Gwen felt a little sad turning away from the house. Perhaps she should move back. Mr Purvis was gone, at least. But would her digestive system stand it? And, anyway, for the moment she was trying to be a good friend to Millie and not spend every single night at party meetings. But her heart sank at the thought of another evening in with Millie and Lance and the wireless.

Oh, Daniel
, she thought crossly.
Why aren’t you here?

He was back the next day, full of fervour for the Welsh NUWM protests about the unemployment regulations.

Gwen caught up with him on Sunday afternoon. When she reached the Fernandez’s house, everyone was at home, him included.

‘Hello there!’ Daniel didn’t touch her, not in front of his mother and siblings, but his eyes glowed at the sight of her and Gwen felt her spirits rise and swoop with happiness. He had caught the sun and looked even darker and more handsome.

‘Sit down and have a cup of tea, Miss Purdy,’ Theresa said comfortably. ‘We’ve not seen you in a while. Oh, by the way, I called on Alice’s mother, Mrs Wilson. A couple of times I went. I can’t say I felt welcome. She’s very closed in on herself, isn’t she? Very miserable.’

‘Thank you ever so much,’ Gwen said. ‘I’m sure she appreciates it really.’

‘Poor soul.’ Theresa carried the big teapot to the table. ‘Daniel – sit, for the love of God. You’re like a dog with fleas today.’

‘I can’t sit, Mam!’ Daniel laughed. ‘I’m too worked up!’ Gwen could feel the fire coming from him. His whole body was electric with energy.

Lucy sat by the table smiling, overjoyed to have her brother back and her beloved teacher there too.

‘Have you been back home?’ Gwen smiled, already infected by his huge enthusiasm.

Daniel nodded. ‘Came back last night. I managed to hitch a lift on a truck full of sheep. Bound for slaughter all of them, and I’m sure they knew it – they didn’t half make a racket all the way, I can tell you!’ He compromised on his mother’s request by turning a chair round and straddling it, back to front, arms resting on the rail and rocking it to and fro.

‘Daniel, stop that – you’ll break it! You’re like a great big baby!’

‘So, what’s the news?’ Gwen said.

‘Unity’s coming.’ Daniel spoke urgently. ‘You can almost smell it in the valleys. Down there they’ve got leadership – and real comradeship. You can feel people rising to it as every week goes by. My God, the state of things there!’ His voice rose. ‘Auntie Shân said they’ve knocked eight shillings off Billy’s disability payment now, what with Uncle Anthony on the dole. They’ve hardly a farthing between them for food.’ He sucked his breath in, hand clenched. ‘If it wasn’t for us being able to help them . . . Jesus, it makes you want to . . .’ The fist hovered over the back of the chair.

‘It’s a wicked, cruel system,’ Theresa agreed quietly. ‘But blaspheming won’t bring it to an end – nor you getting arrested.’ She sipped her tea. ‘Nor you breaking up our chairs, Daniel
bach
.’

Daniel unclenched his fist and his gaze burned into Gwen.

‘Next weekend’s the big demonstration – at Tonypandy. The party is calling on workers from all over the valleys to come together in full strength, show them what we think of the means test! Come with me? Come and see it happen?’

His excitement poured into her. She could feel herself glowing, and beamed back at him. ‘In a sheep wagon?’

Daniel’s slow grin met hers. ‘I was thinking more of a train.’

Throughout that week news gradually trickled out from Spain. There had been coordinated uprisings by the right and the landowning classes against the recently elected left-wing Popular Front government. Franco’s garrisons in Morocco joined in the insurrection and Franco himself led the troops who took over Las Palmas.

The party meetings that week were in a ferment with the news. Spain was under threat of fascists overthrowing the government! The republican groupings were struggling to defend a people’s government of justice and democracy against the tyranny of military force and capitalist aggression! The party had to respond! What instructions would come from the headquarters in King Street, in London? They must act immediately, get on to the streets and outside factory gates, to raise support and funds for the republican fighters.

Gwen went with Daniel to every meeting that week. The news, as it came in, was at once exhilarating and terrible. Germany, Italy, the Blackshirts at home and now Spain: the urgency to act in the face of fascism was infectious, heady, but at the same time the threat of it seemed to move closer, like an evil cloud.

Another cloud was Esther Lane. The party was working ever closer now with the Birmingham Council for Peace and Liberty. Esther was involved in the council as well, and there she was at every meeting, her face set tightly in concentration as she listened to speakers in halls all round the city as they tried to rally support. And she was close to Daniel at every opportunity, and always, Gwen felt, ready to belittle her. Daniel laughed when she complained, said she was imagining it. He always talked about ‘old Esther’ as if she was somehow amusing and not to be taken seriously, in her outlandish clothing and with her posh, hooting voice. She wasn’t Daniel’s type – even Gwen could see that – but she could see what was in Esther’s eyes when Esther looked at Daniel and it frightened her.

On Wednesday night Daniel came back to the house with her after the evening’s meeting, both of them sneaking in again like thieves, both full of a taut, frantic energy. The second they were inside the room, their hands were under each other’s clothing, Daniel pushing the door shut with his foot.

‘God, girl.’ Daniel pulled his shirt off, then hers, in a fever of impatience.

They made love fast, hungrily, fighting the temptation to forget any worries about babies, longing just to surrender to it, naked and complete. The rubbery smell of the French letter was so horrible, the delay such an intrusion, but Daniel insisted, hurrying to put it on.

‘We’ve got to – don’t need any complications, now, do we?’ His eyes narrowed with desire and he lay back. ‘Come down on me. I want to feel you over me.’

She lay crouched, cuddled close round him, for a long time after, with him still inside her, their skin slicked together in the muggy night. Gwen nuzzled her nose into his neck, felt his hands hot on her back.

‘I don’t ever want to be anywhere except with you,’ she whispered.

She felt him give a low laugh of pleasure and the pressure of his lips on her cheek.

‘That’s my girl, my beauty.’

A moment later, he said, ‘It’s going to happen this weekend. They won’t let us down. I can feel it.’

She looked into his dark eyes, stroked his cheek. ‘Never off duty you, are you?’

And he laughed again, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Letting him go, to creep out into the night, she felt as though they were being torn apart.

Thirty-One

They didn’t go to Wales by train after all. Gwen had been looking forward to a long ride in a secluded railway carriage alone with Daniel, but Esther Lane and two other party workers were to come as well, and Esther announced that they would motor down in her father’s Daimler. Dr Lane, it appeared, was also a member of the BCPL.

They gathered outside the party offices at five thirty. Five of them were going: Gwen, Daniel, Esther, Herbert – the thin, red-headed man – and a young, softly spoken social worker with a neat little moustache, called Ernest, whom Gwen recognized from some of the meetings. He wore grey flannel trousers and a red kerchief tucked into the neck of his shirt.

‘Good, I’m glad you haven’t overdone the luggage,’ Esther remarked, eyeing the small holdall Gwen had brought with her. ‘It’s going to be close quarters as it is.’

Gwen felt immediately patronized and as if she didn’t in some way measure up, as she always did in Esther’s presence.

Well, at least I’m not colour-blind
, she thought pettishly. Esther was wearing her baggy black slacks and an equally voluminous short-sleeved blouse in a sickly shade of turquoise. Her hair was taken up in a bandanna of glaring pea green covered in yellow polka dots. Gwen had also dressed casually, in navy cotton slacks and a blue and white striped shirt. She had a sweater flung over one shoulder for when the evening cooled.

‘Get in – do!’ Esther stood by the open door beside the driver’s seat. ‘Daniel, why don’t you join me in the front so we can talk tactics?’

It was almost a command. Gwen felt herself stiffen with resentment at Esther’s proprietory manner towards Daniel. Who did she think she was?

‘No, let Ernest sit up front,’ Daniel said easily. ‘Gwen and I’ll squeeze up with Herbert.’

Esther, having taken it for granted that Daniel would do as she asked, had been about to climb into her seat. She stopped, and frowned across the roof of the car. ‘I really do think it would be better if Ernest sat behind. I need you here with me.’

But Daniel was already in the car, seating himself in the middle, Herbert to his right. Gwen got in after him.

Daniel gave Gwen a wink. She grinned back at him and under her navy sweater, which she laid on her lap, they linked hands. They began the journey with a great shuddering lurch, which made them grin all the more. Gwen could just see the side view of Esther’s face, scowling with concentration under the green and yellow bandanna and a lock of escaped black hair.

‘Sorry – don’t drive her very often!’ she called.

They left Birmingham as the sun sank low in the sky, passed through Kidderminster and turned towards Hereford. The fields were bright with corn and warm air blew in through the windows. In the bronze light and the warm, muggy air Gwen began to feel drowsy and leaned her head on Daniel’s shoulder.

At dusk they stopped south of Hereford and shared the food they’d brought. Esther handed round potted-meat sandwiches, and they went to a pub and had a half of warm ale before pressing on. Revived by the food and the cool of the evening, Esther led them in singing the ‘Internationale’, the ‘Red Flag’ and ‘England Arise’ several times through. She had a strident, though tuneful voice. Ernest had a reedy tenor, though Herbert came out with a surprisingly strong baritone. Gwen enjoyed singing with Daniel, hearing their voices mingle.

‘This was written during the uprising – the Paris Commune,’ Daniel told her, between verses of the ‘Internationale’. ‘In 1871.’

Pale moths batted into the windscreen and the only light came from the beams of the headlamps. Later the road became more twisty and they were going up and down. Daniel leaned forwards to give Esther directions.

‘Just a mile or two and we’ve reached Aberglyn. It’s in the next valley.’

He directed her to a narrow side street. All they could see were little windows, some with lights behind them, in a row of tiny cottages.

‘I say.’ For once, Esther sounded unsure of herself. ‘Are you sure this is going to be all right, Daniel? I mean there is rather a gang of us.’

‘They’re expecting us. We’ll manage – just for a night.’

As they climbed out of the car, a dog barked shrilly at the front of a neighbouring house. The cottage door opened, and framed in the soft light Gwen saw a stocky man. In a deep, melodious voice, he called, ‘That you, Daniel
bach
?’

‘Hello, Uncle! Hope we’re not too late for you?’

‘You’ve come a long way, boy.’ Gwen saw his eyes linger on the elegant lines of the Daimler.

‘This is my uncle, Anthony Sullivan.’ Gwen knew that he was Theresa Fernandez’s elder brother.

Esther stepped forward, hand outstretched. ‘Esther Lane. So pleased to meet you. This is
awfully
good of you.’

The man took her hand and nodded. ‘You a party worker?’

‘Oh yes!’ Esther said. ‘Very much so. And Daniel’s such an inspiration to us all!’ She introduced Ernest and Herbert, who both shook his hand.

‘Uncle Anthony, this is Gwen,’ Daniel said, ushering her forward.

Again, the man gave a nod, and Gwen thought he smiled faintly at her.

‘Anthony? Are they here then? Bring them in!’ Daniel’s Auntie Shân appeared in the doorway, a shawl round her shoulders.

‘I don’t know why he’s keeping you out on the step. Come in, come in!’ Her speech ended in coughing and she was doubled up by it for a moment.

‘You still not well, Auntie?’

‘Can’t shake it off. Been like it since the end of the winter.’ Gwen saw that the woman’s face was worn by worry and sickness. She couldn’t have been more than fifty, but she was gaunt and stooped as if older than her years. ‘How’s your mother, Daniel?’

‘She’s well. Sent you over a few things.’ He had brought a bundle from the car. Gwen saw his aunt’s eyes fix on it for a moment, lighting up hopefully.

Gwen heard Daniel lower his voice and ask, ‘How’s Billy?’