How Green Was My Valley Page #5

I am not accustomed to speaking in public...

- Only public houses.

- But this...

Never use. It's against the rules.

Break a man's nose. Now the...

- I'm afraid he will never make a boxer.

- No aptitude for knowledge.

Mr Gruffydd.

Ivor... fell under a tram, lower level.

Ivor!

- We have our first grandson, Gwil.

- Well, give one and take the other.

Tell that to that girl up there.

She will answer you.

- Hist now, Beth. Do not kindle the wrath.

- To hell with the wrath.

And I'm saying it plain to be heard.

'Tis good. With honours, then.

Our son is a scholar.

What is it, Huw? I can't make sense with it.

- Latin, it is.

- Latin, is it?

Why not good Welsh, or even English?

- It is the fashion.

- Fashion.

Frenchies, decimal points,

and bathtubs full of holes.

My poor Huw. They've stuffed

your head with Latin, then?

- Beth, my old beauty, you. A black eye, is it?

- Go ahead, shout. Wake up the baby, then.

There is beautiful.

The image of my father, he is.

What bloody nonsense.

Now then, Huw. What will it be?

To Cardiff to school, then the university

to be a lawyer, is it, or a doctor?

Dr Huw Morgan. Well, Uncle Huw,

that will be something special.

Yes, indeed, with a lovely horse and trap,

and a good black suit and a shirt with starch.

There is good, my little one.

Now, a glass of buttermilk for you,

with all your knowledge.

Yes, Mother. And some of Bron's shortcake.

And my shortcake is

to be fed to the pigs, is it?

No. Only I finished yours yesterday,

and today is shortcake day with Bron.

I'm sorry, Huw.

Only currant bread I made today.

Nobody to eat it now.

Mother. I am lonely without him.

I put his boots and clothes ready every night,

but they are there still in the morning.

There is lonely I am.

Gwil, I will have Bron

here to live if she will come.

Not Bron.

One mistress in the house.

Now, Huw, what will it be?

I will go down the colliery with you, sir.

Have sense, boy.

The colliery is no place for you.

Why not try for a respectable job?

Respectable? Are you and his brothers

a lot of old jailbirds, then?

Leave it now, Beth.

I only want the best for the boy.

If he is as good a man as you

and his brothers, I will rest happy.

I am thinking of the boy's future.

It was different in our day.

There was good money and fair play

for all. But Huw is a scholar.

Why take brains down a coal mine?

I would rather, sir.

All right.

Decide for yourself.

But blame yourself if you are wrong.

The colliery, sir.

- All right, the colliery it is.

- Good.

- Where are you going?

- To get drunk.

Bron?

- I am going down the colliery.

- The colliery, is it?

The old coal will be shaking in its seam.

Bron...

Bron.

Would you have me to live

in this house, and have my wages?

- Your home is with your mother.

- It was she who sent me.

- From pity.

- No, from sense.

If you put clothes night and morning,

let them be my clothes.

- Good old man.

- Yes or no, Bron?

- Yes.

- Good.

Good. I will get my bed.

- So it is a man now, is it?

- And could I carry such a man?

Lanto! No.

Five shillings.

Seven and tuppence.

- Move along.

- Thank you, sir.

Three shillings.

Two and nine.

One pound two.

Two pounds ten.

Discharged, Morgan.

Move along.

Two pound ten.

Discharged, Morgan.

One pound ten.

And so it came to lanto and Davy,

the best workers in the colliery,

but too highly paid to compete

with poorer, more desperate men.

- Will you read us a chapter, Father?

- Yes, my son.

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want."

"He maketh me

to lie down in green pastures:

He leadeth me beside the still waters."

"He restoreth my soul:

He leadeth me in the paths

of righteousness for his name's sake."

"Yea, though I walk through

the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil: For thou art with me."

"Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."

"Thou preparest a table before me

in the presence of mine enemies:

Thou anointest my head with oil."

"My cup runneth over."

One line to Owen and Gwil,

down to Cape Town to Angharad.

Over here to Canada to lanto,

and down here to Davy in New Zealand.

And you are the star,

shining on them from this house,

all the way across the continents and oceans.

All the way?

How far am I shining then, if you can

put it all on a little piece of paper?

Now, a map it is, my old beauty. A picture

of the world to show you where they are.

I know where they are, without any old maps,

or scratches, or spiders, or pencils.

They are in the house.

Then Angharad came back

from Cape Town without her husband.

She did not come to us,

but stayed at the big Evans house.

Her house, on top of the hill.

- To see Mrs Evans, please.

- Who is it?

Huw Morgan.

Her brother, is it?

Come in.

Huw.

Mrs Nicholas,

will you bring some tea, please?

Sit down, Huw.

There is grown you are.

- And changed.

- You too.

I look ill and ought to take care of myself.

Everyone coming in the house says so,

so you say it too, and let us finish with it.

But tell me all the news.

How is...

How are all the boys

and girls we used to know?

Well...

The Jenkins girls are married.

Maldwyn Hughes has gone to be a doctor.

Rhys Howell is in a solicitor's office,

and is sending home ten shillings a week.

And Mr Gruffydd...

is still first up and last to bed.

How is he, Huw?

Not as he was.

Is he ill?

Inside.

In his eyes and in his voice.

Like you.

Please go home, Huw.

- I'm sorry.

- Now then, Mrs Evans. Tea, is it?

Leave it, Mrs Nicholas. I will pour.

Well.

I always did the pouring

for Mr lestyn's poor mother.

- I will pour.

- Yes, Mrs Evans.

A new mistress is like new sheets.

Yes. A little bit stiff,

but washing's to come.

Why do you have her here?

37 years with the family.

Or so she tells me 60 times a day.

- Have some tea, Huw.

- You don't want me to go?

No. No, Huw.

I'm sorry for being nasty.

Please stay.

Huw. I tried to tell Mother, but...

Not for me to say.

Only the housekeeper I am.

37 years in the family,

and living to curse the day.

It will not surprise me any day to see

the old master rise from his grave.

'Tis only the gravestone

holding him down, I will swear.

Then what is it, Mrs Nicholas?

Divorce.

Divorce.

Saying nothing, I am.

But that is what is in her mind.

She is here without her husband, is it?

And why? It is because

she is in love with this preacher.

Preacher, I said. Mr Gruffydd, it is.

But Mr Gruffydd has not been near the house.

What difference is that, girl?

Get on with your work.

We will not say a word, Mrs Nicholas.

No.

You're a filthy liar!

- Let up!

- Let me at him!

Liar!

As the slag had spread over my valley,

so now a blackness spread

over the minds of its people.

For the first time in my memory,

our front door was shut tight in the daytime.

Dadda?

Well, Huw?

Trouble with the Philistines, is it?

Huw, what is it now? Look at your hands.

Evan John.

He... he said things

about Angharad and Mr Gruffydd.

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