As the winter evenings drew in, we missed Dad more and more. There was nobody to play with the boys, or to share our games. Mum was too busy looking after the new baby, cooking and cleaning. The rest of the year passed quietly by, and the first Christmas without Dad was not far away. Lil was the only one coming home for Christmas, as both Emm and Anne could not get any time off. There was no playing the piano that year. Mum could not even bring herself to light the fire in the front room. Lil cooked us a lovely Christmas dinner, and tried to organise a few games. But it was not the same without our Dad, and we were all glad when Christmas day was over.
The new year of 1944 began with a bad snow storm. Mum kept us home from school, as we had no suitable waterproof clothes or footwear. We still had the water and wood to collect, so we had to take turns wearing an old pair of my Dad’s boots, which were far too large for us. By the time I trudged to the stream and back a few times in the snow, the boots felt as heavy as lead. Mum was finding it difficult to get to the village for shopping and the baby food. Another worry for Mum was that we were getting very low on coal and candles, and to make them last longer we would all go to bed early. I used to envy my baby sister, as Mum would wrap a warm brick up and put it in the bottom of her cot. Our bed was so cold it made you shiver to get in it. In the morning our clothes would be icy cold when we put them on.
Although the snow made the countryside look like a picture postcard, we were all glad when it started thawing, and our lives could get back to normal. The bus service started again, and Mum went to the village to get some shopping and order a bag of coal. I was glad to return to school. I missed the lessons, especially the reading class, as that was the only time I had access to any books. I also missed my friends, and visiting their houses. As most of the fathers were miners, they were all entitled to a generous ration of coal, so they could afford to keep their fires burning all the time. Their homes always seemed lovely and warm compared to ours, and having tea there was a treat for me.
At home we had bread and jam or cheese, but when I had tea at one of my friends, there was always something nice to eat, even though everything was rationed. There would be an assortment of sandwiches and cakes, and tinned fruit or jelly with custard. I know Mum could not afford that kind of food for our large family, but at the time I envied my friends their warm houses and nice food. I was also envious that they had running water, and did not have the daily task of collecting water from a stream.
At last the weather started getting warmer, and Mum could walk to the village with the baby and my youngest brother. Once a week she went to the clinic to have the baby weighed and collect baby milk and orange juice. She said she was glad to have somewhere to go after being indoors all winter. At the clinic she met a Mrs Davis, and Mum being very sociable they soon became friends. Mum often spent the afternoon at her house having tea and a gossip. After school we would meet her there, and then walk home together. Like all Mum’s friends she was not too clean in her home or herself. Mrs Davis was a large, plain woman, and her clothes always smelt of wet nappies. I never saw her with a pram, and she always carried her baby everywhere. The coat she wore was black, but over the years the front had become almost white where her numerous babies had been held, with wet nappies. How Mum could have tea there amidst all the dirt is a puzzle to me as she was so clean herself, but it never seemed to worry her.
I do not know where Mum met her other friend, as she lived in Merthyr Tydfil, which was some miles from us. One day Mum said that her friend had invited us all to tea on the following Saturday. We set off on the Saturday feeling quite excited as it was rare for all the family to be invited anywhere. But when we reached the house our excitement soon faded. Mum’s friend opened the door and asked us in, and although we were poor, I had never seen such poverty. The street door opened on to the living room, which was empty of furniture apart from an old, dirty table and two chairs. The floor had no lino, and was covered in a layer of dirt. On the table was a bowl full of dirty dishes and equally dirty water. The fireplace was full of ashes from past fires, along with other rubbish that had been thrown there. We all looked at each other in dismay, and I wondered where we were supposed to be having our tea.
Mum said the lady’s name was Kit. She was quite a tall, slim person, and wore a flamboyant black and red dress. She would have been pretty but for her sore, watery eyes which were red rimmed, with the lashes stuck together. She told us that she spent a lot of her time singing at various venues around the villages. Kit then burst out singing and we were surprised that she had such a good singing voice. It was late afternoon by now, and there was no sign of any food being prepared. I for one, was glad that we would not have to eat there. Mum, as usual, did not seem to mind all the dirt and squalor, and sat there happily drinking tea out of a cup that Kit had taken from the dirty bowl of water. We were all pleased when Mum said we would have to catch the bus to go home. We said goodbye to Kit, hoping we would never have to return.
