A Bugle For The New Day

Chapter 1 Part 2

“Megan; My shirt, woman! On the scarecrow is it?”

His Father’s voice. The Monday morning one.

“Under your big nose. Follow it to your drawer and bite you, it will.”

The sound of his Father’s back row bass was like a bucket of water over his Brothers, Ifor and Rhys, in the next room. Snorts and groans and creaking bed springs and voices deep with sleep rising octaves in alarm. No secrets in this old house; Newspaper thin walls, and that with the print off.

Rowena, his sister, would be out in the yard now, talking to the chickens. Better with the Chickens, Rowena. Considered strange and wistful, given to secret retreats and contrary opinions, she slept downstaris in a partitioned part of what was grandly called the “best” room, a distinction of no particular merit, as the parlour was the only room downstairs apart from the kitchen. Mam said they were kissed by the same angel, Glyn and Rowena. Find a stricken bird with a broken wing and it was out with splints and tears to wash away the sins of the world. A tile missing was the opinion of Ifor and Rhys, with Dada neutral if he knew what was good for him, but they were hard and insensitive, and Glyn put that down to working in the rock. And today he would be joining them.

When he came downstairs, self conscious in his brand new corduroys, bought for the occasion off the market in town and top price with no haggling, they were all waiting for him, the men in their places at the table. As he appeared, the treacherous step announcing his arrival, his brothers beat a tatoo on the table with their spoons.

“The conquering hero!” cried Ifor.

A man’s trousers you’ve got there, boy,” grinned Rhys.

Rowena swept in like a Mother hen. “Enough, you two. By me today, Glyn. Upstairs their brains.”

Mam pushed away a wisp of hair and sighed. “Glyn, my little one, come soon enough it has, this day.”

“More time you’ll be having now, eh, Mam?” laughed Ifor.

“I still have to wipe yours, our Ifor. And yours, Rhyn Owen, so away with that grin on your face.” retorted Mam, flashing Glyn a smile to raise daisies. “Away now, to the water, my lovely, then it’s double ham and eggs for you.”

A howl of protest went up from the ever-hungry side of the table as Glyn left without enthusiasm, returning to face the heaped plate thrust before him with a load of dumplings already weighing him down. He saw the mountainous breakfast as a sacrificial offering; The last time this happened it was down to Jones butcher and three teeth out.

“I’m not hungry.” he said weakly.

“Good food that is, boy.” growled his Da, mouth full and pointing with his knife. “Keep a family in China that would for a month.”

Rhys leaned over. “In there, Glyn. All this strength you can get you’ll be needing.” he said darkly.

Mam’s hands were on her hips. “And not just for digging in the mountain either. Sodom and Gomorrah, that is what you have got up there.”

Forks froze in mid air. “And what is that supposed to mean?” said the head of the house, eyebrows meeting his hair-line.

The three quarrymen looked at each other, choir boys having nothing on them.

Rowena fluttered like a down-cast butterfly. “People are talking, Dada.”

“Just the barracks, girl. Nothing that shouldn’t be.” soothed her Father.

“You can sit there.” snapped Mam, thunder looming, “and pretend nothing is happening up there? Born yesterday was I?”

Geraint shuffled in his seat. “Welcome you are to come anytime. See for yourself.”

“No self respecting woman would set foot in that place.” Mam rattled the pot as though she held it responsible. “Shut your ears, Glyn, my precious. And your mouth is open wide enough to take all this nice breakfast your Mam has cooked for you. No more like that you will see until you are safe under your own roof again.”

Geraint pushed his plate away. “Idle gossip you have been listening to. There is no room for common sense in that head of yours when it has been nodding away over the wall with the others.”

“Oh, nodding, is it? Like a donkey I am now? You think that is all I do while you are away up there with your fancy women?”

Poachers caught with salmon down their trousers must look as the three men did now. Ifor was the first to recover his voice, and then not all of it. “Fancy women? he echoed. “In Brynllech?”

“There is only Mrs. Lewis.” ventured Rhys thoughtfully. “She is the housekeeper at the barracks. And her daughter Lowri. Only sixteen she is, Mam.”

“The name of Ida Evans comes to me.” said Mam ice forming. And the likes of her.”

“Ida-?” queried Rhys.

“Gareth’s sister.” said Ifor.

“Saints preserve us, woman.” spluttered Geriant. “She brings her brother a bite of food, a flagon of ale.”

“And it takes all night does it?” said Megan, dropping another five degrees.”Feeding more than her brother I am thinking. Lili Thomas and Mair Hughes, two more for the catering trade. Is that the way of it?”

A falling pin would have been thunder in the sudden silence and the kettle spluttered on the hob as though seeking an answer of it’s own.

“Not believing all that rubbish, are you, Mam?” said Ifor at last.

“Oh, Mam,” said Rhys.

Geriant rose from the table, his face serious and dark with concern.”Other women and what they say does not surprise me. But you, Megan, shame on you. For bringing such things up in front of the boy, and on his first day. Gone thirteen he has, I know, and time enough, but only looked at his good breakfast now. I hope you are satisfied.”

A breath of lavender and Rowena was leaning over her young brother. “Into sandwiches with it, eh, Glyn?” she whispered. “Plenty of room for it later.”

Glyn nodded mutely and wished he could take her with him…

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© Mark Pearson 2007.