Songbird (3 page)

The
leader bent to whisper something in his ear and even in the light from the
numerous lanterns I could see the minister’s face turn pale.  He called Mrs
Morgan over and whispered in her ear.  My thoughts became numb, my mind trying
to push away the terrifying truth that was starting to scream in my head.

Mrs
Morgan came across to me.  “We can’t do anything here now.  Let me take you
home.  We must think of that baby of yours.”

She
took my arm but I pulled away from her.  “I want to know what’s happened to
Papa and Daniel,” I said, my voice almost a whisper.

“They’re
not coming out, my dear.  You must come home with me.”

I
wasn’t aware of shrieking or running to the rescue leader and begging him to
tell me what had happened.  I could barely make out his words and Mr Price had
to explain to me that seven men had been pulled through the opening they had
cut in the rock.  Seven men and no more.  Unsatisfied, I stumbled to each of
the rescued men and through their babble I discovered that Papa and Daniel had
gone to investigate an abandoned roadway that had been partially closed with wooden
boards.  Daniel believed that there was more coal there than had been
previously thought.  That was where they were when the explosion happened. 
Whether they had been caught in the blast, or been drowned, no one could tell
me.

Despite
Mr Price and Mrs Morgan’s efforts to persuade me to come away, I ran back to
the leader and in a hysterical state clung onto his grimy jacket pleading for
him to go down again and find them.  I fell to my knees and he tried to lift me
to my feet, shaking his head and telling me that it was impossible as the water
had now flooded the mine and there was no way of reaching them.  They were dead
and beyond any human help.

I
don’t remember being carried home.  Only Mrs Morgan’s gentle voice seeped into
my conscious mind as she undressed me and put me to bed.  That was the worst
night of my life and had I died in my sleep, then I would have thanked God for
being released from my pain.

Mr
Price was wonderful and became my source of comfort and help.  He telegraphed
Gwilym and Nan immediately and when they came through the door, I fell into
their arms.  We stood together and held each other close, as tears streamed
down my face.  And then Gwilym and Nan started crying with me and we were lost
in our mutual grief. 

We
didn’t have Christmas or a New Year.  Gwilym, Mr Price and the mine clerk, Mr
Evans, worked together to sort out the mess left over from the devastation.  It
was obvious the mine was finished.  It would take a fortune to pump out the
gallons of water that now claimed it.  The mining inspectors came to
investigate the accident and their conclusions were that a rogue spark,
probably from a striking pick, had ignited a seepage of methane.  The explosion
had ripped open a crack and the gushing water had done the rest.

In
mid-January a memorial service was held in the chapel and afterwards I dropped
a wreath of lilies down the mineshaft where the bodies of Papa and Daniel still
lay.  Nan left the day after that, sniffing into her handkerchief, her eyes red
and swollen.  Gwilym stayed to help Mr Evans sort out the finances.  And that
was when we found out that Papa had been deeply in debt.

It
seemed he had borrowed heavily to keep the mine going and after a long
discussion with the bank manager we realised that everything would have to be
sold to pay the debt.  The land and house had to go, the workers dispersed to
other mines.  Thankfully, the bigger mines in Merthyr Tydfil were able to take
the families, who packed up and left within the month.  The place became a
ghost town, but then we had a stroke of luck when the bank manager found a
buyer for our house and land.  The new owner wanted to knock down the houses
and mine buildings and construct a factory.  I didn’t ask what kind of
factory.  I didn’t care.  We discovered that Papa had put some money aside for
Gwilym’s medical studies, but there was nothing for me.  I suppose he thought
that having a husband meant I was looked after.  And I suppose he never thought
that Daniel would die before him, never mind with him.  My husband had made a
small investment that would give me an annuity, but otherwise my future lay in
my own hands.

As
March came, I prepared for the birth of my baby.  I was eighteen years old, a
widow and in three months’ time, I would have to leave the home in which I had
been born and raised.  That spring of 1884 was to prove a testing time for me,
but sometimes adversity can make a person stronger.  And in the next few years,
I was destined to discover not only my true potential but also the lengths I
was willing to go, to realise my ambitions.

 
CHAPTER
THREE

W
e
passed through the main door of the academy, out into the wonderful sunshine
and stood a while on the cobbles contemplating what had just happened.  The
other applicants milled about talking in hushed tones, before saying goodbye
and hurrying on their way.

“Life
just isn’t fair sometimes,” I said sullenly.

Stephanie
smiled.  “We’re not the only ones to be rejected.”  She gestured toward the few
young people who still lingered.  “All these folk are just as disappointed.”

It
didn’t pacify me one bit.  “If we came from affluent families, then we could
just enrol as students without having to go through this palaver every year.”

“But
we’re not from affluent families,” she sighed.

She
was being too sensible to suit my mood and I turned my head away.  I had come
from an affluent family once, or so I thought.  And the idea that I had to
plead my way into a place of learning hurt my pride.  I could sing and I knew
that the opera would give me an opportunity if I only had the training.  I
shrugged and tried to shake off the bitterness.

We
walked slowly through the park towards the omnibus, not speaking, both lost in
our own thoughts.

“I
guess it’s back to teaching music for another year,” I said, breaking the
silence.

Stephanie
gave me a sidelong glance.  “I was meaning to tell you something.”  She paused
momentarily.  “I’m getting married.”

I
stopped walking.  “Mr Winter has proposed?” I asked and she nodded.  “Well, I
can’t say I’m surprised.  I’ve seen this coming for a long while.”  I kissed
her cheek and smiled. 

Her
eyes lit up like a hundred lamps.  “I do love him and being a lawyer’s wife
will give me some stability.”

“What
about your singing?”

“I’ll
sing lullabies when the time is right,” she laughed.

On
top of the omnibus we talked about her wedding that she planned for November. 
Nan was going to make her wedding gown in thick, ivory brocade since the
weather would be cold by then.  She wanted me to be her matron of honour and I
agreed.  I had liked Mr Winter the few times I had met him and he seemed
devoted to Stephanie, jumping up from his seat if she needed her fan or shawl
or another glass of punch.  We kissed goodbye at the corner where the cobbler
had his shop and I walked up Laurel Close with mixed feelings.  Despite feeling
happy for her, I knew that Stephanie had given up on her singing.  It was
becoming just too difficult to succeed and many before her had given up the
effort and embarked on other occupations.  Only the toughest made it and I
wondered if I had the stamina to carry on.

I let
myself into the house and went straight into the parlour where Danny was
playing on the floor.  I dropped down next to him and he immediately put his
arms round my neck.  I pressed him close and he babbled in my ear, trying to
tell me what he was doing.  He pointed to the doorway of the kitchen and I
turned and saw Nan.

“No
good, eh?” she said.

“Not
this year, I’m afraid,” I said, trying to force away annoying tears.

“There’s
always next year.”

“And
the next and the one after, until I’m too old to try any more,” I scoffed. 
Tears were starting to drip down my cheeks and I wiped them away with the back
of my hand. 

“Nonsense,
you have a good thirty years of singing ahead of you and you never know what
the future holds.”  She disappeared into the kitchen and brought out a tray of
tea, placing it on the dresser away from Danny’s inquisitive hands. 

“I’ll
just have to save faster and advertise for more pupils.”  I felt sick at the
thought.

“You
can have the money I’ve saved for Mr Singer’s new sewing machine, if you wish. 
What the hell, I probably won’t be able to work it even if I got one.”

Her
unselfish sacrifice made me spring to my feet and I flung my arms round her. 
“Oh, no, I couldn’t take that.”  She returned my hug.  “Besides I need fifty
pounds a year for two years of training, that’s one hundred pounds.  Plus
enough money for my share of the household bills while I’m at the academy.”

“I
can pay the bills while you’re studying.”

I
shook my head.  “No, that wouldn’t be fair on you.”

She
poured out two cups of tea and we carried them over to the couch.  I sipped
mine as I watched Danny pushing his wooden animals into Noah’s ark.  I had
taught him to make the sound of a lion and he was growling softly. 

“Mr
Russell has invited himself to dinner tonight,” she said quietly.

“Has
he?” I sighed.

“He’s
been paying you a lot of attention these last six months.  I wouldn’t be
surprised if he proposed to you very soon.”

“He
can do what he likes,” I said angrily.  “But I know what the answer will be.”

Nan
stayed silent for a moment, gently blowing on her tea.  “He’s in property, you
know,” she said, studying her cup.  “Buys up old houses and rents them out.”

“Yes,
to poor people who can barely afford his high rent.”

“It’s
a living.”

“Some
living.  Besides, I like him up to a point, but not enough to marry him.”

“Not
even if he offered to pay your fees at the academy?”

Nan’s
suggestion made me start with surprise.  It had never crossed my mind that
another man might be of the same opinion as my Daniel.  Could that be
possible?  My husband had been so enthusiastic about my ambitions, had swept me
along with his dreams of seeing me on the stage.  A second husband might be
equally as fervent.  And there was no doubt that Mr Felix Russell had the means
to pay my fees.  Once the idea had taken hold of me there was no letting go. 
Suddenly I was filled with a fierce determination.  That evening I would dress
in my best gown of soft peach satin, decorated with cream pleated lace.  I would
pile my dark brown curls up onto my head and hold them in place with a comb of
osprey feathers.  My chocolate brown eyes would look longingly into his and I
would flutter my eyelashes shamelessly.  I had never done anything like that in
my life, but now desperation was taking hold of me and I was becoming blind to
everything but my ambition.

My
attention turned to my child, now filling up a small cart with his bricks.  His
entry into the world happened at six o’clock on the evening of the fourth of
March.  My labour pains had lasted eighteen hours and after twenty minutes of
strenuous pushing, he slid from me weighing seven pounds eleven ounces.  Mrs
Morgan attended me along with the midwife who had come over from Aberdare and
as the baby was placed in my arms, tears trickled down my cheeks.  I loved him
from the minute I set eyes on him and holding him close to me, I cried for all
the loved ones who would never see him.  But those last months on my own had
made me stronger.

A
month before his birth I had written to Nan telling her that everything had to
be sold, including the house.  Her reply had delighted me since she told me
that her friend had accepted a cook’s position somewhere near Birmingham and
she was now alone.  She invited me to move in with her and I was overjoyed.  I
wrote to Gwilym immediately since living in London meant we could see each
other more often.

Gwilym
had returned to St Bartholomew’s as soon as everything had been concluded.  He
would have liked to stay until the baby, but he was falling behind with his
studies and I urged him to go in the sure knowledge that we would see each
other very soon.  And when I wrote to tell him about the arrival of his nephew,
I also told him that everything was going well, the furniture all sold and I
would be ready to leave Cwmdare in early June.

Daniel
Barri was baptised in the chapel by Mr Price when he was six weeks old.  I
named him after my husband and father and as I stood quietly through the
ceremony, I suddenly began to feel happy.  My thoughts turned to the future and
although I was well aware that I now had to depend on my own resources, I knew
that my lovely husband had left something of himself behind.  Certain proof
that he had once lived and during that life had loved me deeply.  It was a
wonderful thought and one that would hearten me for a long time to come.

When
Nan wrote to say that The Royal Academy of Music held auditions every July for
their bursaries, I replied straight away and asked her to apply for me.  She
promptly did this and then I had something else to strive for.  I had decided
to teach music for a living, but applying to the academy as a scholarship
student gave me purpose.  When I finally closed the door of my home for the
last time, I was looking forwards not backwards.  Mrs Morgan said that was
healthy and as Mr Price gave us a lift in his carriage to the railway station
in Aberdare, I lifted my face to the warm June sun and held my baby close to
me.  It was so sad saying goodbye to the minister and I clung to him for a
while, trying to hold back sad tears.  He kissed my forehead and told me that
he would pray for me and my success with the academy.  It gave me a great deal
of comfort.

Mrs
Morgan travelled with me as far as Pontypridd, where she was staying with her
sister and I then caught the train to Newport.  Danny was irritable on the
journey, not liking the upset in his routine, but I cuddled him in the corner
of the carriage and placed a shawl over my shoulders so that I could feed him. 
In Newport I boarded the ferry to cross the mouth of the Severn.  The crossing
was very pleasant and I was able to walk round the deck with Danny and lift him
up to see the seagulls.  I received some sympathetic glances from the other
passengers who must have thought it sad for such a young woman, dressed in
widow’s weeds, to be travelling alone with a small baby.  But I didn’t care.  I
was on a wonderful adventure and my heart was above the clouds.

At
the port of Bristol, I accepted a ride from a friendly farmer who was
transporting churns of milk and offered to take me to the railway station. 
Danny slept all the way and even when I caught the train, he didn’t stir.  I
nodded off for most of the journey and when the engine finally clanked and
hissed its way into the huge glass and steel cathedral of a station called
Paddington, I felt tired but elated.  To my utter amazement and joy, Gwilym was
waiting for me.

When
I alighted from the train, I was stunned when I felt hands on my shoulders and
a gentle voice say,  “About time, Issy.  I’ve been waiting two hours for you
and thought you must have changed your mind.”

I
turned round and there he was, smiling.  And then I introduced him to little
Danny and for a few minutes he fussed and cooed over him.  He accompanied me in
a hackney cab to the small house in Laurel Close, Hammersmith.  I couldn’t
believe how tiny it was and after the ample space in our house in Cwmdare, I
wondered how we would manage. 

These
thoughts completely vanished when I saw that Nan and Gwilym had worked hard to
make the house comfortable for me.  They had put fresh paper on the walls of my
room and Gwilym had bought a cradle for his baby nephew.  Nan had refurbished
my room, making new curtains and a wonderful quilt for my bed.  She had put
bright covers on an old armchair by the window, telling me that I could sit
comfortably and nurse Danny in private.  I was very touched by their kindness
and suddenly my new home in Laurel Close became heaven to me.

I
advertised for pupils almost immediately and received quite a few replies.  And
then there was the audition at the academy in July.  For some strange reason I
decided to sing
Habanera
from the opera
Carmen
by Bizet.  It was
a dreadful choice and one I would come to regret.  It was a very seductive song
and I don’t think the assessors were very happy with me for choosing such a
controversial piece of opera.  Naturally, I didn’t win a scholarship that year,
but I had been in London only six weeks and everything was so new to me.  I
would be successful the following year, I assured myself.  Everything would
happen next year.

I met
Mr Felix Russell a short time later when I was giving a music lesson.  He had
been visiting the gentleman of the house and heard me singing in the parlour as
he was being shown out.  He had wandered over to the half-open door, his hat
and gloves held in elegant hands and listened for a while.  At the end he had
applauded and I stood and gave him a dainty curtsey.  I hadn’t expected him to
wait for me as I left the premises, but he had loitered on the pavement and
lifting his hat politely asked if he could escort me anywhere.  I didn’t know
what to say so he walked with me to the omnibus.  I didn’t see anything of him
all that summer and autumn, but at Christmas I bumped into him once more.

That
Christmas was the first anniversary of the mining accident and Nan, Gwilym and
I were feeling the sorrow of losing our loved ones.  I wondered if every
Christmas would feel this way and fervently hoped that the passage of time
would heal our wounds.  When I met Mr Russell in Liberty’s department store, he
offered to buy me a cup of tea and I spent a pleasant hour with him as I told
him about my life in the Rhondda.  When I came to the part about the mining
accident, he reached across and took my hand, kissing my fingers as though his
heart ached for me.  I thought him a lovely man and when he invited me to
Covent Garden to see Verdi’s
La Traviata
, I didn’t hesitate.