Singing the Sadness

‘Dai, your wife’s a treasure,’ said Joe. ‘That boy looks like he could use some of her tender loving cooking.’

‘Young Wain? Don’t feed you up over at the Lady House, that’s for sure.’

‘He lives at the Lady House?’ said Joe, concerned at the implications for his dinner.

‘Well, he would, being their son. Got a damn sight better fed when he was with the other boys being looked after by my missus, I tell you.’

And now Joe recalled Mrs Williams’s knowing smile when he’d refused her offer of seconds.

‘So he went to the college, did he?’

‘For a bit, till his ma sent him off to one of those posh English places where they train you up to rule the working classes. Lewis said it wouldn’t look good running a school and not letting your own boy be educated there, but he didn’t object, not when it was her money, not his, paying the bills.’

‘Help them with their finances, do you?’ enquired Joe.

Williams showed his home-grown teeth in a grin and said, ‘Could say that. For certain I know how much it hurts Mr Lewis to part with money, believe me. Very close relationship we have. Feudal, I mean. Master and servant. Doesn’t fancy any closer relationship between our families though.’

He cocked his head on one side as though inviting Joe to work this out.

Joe worked it out.

‘His son and your girl, you mean?’

‘Sharp,’ said Williams approvingly. ‘Yes, young Wain was sniffing around there a while back. Mrs Williams got upset, like she was leading him on. Took them both by surprise, I think, when I made it clear last thing I wanted was any child of mine getting mixed up with Wain. I sent the boy away with a flea in his ear and promised him a boot up the arse if he bothered Bron again. Don’t think the High Master liked the way I talked, but seeing as we were in total agreement for once, he didn’t complain.’

Joe, who wondered how much real understanding of his daughter the caretaker had, said, ‘Ever think of moving on?’

‘Why should I?’ demanded Williams sharply.

‘Well, all this hassle, you don’t seem crazy about the Lewis family, and this is all right for an afternoon out’ – he made a gesture which comprehended all the visible landscape in this – ‘but it’s not what you’d call lively, is it?’

‘My missus been saying something, has she?’ said Williams. ‘Or our Bron? Oh yes, they’d like the bright lights and the big shops, but me, I’m all for the quiet country life, see, so long as I’m head of the family, this is where we stay. Anyway, what’s it to you?’

‘Nothing,’ said Joe. ‘Just chatting. None of my business. Sorry.’

‘No, that’s all right,’ said the man magnanimously. ‘I like a good natter. You ask all the questions you like, Joe.’

Remember, a Private Eye is also a Private Ear, said Endo Venera, Joe’s American guru. Never miss a chance to get people talking. You never know when it will come in useful.

He said, ‘So what’s this Wain do now?’

‘Bloody student, what else? Went off to America after he finished at school, working holiday they called it, more holiday than work if I know him, then back to some English university, Manchester, is it? Welsh university not good enough for him. He’ll end up a bloody Englishman. Started already. Few months over there and he’s back here telling us how to do things, just the way those bastards have always done. Useless load of wankers, the whole bleeding race of them. Best argument in favour of ethnic cleansing there’s ever been.’

Joe was momentarily knocked back by what felt like a Pearl Harbor attack out of a clear blue sky. Then it dawned on him that Williams was speaking to him as one member of a disadvantaged ethnic group to another. He thought of pointing out that the only disadvantaged group he belonged to was Luton Town Supporters’ Club, but decided against it. There were interesting tribal relationships here he’d like to find out about before he declared an interest.

‘So how does Mr Lewis take all this? I mean, he’s Welsh, isn’t he?’

‘Cardiff Welsh,’ said Williams dismissively. ‘Learnt the language from books and now you’d think he was descended from Cadwalader. Hates it when he hears Wain called Wain.’

Joe considered this for a moment but it was beyond him.

‘Why? When it’s his given name?’ he asked.

Williams wiped his nose on the back of his hand and laughed snuffily.

‘Owain’s his given name. Like in Owain Glyn Dŵr, see? But the boy started calling himself Wain soon as he got old enough to see what a prat his da was. Gets right up Lewis’s nose, I tell you. Best not to take notice, I say, but he’s not easy-going like me. You got kids, Joe?’

‘Er, no.’

‘Wise man. Meant to bring joy, they say, but look around you, what do you see with parents and kids? Lot more sadness than joy, I tell you. Oh, yes, sadness whichever way you look.’

He’s going to start singing, It’s quarter to three and there’s nobody in this bar but you and me, Joe, any moment, thought Joe. He’d heard the Welsh were a melancholic race but this was getting real heavy for such a bright sunny day.

Time to lighten things up.

‘Sadness, eh? Few nights in the sickbay with your wife would soon sort that out.’

It struck him as he spoke that there was some slight ambiguity here. He’d certainly caught Williams’s attention.

‘What’s that?’ he demanded.

‘No, just meant that she acts as matron, doesn’t she? And you talking of sadness made me think of something I just saw, some kid called Sillcroft, I think it was …’

Now all traces of melancholy had vanished from the caretaker’s face to be replaced by cold menace.

‘You some kind of reporter, Joe? You here sniffing around for a story?’

‘No!’ denied Joe indignantly. ‘Just saw this kid’s name scratched on the sickbay locker, and it said sadness alongside it, and I thought that with Mrs Williams taking care of him, and her cooking and all, that would soon cheer up most kids I know.’

Being transparently honest wasn’t much help when you wanted to deceive but when you wanted to persuade someone you were telling the truth, it came in real handy.

Williams’s face cleared.

‘Sorry, Joe. It was just that … well, never mind. Nothing to bother yourself about. Tell you what, fancy a drink tonight? I know a lot of the boys down the Goat and Axle would like to make your acquaintance. If you feel up to it, that is.’

It would have been easy to plead weakness or a prior engagement, but when a man’s trying to make amends, it’s a pity to turn him down.

‘Quick one early on, maybe. I need to be back …’

‘To get yourself an early night. Point taken. Suits nicely. We keep country hours round here, early to bed, early to rise. I’ll take you down about five thirty, then. Now I’d better get some work done. Never know who’s watching, do you?’

He glanced sideways towards a distant copse of trees with a house behind them. The Lady House?

‘Mr Lewis, you mean?’

‘That’s right, Joe. Don’t want the High Master on my back, do I?’

The idea seemed to put him in a good humour and he went off chuckling.