Fall of Giants

“Gone down the Co-op for a tin of jam.” The local grocery was a cooperative store, sharing profits among its customers. Such shops were popular in South Wales, although no one knew how to pronounce co-op, variations ranging from cop to quorp. “She’ll be back now in a minute.”

Ethel put Lloyd on the floor. He began to explore the room, going unsteadily from one handhold to the next, a bit like Gramper. Ethel talked about her job as manager of The Soldier’s Wife: working with the printer, distributing the bundles of newspapers, collecting unsold copies, getting people to place advertisements. Gramper wondered how she knew what to do, and she admitted that she and Maud just made it up as they went along. She found the printer difficult-he did not like taking instructions from women-but she was good at selling advertising space. While they talked, Gramper took off his watch chain and dangled it from his hand, not looking at Lloyd. The child stared at the bright chain, then reached for it. Gramper let him grab it. Soon Lloyd was leaning on Gramper’s knees for support while he investigated the watch.

Ethel felt strange in the old house. She had imagined it would be comfortably familiar, like a pair of boots that have taken the shape of the feet that have worn them for years. But in fact she was vaguely uneasy. It seemed more like the home of familiar old neighbors. She kept looking at the faded samplers with their tired biblical verses and wondering why her mother had not changed them in decades. She did not feel that this was her place.

“Have you heard anything from our Billy?” she asked Gramper.

“No, have you?”

“Not since he left for France.”

“I should think he’s in this big battle by the river Somme.”

“I hope not. They say it’s bad.”

“Aye, terrible, if you believe the rumors.”

Rumors were all people had, for newspaper accounts were cheerfully vague. But many of the wounded were back in British hospitals, and their bloodcurdling accounts of incompetence and slaughter were passed from mouth to mouth.

Mam came in. “They stand talking in that shop as if they got nothing else to do-oh!” She stopped short. “Oh, my heavens, is that our Eth?” She burst into tears.

Ethel hugged her.

Gramper said: “Look, Cara, here’s your grandson, Lloyd.”

Mam wiped her eyes and picked him up. “Isn’t he beautiful?” she said. “Such curly hair! He looks just like Billy at that age.” Lloyd stared fearfully at Mam for a long moment, then cried.

Ethel took him. “He’s turned into a real Mummy’s boy lately,” she said apologetically.

“They all do at that age,” Mam said. “Make the most of it, he’ll soon change.”

“Where’s Da?” Ethel said, trying not to sound too anxious.

Ma looked tense. “Gone to Caerphilly for a union meeting.” She checked the clock. “He’ll be home for his tea now in a minute, unless he’s missed his train.”

Ethel guessed Mam was hoping he would be late. She felt the same. She wanted more time with her mother before the crisis came.

Mam made tea and put a plate of sugary Welsh cakes on the table. Ethel took one. “I haven’t had these for two years,” she said. “They’re lovely.”

Gramper said happily: “Now, I call this nice. I got my daughter, my granddaughter, and my great-grandson, all in the same room. What more could a man ask of life?” He took a Welsh cake.

Ethel reflected that some people would think it was not much of a life Gramper led, sitting in a smoky kitchen all day in his only suit. But he was grateful for his lot, and she had made him happy today, at least.

Then her father came in.

Mam was halfway through a sentence. “I had a chance to go to London once, when I was your age, but your gramper said-” The door opened and she stopped dead. They all looked as Da came in from the street, wearing his meeting suit and a flat miner’s cap, perspiring from the walk up the hill. He took a step into the room, then stopped, staring.

“Look who’s here,” Mam said with forced brightness. “Ethel, and your grandson.” Her face was white with strain.

He said nothing. He did not take off his cap.

Ethel said: “Hello, Da. This is Lloyd.”

He did not look at her.

Gramper said: “The little one resembles you, Dai boy-around the mouth, see what I mean?”

Lloyd sensed the hostility in the room and began to cry.

Still Da said nothing. Ethel knew then that she had made a mistake springing this on him. She had not wanted to give him the chance to forbid her to come. But now she saw that the surprise had put him on the defensive. He had a cornered look. It was always a mistake to back Da up against the wall, she remembered.

His face became stubborn. He looked at his wife and said: “I have no grandson.”

“Oh, now,” said Mam appealingly.

His expression remained rigid. He stood still, staring at Mam, not speaking. He was waiting for something, and he would not move until Ethel left. She began to cry.

Gramper said: “Oh, dammo.”