Pontypridd 01 - Hearts of Gold by Catrin Collier

Author:Catrin Collier [Collier, Catrin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Andrew’s parents lived in a large comfortable villa set in fair-sized private walled gardens but to Bethan it seemed like a mansion.

In fact every aspect of the suburbs on the Common amazed her; the mature trees that shaded the pavements on the wide, well-planned roads and avenues. The nurtured front gardens with their flowering bushes, banks of daffodils and narcissus and green manicured lawns. The clean, clear aspect over the entire town that sprawled, dirty and untidy along the valley floor beneath the hill. Distance and sunlight even lent a fairy-tale enchantment to the bleak slag heaps and grimy colliery on the hillside to the right.

Bethan had only ever walked up to the Common a few times in her life, and then it had been on Armistice days, following her father and the other miners as they trailed behind the Great War veterans who marched to the cenotaph built high on the hill above Ynysangharad Memorial Park. If she’d seen the neat streets of semi-detached and the walled gardens of the larger villas then, she’d paid no attention. She’d certainly given no more thought to visiting one of them than to the concept of flying to the moon.

Andrew steered the car through the impressive wrought iron gates that his father had erected to replace those melted down in the war, and into the old coach house that was now used as a garage.

‘Before we go remind me to show you my rooms,’ he said as he opened the door for her.

‘Your rooms?’ She looked quizzically at him.

He pointed to the ceiling. ‘We’ve done up the old stable boy’s quarters. Dual purpose, keeps me out of Mother’s hair, and gives me privacy.’

She smiled woodenly.

‘You’ll be just fine,’ he whispered, pinching her cheek. ‘They’ll love you.’

A maid wearing the standard black dress and white starched and frilled cap and apron opened the front door.

‘Thank you, Mair,’ Andrew handed her his hat.

‘Mair?’ Bethan looked at the girl’s face.

‘Wondered if you’d recognise me in this get-up, Beth,’ the girl screeched. ‘How’s Haydn?’ she asked, forgetting herself and earning a frown from Andrew.

‘Where is everyone?’ Andrew asked heavily.

‘In the drawing room, sir,’ Mair bobbed a curtsy.

Bethan stood bewildered and more than a little lost in the hall. A massive curved staircase swept upwards to the first floor with all the grace and elegance of those she’d seen in the pictures. A few pieces of heavily carved dark oak Victorian hall furniture stood against the walls between the panelled doors. Stained-glass windows puddled the black and white tiled floor with pools of brilliant crimson and sapphire light. Andrew put his arm protectively around her shoulders and propelled her gently forwards.

He passed what seemed like a dozen doors before he finally opened one that led into a room that could have swallowed the front parlour in Graig Avenue four times over and still had space to spare.

‘Mother, Father, this is Bethan.’ He gave her a small push.

‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Mrs John.’ Bethan shook Andrew’s mother’s hand.

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