MORNING SERIAL
IS that the way you bring him up — to speak to his mother like she was a nobody?” Ieuan clenched his fists. Was there no end to mam’s nagging? She was a tyrant whose tongue was sharper than a sword blade. Each word she uttered stabbed into his heart and made him wince. But dad — why did he accept her nagging, her insinuations and threats? Wasn’t he man enough to stand up to her and fight? Fight. That was the word Frank had used so often. And he had said that one must show courage. The harder one fights the more respect one gains. Where was this courage of his father’s? Fight! Fight — that’s what dad should do. But it was so easy to talk. Was he prepared to fight in the foundry for the rest of his life, or become a coward, despised and rejected by all who worked with him? He hated the foundry. Dreaded it even as he did when he passed out through the gateway half an hour ago; even after Frank had left him.
“You’ll have to give him a good talking-to, Dick.” His mother’s voice cut in on his thoughts.
“You’re his father and he sticks closer to you than he does to me, though why, I can’t for the life of me make out. I’m the one who’s fed and clothed him and sacrificed myself to bring him up decent. But what do I get for it? What do I get for it?” Despondent, a deep gnawing ache at the pit of his stomach, Ieuan entered the kitchen. The quarrelling ceased. His mother, tight-lipped, busied herself about the gas stove, casting an angry glance at her husband as he greeted Ieuan with a feigned show of good humour.
“Hallo, Ieuan bach, how did it go at the foundry? I bet you showed them the stuff you were made of, eh?” Dick Morgan got up from his chair near the fire. “Sit here, boy — you’ll soon be the new man of the house. You wait till you get your first pay.” He smiled. “That will be the day, eh, Millie?” “Yes, that will be the day.” Mrs. Morgan pushed a hot plate on to the table. “Get yourself washed, Ieuan. And don’t be too long. Your dinner’s ready. Not many mothers would have done this for you after the way you —” “Millie!” Ieuan heard his father’s curt interruption. He waited, hoping that he would say something further. But it was “Millie!” and nothing more, for a harsh look from the mother silenced him.