MORNING SERIAL

“HUH! And a fine mess you’ve got yourself into, I can see. Fighting, indeed – and me thinking you were ill.” She glanced quickly up and down the street. “Go into the house,” she said sharply.

“I don’t want the neighbours to be poking their noses into my business. If they see you in that state, there’ll be plenty of questions asked. And I got no time for nosey parkers.” He passed over the scrubbed doorstep and polished brass rod. She followed him into the passageway, her canvas slippers flapping loosely on the bare linoleum.

“Well, and what is it all about?” she demanded as they reached the kitchen.

Ieuan sat down near the fireplace. He nursed his swollen hands.

“I had a fight with Bull Jackson.” “And over what, may I ask?” “Nothing, Mam – nothing that would interest you.” She waited a moment, then put the kettle on the stove. “You weren’t fighting over some girl, were you?” The question caught him completely off guard. He tried to stammer a reply, but she cut him short.

“I’ve got eyes in my head,” she said, “and I think I can see farther than people give me credit for. You have been fighting over a girl, haven’t you? That girl you had with you in the park the other night.” “Girl! I-I…. “Ieuan rose and stepped awkwardly to the sink. He turned on the tap.

“Don’t try and push any more of your lies on to me,” his mother’s voice rasped. “I told you I’d got ways of finding out things. You were with a girl, and don’t deny it.” He refused to answer.

“I said you had a girl with you on Sunday night – isn’t that true? Or would you like to call old Mr and Mrs Nathaniel a couple of liars, eh? They saw you – oh, yes. Arm in arm with her, like as if you were a grown-up man and woman. Now, come on. Stop your nonsense, and turn off that tap. Who is she?” Ieuan sank into a chair. “She’s a nice girl, Mam,” he began. “She’s decent, and –” “I asked you who she is. What’s her name? Where’s she from?” “Marvin, Sally Marvin, that’s her name,” he replied, hesitantly.