Friday 21st October 2006, Wales.

 

“Why do you keep coming here?” asked the girl. “I’ve seen you many times.”

“I like it here,” replied Toby, shivering in the October drizzle and cold mist that encased the cemetery above the tranquil village. His stare was focussed on two extended rows of identical white stone arches.

Ten-year-old Toby was half-way through the autumn term at his new school, his family having moved to the village from Swansea some weeks before.

“Aren’t you afraid of cemeteries?” asked the girl who, although a little taller and brimming in confidence, appeared to be of similar age to Toby.

He turned and looked at the girl before him. “Not really,” he replied. He eyed her dishevelled appearance, her clothes torn and muddied, her face pale and drawn, her eyes dark and melancholy.

“Did you fall or something?” he asked.

“Fall or something?”

“You look like you’ve fallen in muddy water.”

“Only boys fall in muddy water,” she replied indignantly, “because they muck about all the time.”

“Some do, others don’t,” corrected Toby.

What’s your name?” asked the girl.

“Toby, what’s yours?”

“Winnifred.” She pointed up the hill. “The others call me Winni.”

Toby followed her gaze but couldn’t see the others. He dropped his bike on the grass. “I like looking at these arches; I can see them from the road when I’m waiting for the bus. I find it peaceful here.”

“But why so early this morning?” she pressed.

“I’m not sure.”

“Do you know what these arches represent, Toby?”

“Never thought about it really. I just like the way they rise and fall out of the ground, like giant sea monsters.”

“Cor, you’ve got some imagination, you have. You’re pretty new in the village, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Well, not exactly new, we’ve been here a few weeks.”

“We?”

“Mum, dad and me,”

Winni turned and waved to someone at the top of the hill. Toby looked, but saw nobody.

“Who are you waving at?” he asked.

“The others.”

Toby scanned the hillside again. “What others?”

“My school friends, Bethan, Owen and Gwen.”

“I can’t see anybody, said Toby. “Are you playing forty-forty or something?”

“Forty-forty?”

“You know,” replied Toby, “you hide your eyes, count to forty while they hide and then you have to find them. They have to get back to base without you seeing them.”

“Hide and seek!” corrected the girl. “Wait here, they’re calling me.”

“Can I come?”

“No, stay here, I won’t be long.”

Winnie hurried uphill through the cemetery, while toby let his hands run over the smooth, moist surface of one the stone arches, stopping only to pull the collar of his thin sweater up around his neck as the rain intensified. He could hear children’s voices some way away - the joyous sound of the others - while they laughed and played. He longed to be a part of their group.

Winni returned. “Soon it’ll be time for assembly, Toby. I like to take my time these days, but the others are always early. Goody-two-shoes, I call them. Assembly finishes at nine-fifteen so I guess I’m going to be late again.”

“Doesn’t that worry you?”

“Not really, if I’m honest,” she replied.

Toby cocked his head to one side, smiled. “I don’t want you to think I’m being horrible, Winni, but you can’t go to school looking like that. Won’t your mum be worried about you? Maybe you should go home and get cleaned up.”

Winni shook her head. “My mum worries about me all the time. You want to hear her going on. I listen, but never say anything. And then there are the peaceful times, like when she’s saying her prayers at night before she goes to sleep. All her prayers are for me.”

“Obviously she doesn’t want anything to happen to you,” said Toby. “Does she pray for your dad too?”

Winni looked down at her feet. “My dad left us when I was very little,” replied Winni, “so it was just mum and me, oh, and our dog, Dodger. He was very old so he’s not with us anymore. Mum said he’s in doggy heaven.”

“What kind of dog was he?”

“I’m not sure what kind of dog he was; just a normal sort of dog, I suppose. He had different bits of dog in him,” she replied.

“Eh, do you mean he was a mongrel?” laughed Toby.

“Does that mean the same as a dog made up of different dogs?”

“Yeah, different breeds.”

“You’re super bright, you know,” said Winni.

“How would you know; we’ve only just met?”

“I just know,” she replied, “and you’re posh; and you speak lovely.”

There was a lull while they stared at each other. Toby said, “You never smile; why don’t you smile?”

Winni sat down on the wet grass and pulled at her muddy socks in an attempt to deflect the cool breeze from her wet legs.

“I smile when I’m with the others.”

“Why do you and the others have to go to assembly this morning?”

“School assembly is every morning at Pantglas. Look down there, Toby, see them? Most of their kids have gone to school and now the mums are walking home.”

“Don’t some dads take their kids to school?”

“Nah, they’re down the mine. Anyway, why are you not at school?”

“It’s half term,” he replied.

“Not around here it’s not,” quipped Winni. “It’s half term next week at Pantglas. Coming to think of it, I’ve never seen you at Pantglas.”

“That’s because my parents send me to a private school in Merthyr Tydfil, which is why I don’t have many friends here in the village.”

“That’s not true,” corrected Winni, “you’ve masses of friends around you.”

Toby looked about him. “Where?”

“Have you ever thought that it may not always be possible to see some of your friends, Toby?”

“I won a scholarship so my parents don’t have to pay much.”

“See,” she teased, “you must be super bright to have won a scholarship.”

Toby ignored the compliment.

“I must be the only kid in this village,” he said, “who has to catch a bus every morning to school. Do you go to the school here in Moy Road, Winni?”

“My last year at primary; it’s one I’ll never, ever forget. Look, I need to go now,” she said.

Toby offered his hand to help her onto her feet, but she shook her head. “I can’t,” she said, “and you don’t want to be hanging around here on your own.”

Winni pushed her thin, freezing, muddied hand into the pocket of her torn cardigan. “Toby, please take this chain and give it to my mum, Irwen Davis. She lives at number eighty-eight Moy Road, do you know it?”

“Everyone knows Moy Road, Winni; I’ll find number eighty-eight, don’t you worry.”

“You’ve really nice manners too,” she remarked.

“I’ve never really thought about it,” replied Toby.

“I’m not teasing you; I like you.”

“Thanks.”

Toby looked at the dirt-encrusted chain that Winni had placed into the palm of his hand. “Is it real gold, Winni?”

“I don’t know, it was a birthday present from my mum, so mind you give it to her today. Oh, and when she sees you don’t be surprised if she offers you a cup of tea or something because she gets lonely. I know she’ll like you, for sure.”

“Don’t you want to give the chain to her when you see her at the end of school?”

Winni ignored the question. “What time is it?”

Toby glanced at his watch. “Ten minutes past nine.”

A distant rumble interrupted their conversation. Winni turned from the boy and stared solemnly at the hill above them. The far off laughter of the others ceased.

“Thunder!” exclaimed Toby, looking up at the dark clouds passing overhead. The noise had startled him, yet Winni seemed unfazed, nor did she seem to notice the increasing intensity of the rain. The ominous roll of thunder reverberated above and around the village, while the last of the golden leaves of autumn rustled in the trees that bordered the cemetery’s perimeter.

“I must go,” said Winni.

“And I’d better go home too,” added Toby. “Will I see you again, and maybe meet the others?”

The ground shook, gently at first and then more noticeably. Toby felt unsteady. “An earthquake!”

“Nah,” replied Winni, “you don’t get earthquakes around here. All the mad noises, rumbles and bangs in this valley are connected with the mine. On the other hand, Toby, it could be that your sea monsters are waking up!”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s go, this is scary!” urged Toby. He grasped the handlebars of his bike, climbed onto the saddle and rode down the hill towards the cemetery gates.

“Winni, come on!” he yelled.

He turned to check she was behind him but she was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she’d exited by another gate, he thought. Was she hiding, still playing forty-forty perhaps? He stopped cycling and looked back once more. “Winni, where are you? Stop messing around.”

Winni’s voice called to him from some distant hiding place. “Mind you give her that chain, Toby. Don’t hang around here, go home!”

The rumbling, that had brought their meeting to an abrupt end, grew more menacing, exacerbated by the deafening noise of tree trunks splitting, of glass shattering and of young voices crying out. Toby fled.

 

 

Mrs. Irwen Davis, a woman of mature years, opened the door.

“Hello, young man, what can I do for you?”

“Are you Mrs. Davis?” Toby was out of breath, having cycled furiously along Moy Road. The rain had eased.

“I hope so,” she chuckled. “Every morning I look in the mirror to check it’s me.”

Toby took the muddy chain from his pocket and passed it to her.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“I’ve to give it to you; it’s from Winni.”

“Winni? Asked Irwen Davis. There was a short pause, her eyes trained on the chain she wound around her fingers. The smile with which she had greeted Toby, faded.

“What’s your name, son?”

“Toby.”

 “Winni’s Saint Christopher,” she whispered.  “Oh Lord, I gave it to her on her tenth birthday: it’s been missing for such a long time. Where did you find it, son?”

“I didn’t find it,” replied Toby, “Winni gave it to me.”

“Gave it to you? You say Winni gave this to you?”

“Yes, up in the cemetery. I asked her to leave with me because of the thunder. The sky went dark and there were all these weird noises. I could hear loads of kids, and the rumble, and the screaming, and the…” he paused. “I couldn’t stand it so I came back, but Winni wouldn’t come; she just kept telling me to go home. I looked for her but couldn’t find her. I suppose she went off to play with the others.”

“What others?” pressed Irwen.

“She mentioned some names but I’m sure there were more.”

“What names?”

“Owen, Gwen and Bethan. Winni went up the hill to meet them and although I couldn’t see the others I heard them laughing, mucking about, playing. Do you know these names, Mrs. Davis?”

“Yes, Toby, they were inseparable.”

Toby smiled. “I think they still are.”

“And you couldn’t see the others?”

Toby nodded. “I think they were playing forty-forty; she called it hide and seek. Winni looked like she’d fallen in a muddy river,” continued Toby, “because she was really wet and dirty. She said something about having to go to assembly but I don’t think she made it because she went up the hill to join the others and I didn’t see her return. I bet they’re still up there playing.”

Irwen gathered her raincoat and umbrella and stepped onto the pavement shutting the door behind her.

“Where do you live, son?”

“Mervyn Street.”

“Are you going home now?”

“Yes,” said Toby, “my mum said I had to be back by ten o’clock, as we’re going to Merthyr: I need new shoes.”

“I’ll walk with you part of the way, if I may?”

“If you want to, Mrs. Davis, I don’t mind.”

“Anyway, young man, why are you not in school? I can see you’re a bright one but you can’t leave school yet, you’re too young!”

“I don’t go to school in the village. My mum and dad send me to a private school and we’re on half-term this week. That’s probably why I’ve never seen Winni before today, although she said she’s seen me loads of times. If I’d gone to their school here in the village, I’d have more friends and I could have met the others.”

“Don’t you get lonely then?”

“A bit.”

Irwen adjusted her head scarf and opened her umbrella. “Toby, I want to show you a garden, where a very special primary school stood until nine-fifteen in the morning, exactly forty years ago today. It’s on your way home to Mervyn Street.”

“Winni said that Assembly normally finishes around that time,” remarked Toby casually, "so maybe we’ll see her."

“They were singing, All Things Bright and Beautiful,” whispered Irwen. “Do you know it?”

“Yes, we sing it at our school. Why do you want to show me the garden?”

“I’ll explain when we get there.”

“Can we cut through the cemetery, Mrs. Davis?”

“If you wish. I just hope my old legs manage to get me up the hill.”

Toby smiled. “I can pull you, if you want, or you can ride my bike.”

“Eh, thank you, but I think my legs will cope. Anyway, why do you like it so much up there?”

Toby thought about his answer. “It’s peaceful. I can ride my bike around the paths without cars and trucks getting in the way. I never really feel alone up there.”

“Perhaps you’re not alone,” replied Irwen. “Are you allowed to ride your bike in the cemetery?”

“There’s nothing to say I can’t. The gardeners don’t seem to mind, they even know my name.”

“I’m sure they do, Toby.”

When they arrived at the arches in the cemetery, Irwen lost no time in finding a seat so she could rest.

“Are you okay, Mrs. Davis?” asked Toby.

“I’m fine, son, just a bit out of breath. Remember, I was your age a long time ago.”

“How long ago?”

“You cheeky devil, you’re trying to work out how old I am, aren’t you?” she chuckled.

“Oh, sorry, not really, I was just interested. My mum says you should never ask a lady her age, and my dad says because you’ll never get a correct answer.”

Irwen’s smile returned. “I was born in nineteen forty-one.”

Toby did the maths. “Sixty-five!”

“Spot on!” she said, clapping her hands. “Now, have you ever looked at the names below these arches you’re so fond of?”

“Not really,” Toby replied, “because I don’t stop long enough, when I’m riding around on my bike.”

Irwen stood up and pointed the way ahead. “Walk with me to the arch at the end of the first row, but before I do that, I want to ask you if you know what these arches represent?”

“Is it to make the cemetery look nice?”

“Ah,” she sighed, “the innocence of youth. In many ways you’re right, it does add a special feature to the cemetery but it has a deeper significance.  Do you remember I told you about the garden in the village to commemorate a very sad event forty years ago?”

Toby nodded. “The one we’re going to visit?”

“Well,” Irwen continued, “the garden rests on the spot where Pantglas junior school stood until the twenty-first of October, nineteen-sixty-six.”

“Why did it move away?” asked Toby.

“It had no choice, son, it was engulfed by a large colliery spoil tip that collapsed and flowed at great speed towards the school, where the village’s children had just finished singing All Things Bright and Beautiful in assembly.”

“What happened to the children, Mrs. Davis?”

“The black mountain smashed through the school walls and windows burying everything in its path. It killed one hundred and sixteen children and five teachers.”

Toby, noticeably shocked at this revelation, surveyed the two rows of arches, before lowering his eyes to look at the turf beneath his feet. He took a few steps back. “I know what you’re going to say next, Mrs. Davis,” he said softly, his voice tapering off at the end.

“All the names of those who perished, are displayed on stone plaques below all these arches, along with messages from loved ones.”

Irwen pointed at the arch directly in front of him. “Go on, take a look at the writing.”

He stepped back onto the turf. “It says, In remembrance of Bethan Hughes, Owen Jones and Gwen Williams, inseparable in life and hereafter. These are the same names as Winni’s friends, the others,” he said.

“I wanted you to see this, Toby, so that maybe you’ll be able to understand. Now, let’s go and sit in the garden for a while before you go shopping for shoes.”

“Mrs. Davis?”

“Yes dear?”

“That must mean that the others are kinds of, well, you know…?”

“Spirits have fun too, Toby. I like to think that all these children’s spirits up here look out for all the children that attend the primary school down there.”

“Kind of like guardian angels?” suggested Toby.

“Do you believe in guardian angels?” asked Irwen.

“I think I do.”

“Well, let me tell you, that everyone has a guardian angel, even me!”

Toby picked up his bicycle, as they prepared to move off.

“Maybe that’s why I never feel alone up here, Mrs. Davis. I can’t wait to talk to Winni about this,” said Toby, “but it’s amazing that she can see the others and communicate with them. Doesn’t it scare her?”

“Not a chance, Toby, it would take more than that to scare my Winni.”

Toby thought for a moment. “I hope she didn’t get into trouble for being late this morning because she was talking to me for ages.”

“You don’t have to bother yourself about that, son, you can take my word for it, she won’t have been in any trouble at school this morning.”

Toby was relieved to hear it. “I was surprised when she told me she was still at primary school because she seems a bit too old for primary school.”

Irwen smiled. “You’re right, Toby. Ever since she was a little girl, she was streets ahead of the others, or as my old mum used to say: an old head on young shoulders.”

“Mrs. Davis, you know I told you my mum said I should never ask a lady her age?”

Irwen nodded. “Yes I remember, and your mother was quite right.”

“Is it rude to ask a girl her age?”

Irwen laughed. “I shouldn’t think so, are you thinking of asking a girl how old she is?”

Toby grimaced. “Not sure I’m brave enough, so I’ll have to ask you.

“Go ahead,” said Irwen.

“How old is Winni, Mrs. Davis?”

“Winni will be fifty-years-of-age next month.”

 

 

 

This story uses, as its theme, the Aberfan disaster of 21st October 1966, when a mountain of coal slurry descended on Pentglas Primary School, in the Welsh mining village of Aberfan. 116 pupils and five teachers were killed, buried in the slurry at 0915 hrs after leaving assembly where they had just sung, All Things Bright and Beautiful.

 

I visited Aberfan a number of years ago. I have never forgotten the impact it made on me.

 

Agnus Dei qui tollis peccata mundi: Dona eis requiem sempiternam