Fall of Giants

Fitz thought this was complacent rubbish. “He’s even given money to the Daily Herald!”

“It is discourteous, I agree, for a foreign government to subsidize one of our newspapers-but, really, are we frightened of the Daily Herald? It’s not as if we Liberals and Conservatives don’t have papers of our own.”

“But he is contacting the most hard-line revolutionary groups in this country-maniacs dedicated to the overthrow of our entire way of life!”

“The more the British get to know about Bolshevism, the less they will like it, you mark my words. It is formidable only when seen at a distance, through impenetrable mists. Bolshevism is almost a safeguard to British society, for it infects all classes with a horror of what may happen if the present organization of society is overturned.”

“I just don’t like it.”

“Besides,” Lloyd George went on, “if we throw them out we may have to explain how we know what they’re up to; and the news that we’re spying on them may inflame working-class opinion against us more effectively than all their turgid speeches.”

Fitz did not like being lectured on political realities, even by the prime minister, but he persisted with his argument because he felt so angry. “But surely we don’t have to trade with the Bolsheviks!”

“If we refused to do business with all those who use their embassies here for propaganda, we wouldn’t have many trading partners left. Come, come, Fitz, we trade with cannibals in the Solomon Islands!”

Fitz was not sure that was true-the cannibals of the Solomon Islands did not have much to offer, after all-but he let it pass. “Are we so badly off that we have to sell to these murderers?”

“I fear we are. I have talked to a good many businessmen, and they have rather frightened me about the next eighteen months. There are no orders coming in. Customers won’t buy. We may be in for the worst period of unemployment that any of us have ever known. But the Russians want to buy-and they pay in gold.”

“I would not take their gold!”

“Ah, but Fitz,” said Lloyd George, “you have so much of your own.”

{III}

There was a party in Wellington Row when Billy took his bride home to Aberowen.

It was a summer Saturday, and for once there was no rain. At three o’clock in the afternoon Billy and Mildred arrived at the station with Mildred’s children, Billy’s new stepdaughters, Enid and Lillian, aged eight and seven. By then the miners had come up from the pit, taken their weekly baths, and put on their Sunday suits.

Billy’s parents were waiting at the station. They were older and seemed diminished, no longer dominating those around them. Da shook Billy’s hand and said: “I’m proud of you, son. You stood up to them, just like I taught you to.” Billy was glad, although he did not see himself as just another of Da’s achievements in life.

They had met Mildred once before, at Ethel’s wedding. Da shook Mildred’s hand and Mam kissed her.

Mildred said: “It’s lovely to see you again, Mrs. Williams. Should I call you Mam now?”

It was the best thing she could have said, and Mam was delighted. Billy felt sure Da would come to love her, provided she could keep from swearing.

Persistent questions by M.P.s in the House of Commons-fed with information by Ethel-had forced the government to announce reduced sentences for a number of soldiers and sailors court-martialed in Russia for mutiny and other offenses. Billy’s prison term had been reduced to a year and he had been released and demobilized. He had married Mildred as quickly as possible after that.

Aberowen seemed strange to him. The place had not changed much, but his feelings were different. It was small and drab, and the mountains all around seemed like walls to keep the people in. He was no longer sure this was his home. As when he had put on his prewar suit, he found that, even though it still fit, he no longer felt right in it. Nothing that happened here would change the world, he thought.

They walked up the hill to Wellington Row to find the houses decorated with bunting: the Union Jack, the Welsh dragon, and the red flag. A banner across the street said WELCOME HOME, BILLY TWICE. All the neighbors were out in the street. There were tables with jugs of beer and urns of tea, and plates loaded with pies, cakes, and sandwiches. When they saw Billy they sang “We’ll Keep a Welcome in the Hillsides.”

It made Billy cry.

He was handed a pint of beer. A crowd of admiring young men gathered around Mildred. To them she was an exotic creature, with her London clothes and her cockney accent and a hat with a huge brim that she had trimmed herself with silk flowers. Even when she was on her best behavior she could not help saying risqué things like “I had to get it off my chest, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

Gramper looked older, and could hardly stand up straight, but mentally he was still all right. He took charge of Enid and Lillian, producing sweets out of his waistcoat pockets and showing them how he could make a penny disappear.