Winners and Losers Read Free

Betty’s sister Alice Hughes, who lived in Clydach, yelled from the front line of the marchers.
    â€˜We’re busy shopping, Alice.’ As they turned to leave, Betty glimpsed a constable heading for the women and deliberately stepped in front of him. He elbowed her in the small of her back and she cried out. Falling awkwardly, she caught her knees painfully on the kerb.
    â€˜Mrs Morgan, are you all right!’ Megan crouched beside her. A police boot landed on her skirt, effectively pinning her to the ground.
    The grinning constable stood over them. ‘Obstructing a police officer in the course of his duty is a serious offence ... ladies.’ He spat out the last word.
    â€˜I saw that, officer.’ Father Kelly pushed his way towards them. ‘You hit that poor defenceless woman -’
    â€˜She was causing an obstruction,’ the officer refuted sullenly.
    â€˜You are standing on this lady’s skirt,’ Father Kelly’s companion pointed out coldly. It was the Anglican vicar, Reverend Williams of the mid-Rhondda Central Distress Committee.
    â€˜I wasn’t aware that I was, sir.’ A crowd began to form around them and the officer retreated to the pavement.
    â€˜Are you hurt, Mrs Morgan?’ Reverend Williams helped Father Kelly and Megan raise Betty to her feet.
    â€˜I’ll live.’ Betty glared at the constable before dusting down her skirt.
    â€˜I was about to arrest those troublemakers, when this woman prevented me -’
    â€˜Troublemakers now, is it?’ Father Kelly interrupted the constable. ‘I see no troublemakers in this street. Do you, Reverend Williams?’
    â€˜None, Father Kelly.’
    â€˜What’s the problem here, Shipton?’ An officer in sergeant’s uniform forced his way through the crowd.
    Constable Shipton snapped to attention. ‘This woman prevented me from making a lawful arrest, Sergeant Martin.’
    â€˜She did no such thing, sergeant,’ Father Kelly contradicted. ‘She was standing peacefully watching the parade, as we all were. Absolutely no trouble to a soul around her.’
    â€˜An illegal parade,’ the sergeant stated tersely.
    â€˜Illegal is it?’ Father Kelly crossed his arms across his chest and squared up to the man. There was something ridiculous about the short, fat priest confronting a police officer a full head taller than himself, but no one laughed. ‘Tell me now, Sergeant Martin, when was the law passed that made it illegal for women to walk down the street of their home town in the middle of the day?’
    â€˜There are special circumstances -’
    â€˜I’ll say there are.’ Father Kelly refused to allow the sergeant to get a word in edgeways. ‘Circumstances your men believe give them the right to provoke and torment the inhabitants of this town, just as you English do the poor souls in Ireland. You won’t be happy until you have another riot on your hands. Then you can go to the London papers and say, “Look at those savages in Tonypandy” all over again. And that will give your Home Secretary, Mr Churchill, an excuse to send even more regiments of soldiers here.’
    â€˜The last thing we want is another riot, Father.’
    Angry murmurs rippled through the crowd around them.
    â€˜Really? You could have fooled me with the way your men have treated these ladies.’
    â€˜Constable Shipton said they were obstructing him. And obstructing a police officer with the view to prevent him carrying out his duty is a criminal offence.’
    â€˜Given the high-handed way some of your men behave, Sergeant, you have to forgive us poor natives a bit of obstructing now and then. You see, obstructing is the only way we have left to show our feelings,’ Father Kelly said caustically.
    Sergeant Martin beckoned to a group of constables across the road. A dozen marched in formation to join him.
    â€˜Constable Shipton, officers, take