George Sandifer-Smith The Stone Bell (Creative Writing Project) & Accompanying Critical Commentary: Temporality, Place & Memory PhD Thesis Final Submission (2019) Aberystwyth University Final wordcount: 99,701 Student number 093029564 1 Contents The Stone Bell October 1912 – The Side of the Angels Chapter One………………………………………………………………………….p.6 Chapter Two………………………………………………………………………..p.17 Chapter Three………………………………………………………………………p.28 Chapter Four………………………………………………………………………..p.43 Chapter Five………………………………………………………………………..p.51 Chapter Six…………………………………………………………………………p.74 September 1942 – Damned Chapter One………………………………………………………………………...p.81 Chapter Two………………………………………………………………………..p.88 Chapter Three………………………………………………………………………p.94 Chapter Four………………………………………………………………………p.107 September 1973 – Coming Down Again Chapter One……………………………………………………………………….p.114 Chapter Two………………………………………………………………………p.124 Chapter Three……………………………………………………………………..p.135 Chapter Four………………………………………………………………………p.154 Chapter Five………………………………………………………………………p.168 Chapter Six………………………………………………………………………..p.175 Chapter Seven…………………………………………………………………….p.183 Chapter Eight……………………………………………………………………...p.190 June 2012 – Something in the Water Chapter One……………………………………………………………………….p.201 Chapter Two………………………………………………………………………p.221 2 Chapter Three……………………………………………………………………..p.238 Chapter Four………………………………………………………………………p.251 Critical Commentary Introduction……………………………………………………………………….p.275 Chapter One……………………………………………………………………….p.280 Chapter Two………………………………………………………………………p.294 Chapter Three……………………………………………………………………..p.305 Chapter Four………………………………………………………………………p.315 Conclusion………………………………………………………………………...p.327 Bibliography………………………………………………………………………p.329 3 The Stone Bell 4 October 1912 – The Side of the Angels 5 Chapter One Without warning, she tugged at my sheets and said ‘Wake up! Wake up! It’s today!’ although I was halfway awake already. I shook the covers off as Mam left the room. I heard her going to the room next door, her good shoes beating a clock-clock on the floorboards. Gentle tapping on Anna’s door. In the quiet, I could hear Mam saying ‘Anna, dear. It’s today.’ She was speaking so slowly. I didn’t hear Anna respond; only the creak of her door as Mam entered her room. My feet stuck to the cool floor a little. I went over to the washbowl, cupped water in my hands and splashed it on my face and over my hair, before getting dressed in a light shirt and dark brown trousers. I tousled the top of my head dry with a towel, pulled on a pair of socks, and walked into the hallway. The smell of fresh bread was thick in the air. I heard hushed voices, maybe crying too, coming from Anna’s room and thought for half a moment about going in to see if she was alright. Nah, butt. Mam was in there, she could remedy whatever was going on. That was her job, really. I turned to the narrow staircase and made my way to the kitchen. ‘Good morning,’ I said. Da was wearing a stiff white collar with a black tie, a grey waistcoat and a black jacket. I’d never seen him dressed up like that before. He looked up from the boiled egg that he was very cautiously attempting to saw the top off. ‘Careful. Don’t want to make a mess of myself.’ He squinted, not wearing his spectacles. ‘Why aren’t you dressed properly?’ ‘Because I’d like an egg.’ ‘Sorry,’ said Da, ‘this is the last one. It’s mine.’ With that, he pulled off the lid of the egg. 6 I sat down at the table opposite him and reached for the bread in the middle of the table, tearing off a chunk. ‘I’ll just have bread.’ ‘You should be slicing that, not tearing it. Especially today.’ ‘Some days aren’t more bread-slicey than others, you know.’ I started buttering the chunk of bread. ‘I know that,’ said Da, ‘but if your mother catches you…’ ‘Why aren’t you dressed?’ Mam had entered the room. ‘You can’t wear those old clothes today. Not in front of the Powells. Get back upstairs and get dressed, now.’ I looked at Da’s black cloth tie, closing the starched white collar around his thick pink throat. ‘We aren’t even leaving the house for an hour.’ ‘David Farley, you are seventeen. You are not a child. Do not make me speak to you as if you are.’ She sat down at the end of the table and picked up the bread knife. She pulled the breadboard towards her and looked at the torn end of the loaf, emitting a loud sigh. Then she began sawing. She managed to eat about half a slice before looking irritably at me again. ‘Well?’ Da was jabbing at his egg with a spoon, ignoring what was going on around him. ‘That’s alright,’ I said, ‘I’ll go put my fine clothes on.’ I stood up and turned back to the door. ‘Is Anna not coming down for her breakfast?’ asked Da. ‘Anna’s fine. She’ll come down when she’s ready,’ said Mam. ‘Pass me down the butter.’ I closed the door – not slamming it, but not too gently, either – and tried my best not to stomp up the stairs. When Joe and I find rooms together, I thought, I won’t have to put up with this. At least Anna seemed to have stopped crying. I couldn’t hear anything coming from her room, anyway. Why was she crying? Silly girl, I thought. She was 7 supposed to be happy. It was her choice to go with a lad from the Dock, not anyone else’s. I hadn’t realised that I had been just standing still in the hallway when she opened her door. She had the same dark hair and thin face as me, though obviously without the patchy beard. ‘Oh! Good morning, David. You frightened me, standing out here like a ghost.’ Her eyes were wide and red-rimmed. ‘I didn’t even notice I was doing it.’ I put a hand on her shoulder. She had always been theatrical, as Da liked to say. Melodramatic, Mam sometimes said. ‘How are you feeling, Anna?’ ‘I’m very happy, really,’ she said, the corners of her mouth turning up. She wasn’t smiling. ‘I am. Of course I am. I’m marrying John today. What a silly thing to ask, how I’m feeling. Now, get dressed, we’re having breakfast as a family.’ She pushed past me, still wearing her nightdress. I opened my bedroom door and sat on the bed. I was supposed to be a grown-up now. I’d left school. I had a job. Anna was supposed to be a grown-up now. She was marrying a man. So why did Mam just tell me what I should be doing? Why was Anna crying if she was about to enjoy the happiest day of her life? I looked up. My fine clothes were hanging up in the wardrobe. I took off my heavy tweed trousers and soft shirt and took out the black suit, starched white shirt, and black tie. It all felt itchy and cold, like I knew it would. The high collar was tight on my neck, and the seams holding the front of the shirt together rubbed on my nipples. I tried shifting the shirt around, but the fit was too good. My nipples would be trouble all day. Feeling grateful that I wouldn’t be moving around too much, I pulled on the waistcoat and buttoned it up, then unbuttoned it again. I’d forgotten about the tie, which I looped around pulled as tight as Da had his. I was right. The shirt collar pressed against my neck, and I could almost feel the skin reddening. 8 I buttoned up the waistcoat again, put on the jacket, and looked under the bed. My good shoes were not there. I sat on the edge of the bed again, scratching my head. There was nowhere else they could be. I stood up, looked in the wardrobe, even the drawers. Finding nothing, I sat down. I hoped I hadn’t left them with the muddy boots by the back door. Deciding that Mam would have found them there and would be ready to scold me whatever happened now, I went back downstairs. Mam, Da, and Anna were sat at the table without speaking. The only sound in the room was a slight undercurrent of chewing noises. ‘Has anyone seen my good shoes?’ I braced myself and readied an apology in my head. That way, it would sound more real. ‘Yes, dear,’ said Mam, smiling at me, ‘I brought them down here to shine last night. Sorry, I must have put them in our room with your father’s. Let me get them.’ She stood up, still smiling, and walked out into the hall. ‘How’s Mam feeling now?’ I asked, puzzled. ‘Stop asking how everyone’s feeling,’ said Anna, ‘everyone’s feeling fine. It’s a good day.’ ‘Your sister’s right,’ said Da, ‘let’s not talk about how we’re feeling. Your mother couldn’t be happier. Let’s all try to stay that way.’ He smiled at Anna with the last sentence. I was still confused. Now Da was out of sorts too. ‘Sit down, David. You didn’t finish your bread earlier.’ I sat at my place and thought about eating my bread with a knife and fork to make Anna smile properly, but decided not to. ‘Could I have some butter?’ Nobody answered. Da coughed and wiped the corners of his mouth. ‘Please?’ ‘That’s better.’ Da put his napkin down, looked around his plate, then squinted at Anna’s plate. ‘Have you got the butter over there, Anna?’ ‘Sorry, yes,’ she said, picking up the butter dish. ‘Sorry. Here, David.’ ‘No need to be sorry.’ I smiled at her as I took the butter. She looked puzzled. Again, I thought about saying something, but thought better of it.