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Widowed matrons were famous for lowering their bloomers to sooth the dripping serpents of desperate studs but like loose wenches they often passed on the clap. So Will preferred the risk of blindness 'pulling his pope' in the garden privy. His school ruler proved it was a good six and a half inches erect and deserved better than a regular hand-job. In days of fierce anticipation Elizabeth was the juiciest free spirit in the congregation. Will Parnell had good job prospects and she flashed him take-me-quick glances over the ramparts of her family pew. His walk to the communion rail became an awkward lumber. Though he was not the only buck with a hard-on in public places the deaf old hags croaking in the front row and screwing the hymns, singled him out. Pre-Raphaelite culture had arrived in Swansea. William's thatch of silky black hair and soft liquid eyes gave him a modish look that was widely admired.
Before the banns were read Father Damian, whose tooth loss, gingivitis and salivation made it impossible to think of anything intimate, took him to one side.
"Take the business slowly my son. Woman is a sanctified thing. I've watched you, and in Christ's sacred name she's hot for you, but keep your ferret in its sack. Dr Simpson says women with such winsome backsides do well in labour so saddle her carefully."
Years later a sickening Will had lost interest in his wife's
tormenting privities and out-lived earthly temptation. He was content to feed off sad fantasies. Elizabeth made it her practice to stand at the scullery window to track her man's 'furtive creep' to the garden privy, 'his bowels are only half the matter'. Inside he was wont to ponder the truth of their first year of marriage, when, contrary to her lies she'd made his bed a delight. She'd given him twelve months of bliss then perversely switched off. Their creed insisted she bred but after the first child he never knew the naked joy of her.
"Ern, woman's flesh is woman's lie; men are used like yard dogs."

13

Ernest and Stanley were brothers who survived family brutality comforted by each other's love. It earned their mother's detestation. Some devil in Ernest's young eyes searched her soul and saw the irony of Christian women without love.
Neighbours too found Parnell women an unforgiving combination and tended to search the Lord's book for ingratiating things to say when cadging knobs of butter or used tea-leaves (for most, second brewing was all there was). In infancy the boys were tagged 'David and Jonathan'. Elizabeth Parnell saw nothing that favoured her ill-matched tykes in God's sight but it served her well in street society.
As soon as growing sisters refused to sleep with them the huge iron bed so many shared was banished to the unheated loft. Braving arctic draughts the boys gained a den of precious privacy. Their sister Lizzy hunted it daily but they knew she'd do that. Stanley, older by four years, was articled to a firm of solicitors and left home to lodge with an aunt; her house in the Mumbles was a long tram ride away. The move came on the cusp of a violent family
dispute and Stanley quit the house without a word. Ernest, first to bed, was unaware of being alone until he reached out for guardian warmth. Finding none, he felt betrayed. Gripped by irrational fears he imagined Stanley dead. Death in every guise stalked
communities and seasonal epidemics hit the fit and young. A pair of nearby screech owls were said to be banshees. They often scared Ernest out of sleep and he'd stare into darkness imagining the worst.
Lizzy targeted her little brother with renewed zest.
"Stan's gone for good. Boys die young. They ain't as strong as girls."

This is a page from Milk and Honey by Gerald Moore, available for purchase from Lazarus Press.

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