Those Who Know

by Alis Hawkins

  This time there was no look, they just both went very still, like a rabbit when it sees a fox.

  ‘Did you?’ I pressed. Best if I was the harsh one, let Harry be the courteous gentleman, then they might let things slip to him. It was a game we’d played a few times when we thought people weren’t telling us everything they knew.

  ‘I did.’ Ruth’s voice was barely above a whisper. She swallowed and tried again. ‘I touched him.’

  ‘Why?’ Harry asked. Sounded as if he was genuinely curious.

  ‘His hair was untidy,’ she said, her voice still low. ‘All over the place. Mr Rowland would’ve hated that. He always kept it nice. He could use a comb, even with his hands.’ Her voice broke again. She sounded younger and much less genteel than she was trying to pretend. ‘He was very proud of his hair.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Harry said. ‘That’s very helpful.’

  Helpful? Half of Reckitt’s evidence for murder had just gone out the window. Rowland’s killer hadn’t rearranged the schoolteacher’s hair to cover his tracks, Ruth Eynon had done it. Because she’d wanted to make him look tidy.

  ‘After that,’ Harry went on, ‘did you let the children in when they arrived?’

  ‘No,’ Nan said. ‘We kept them outside.’

  ‘Apart from Enoch Cwmderi.’ Ruth looked from her friend to us. ‘He wouldn’t stay outside, barged in wanting to see for himself.’

  ‘I sent him to Simi Jones,’ Nan said. ‘Then Simi sent him to you.’ I saw a vengeful gleam in her eye. That’ll teach him to defy me.

  Harry couldn’t see her expression but, anyway, he couldn’t care less about small boys being paid back for their wilfulness. ‘What did you do then?’

  ‘I told the children there’d been an accident and sent them home. Then, when Simi Jones arrived, we left matters in his hands.’

  In other words, the plwyfwas’dpacked them off just like they’d packed the children off.

  There was a sudden fluttering at the window. A robin flying at the glass, pecking at its own reflection. Aggressive little sods, robins are.

  Nan Walters got out of her chair. ‘Go on!’ she called at the bird, in Welsh. ‘Get away!’ I stood up and, as she flapped her hands, I saw something below the window sill. A splash of copper.

  Her brother was eavesdropping outside.

  Why? From what Miss Gwatkyn’s Lleu had told us there was no love lost between Billy and Nan. Perhaps his mother or father had sent him to spy. If so, what did they want to know – what we asked the girls or what they said?

  Before she sat down again, Nan went to the fire and stirred it up with the poker. Heavy-handed she was, too. As if it was her brother she’d really like to’ve taken the poker to.

  Harry turned to Ruth. ‘Miss Eynon, can I ask how long you’d been helping Mr Rowland with the children?’

  She looked into her lap, trying to avoid his eye. Didn’t know that, with his eyes pointing directly at her, she was the one thing he was guaranteed not to see. ‘Right from the beginning,’ she said.

  But Nan Walters wasn’t going to leave it at that. ‘Miss Gwatkyn recommended me and I told Mr Rowland about Ruth.’

  I looked her in the eye. ‘Miss Gwatkyn recommended you, did she?’

  She glared back at me. Still had to learn proper ladylike behaviour, our Nan. ‘Yes, she did. Mr Barton recommended Mr Rowland to her and she recommended us to him.’

  Harry stepped in. ‘Excuse me, Miss Walters. Did you say that Mr Rowland had an introduction to Miss Gwatkyn from her husband?’

  ‘Yes.’ For the first time, Nan Walters looked wrong-footed. Hadn’t expected that to be a surprise, I suppose. ‘Mr Rowland and Mr Barton met in London.’

  Hold on – London? Phoebe Gwatkyn had told us her husband lived in Italy.

  ‘Of course.’ Harry was trying to reassure Nan that she hadn’t said anything out of turn. ‘Mr Rowland taught at University College, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes.’ She leaned forward. ‘And that’s what he wanted for us, here! Right from the beginning, he said that the cowshed academy was just a start. His shop window, he said. He knew what he wanted – a collegiate school so that those who could benefit from it – boys and girls – could be properly educated, not just learn to read and write. He said it would change things here for ever!’ Her voice broke, then, and I thought she was going to burst into tears. But she took a deep breath and pulled herself together.

  Ruth caught hold of her arm. ‘It still will!’ She turned to Harry. ‘Mr Rowland had already raised a lot of money. Miss Gwatkyn’ll see the school built, I know she will. It’s his legacy!’

  Harry hesitated and I wondered if he was embarrassed by Ruth’s childish faith in Miss Gwatkyn. ‘Were you hoping to teach at the new school, once it was established?’ he asked.

  No chance of that! It would’ve been years before Rowland’s plans came to fruition. By then, these two would’ve been married with children of their own who needed educating.

  But they had other ideas. ‘Not hoping,’ Ruth said. ‘Mr Rowland was relying on us. Once he’d raised sufficient funds, he wanted us to take over the running of the cowshed academy, while he concentrated on establishing the new college.’

  Nan nodded. ‘Then, once it was built, we were going to move over to the new school, too. All of us together.’

  ‘I see.’ Harry used that phrase an amazing amount, which was ironic when you thought about it.

  ‘What about your husbands?’ I said. ‘Did you think they’d be happy to see their wives leaving their own children at home to teach other people’s?’

  ‘We don’t have husbands or children.’ Ruth Eynon looked at me as if she thought I was slow.

  ‘No, but by the time the school was built you would have.’

  ‘And what, may I ask, gives you the right to make that assumption?’ That was Nan, her whole face pulled to a point.

  ‘It’s just what happens, isn’t it? The way life goes.’ I hated her for pulling me up. But it was true. Girls like them got married. Either that or they stayed at home to look after their parents. They didn’t make lives for themselves as teachers.

  Ruth shook her head, though she didn’t eyeball me like Nan. ‘Mr Rowland had given us his word that we’d be the first teachers appointed.’

  I glanced at Harry and saw him trying not to smile. Bastard. Thought it was funny, me getting a verbal hiding.

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said, ‘we could return to the matter at hand. I understand that you assisted Mr Rowland in other ways, as well as teaching?’

  Ruth shot a look at her friend and Nan Walters gave Harry a thin little smile. ‘Yes. Mr Rowland couldn’t hold a pen to write, so we wrote all his letters for him. With my father going to and fro to the post in Tregaron every day, it was a convenient system.’

  ‘Who was he writing to?’ I asked.

  Nan carried on looking at Harry, as if it was him who’d asked the question. ‘Local gentry. He’d been given a list by an acquaintance of his in London. Somebody who had connections here and who’d already written to some local gentlemen on Mr Rowland’s behalf, telling them about the school plans and asking them if they’d consider becoming benefactors.’

  Benefactors. My goodness, these girls knew long words!

  ‘Who was this acquaintance?’ Harry asked. ‘Do you know?’

  They both shook their heads. ‘Mr Rowland didn’t say,’ Ruth told him, her eyes lowered to her lap.

  ‘But it wasn’t just Cardiganshire gentlemen we wrote to,’ Nan said. ‘Mr Rowland sent letters all over the country – to Unitarian ministers mostly, I think. And a gentleman in London. Mr Henry Richard. There was quite a bit of correspondence back and forth with him.’

  ‘Mr Richard is secretary of the Peace Society,’ Ruth said. As if that made him more likely to donate money to a school.

  ‘And is Mr Richard particularly interested in education?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Ruth said, with a bit more spirit than we’d seen from he
r before. ‘But he’s from Tregaron so he was very interested in having the collegiate school here.’

  I’d never heard of the Peace Society but Harry obviously had. ‘I knew Mr Richard was a Welshman,’ he said. ‘But I had no idea he was from Cardiganshire.’

  Nan smiled that thin smile of hers again. ‘We never think anybody important’s going to come from where we live, do we?’ I wondered if that was something Rowland’d said to them, encouraging them to be ambitious.

  ‘Did Mr Richard donate any money to the school?’ Harry asked.

  Ruth glanced at him as if she was checking that he still couldn’t see her.

  ‘I’m not sure. We didn’t read the letters Mr Rowland received; we just wrote the ones he sent.’

  ‘But he’d usually tell us if he’d had a reply.’ Nan Walters hadn’t liked the sound of what Ruth had said. Made it sound as if they weren’t important.

  ‘Do you know who was giving money to the school?’ I asked. ‘Mr Rowland had a tidy sum hidden in the loft.’

  I thought I saw a faint blush rise on Nan’s face when I mentioned the hidden money. Hadn’t they known about the linen bag in the trunk? Hearing about it from us wouldn’t please these two. They’d puffed themselves up, thinking Rowland couldn’t do without them.

  ‘No,’ Nan said. ‘He just said our efforts were bearing fruit.’

  Just then, the door opened and Mrs Walters appeared. ‘Sorry to interrupt, Mr Probert-Lloyd. Mr Walters was just wondering how much longer you’ll be needing Nan? There’s post to deliver and the day’s wearing on.’

  Harry’d stood as soon as the door opened. ‘Yes, I quite understand. I’m sure we can spare her now.’ He turned to the girls. ‘If you could compile a list of the gentlemen you remember writing to, ladies, I’d be very grateful.’

  Morgan Walters made himself scarce with the girls but his wife was busy about the place, scrubbing the tables with a handful of hay.

  ‘Mrs Walters, what did you and your husband think when Mr Rowland asked Nan to be an assistant teacher at his school?’ I asked.

  Gwenllian Walters looked at me as if she thought I was accusing her of something. ‘Miss Gwatkyn’d already come to see us to talk about it. Said it was a good chance for Nan. Mr Rowland was a very respectable gentleman and he had great plans for Llanddewi Brefi.’

  She didn’t have to say any more. Morgan Walters, with his finger in many pies and designs on official jobs, would’ve done anything he could to grab on to the coat-tails of Nicholas Rowland’s great plans.

  ‘But were you happy about the thought of the two of them running the school on their own while Mr Rowland set up the new school?’

  She looked from me to Harry and back again. Me asking the questions was worrying her. ‘Why shouldn’t the two of them run the school? They’re educated girls. Well, my Nan is anyway and, friends as they are, she’s helped Ruth a good bit. And they’ve both been going to Miss Gwatkyn for lessons as well.’

  Nan’s parents must’ve spent a lot of money on her education. Those ladies’ boarding schools wouldn’t come cheap, I was sure of that. Had Morgan Walters and his wife had their noses pushed out of joint when Ruth Eynon was put on an equal footing with Nan? Maybe Walters and Rowland had argued about it. As I’d suggested to Mattie Hughes, there was always the possibility that Rowland’d fallen out of the loft after some pushing and shoving.

  ‘Did you and your husband see much of Mr Rowland?’ I asked. ‘Talk about plans for this collegiate school of his?’

  She hesitated then. ‘Mr Rowland came in quite a lot. A very sociable gentleman. And never gave himself airs. Beautiful manners to everybody.’

  So yes, they’d seen a lot of him but, no, he’d never discussed his plans. That might’ve annoyed Morgan Walters, too, seeing as how Lleu the hall-boy’d told us Walters thought he was in charge of Llanddewi Brefi.

  ‘Are you going to call us to give evidence at the inquest?’ We’d made Mrs Walters nervous.

  ‘I shall need to ask Nan or Ruth to tell the jury how they found Mr Rowland,’ Harry said. ‘But, at the moment, I see no need to ask you or your husband to give testimony.’

  At the moment. That was a warning if ever I heard one. Morgan Walters would be well advised to behave himself from now until Friday.

  Midday. That was the deadline Walters had given Mattie. Come forward before noon or we’ll be back for you.

  I made sure the boy holding the mares was still where we’d left him, then glanced up at the sky. We didn’t want to hang about – the weather was changeable today. People were scurrying around, trying to get things done before the rain started but that didn’t stop them looking sideways at us.

  ‘Better get over to Mattie Hughes’s,’ I said. Miss Gwatkyn had asked us to bring Hughes to Alltybela. Didn’t think it’d be safe for him in the village after the ceffyl pren.

  When they saw us going up to Hughes’s door, people stopped what they were doing and watched. Waiting to see whether we’d come to hear him confess and get the constabulary on to him.

  As Harry stepped forward to knock on the door, I saw somebody familiar out of the corner of my eye. I put my hand on Harry’s arm to stop him and turned around. Billy Walters was standing there, watching us. On impulse, I beckoned him over. Didn’t expect him to come, if I’m honest, but he looked to right and left to see who might be watching, then strode over the road. Had some of his sister’s defiance about him, Billy did. No wonder they clashed.

  ‘Looking out for Mattie, are you, Billy?’ I asked, naming him so Harry’d know who he was. Mind, with the boy’s hair, he could probably see, anyway.

  ‘They can say what they like, he didn’t lay a finger on Teacher Rowland.’

  ‘How d’you know that?’

  The boy didn’t miss a beat – too keen to defend Mattie Hughes to hear the suspicion in Harry’s voice. ‘Mr Hughes is a soldier. He knows a dozen ways to kill a man. He’d never just bash his head in!’

  ‘We’ve been hearing some interesting things about you, Billy,’ I said. ‘How you persuaded some of the other boys to make trouble for Mr Rowland, stole his coal—’

  ‘I never stole anything!’ Redheads can’t help blushing and Billy was cockscomb red to his collarbones. But I was pretty sure it was anger, not guilt.

  Mattie’s door swung open. ‘Leave the boy alone. Anything he did, he did because I asked him. Now, come in and let’s get this over with.’

  Harry

  I had anticipated resistance on Hughes’s part to Miss Gwatkyn’s offer of sanctuary but being made to ride the ceffyl pren seemed to have shaken him and he agreed to a few days’ work at Alltybela without fuss. A cart having been procured to take him over to the mansion, John and I headed back towards Tregaron.

  Clouds had darkened the morning and now a steady rain began to fall. Soon it was running off the brim of my hat on to my coat. I lifted my eyes but, try as I might, I could not see the drops that were falling on me. In my peripheral vision, the air had a grey opacity to it but the diaphanous swags of rain that must have been blowing in ragged curtains across the valley were invisible, the hanging sweep of them confined now to my mind’s eye.

  I turned to John, who was hunched down into his coat and seemed to have turned the collar up to keep the rain from running down his neck. ‘This associate of Rowland’s in London,’ I said. ‘The one with the list of potential backers Nan and Ruth talked about. Given that we know Montague Caldicot suggested Llanddewi Brefi to Rowland, is it jumping to too many conclusions to think he might’ve provided connections here, too?’

  I leaned my head in his direction to hear his answer over the pattering of rain on my hat.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, after giving it a few seconds’ thought. ‘Miss Gwatkyn seemed to think he and Rowland were no more than passing acquaintances. Writing to people to ask for their support’d be a big favour to do for somebody he hardly knew.’

  ‘Perhaps she was mistaken?’ John’s silence told me how unlikely he thou
ght that was. ‘Or perhaps, for some reason,’ I speculated, ‘Nicholas Rowland was reluctant to tell Miss Gwatkyn of their association?’

  ‘Why would he be?’ John asked. ‘Unless…’ I waited. ‘D’you think Rowland had got wind of whatever it was that got Caldicot thrown out of his regiment?’

  I nodded. It seemed perfectly possible that Nicholas Rowland might have heard rumours of a scandal brewing before he came to Cardiganshire and had chosen not to mention Caldicot’s name to Miss Gwatkyn. And, if that was the case, the news of Caldicot’s cashiering – by now an open secret if Phoebe Gwatkyn was to be believed – might well have brought about the loss of gentry enthusiasm for Rowland’s collegiate school which she had mentioned.

  It seemed a more adequate explanation than a wholesale switching of allegiance to the idea of a National School in Llanddewi Brefi, however persuasive Tobias Hildon was in its cause; if Caldicot had been disgraced, any cause he espoused would have been tainted by association with him.

  ‘I didn’t want to say anything before I’d had a chance to check,’ John said, slowly. ‘But I think I might’ve seen Caldicot’s name on one of the banknotes in Rowland’s trunk.’

  A punch in the face could not have taken me more by surprise. ‘You think? How confident are you?’

  ‘I don’t know, but when I first heard you talking about Caldicot to Miss Gwatkyn, the name rang a bell, and I’m pretty sure that was the reason.’