by G. M. Dobbs
‘How do you think he’ll be able tell?’ Maud asked as they walked up the garden path.
‘What?’
‘That the frogspawn came from a particular kind of frog?’
Granny thought about that for a moment, her hand paused on the handle of her front door.
‘I expect he’s got chemicals and stuff that does that,’ she said.
‘Frog identifying chemicals?’
‘Why not?’ Granny left the question hang in the air as she opened the door and went inside.
Maud considered that for a moment and then shrugged her shoulders.
‘It’s amazing what they can do these days,’ she said and followed her best friend into the house.
Lemmy was stretched out on the windowsill and Granny tickled the back of the cat’s ear as she filled the kettle. Next she went to the radio and switched it on, tuning it to a classic rock station. Nilsson’s Everybody’s Talking came on mid-song and Granny hummed along with the tune.
There was a note pinned to corkboard above the cooker. Granny leaned over the cooker to read it. It was from Gerald and explained that he had driven back to Burnham to meet up with Wayne. He would, the note explained, be home as originally scheduled. He once again apologised for returning home unannounced and then signed the note, “Gerald, the blushing bride.”
Granny frowned.
‘Our Gerald’s said he’s gay,’ she said as she made the tea.
Maud nodded, knowingly.
‘There’s a lot of it about,’ she said.
Tea done, Granny handed Maud a mug and they both sat at the kitchen table.
‘Used to call it the love that dare not speak its name,’ Granny said. ‘Now they won’t bloody shut up about it.’
‘Remember Timmy?’ Maud asked.
Granny looked at her, puzzled.
‘Timmy?’
‘Yes you remember him. His father, oh you know, whatsisname, used to run the thingy?’
‘What thingy?
‘Oh you know the thingy,’ Maud did a little shadow boxing to explain what she meant.
‘The boxing club?’
‘That’s it, ‘Maud said. ‘Couldn’t think of it then.’
Granny nodded, puffing harder on her pipe. She did indeed remember little Timmy.
‘Didn’t they move away years back?’ Granny asked. ‘Liverpool, I think they went.’
Maud nodded.
‘Well,’ she went on. ‘I bumped into his grandmother last week and we got to talking and she told me Little Timmy had gotten married a few months back. Married to another man.’
‘Another man?’
‘Yes,’ Maud again nodded. ‘Timmy met him through work. Apparently they work together in some exclusive hairdressers. A gay wedding, would never have heard of the like back in our day but as long as they are happy.’
That’s the important thing,’ Granny said and although she was still reeling from Gerald’s admission the previous night, she was starting to get a little excited by the prospect of a wedding in the family.
‘I think it’s lovely,’ Maud said and took a sip of her tea.
‘Yes,’ Granny took several thoughtful puffs on her pipe before: ‘Well get your glad rags ready because our Gerald’s the next one to get hitched. Maud we’re going to organise the biggest gay wedding in the village.’
‘That’s nice,’ Maud said.
‘All the same,’ Granny said with a twinge of sadness. ‘I’m going to miss our Gerald.’
‘Don’t think of it as losing a son,’ Maud said. ‘Think of it as, -‘
‘Gaining a son,’ Granny said and both women broke into laughter.
‘That was a strange thing,’ Maud said after a moment or two of silence.
Granny looked at her old friend, not having the faintest idea what she was talking about. This wasn’t unusual and conversations between the two women were apt to go off on various tangents.
‘Mark attacking Tudor Lewis like that,’ Maud made her meaning clear. ‘I wonder what that was about?’
Granny nodded. She had sensed some animosity between the men, but she hadn’t really been taking that much notice until Mark had gone berserk. She filled her pipe and brought a match to the bowl, puffing it to life.
‘Mark’s always had a temper,’ Granny said, finally. ‘It’s never taken much to set that one off.’
‘Do you think they’ll charge him?’ Maud asked.
‘Mark,’ Granny thought for a moment. ‘It’ll be his own fault if they do. There we are trying to save the frogs and he’s scrapping in the pond.’
‘They may charge them both,’ Maud said. ‘Least that’s what Twice said.’
‘You can’t listen to anything Dai says. Couldn’t tell his arse from his elbow, that one.’
Maud nodded and once again silence fell between the two women.
Seven
It could have been worse, Mark supposed as he walked into the pub.
He had been lucky to get off with a caution. After all Tudor Lewis was a powerful man, and would have a string of lawyers at his command. There was also the fact that Mark already had a police record while Tudor Lewis, as far as Mark knew, would appear squeaky clean.
His sort always did.
Mark leaned against the bar and looked around. There weren’t that many people in this evening, which was to be expected on a weeknight but he did notice Sue and Amy sitting at a corner table. It surprised him that they were alone since most nights would find Mansall and Carol with them. It looked odd with just the two of them sitting there.
‘What’ll you have?’
Mark turned and saw Trevor, the landlord, had suddenly appeared behind the bar.
‘A pint,’ Mark said and gave Amy and Sue a wave while he waited for Trevor to pull his drink. The two women waved back, though they didn’t look pleased to see him.
Mark wondered if he was being over sensitive. However he couldn’t shake the feeling that the two women were not happy he had turned up. He wondered if Carol had told them anything about the previous night, but he couldn’t see what she could really say that would cast him in a bad light. And besides there was no real reason for Carol to say anything. It would be far better to keep it a secret especially if she had decided that their little fling had been a mistake, which was what Mark now suspected. After all it was she who had been all over him one moment and seemingly repulsed by him the next. It had been she who had invited him to share her bed and then kicked him out a few hours later. If there was an aggrieved party in this situation then Mark felt that it most definitely wasn’t Carol.
If she had been rubbishing him to Sue and Amy then he would most certainly put them right.
He took his drink over to them.
‘Mind if I join you?’ he asked.
Both women nodded, but Mark again had the feeling that he wasn’t wanted.
‘What happened with the police?’ Sue asked. ‘The police questioned us all.’
Mark smiled.
‘And I bet you all told them I attacked Lewis,’ he said.
‘We had no choice,’ Amy went on the defensive. ‘It was Councillor Pipe who phoned the police and he wasn’t slow in coming forward, nor were his colleagues. At least we were able to say that we felt Tudor Lewis provoked you into attacking him.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Mark said. ‘I didn’t mean to suggest anything untoward. It’s been a long day and I’m a little edgy.’
‘It’s understandable,’ Sue smiled. ‘So did the police charge you?’
‘No,’ Mark shook his head. ‘I was cautioned that’s all.’
‘Well that’s something then,’ Sue said and Amy nodded in agreement. ‘It could have been worse.’
Mark took a sip of his drink and then told them the story.
He’d been arrested of course, along with Tudor Lewis, that much they already knew. The rest was that as soon as they’d arrived at the police station both men had been processed – their fingerprints and DNA swabs had been taken; t
hey’d been entered into the station files and once again had their rights read to them. Finally their shoelaces, belts and cigarette lighters have been taken before they were thrown into a cell to await a doctor. They had to be examined for injuries before they could be interviewed, the police had explained. The doctor also needed to establish that they were mentally sound and that neither of them was under the influence of any substances, - drink, drugs or, increasingly so these days a constable had explained with a chuckle, plant food.
After that both men had been interviewed.
At least, Mark told them, he assumed that’s what had happened to Tudor Lewis since they had been kept separate once they’d arrived at the station. He told Sue and Amy that he hadn’t actually seen Lewis since they had both been pulled from the back of the police van.
‘That must have been awful,’ Sue said, reaching across the table and giving Mark a sympathetic pat on one of his hands. ‘I was arrested a couple of times when I was a student. Nothing heavy, just one protest march or another but I know how the police can be.’
‘Fascists,’ Amy agreed, remembering her own days at Greenham Common. That was where she had first met Sue and Amy had pleasant memories of their time spent together at the camp campaigning against nuclear weapons.
‘It’s a paradox,’ Sue said. ‘That in a country that claims to believe in peaceful protest, where the option of protest is the lawful right of each and every individual, that they seem to beat you for doing so.’
‘It wasn’t the protest,’ Mark said and shrugged his shoulders. ‘To be honest I did attack Tudor Lewis and I wasn’t beaten. Bored and humiliated yes, but not beaten.’
‘No,’ Sue said. ‘Of course not but you know what I mean.’
Mark nodded.
He knew what she meant.
He went onto explain that he had feared being charged with assault, that he’d been convinced that would be the outcome of his day spent in police custody. Instead though they’d interviewed him twice and then led him back to a cell, before returning a couple of hours later, cautioning him and releasing him without charge.
‘I guess Tudor Lewis didn’t want to press charges,’ Mark concluded.
‘Lewis doesn’t seem like the sort of man to let things go so easily,’ Sue said. ‘His sort usually insist on charges being brought.’
Mark had to agree with that assessment of the man, but he supposed it had something to do with Tudor Lewis not wanting to bring any more attention to his intended development of Graig Meadow.
‘That’s likely the reason,’ Amy agreed. ‘If you were charged then the local newspaper would have run the story, brought more attention to the situation. Tudor Lewis wouldn’t want that.’
‘Amy’s right,’ Sue said.
Amy smiled at Sue but the other woman looked away.
‘You faced getting locked up for our cause,’ Sue said. ‘ So you’re very much a hero.’
‘I hardly think so,’ Mark said, modestly. In truth he was a little flattered by the suggestion, but he knew that the reason he had attacked Tudor Lewis was nothing to do with any noble cause. It had been the fact that Tudor Lewis had mentioned remembering his brother that had pushed Mark into such a fury. He knew from the way Lewis had said it that he had been mocking him, laughing at something that was still an open wound. Mark didn’t like to think about it and he took a mouthful of his beer and shrugged his shoulders.
‘So what was the result of the day?’ Mark asked. ‘Did our frog expert verify that there were lesser crested frogs in the pond?’
‘We’re still waiting to find out,’ Sue said. ‘Purser promised to let Granny know the results of the tests on the frogspawn and she promised to ring us all as soon as she hears anything.’
‘Where are the others?’ Mark asked after a few minutes of silence. Once more he felt awkward sitting here between the two women, as if he was intruding upon something that was private.
There was a look shared between Sue and Amy that Mark picked up on but couldn’t understand.
‘Mansall’s coming in later,’ Sue said. ‘We’ve not seen Carol since this afternoon. Expect she’ll be along soon.’
‘She usually is,’ Amy said, glumly and again Mark had the curious feeling that he was missing something.
‘Right,’ Mark said and drained his pint. He motioned for the girls to do likewise and once they did so he took the three glasses back to the bar for a refill.
Two hours and several drinks later and still none of the others had showed up. Mansall had called Amy’s mobile and informed them that he wasn’t feeling his best, suspected he had a cold coming on after his soaking, and was going to have an early night. Carol though hadn’t put in an appearance, which was unusual since she was here with them most every night.
Mark’s mood blackened as he once again thought of Carol and what had happened between them the previous night. He looked at Sue and Amy in turn, wondering if Carol had spoken to either of them about it. He was sure she must have which would explain the feeling he had that there was something going on here that he was excluded from.
‘What did she say then?’ Mark blurted the question out.
Sue and Amy both looked at him, neither of them having any idea to whom he was referring.
‘Carol,’ Mark prompted. ‘What did she tell you?’
‘About what?’ Amy asked.
Maybe they don’t know after all, Mark thought. Maybe Carol was too ashamed to say anything, ashamed that she’d gone with him. Well fuck her, Mark leaned across the table and told Sue and Amy exactly what had happened between Carol and himself, ending by telling them that he could kill her after the way she had treated him.
As things turned out Mark would regret saying that.
Carol was at a loss, didn’t quite know what to do with herself, but she had no desire to visit the Bullock’s Pride as she did most every night. Not if it meant there was a chance of seeing Mark. Of course she knew that she would eventually have to face him but it was too soon. Maybe in a day or two.
What’s the matter with me, she thought. She’d lived in the village for less than a year now and already she had slept with two of her close circle of friends.
It had been Sue a couple of months ago. One drunken night had turned into a lesbian affair that had lasted several weeks. At first it had excited her, being with another woman but eventually she had grown bored and lost all desire for Sue. The affair had never been public knowledge, and still remained a secret. Carol was grateful of that, as she didn’t really consider herself a lesbian and felt that she had merely been experimenting, trying to find some way of finally satisfying her sexual needs and discovering that this wasn’t it. The affair had ended quietly which was pretty much how it had started and although it had been awkward interacting with Sue for some time afterwards, Carol felt that they had finally moved on and that they could be friends.
There were times however when she noticed something in the way Sue looked at her. As if there was a longing in the other woman’s eyes, but those occasions were becoming less and less and Carol was starting to once again feel comfortable around Sue. She didn’t think any of the others in their action group had any inkling of the brief romantic period she and Sue had shared and that pleased her. She didn’t want anyone else to know.
It had been a mistake, nothing more.
Mistakes were better off forgotten and moved on from.
And now she had gone and slept with Mark.
Yet another bloody mistake.
Stupid bitch, Carol chided herself. Haven’t you learned anything?
Carol suddenly felt claustrophobic. She needed to get out of the flat but she had no idea where to go seeing as how the Bully was temporarily out of bounds.
She decided to go for a walk around the village. The night air would help to clear her head, allow her to think more clearly. The weather had been mild lately and was starting to warm up as the spring quickly moved towards summer. Nevertheless the night could still carry a chill
and so Carol threw on a thick coat before leaving the flat.
Once outside she headed along Cambrian Avenue but took a left before she reached the Bully, which took her down Elm Street and onto the old railway line. The old railway tracks had long gone but some of the original wooden sleepers could still be seen in the ground, grass and weeds sprouting though the wood which had been broken down with the passage of time. Carol stepped from one to the other as she made her way towards the upper end of the valley.
Carol figured she’s walk right around the village, following the old railway line up the valley and then crossing the meadow, to come down into the village over the Rhiw. It would take a couple of hours and she hoped that by the time she returned to the flat she would be able to fall straight to sleep. And besides she liked walking, found she could think clearly while doing so.
Carol felt her spirits lift as she walked, not realising that this would be the last walk she would ever take.
Eight
‘Wrong type of frogs,’ Granny said and put the phone down. ‘ The frogs on Graig Meadow are just common frogs.’
‘Is he sure?’
Granny looked at Maud. The telephone call from Dr Purser had finally come through, and Granny had just spent ten minutes chatting to the herpetologist. The frogspawn collected from the pond had belonged to common frogs and as the lesser-crested variety would never share a spawning ground with common frogs it meant that there was no reason to stop the Tudor development from going ahead.
‘He positive,’ she said. ‘No doubt whatsoever.’
‘That’s terrible news,’ Maud creased her face in thought and added: ‘I think.’
Arthur, who was fast asleep in his chair, belched and then slapped his lips together a few times before once again falling silent.
‘Purser said he’s going to write to the council and make a recommendation that the frogs in the pond are allowed to complete their breeding cycle before the pond is destroyed,’ Granny went on. ‘He’s hoping that the section of the development that concerns the immediate area surrounding the pond is left until the final stages. He says the frogs will then move on and find somewhere else to spawn next year.’
