Sadie’s birthday warmed Sally’s heart as many people arrived with cards and small gifts for the two-year-old. The critics were silenced; even Milly managed to hand her a card without any unpleasant remark. Mrs Falconer had arranged a party with a few of Sally’s friends and their children invited. Music from the gramophone, party games and much laughter: it was a day to remember, made less than perfect only by the absence of Rhys, Sadie’s father, who hadn’t even sent a card.
A few days later, Sally found an extra job and used the money to place Sadie in a day nursery. It was a wrench to leave her small daughter with strangers each morning but Sadie adapted well, quickly recognizing several of the children she had met in the park.
On the second day Sally greeted her chubby little daughter as she ran from nursery, proudly carrying a painting she had done. Chatting happily. they walked back to their home. On the back porch Sally saw something that made her heart leap. A round pebble she had carried home from the beach some time ago was in the centre of the step. Rhys was here!
She played with Sadie until six o’clock then began getting her ready for bed. Thank goodness she went to sleep without complaint after a bath and story. With Rhys’s imminent arrival, Sally’s thoughts sped back to when they had first met, when everything was going to be perfect. Rhys was planning to train as a teacher and they would be married as soon as his training was completed. It had all gone so terribly wrong when he had been accused of theft.
On the night of his brush with the police, Rhys had been in the recently closed factory intending to pick up some wood for his parents’ fire, something many people were doing as the building was cleared ready for sale. David Gorse, a man he had known from school and had strongly disliked, called him over.
‘Look at this,’ David hissed into the darkness. ‘D’you think it’s valuable?’
Rhys used his torch to see that David held a beautiful silver bowl. Rhys admired it curiously. ‘Georgian so I’m told. Put it down there,’ David instructed. ‘Here’s something even better.’ He opened a sheet of thick brown paper and showed him an oil painting of a young woman.
‘Where did you get that?’ Rhys asked. ‘It’s beautiful.’ He took it and examined it more closely, running his hands over the features of a young woman dressed in Victorian dress nursing a young kitten and with a small dog sitting nearby. He turned it over and began to read the information on the back.
‘Give it back, we have to get out of here,’ David said. Holding the sheet of brown paper, he wrapped it and took it from Rhys without touching it. He picked up the silver bowl with some tissue and ran off into the darkness.
‘Where did you get it?’ Rhys asked, beginning to follow him.
‘Tell you later,’ was the reply.
The following morning the papers reported a theft from a house in a nearby village and the picture was described in detail. The valuation was in five figures and Rhys went to find David, to warn him and demand that he hand it back. ‘You stole it, didn’t you? If you don’t give it back I’ll tell the police that you have it,’ he warned.
‘No, I don’t think you will. Your fingerprints are all over it, see. None of mine, only yours. Explain that to the police, will you? They’ll be on their way to your house any time now. I told them you had it, that you boasted to me about stealing it. Gave them the time of the robbery down to the last minute, I did. Saw you coming out and showing me what you’d taken. Upstanding citizen that I am.’
‘You wouldn’t! They wouldn’t believe you!’
‘I would. In fact I did and they believed me without any hesitation.’
‘Why, David? Why would you do something so despicable?’
‘Because I dislike you and now they think you were responsible for all the robberies and the attack on that stupid man who tried to stop me, they won’t be looking for anyone else, will they? I can enjoy the money I’ve made without a worry.’
‘But I can tell them exactly what happened.’
‘You can try but prison is a nasty place to live. Take a chance on it, will you? Better you get right away. See, I haven’t actually told them yet. But I will. Don’t doubt it. But, sport that I am, I’ll give you till tomorrow to get away.’ As Rhys grabbed at him, David ran off. ‘You’ve got till tomorrow, sad loser!’ Rhys heard his laughter echoed back, mocking him.
He didn’t sleep that night but spent the hours thinking, then packing ready to leave before first light. He wrote a letter to his mother and Sally explaining that he had to go away for a while then after delivering Sally’s, he went back home to pick up his belongings and it was then that he saw the police. He turned and ran across the fields towards Cardiff. He thumbed a lift from three different lorries, making his way gradually in an irregular way towards London and eventually Bristol.
His first action was to get a job. Just part-time in a bar. Sally had agreed to finance him and she promised not to change her mind now the police wanted to talk to him. He’d already been offered a place in a college. It was difficult but he eventually found a place to stay and it was his intention to complete his training before going home and hopefully proving his innocence.
He was convinced that further robberies would take place and that would go a long way to convince the police he was innocent. But to his alarm, he learnt that the theft of the picture and the silver bowl had been the last.
Two weeks after Sadie’s second birthday. Sally was filled with excitement. Two years had passed and he was coming to tell her it was over and he was coming home. They would marry straight away and she’d be able to hold her head high. She took out a dress she had bought, before Sadie had begun to alter her figure, and held it up. It was to have been her wedding dress but she doubted whether it would fit her now. Never mind, she would keep it as a memento. One day she’d make a special dress for Sadie from its generous skirt.
Rhys cut across the fields and, as it was after dark, he entered the back door of the house convinced he hadn’t been seen. David Gorse was walking in the opposite direction on his way to spend an hour at the Farmer’s Arms. He had heard someone approaching and had stayed perfectly still, hidden by the burgeoning bushes of the hedgerow. He almost gasped when he recognized Rhys. So what was he doing in Tre Melin? Not visiting his parents, that’s for sure. Wrong direction completely. Cautiously he followed.
It was hardly a surprise when he saw him entering the house of Mr and Mrs Falconer, the house where Sally lived with her daughter. Rumours had been denied but this confirmed them; Rhys was the father of Sally’s daughter and he was obviously in regular touch.
His first impulse was to go and bring Valmai here to face the son she hadn’t seen for two years. But he changed his mind. There might be a better way of using the information and he still had the picture and the silver bowl bearing Rhys’s fingerprints.
David Gorse was a bitter man. Like many of the people who lived in Tre Melin, he had worked at the furniture factory. When it closed its doors, he and almost fifty others had lost their jobs. Unlike most, David hadn’t found alternative employment. He had been so angry that every attempt to help him had been spurned. He had been a supervisor, no longer working with tools, and he felt that as it was clear he was superior to the rest he couldn’t accept work in a lesser capacity. A manager or nothing was his insistence when anything was offered.
Some found other jobs, some had retired, David passed the days in frustrated idleness. People no longer listened to his complaints, sympathy had been exhausted and now, many avoided him. He was a competent worker and he could have earned money doing small jobs around the area, designing and making items, dealing with small repairs, but he always declined. A small advancement from bench worker to supervisor had ruined his life. He believed his skill working with wood was a lowly one. He was management and not one of the several men who were proud of their skill, and his tools lay neglected in his mother’s garden shed.
Now, he watched as Rhys hid in the shadows until Sally opened the door, two barely visible
shadows in the almost complete darkness of the porch. Then the door opened wider and the light from within revealed the shadows merging as Rhys and Sally hugged before slipping through the door, which closed softly behind them. Envy rose in his throat and he turned away, wondering how best to use this new knowledge.
Rhys hugged Sally, breathing in the sweet scent of her, so longed for, and for so long. With their baby in the bedroom, they made themselves comfortable in the overcrowded living room and spent a blissful hour.
‘I long for the day when we can be together – no more snatched moments and painful partings,’ Rhys sighed.
‘We will. Surely the police must have given up? The trouble is there haven’t been any more burglaries since you left. Running away like you did convinced them they were down to you. But you’ll have completed your course soon and then you can come home and face up to any accusations. Only a few more months,’ she said.
Rhys hadn’t told Sally of the false evidence held by David Gorse; he didn’t want to worry her further or risk her telling someone. ‘I still think it might have been Keith Waterstone,’ he said. ‘The Waterstones were an unpleasant bunch.’
‘He is the most likely. Didn’t you say he was a thief when you were at school? The Waterstones have moved away, new people are moving in and the police will never question him now.’
‘I wonder whether a new spate of burglaries has happened where they now live?’
‘I’ll try to find out,’ she promised. Then she added, ‘Rhys, can’t you tell me when you’ll be coming home? It must be soon and I want to count the days on the calendar like a child at Christmas.’
‘I’m not sure yet, but as soon as I know I’ll come and tell you and we can celebrate.’ She was disappointed but not alarmed. He had to complete his course and perhaps wait for the results of the finals.
They peeped down at their sleeping daughter, on her back, arms relaxed on the pillow behind her head, her face rosy in the warmth of the small room. In whispers they shared news of the weeks they’d been apart. Rhys left before dawn and slept for a few hours in the old watermill where he had played wild and innocent games as a boy, remembering some as he crept in, and later out, of the old building just as he had during an imaginary adventure with homemade bows and arrows.
Sally lay reliving the past few hours, committing them to memory to replay them from time to time until Rhys came again. It wasn’t until much later that she realized, with a surge of alarm, that they hadn’t taken precautions.
‘I was thinking,’ Gwilym said one morning. ‘If we can set up a bench in the shed I could start making children’s toys. Eric was telling me that wooden trains and wheelbarrows and pull-along toys are still popular even though lots are now made with plastic.’
‘Wheels come off, see,’ Valmai said. ‘Plastic and metal bits don’t stay together. Wheeled wooden toys to sit on, trucks and tractors and trains will always be favoured by boys. We still have a few you made for Rhys! You could copy them for a start.’ She tried not to sound too excited but this was the first time he had even considered trying to work and if she could get someone to help her clear the shed and fix up a bench she’d get it ready in a very short time.
‘What about electricity?’ she asked casually. ‘A fire for a bit of warmth and you’ll need some light, for definite, and maybe a few more tools.’
‘Steady on, love. It’s only an idea!’
‘I know. And it’ll be expensive, but there’s no harm in asking a few people. Eric’ll help clear the shed.’ She laughed deprecatingly. ‘I admit that would be a good idea even if you don’t open your own factory! It could do with a good sorting.’
On her way to work she dropped a note in to Eric, asking if he’d help, and the electrician who did work at the hotel agreed to come and look at what they would need. Their next-door neighbours Netta and Walter promised some muscle and by the time she returned home she had more or less dealt with everything.
‘Muscle and a bit of electricity, that’s all it’ll take,’ she said, her eyes sparking with excitement.
‘A whirlwind you are, Valmai Martin. I wish I hadn’t said anything!’ But his eyes were glowing too.
Amy Seaton-Jones and Rick Perry were cleaning up after the latest workman had left. They had knocked down a wall between a bathroom and lavatory, creating one large complete bathroom. The rubble had been removed under Amy’s imperious instructions but the walls had not yet been repaired and dust was thick over the whole house. Rick was trying to lay the dust on the floorboards with wet sawdust and a large brush. Amy was preparing to scrub the kitchen floor.
‘I don’t see why we have to clear up this thoroughly every night, Amy dear. Surely it’s pointless to scrub floors when they’ll be back to do some more bashing in about fourteen hours? Then there’ll be cementing, then plastering. Tidy up certainly. But washing floors? Might as well wait until they’ve finished and give it a good do, surely?’
‘It’s a matter of standards, Rick darling. Mummy says letting them see how particular we are will remind them to be that much more considerate.’
‘Another thing. They’d be faster if you weren’t hovering around. It’s a small house in a small town, not a palace.’ He smiled, to take away the hint of criticism. ‘I want to see it finished. I’m longing for the time when you work your magic and make this house into our perfect home.’
‘Oh, the magic will come but not before the men have finished their work and every trace of their presence has been removed.’
‘Only a couple of weeks, then I can start on the garden.’
‘Well, there is another slight delay, darling.’
Rick stared at her, a frown increasing the lines around his dark brown eyes. ‘Another delay?’
‘It’s the wardrobe. It’s rather old-fashioned and I thought we could have it taken out and a new one built. We can ask him about the summer house as well while the carpenter’s here. We’ll put it right at the end where we’ll get the most sun. It shouldn’t take long. Only a few more weeks. And while the carpenter is busy I thought we might as well arrange for the garden to be paved and the fish pond installed.’
‘But I thought we’d agreed that the garden was my province? That I could plan it, leave room for some vegetables?’
‘It is, darling. You can do exactly what you want, chose the flowers, everything. But I do need a dry area, I do so hate walking on muddy grass and I’ve always wanted a fish pond. Mummy thinks water in a garden is so peaceful.’
Rick sighed but said nothing. He sometimes wondered why they even pretended to discuss anything as all the decisions were overridden by Amy and her mother.
Amy was at the window when Eric strolled past. ‘Look! There’s that awful tramp again. He walks past slowly just so he can look in the window! We’ll have to have thick net curtains at all the bedrooms and the ground floor.’
In vain Rick protested. ‘He isn’t a tramp and I hate nets. We agreed that we’re far enough away from the road to make them unnecessary.’
‘I agree, darling, but having someone like that dirty tramp wandering around changes things, doesn’t it?’
Rick walked outside and looked at the garden in the light escaping from the kitchen. A fox slipped through the neglected hedge and stared at him. ‘I bet she’ll call it a patio,’ he whispered. ‘And the summer house will be a gazebo.’
The fox walked across the garden and before going through the opposite hedge stopped and stared as though in sympathy. ‘I don’t recommend you visiting once we’re living here,’ he called after the beautiful creature. ‘Amy’s mother wouldn’t approve.’
He was smiling as he went back inside. He was being petty about small things. Once they were married and settled, Amy would run things her own way and her mother’s influence would fade. It was a difficult time with the wedding to arrange and the house to make into their home. He knew just how much Amy depended on her mother both for planning the wedding and the finances. Once he was solely responsible for th
eir living expenses, everything would be perfect.
Chapter Two
SALLY WAS WALKING to the park with Sadie in her pushchair, armed with bread with which to feed the ducks, a favourite activity for the little girl. Amy, the new tenant in what was still called the Waterstones’ house, was coming out of her gate and Sally smiled and greeted her with a remark about the weather.
‘We’re off to feed the ducks, aren’t we, Sadie?’ she said.
Amy gave a stiff smile and was about to walk on, but undeterred, Sally said, ‘Are your alterations to the house nearly finished? When are you and Rick tying the knot? I hope it will be finished in time – so much to do with the wedding to arrange as well as sort out builders.’
‘We have everything in hand,’ Amy replied rather pompously, and this time Sally allowed her to walk on. Pointless trying to befriend her. She was clearly uninterested in getting to know her neighbours. Then she heard a call, and Rick appeared. ‘Hi, how is little Sadie? Two years old, that’s quite an age,’ he said as he approached them. Amy had hurried on and he shrugged apologetically and ran after her.
‘Come on, love,’ he encouraged. ‘If we’re going to live here we have to be polite to our neighbours.’
‘Some of them certainly, darling, but definitely not all.’
Philosophically calm after the attempt to speak to Amy, Sally was convinced that the young woman would eventually come round to accepting the local people. They were friendly and kind and she would soon learn that, whatever Milly Sewell had told her. She walked on to the park, chatting cheerfully to Sadie, trying not to feel hurt. Amy’s attitude must be due to that woman’s gossiping tongue. She wondered why she took such pleasure in upsetting others.
After watching the ducks for a while, Sally went to the bank. It was time to send more money to Rhys. A balance reminded her of how little was left. She wondered whether they would be able to put a deposit down on a house. If he came home soon, got a job, earned a reasonable wage then they might just manage. His two years at college had cost more than they had expected and it still wasn’t over. She folded the statement and hid it in her pocket.
Facing the World Page 3
