She tried to make a connection between a mysterious key and the man who was presumed to be dead and at the bottom of the sea, but she knew too little about him. She visualized him walking across the field and told herself the uneven surface and fear of slipping on the snow could have accounted for his stiff, upright gait, but maybe not. Despite trying to ignore the foolish hope, she still felt certain it had been Ellis Owen and the thought made her heart race.
She wished she hadn’t told Stella and Colin. She couldn’t tell anyone else: it was too fantastic. She half smiled as she imagined Marion’s cynical response and she certainly wouldn’t upset her mother with such a story. There was no one – except Dic; he would at least listen to her. She would ring him, make light of it, pretend to be embarrassed at her own stupidity, and perhaps, just perhaps, he might believe it possible. Hope never dies, she thought sadly. Not even when the only hope is for a miracle.
She hadn’t seen Ken Hardy since their evening at the pictures followed by supper. She had avoided going to the warehouse when Stella went for fresh stock and had been vague when he had telephoned and invited her out. It was early in February when he called at the post office just before one o’clock and invited her to lunch in the café. Instead, making the excuse it was her turn to bring in the coal and logs for the fire, she invited him back to Badgers Brook and made Welsh rarebit – scrambled eggs on toast with the addition of the dry end of their cheese ration.
He was very formal as though afraid of offending her, and went to look at the garden, decorated with a fresh fall of snow, unmarked and shining in the sun.
‘This is a beautiful place, Lowri. You were lucky to find it vacant and waiting for a tenant.’
Offering him some Wellingtons belonging to Bob Jennings who, together with Colin Jones tended the long garden, they walked around and she explained where the various crops would grow, similar to the tour she had been given by Colin in his allotment the day she had seen – thought she had seen – Ellis Owen, a dead man.
He surprised her by recognizing many of the trees, and the birds that fluttered around searching for food and together they filled the various feeding areas she and Kitty regularly tended. She began to relax and enjoy his company; perhaps he wouldn’t be another false friend, and would accept the truth about her father if she should one day explain.
She walked ahead of him, wondering about the time, afraid of being late to re-open, then she suddenly felt a sudden blow on her back. She turned and ducked in time to avoid a second hit. Ken was pelting her with snowballs! She was amazed. Then, as a third whizzed past her head, she bent and gathered a handful and threatened him, arm held back. A fourth reached its mark and she threw hers and joined in with great enthusiasm. An icy shock when one hit her neck was quickly followed by another on her shoulder. Gritting her teeth she pelted him, snow flying through the air leaving a powdery trail from her carelessly made missiles.
It was then that Marion came around the house and stared at them in disbelief. Laughing she scooped up the soft feathering snow and lobbed overarm to each of them in turn. They were so intent on each other they hardly seemed to notice, then as one, they turned and chased her back indoors.
Lowri’s face was rosy with the exercise and laughter and her eyes shone. Ken didn’t remark on how lovely she looked; he had the feeling that compliments wouldn’t sit easily on her, that she would take them as casually meant when he wanted to be believed. Instead, he touched her wet hair and said, ‘I think you’d better change before going back to the shop. You look as though you’ve been swimming!’ Still laughing and puffing from their game, they returned to the house, stamping the snow from their boots.
‘I’ll be late and Stella will worry,’ she said as she looked at him after rubbing her hair dry, and said happily, ‘Fun though, wasn’t it?’
‘The best,’ he agreed, touching her cold cheeks with his hands. Then he looked out at the less than pristine garden and added, ‘This place grabs you and makes you happy, doesn’t it?’
‘You feel that too?’
‘This house and you. Everything you do makes me happy, Lowri.’ He held her close, stared into her eyes for a moment then kissed her. She responded at first but then began to pull away when they were disturbed by a movement at the door. He looked at her and saw an expression in her eyes that concerned him. It hadn’t been disappointment at the interruption, but a relief it had happened and ended their closeness. Had he moved too fast and ruined his chance of something more than friendship?
‘Don’t worry, I’ll bring the coal and sticks in, even though it isn’t my turn,’ Marion said with pretend annoyance, as she came in shrugging off her coat. ‘You go off and leave it all to me.’
Lowri was uneasy and was aware of a feeling of guilt. An image of Dic Morris came into her mind and for some inexplicable reason she felt the fun of the brief interlude draining away. It was as though the fun in the garden would have disappointed him, but why that should be she couldn’t decide. Ken took her back to the post office and when Stella asked if she had been swimming, she burst into tears.
She couldn’t explain. Amid the confusion in her mind were several fears. One being the inevitability of Ken finding out about her father and walking away. Another was mixed up with Dic and the strange feeling that he should have been the one playing and laughing with her in the garden. Why should that be? She gave up trying to work it out and sipped the tea a concerned Stella had made, washed her face, then went to the counter and smiled at the customers.
Ken was waiting to give her a lift home when she left and they went back to Badgers Brook, but he didn’t stay. He guessed that with Marion likely to be there, the evening would lack the magic of that snowy afternoon. He also sensed that Lowri’s mood was more sombre and wondered whether she had regretted the brief show of affection between them. Lowri saw him to the door with an ill-disguised indication of haste, and he kissed her lightly as he left.
The day had unsettled her and without explaining to Marion, Lowri put on her coat and heavy shoes and walked up the dark and slippery lane to the phone box.
‘Dic,’ she said when he answered, ‘I know you’ll think me crazy, but last week I thought I saw Ellis Owen.’ She went on under his questioning to tell him exactly what had happened.
‘I don’t think it’s unusual for people to imagine they’ve seen someone who has died,’ he said unknowingly repeating Colin’s opinion. ‘But it’s usually when they’ve lost someone they love.’
‘So that could be true of me. Through this man, I lost someone I love, my father. And all my friends too. So you’re probably right and I allowed my imagination to run away with me.’
‘That’s the most likely, but what if I come down and we talk about it? What about Sunday?’
‘Sunday will be fine. Bring Sarah-Jane and Katie,’ she added quickly, and wondered why. She liked the little girls and enjoyed their company, but she knew their presence would make serious talk impossible. Talking about her belief that Ellis was alive would reduce her conviction and she needed something to cling to. Was she avoiding facing the truth, that she had so obviously been wrong? Was she just a foolish dreamer, unwilling to face facts? Or worried by spending time alone with Dic, the brotherly man who was stopping her from falling in love with Ken?
Sunday dawned into one of the rare days of sun and mild calm that February sometimes throws up as a welcome interlude in the darkness of winter. The girls were well wrapped and when they arrived soon after eleven o’clock Dic at once suggested a walk, reminding her that the girls loved the woodland.
‘Coffee first,’ Lowri said.
Dic made a few comments about his week, adding quietly, ‘Mum sends her love. She asked me to remind you that whatever has happened, she’s still your Auntie Cathy.’
‘I wish we could all go back to how we were,’ Lowri said with a sigh. ‘But that will never happen. Your mother and father believe my father’s guilty. How can I forget that and call them Auntie Cathy and Uncle Jac
k?’
Dic wanted her to believe his father had changed his mind and was still her Uncle Jack, but he knew she was right to stay away. His father was still angry and if he met Lowri she would sense that in moments. He wanted so badly for them all to be reconciled, but unless his father could be convinced that Jimmy Vaughan wasn’t the thief, it would never happen.
Jack had been working every hour he could to put the ailing business back on its feet and, exhausted and constantly on the edge of disaster, he refused to listen to arguments in Jimmy’s favour. If anything changed, it would only be when Jimmy proved his innocence and there didn’t seem to be the slightest chance of that.
He looked at Lowri, smiling as she listened to the children talking about the story book she’d bought for them as she prepared coffee. Leaving them for a moment, she warned, ‘I haven’t told Marion about seeing Ellis Owen, mind. I can’t face her reminding me that it’s nothing more than wishful thinking. Even if it is.’
‘We’ll talk as we walk through the wood, where we can discuss it freely,’ he assured her.
It wasn’t to be. The sunny promise quickly died away. The day became dark and overcast, the clouds lowered threateningly and soon precipitated into heavy rain.
Lowri stood looking down the garden as the milder temperature and the rain ruined the beauty of the once white garden. She smiled as she remembered the snowball fight, the unexpected companionship and fun of that brief interlude.
Then Marion called from upstairs, ‘You’ll have to cancel your walk, mind. It’s pelting with rain. And a good thing too, it’ll get rid of this messy snow.’
For Lowri the memory was suddenly destroyed, just as the rain was ruining the once beautiful white world beyond the window.
They played games with Sarah-Jane and Katie and only in whispered snatches discussed the figure Lowri had seen walking across the field that day.
‘If you’d told me at once, I might have followed his footprints in the snow and found out where he had gone.’
‘How could I? It was too fanciful to be believed. Besides, I climbed into the field and followed as far as the road, from where the snow had been cleared by traffic. I was mistaken. How could I have seen Ellis Owen? He’s dead. Drowned in a storm.’
‘Stranger things have happened,’ he said, squeezing her hand reassuringly. ‘If it happens again, ring me at once.’
‘Unlikely. The man I saw was probably hurrying because he was a poacher, walking stiffly because he had parts of his gun down his trousers!’
‘Something else our Ellis Owen used to do,’ he told her. ‘A real outdoor man he was.’
*
Betty re-read the letter with growing dismay. A group of ramblers was coming through Cwm Derw the following day and would like her to provide a snack lunch for eight people. This was something she often did and something she enjoyed. She put on her coat and went to find ‘Willing-But-Won’t’. He wasn’t too reliable and she would need him there if she were to cope with the extra eight people wanting food.
He was still casually dressed and looked as though he wasn’t long out of bed. His mother fussed and promised he wouldn’t be late and assured her he would be there early on the following day. As Betty walked away, she laughed as she heard the mother’s voice raised as she warned her son what would happen if he lost his job. ‘As soon as I can find someone better that’s exactly what will happen!’ she muttered aloud.
‘Talking to yourself?’ Gwennie Flint came out of a shop and stood in front of her friend.
‘Walkers coming tomorrow expecting lunch. I’ve been trying to persuade “Willing-But-Won’t” that it’s a good idea to get there on time.’
‘Food isn’t a problem, is it?’
‘No, but I need a barman who knows what he’s doing and at least pretends to enjoy it.’
‘You wouldn’t give my Maldwyn a try I suppose?’
‘Gwennie, you’re my friend but your Maldwyn isn’t, well…’
‘Isn’t fond of work?’ Gwennie finished with a sigh.
‘I’ll keep him in mind if I’m stuck, I promise,’ Betty said hurrying back to The Ship.
Lowri called in to The Ship the following evening with vegetables from Kitty and Bob and was surprised to see the bar full of strangers.
‘Came for lunch they did but they didn’t leave,’ Betty explained. ‘They’ve booked in to my brother’s bed and breakfast for the night. They walked through the wood and as far as the cliffs and now they’re back and challenging the locals to a game of darts. See who’s struggling to finish on a double?’
‘Ken?’ Lowri called. She watched as he threw the dart into double seven then went to congratulate him.
All plans to return to Badgers Brook were forgotten and she joined the group and tried her hand at darts, joined in a singsong as the mood became more maudlin and the evening ended with the ramblers shaking hands with everyone and promising to come back soon.
Ken drove her home and she felt happiness like fizzy bubbles inside her. Ken always created fun out of ordinary things. It wasn’t until much later, as she described the evening to Marion, that she wished Dic had been there to enjoy it too.
*
Dic, encouraged by Lowri’s vision of Ellis, went to Swansea and around the bay to Mumbles a few days later and spoke to several local fishermen, gathering information about the tides. He was told that a body going into the water at high tide at the place where Ellis Owen had disappeared, could have been taken almost anywhere along the coast. It could have drifted around the headland as far as Bracelet Bay or even further, to where the sandbanks known as the Mixen sands were situated. One coast guard told him a body could have been taken across the channel to the coast of Devon!
He walked along the beach as far as he could, then along the road where it cut through the rocks and down to the pier. He continued past Bracelet Bay with its view of Mumbles Rocks and the lighthouse, past the smaller bay of Limeslade to the beginning of the coastal path to Langland. He looked out to sea where, now the tide was low, he could make out the slight disturbance that revealed the Mixens.
On rare occasions, when a very low tide and calm seas allowed, the Mixen sands were revealed, and Dic had been shown photographs of a group of people sitting in deckchairs apparently picnicking in the middle of the sea on the temporary dry bank. A boat had been standing by, but out of shot, so not to spoil the amusing picture.
There was no chance of Ellis being saved by the Mixens on the day he had purportedly drowned. The sea had been wild and conditions had offered no escape.
His only chance would have been if he had been carried out by the tide and currents and miraculously found himself against the rocks without being hurt and had been able to clamber to safety. Or had been washed against an anchored boat. But there were few boats in the bay on that day; the owners had taken them in for safety having been warned of the storm to come. Only crafts belonging to foolhardy owners, who lived a long way off and had decided to take their chances, were left bobbing on the angry waves, two of them wrecked against the sea wall. If he had miraculously survived, where was he? Surely he’d have returned to his wife?
He had to be dead and Lowri mistaken in her sighting of him. Common sense told him that, but Lowri was not yet ready to face that irrevocable fact, and he would carry on nurturing that seed of desperate hope until she was.
*
Since the snowball fight and the evening at The Ship, Lowri and Ken gradually began to see more of each other and he became a regular visitor to Badgers Brook. During the dark weeks of the year they walked in the wood or called to see Kitty and Bob, where he would ask interested questions about the garden, and was eventually invited to visit Stella and Colin’s ‘country cottage’.
The snow was gone and the fields and allotments looked drab with dead foliage and moist debris, yet the day had a beauty of its own. Seen closer, the trees were already showing promise of spring. There were small catkins on the hazel and birch trees, and the deep green of
the evergreens and the startlingly lovely gold of the willows had come into their own.
Ken and Colin even spotted a few bright primroses in sheltered places, and below the hedges there were the unfolding leaves of wild garlic which was gradually forcing out the once widely spread bluebells. Seeing it with Ken taught her to look more closely and to listen to the sound as well as the sight of the birds flying around, anxiously searching for food in the few hours of daylight.
The afternoon, looking at familiar things Ken’s observant eyes pointed out, was enjoyable and the almost constant thoughts of Dic’s disapproval faded. Sharing the tea Stella provided in her country cottage made her feel like part of a couple and the hour passed pleasantly.
Before they left, she couldn’t resist walking down and looking over the wet, leafless hawthorn hedge into the field beyond. The snow was gone and the field was empty. She foolishly willed the man to reappear so she could accept he was a stranger and put aside her foolish dream.
One day soon she would have to tell Ken about her father. She was looking forward to their meetings more and more and was afraid that by saying one brief sentence: ‘my father’s in prison’ they would end. No explanation would be given, just the fading away of their friendship, the lack of invitations and plans. Despite the wonderful afternoon, and the way he looked at her as he tucked her arm in his, she was saddened, aware of the inevitable end of it all.
‘Tell him, and the sooner the better,’ was Marion’s advice.
‘Perhaps a couple more weeks,’ Lowri said. ‘It’s been such fun, having Ken to go out with after all the years I’ve been alone.’
False Friends Page 7
