False Friends

by False Friends (retail) (epub)

  ‘From now on, you tell me everything – your hopes and worries. We share it all. Right?’ She reached up and touched his cold cheek with her lips. ‘Every little thing.’

  ‘In fact,’ he added as they opened the door, ‘you can begin by telling me what’s been on your mind these past few days. Marion is worried about you. She’s afraid you’re thinking too much about your father’s reprieve and not enough about your own needs.’

  It was as though a shutter had descended, shutting off the wonderful afternoon and its promise of a happy times ahead, leaving her alone in a cold, dark place. ‘There’s nothing that worries me,’ she said, trying to speak calmly. ‘The only worry I have is whether I ordered too many winter socks for the shop, with summer around the corner.’

  ‘Good,’ he said, kissing her as he helped her off with her coat.

  The kiss felt different: casual, lacking the excitement of the earlier moments and she was overwhelmed by sadness. His increased affection had been a ploy. He wanted her confidence, so she would tell him when she had discovered something new to help her father’s case. Then he could discard it, laugh at it, and make her see how impossible her dream of a miracle really was. Love was on his terms and to accept it, she had to forget her father, or at least forget her hope of his reprieve. She couldn’t pretend he no longer existed, not even for Ken. Was Marion right? Was she becoming dangerously obsessive to the detriment of friendships? Would she grow old alone and friendless because of her determination to prove her father was innocent?

  When Ken left she walked with him to the gate and was partially reassured by the strength of his arms and the tenderness of his kiss. Should she refuse a chance of happiness? Ken had made it clear that he wanted to forget Jimmy Vaughan, but could she do the same? Avoid mentioning him when Ken was near? She watched as the car disappeared along the lane and knew she could not.

  *

  Betty Connors was angry. The delivery was due and ‘Willing-But-Won’t’ had worked his notice and the new bar assistant had changed his mind and wasn’t coming in. She had asked her brother Ed to help sort out the heavy boxes and set up a new barrel for the beer to settle, but he had just sent a note with a local boy to say his wife was ill and he couldn’t come.

  No one was able to help her and she foresaw several such incidents in the future. She really had to get a reliable assistant. She looked up and down the road, thinking of the many families that lived close enough to use the place as their local and thought there had to be someone who would do the job, but house by house as she went through the various families, she couldn’t think of a solitary soul.

  The draymen did what they could and took the stock into the cellar through the double doors set in the ground outside, but the cellar needed rearranging and she set to with a regular glance at the clock. She would never finish by opening time. In her haste she was careless as she carried a box up the stairs into the bar and the edge of it caught on a stair and she fell. Walking upwards, she should have been all right but her foot slipped on the stair and she fell down and down until she landed at the bottom, with her leg across the lowest step taking the weight of her body. The box was on top of her and she managed to move it, but was aware of a pain in her arm as well an excruciating pain in her leg.

  She lay there for a moment, recovering, then tried to get up. It was no use, she would need help. The old clock on the cellar wall told her it was ten thirty. No one was likely to look for her for an hour and a half. She called a few times, accepted the futility of it and rested. She tried to take her weight off her leg but each time the pain stopped her moving.

  Alun Harris was delivering a boat for a customer and at Cwm Derw he stopped and got out to walk around and perhaps find a café. He parked near The Ship and walked over, knowing it was too early, but seeing the door open wondered if the landlord could tell him of a café nearby.

  The bar was empty and he went to where the doors to the cellar were wide open and called, ‘Anyone home?’

  ‘Down here, come quick, I need some help,’ Betty called back. A few more words and Alun went down to find Betty sweating and obviously in pain.

  ‘Telephone first,’ he said, and following her directions, used the phone in her sitting room to call an ambulance. Then he went back to see how he could help.

  On first seeing the huge man leaning over her, white teeth exposed in a smile within the thick beard, Betty had wanted to scream, but the man’s eyes, remarkably blue, and his voice was so calming that she quickly changed her mind.

  ‘I don’t think I should move anything until the experts come,’ he said, covering her with his coat. ‘I’m afraid of doing damage if your leg is broken.’

  ‘Oh, don’t say that,’ she wailed. ‘I’m opening up in less than an hour.’

  Alun didn’t think so but he declined to reply. He bathed her face with cool water and talked to her while they waited for the ambulance men, who, when they arrived, lifted her carefully on to a stretcher and took her to hospital.

  She handed the keys to Alun and said, ‘Lock up, will you? And tell Ed what’s happened. We’ll need a new barrel, so will you ask him to do that, too?’ She told him where to find the guest house. ‘Thanks,’ she said, ‘whoever you are.’

  ‘I’m Alun, glad I could help,’ he told her with a smile. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll see everything is secure before I leave.’

  He found the guest house behind the post office, but Betty’s brother Ed was unable to help. ‘I’ll open up this evening, but I have guests to see to and my wife is ill,’ he explained.

  ‘What d’you want me to do?’ Alun asked.

  ‘Just lock the pub and put a notice on the door,’ Ed advised.

  When Alun returned to the place there were several people waiting. After a moment’s hesitation, Alun went inside, phoned Jake to explain the delay on the delivery of the boat and opened the bar. In a brief lull, he opened the new barrel. He found the brass tap and the bung-starter easily. He tapped the bung through into the barrel and fixed the tap in place. Then he drilled the spile in the top of the barrel, the place through which it had been filled, and it was ready to go.

  Everyone wanted to know, ‘Where’s Betty?’ and ‘Who are you?’ and he amiably answered their questions and promised that her brother Ed would know more when he came in later.

  He phoned the hospital before he left and was assured that the leg wasn’t broken as he had feared.

  Betty came home the following day to find her brother there. He showed her the takings from the previous day’s lunchtime session carefully written out, the money in a bank bag in the till.

  She had to rest for a few days but fortunately there was no serious damage. No one knew who Alun was so she couldn’t even thank him.

  *

  Dic hadn’t seen Lowri for a while and knew he should, but he was busy building up his stock of sculptures and gifts ready for the busier months ahead. The work was meticulous and slow and he had to put everything else out of his mind and concentrate wholly on what he was creating.

  There were few tourists who found Cwm Derw and most of those were walkers and cyclists, who were notoriously unwilling to spend on unnecessary purchases, but Dic’s shop, near the popular seaside resort of Barry, attracted them in large numbers. He needed to offer a variety of attractive gifts of all prices and appeal if he wanted to earn enough to keep him through the winter months. He’d been busy with commissions too, mostly plaques for various sports organizations, ready for their prize-giving. Between all this work, there was little time to drive to Cwm Derw.

  There were a few pieces that had been on his shelves for too long and he decided to take a stall at the Maes Hir market and sell them cheaply. He wondered whether Lowri would like to go with him and help. He decided against taking three-year-old Katie, knowing she would soon become bored, and arranged with his ever willing parents to look after her. He telephoned the post office in Cwm Derw just before lunch and invited Lowri, who enthusiastically agreed.

&n
bsp; Although Wednesday was half-day closing for both of them, Dic decided to close the shop in the morning, and on hearing this, Stella told Lowri she would give her the morning off too. So it was soon after eight when Dic set off for Cwm Derw, leaving the girls with his mother who would take Sarah-Jane to school and look after Katie.

  The prospect of a day out was a good one. He rarely went far and hadn’t had a holiday since the birth of Sarah-Jane. As he passed the warehouse, he saw Ken parking his car and waved, but didn’t stop.

  Ken watched as the car headed on its way towards Cwm Derw and wondered if that was Dic’s destination. Then he shrugged, remembering that Lowri would be at work until one o’clock so he had no need to feel alarm. As Marion, he was worried about the closeness between Lowri and Dic Morris, and thought it strange in the circumstances. How could she even be pleasant to the man who had led the police investigation to her father? Perhaps because he was the only one who didn’t coax her to give up hope? Marion was right, Dic was the one who encouraged her to – what was it? – drag the tragedy with her like a loose anchor.

  If he and Lowri became a couple, could he forget the man condemned to prison for fraud? He admitted the most serious worry was the unproven suspicion of murder. The sensible thing would be to end it now, before one or other of them was hurt. He had reluctantly decided to do what Marion had asked, but his feelings for Lowri were real and it didn’t feel right to play with her feelings even if that did make him sound vain. ‘Damn Jimmy Vaughan and his greed and temper,’ he said aloud.

  On impulse, he telephoned the post office in Cwm Derw and was alarmed to hear that Lowri was not there.

  ‘Gone to Maes Hir she has, with Dic Morris. He’s got some old stock to sell at the market and thought she’d enjoy a day out,’ Stella explained.

  ‘It isn’t urgent,’ Ken said casually. ‘My parents wondered if she’d like to come for dinner on Sunday. I’ll ring again tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll tell her and she’ll probably ring you,’ Stella said. ‘There’s glad I am that she’s making a few friends. Terrible thing to deal with, her father and all that.’

  ‘She’s coping,’ he replied, and rang off. It seemed unlikely he’d be able to forget Jimmy Vaughan while the name cropped up in even the most casual conversations. She’s coping, he had said, but the question was, would he?

  The market at Maes Hir, being out of doors, was dependent on good weather to attract the largest crowds, and today the sky was overcast with the threat of rain. But with the temptation of fresh produce, as well as stalls selling china, pots and pans, kitchen equipment and farm implements, there were always plenty of regular customers. As they began to set out their display, every stall was hedged around by prospective buyers.

  Greetings were called from one stall to another and people shouted across to report any bargains they had found. Laughter and reminiscences, the unexpected appearance of friends and the temptation of the tea stall and improvised cafe set up in a tent, mean the hubbub of noise was loud and the atmosphere pleasant.

  Dic sold about half of his offerings in the first hour and as the interest flagged, Lowri was free to walk around the rest of the market and make a few purchases of her own. Nothing exciting, but rooted clumps of Welsh onions, the everlasting supply of small salad onions, were popped into her bag, knowing Bob and Colin needed more. A freshly baked loaf and a few off-ration duck eggs, and last of all a couple of meat and potato pies for her and Dic to enjoy for lunch. When she returned to the stall he was serving Ken.

  ‘Ken? What are you doing here?’ She raised her face to receive his kiss, although slightly embarrassed by the presence of Dic.

  ‘I phoned the post office to ask if you’d like to come to Sunday dinner and meet the family. Stella told me where you were. It wasn’t far out of my route so here I am.’

  She didn’t know what to say, with Dic watching her she was unable to respond to the invitation, although she wasn’t sure why. So, rather foolishly, she said, ‘Wait there, I’ve bought pies for our lunch, I’ll go and get another.’

  ‘Don’t,’ Ken laughed. ‘I can do better than a pie! Come to the tea tent and see what they have to offer, they must have something more interesting. You as well, Dic?’ he asked as an afterthought.

  ‘No thanks. I’d better stay and sell off the last of these.’ He gestured towards the few remaining carvings, the more expensive, which had been admired but had not tempted people to open their purses.

  ‘Sorry Ken,’ Lowri said. ‘But I’m here to help Dic and it’s his turn to look around. He wants something to take back for Sarah-Jane and Katie.’

  Amiably, Ken agreed and while Dic wandered off, he and Lowri ate the pies, Ken showing exaggerated amusement, as though his standards were far above a simple snack wrapped in greaseproof paper.

  Lowri was undecided. She wanted to go back with Dic as she still hadn’t told him about Gaynor Dallow and her young baby, but she didn’t want to refuse to go back with Ken, presuming he would ask her. The decision was made for her. After making arrangements to visit his family on the following Sunday, Ken left, explaining that he had calls to make.

  Ken put his arms around her and kissed her as he was leaving, and seeing Dic watching them she again felt confusion. Why should she worry about Dic seeing her kissing Ken? Dic was hardly a rival for her affections. She smiled at him and asked, ‘Did you find a present for the girls?’

  He showed her a couple of hand-sewn purses made from dark blue velvet and covered with embroidery, and she nodded approval. She slipped some coins into each one. ‘It’s unlucky to give a purse with no money inside,’ she said. ‘I want Sarah-Jane and Katie to have all the luck in the world.’

  Packing the last of his stock into the car didn’t take long, and they followed the trail of vehicles departing slowly from the field. The cars and vans were interspersed with hand carts and even a few wheelbarrows in which produce had been brought. Weary pedestrians were plodding towards the bus stop some carrying empty baskets with white cloths folded inside.

  ‘I enjoyed today,’ Lowri said as Dic negotiated the rutted entrance. ‘Can we do it again, d’you think?’

  ‘You’d have to persuade Bob and Colin to sell some of their vegetables,’ he said. ‘I hope I don’t have too many items to sell as cheaply as today.’

  ‘But it was fun, though?’

  ‘Great fun,’ he agreed, ‘and good company. Thanks for coming.’

  ‘Strange Ken turning up like that.’

  ‘Hardly. He wants to make it clear how much he likes you.’ After a pause he asked, ‘How d’you feel about him?’

  ‘I think he’s trying to accept the situation regarding Dad. I know the shock of finding out was difficult for him. Maybe he’ll be more understanding now, about the hope I have for proving his innocence.’

  ‘I’m sure he will.’ He wondered whether Ken’s family had been told and if they would be understanding, but said nothing. A niggle of jealously wormed inside him and he hoped the visit would be cancelled.

  It wasn’t until they were almost back at Badgers Brook that Lowri told Dic about Gaynor Dallow. Her heart was racing as she waited for his reaction. If Dic discarded the possibility of a lead, then all was lost. He listened intently then agreed to make a few enquires.

  ‘It should be easy to find out how she manages, whether there’s a man in the picture, secretly or openly. Although I don’t think it will get us far.’

  ‘But you do think it’s a possibility?’

  ‘I think we have to check on everything, even the slightest incident. The most doubtful could be the one to guide us to the truth.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She was almost tearful at his supporting words. There was no one else who even pretended to believe in her father.

  *

  On Sunday, Ken arrived at ten o’clock and refused to stay for coffee. ‘My parents are longing to meet you,’ he said. ‘I’ve told them so much about you. And my brothers are waiting in specially. Giving up their rugby pra
ctice would you believe!’

  He talked about his family as they drove, explaining that his father was a fireman, his mother a part time canteen assistant, while his younger brother was at college doing English and Drama and the older one worked in a pub. ‘A right old mixture the Hardy brothers,’ he said with a laugh.

  ‘Very impressive,’ she said.

  ‘Not really. Your father owning a business, that’s impressive.’

  Putting her father in business in the present tense puzzled her. Surely Ken had told his parents her father was in prison, no longer involved in the business? She shrugged the worry aside. Of course he had. Today she was meeting his parents and that lifted a relationship on to a different level. Today was to be enjoyed.

  Mr and Mrs Hardy came out to greet them as soon as the car stopped outside the modest terraced house in Barry. They were formally dressed, Mr Hardy in a suit and tie, and Mrs Hardy wearing a pretty summer dress, an apron in her hand that she had quickly removed, Lowri guessed. Lowri was ushered inside to where a fire roared a welcome and the smell of cooking filled the air.

  Introductions were made and the two brothers, Geoff eighteen, and Raymond twenty, drifted off to the garden to kick a ball about while they waited for the meal. Conversation was stilted at first, each participant trying to avoid too many questions.

  Ken fielded any comments about her family, implying that both of her parents ran a guest house, while her father was also a partner in the clothing factory.

  ‘Mrs Vaughan runs the guest house,’ he told them. ‘And there’s the clothing factory of course. Busy people.’

  She felt her colour rise. He hadn’t told them and, rather shamefully, her first instinct was to follow the same line. Since facing up to the gossip in Cwm Derw and seeing it die down, she had sworn never to lie about it again, but the prospect of losing Ken made that decision difficult. She thought about it, as conversation drifted around her weighing up the risk of saying goodbye to Ken, against denying her father, pretending their troubles were non-existent, that life was exactly the same as before the death of Ellis Owen.