False Friends

by False Friends (retail) (epub)

  On Sunday morning, Lowri rose early and, packing a few sandwiches and taking a flask of coffee, set off to find the shepherd’s hut. She slipped out of the house very early and having previously arranged to borrow Kitty’s bicycle, rode along the side of the wood with a picture of the map she had studied in her mind. Getting there from Cwm Derw was different from being taken there from home, by car.

  She had often visited the area near the hut with her father and his friends when she was young. She used to go out with them on their boat too, but as she had grown up, she’d found more interesting things to do than watch her father and Uncle Jack Morris messing about with fishing lines. Dic had been there too, treating her like his precious little sister who had to be cared for. She had been so happy then. Ellis Owen had been with them on occasions, but he’d always preferred going out alone. She remembered that much about him, and wished she’d learned more.

  She cycled for an hour but when she reached the place she had marked on the map, nothing was familiar. She’d made a mistake. She cycled on for a while and stopped at midday to eat her sandwiches on a ridge high above the coast where the sea glistened in the summer sun. Conscious of aching muscles that had rarely been exercised by cycling, she decided to give up for the day and return home. She would study the map and her memory and try to identify the place then try again.

  Thankfully, Marion was out when she returned to Badgers Brook’s welcoming comfort, stiff and tired. She would relax in a bath to ease her unexpected aches, then sit and examine the map and prepare for a second attempt to find the hut.

  Marion came home at six and Dic followed almost immediately after with Sarah-Jane and Katie. ‘Where have you been?’ Sarah-Jane demanded. ‘I brought a doll to show you and you weren’t here.’

  Laughing, Lowri hugged the two girls and apologized. ‘I borrowed Kitty Jennings’s bike and went for a ride. And am I stiff! I haven’t ridden a bicycle for ages.’

  ‘Next time, can we bring our bicycles and come with you?’ Katie asked.

  ‘That would be lovely.’ Lowri agreed, smiling at Dic as she imagined them setting off, with Katie on a three-wheeler. ‘Now, who would like a glass of lemonade and who wants tea?’

  Frustrated by seeing Dic and still not having the opportunity to talk, Lowri invited him to walk with her to take Kitty’s bicycle back.

  ‘Has anything happened?’ he asked when they were free of the house.

  ‘Like Ken’s parents more or less telling me to leave?’

  Dic was angry but tried to make light of it, explaining how confusing it must be to those who had never been in contact with the mildest of criminals. ‘Few of us know anyone who’s been in trouble with the law so they have nothing to balance what you told them. It would have been a shock for anyone.’

  ‘And Ken? Shouldn’t he have talked to them first, made them understand? Instead of allowing me to walk into it without warning?’

  ‘Yes, he should. I just hope that once the memories fade and people find other things to fill their minds, feelings will die down.’

  ‘Memories won’t fade. I won’t let them.’

  ‘And that’s as it should be. But you’ll be less inclined to tell everyone you meet.’

  ‘I almost decided to give up but I can’t. Not ever. Even though it seems that Mam and Dad have. It’s so sad the way they’ve put aside all hope, accepting the punishment and separation. It’s as though they’re guilty.’

  ‘Tell me exactly what happened when you went to see Gaynor Dallow.’

  ‘As I said on the phone, it was another disappointment,’ she told him, as they were walking back to the house. ‘She remembers Ellis Owen, described him as a bit of a flirt, admitted they were close for a while – until she found out he had a wife. But I don’t think she has anything to do with him stealing money.’

  ‘It really would be best if you stop expecting a miracle. For your mother’s sake as well as your own. Some people wouldn’t be as kind as Gaynor Dallow and might complain at your pestering. Be careful, Lowri. Let it go.’

  ‘Dic, how can I?’

  *

  The sale took place on a warm summer evening and from the moment the doors opened the place was heaving with enthusiastic bargain-hunters. Clothes were particularly in demand; the best quality items were gone in the first half hour. Women had become thrifty during the war years and even after six years the inclination towards frugality was still strong. Many found it impossible to forget the hard lessons on economy they had learned. Coats would be carefully unpicked and would reappear made into clothes for children; knitted garments would be opened up and unwound, the wool washed and reknitted into gloves and hats; mending small tears was something many took a pride in.

  Bob and Colin came and bought a number of plant pots and even a damaged wheelbarrow which they planned to repair. Dic came with the girls, who had been allowed a late night with pocket money to spend on toys. Katie ran to Lowri with great excitement to show her each purchase and Sarah-Jane asked her advice about a dress for her doll.

  Lowri looked up at one point to see Dic talking to Gaynor Dallow who was carrying her little boy Thomas ‘Welsh fashion’, in a shawl around her shoulders. She didn’t have time to wonder what they talked about, but hoped Dic would tell her when things had calmed down.

  People continued to arrive with more items to add to the sale and people would leave what they were looking at and rush over to look at what new bargains were on offer. Lowri and Marion did well on the White Elephant stall and made almost five pounds by the time they were about to pack up. At the last moment, a woman came in and brought some fishing tackle to sell and to Lowri’s surprise, this was quickly bought by Dic, who explained he’d bought it for Jake Llewellyn, from the boatyard.

  ‘He hires out rods and reels as well as boats, and I think he’ll be pleased with this lot,’ Dic explained. ‘Why don’t you come with me when I take it, you’d enjoy meeting him again.’

  He suggested the following Sunday but she declined, having decided to try again to find the shepherd’s hut. With Ken no longer a friend, and even Dic warning her to give up dreaming of a miracle, she would tell no one. At least then she wouldn’t have to explain another disappointment if the hut proved impossible to find.

  On the following day, she closed the post office at five thirty and hurried towards the bus. Alighting at her stop, she walked down the lane aware of being content. Marion was working late so she had Badgers Brook to herself. She loved sharing with Marion, but just sometimes she was grateful for the friendly silence of the old house to relax and put her confusing thoughts into some sort of order.

  She prepared a snack of cracker biscuits and had just finished eating when there was a knock at the door. She wiped her mouth and opened the door. Ken stood there with a bunch of roses held towards her.

  ‘I’m so very sorry,’ he said. ‘And ashamed. Please will you let me come in and try to explain?’

  She stood back then went to the gas stove to heat water for tea. He stood just inside the door and, placing the flowers on the table, he asked, ‘Can I have one too?’

  In silence she reached for a second cup and saucer. When the tea was made and a tray set, he carried it into the living room. She turned to him and asked, ‘I don’t know what you want me to say, Ken. You let me walk into that situation without warning. How could you do that?’

  ‘I hoped that on the first couple of visits they’d get to know you, then when I explained about your father they’d like you enough to understand.’

  ‘I’ve tried that tack but it never works. I could have told you that – it didn’t work with you, did it? Smiles at first but they fade like snow in the sun as soon as they know who I am.’

  ‘Who you are? But you are Lowri Vaughan, a beautiful and bright young woman. It’s your father Jimmy who’s in trouble.’

  ‘Try telling most people that and they back away and mutter about being from the same mould, tainted by contact – it never changes. But I don’t h
ave to tell you, do I? You saw how your parents reacted.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again. ‘I was wrong.’

  ‘Perhaps it would have been different if they’d come here to meet me. This house has a calming effect on people. It’s the only place where I feel safe.’

  He took a tentative step towards her and held out his arms. ‘I want you to feel safe with me. Please, Lowri, can’t we start again?’

  ‘And your parents? And your giggling brothers?’

  ‘You have me, and all your friends in Cwm Derw. Won’t that be enough for a while? My parents will come round. They’ll have to if they want to see something of me in the future.’

  Without coming close, he leaned forward and touched her lips with his. ‘I’ll go now but can we meet, perhaps on Sunday? I don’t want to lose you, Lowri.’

  ‘Not Sunday, I’m going… I’ve made plans.’

  ‘As long as it isn’t someone tall, dark and handsome.’

  ‘Just me.’

  ‘Saturday then? Pictures?’

  She nodded. Although it had gone terribly wrong, perhaps he’d had the best intentions; and it had been her own decision to blurt out the truth about her father.

  She sat staring into space after he left. The flowers were in a vase in the hearth where the fire was set but not lit. His arrival and apology and even the chaste kiss had warmed her as the fire would not.

  When Marion returned rosy-cheeked from walking home along the lanes, Lowri told her about Ken’s visit. ‘I still feel hurt by the way he let me face his unprepared family, but I have to admit that it was at least partly my fault for making an announcement of it.’

  ‘Why don’t you make a decision to tell no one until they mention it, and then react all casual? Always going in full fuss and expecting them to run away in horror, doesn’t that make it happen?’

  ‘Perhaps you’re right, but not telling them makes me feel I’m letting Dad down, being ashamed of him.’

  ‘You do talk a lot of nonsense sometimes,’ Marion sighed. ‘Now, what’s to eat? I’m starving.’

  ‘Kitty brought some pies. They were on sale at the bakers and she queued, then pleaded for two extra for us as we were at work.’

  ‘Pies it is, and potatoes mashed with milk – there’s no margarine to spare. Really, how they expect people to manage on the rations they give us I don’t know. Cheese ration down to one ounce a week in April. I ask you! What can we do with that? It isn’t enough for a mousetrap! Thank goodness the meat ration’s being increased to one shilling and seven pence a week. That will help a bit. I’m heartily sick of meatless meals, aren’t you?’

  She chattered on leaving Lowri to her thoughts. When Marion came in singing ‘Nice Work if You Can Get it’ with the broom as her partner, Lowri jumped up and joined in, her good humour returned.

  Saturday night was pleasant, but they parted without arranging another meeting and Lowri had the strong feeling that his parents’ behaviour and her failure to show an interest in putting things right, meant their friendship and growing love was over.

  On Sunday morning Marion went to see her family and as soon as she had gone, Lowri packed a few sandwiches and found a small crocheted purse which hung around her neck into which she put some money with a handkerchief to stop it rattling. She gathered other necessities including a torch and a small trowel – although she didn’t quite know what that was for – and set off again to search for the shepherd’s hut.

  She had studied the map, marked the place where she thought it was situated and worked out where she had made her earlier error. This time there wouldn’t be a mistake. It wasn’t until she stopped to push the bicycle up a steep hill that she realized she had already made one: the map was at home in her bedroom.

  She had a clear picture of the place in her mind and memories of those earlier visits came back and added to it. Although she guessed that being so small then, and with the years in between, her impressions were bound to be distorted. Yet she felt confident, this second time, of going straight to the spot. The day was more typical of April than June, with clouds chasing across the sky, squally showers that had her struggling in and out of the yellow rain cape Bob had insisted on her bringing, and brief spells of surprisingly warm sunshine.

  The road began to climb and she stood on the pedals to add strength to her tiring legs. She felt a surge of confidence as she began to recognize trees, houses, and ahead of her the track leading around the cliffs. She hid the bicycle under some brambles and, gathering her food and tools into her pockets and carrying her waterproof, she walked on.

  To her relief the hut was there, leaning slightly but apparently still intact, and she fingered the key and wondered whether it would still turn and open the padlocked door. She glanced around the quiet spot, where only the sound of the distant tide murmured. The wind had either dropped or this side of the headland was in the lee of it. Slowly, she approached the old building.

  The door had a wide sill fitted across it to guide the rain away from the base from where it could have entered the building, and this looked new. The window to one side also looked like a replacement. She fingered the rusty old key apprehensively. Would it fit and open the door? And if it did, should she go in to a place where she clearly had no right to be?

  There was no padlock. A new lock had been fitted and the key she held was far too small. It might have opened the hut at one time, but not any more. Disappointed, she grasped the doorknob and waggled it and to her surprise the door opened inwardly with ease. She opened it wider and was met by an unpleasant smell of rotting wood and dampness. Feeling for her torch, she stepped inside and with a squeal of alarm, fell over. She had forgotten the steep step down from the door. The earthen floor was twelve inches lower than the step – the reason for the wide sill, now seen to be about twelve inches up from the bottom of the door. She stood up and rubbed her knees ruefully remembering now the steep entrance. Taking a few cautious steps, she gripped the key and in the beam of the torch she looked around the small room.

  There was a fireplace and a few mildewed papers on the floor near it. The window was dirty and gave little light and she was glad she’d brought a torch. None of her father’s possessions remained. Not even a length of fishing line or the smallest lead weight. Apart from the few logs of wood and kindling, the place was empty.

  The floor was hard earth, impacted by feet over many years. With the light behind her through the open door, it took a while for her eyes to become accustomed to the poor light, but even when they were at their clearest, she knew there was nothing here to find. Unless… she knelt down and rubbed a trowel across the surface. Could something have been buried? Foolishly, aware that she was behaving like a character in Enid Blyton’s ‘Famous Five’ books, she began to loosen the soil.

  A gust of wind blew the door against the wall then allowed it to swing back and almost close. The reduction in light and the faint sound startled her and she looked around, but was reassured, confident it was only the breeze which swung it gently open and closed as she watched. When she was back on her knees, it happened again, but this time she wasn’t alarmed. It was hardly worth trying to prop it open. She was too intent on her task to worry about the semi darkness.

  Then a shadow darkened the room and there was movement close by. Someone was there with her. Before she could move something heavy landed on her, the weight frightening and confusing her. Someone was lying across her, holding her down, grasping for the key and the trowel in her hand. She squealed as her hand was forced open and the key taken. Her head was pushed to the ground and as she tried to call for help, her face was pressed into the loosened soil.

  The smell and taste of earth was terrifying and there was another smell, unpleasant and suffocating, coming from her assailant – noxious, teasingly familiar but one she couldn’t name. More pressure, and she couldn’t breathe as earth filled her nostrils and she tried to hold her breath as she feared choking on it. Then, in seconds, the pressure was gone and afte
r a scuffling movement, the door was closed leaving her in almost complete darkness. In utter disbelief she heard the door close and a key turn. She was locked in and no one knew where she was.

  She jumped up and banged on the door, twisting and turning the doorknob, pulling to try to open the stout door but it didn’t move a fraction. She called and called, outraged at first, thinking it was some stupid joke, then as she began to feel alarm chilling her blood, she pleaded and begged to be freed. But there was no reply. Whoever had locked her in, was gone.

  *

  Marion was surprised but not worried when darkness fell and Lowri hadn’t returned. They usually knew where the other was, but they had no strict rules about sharing their every move with each other. But with the meal almost ready and the hour approaching eight o’clock, she went to see if Lowri was with Kitty and Bob.

  ‘Borrowed the bike she did,’ Kitty told her, ‘and there’s no lights on it, so she should have been back before this.’

  ‘Do you have any idea where she went?’ Bob asked. ‘Perhaps I’d better go and look for her?’

  ‘Go and see if Colin’s home,’ Kitty said. ‘You can go together. Try some of her friends, she won’t be far away for sure.’

  ‘Perhaps she went too far and is walking, afraid of breaking the law by riding without lights?’

  At ten o’clock Lowri still hadn’t appeared and they phoned Dic and Ken to see if they’d seen her. After contacting everyone she was likely to visit, they then called the police.

  *

  Lowri’s torch was fading. She had examined the room inch by inch but there was no way out. The place she remembered had been falling down but now it looked as though it had recently been repaired. The roof, which she remembered as rusted corrugated iron that rattled in the wind, was now made of thick planks of wood, solidly fastened. The window had no opening. The door opened inward and couldn’t be kicked outward; with the earthen step around it, it wouldn’t give even an inch. She knew this but still struggled with it, pulling on the knob and twisting it backwards and forwards, shouting from time to time in the futile hope of someone passing.