She was thankful she had brought her sandwiches and flask in with her. Although so far she had been afraid to eat, in case she was left there a long time. She needed to conserve the small amount of food and drink. Rationing had a new meaning for her. She looked at the kindling and wished she’d brought matches. A blaze, even for a little while would have cheered her, and smoke pluming out of the chimney might have attracted attention, even in an isolated spot like this.
Darkness fell and she wrapped herself in Kitty’s waterproof cape and tried to sleep. She was hungry but only drank some coffee, promising herself a sandwich for breakfast. Morning seemed a long way off.
*
During the night, while his mother looked after the girls, after trying all Lowri’s friends without success, Dic searched the woods and lanes, calling her name. Ken too drove around the roads, stopping to ask everyone he met if they’d seen a solitary young woman with a bicycle – or without one. Betty Connors had organized a search party from her regulars at the pub and Kitty and Stella made food and hot drinks for the helpers. Ernie, the new barman, seemed to enjoy the excitement and he worked hard serving the regulars, learning their names and persuading them to talk about Lowri in the hope of jogging their memory about a place they hadn’t yet thought of where she might have gone.
At five in the morning, when the bar was closed, it was still being used as a centre for the searchers. Ernie had regretfully gone home after taking a few photographs of the bar filled with regulars and strangers, interspersed with uniformed police. He promised Betty one to hang on her wall once Lowri was found, safe and sound. He didn’t tell her that the pictures might be of interest to the local newspaper if the search ended less happily.
A bit later that morning, when nothing had been reported, a policeman knocked on Lowri’s mother’s door and asked her if she had seen her daughter or knew where she might be. Alarmed, Emily began to suggest people she might have visited, but they were people who had already been contacted. Patiently the constable waited as she racked her brain, working her way through Lowri’s friends. Sadly, she admitted there were very few. ‘Most have avoided her since the arrest of Jimmy,’ she explained.
‘Her friend Marion said something about a key. Would you know anything about that?’
‘No, I couldn’t think where it belonged.’ Emily frowned then added, ‘Of course it might have been for the old hut my husband and his friends used to store their fishing gear. But it would have fallen down by now, it was in a precarious state when they used it. A huff and a puff, was all it needed, Jimmy used to joke.’
‘Where would it be?’
‘I don’t remember exactly. I never went with them on their fishing and boating days. The great outdoors never appealed. Lowri would—’ she stopped, about to tell the policeman that her daughter might know. ‘Silly of me,’ she said, hiding her distress with another offer of tea. Then she stared at him. ‘She might have remembered and if she did, she might have gone to look. But not overnight. It can’t be that far away from Cwm Derw. She’s always off somewhere chasing daydreams about Jimmy being released,’ she added sadly.
‘Just where would this place be, Mrs Vaughan?’
‘The trouble is, I never went there. Apart from it being near the coast, not far from where Ellis kept his boat, I don’t know.’
*
Lowri dozed uneasily, listening for the slightest sound and twice she was woken by a movement against the door, which – after a brief panic – she guessed might be a hedgehog or other small creature hunting for food.
The night seemed endless and she thought of the nights she had so easily slept, with the morning coming too soon and the temptation to stay a minute or two longer in bed was strong. On the uncomfortable floor and wrapped in a waterproof cape, she frequently screwed up her eyes, risked wasting a few seconds of her precious battery, and checked the time. The hands on her watch crawled reluctantly towards five o’clock.
She must have dozed then and she was disturbed by a scratchy sound outside the door. She grabbed her torch, her only weapon, and rose to a kneeling position, tense and frightened as she prepared for her attacker’s return. There was no further movement and she sank back into her corner. It was getting light and her watch told her it was six o’clock.
She unpacked the sandwiches and poured herself some coffee. The food warmed and comforted her and even revived her anger a little. She shouted and kicked at the solid door ‘Let me out! This has gone far enough!’ She rubbed the dirt-encrusted window pane with her sleeve and looked out. The area she could see was empty and as fear returned, she began to sob. She pushed at the door, her shoulder ramming it, even though she knew it wouldn’t open that way. Then she shouted some more, at the top of her voice, demanding, pleading, begging, even though she knew there was no one likely to hear her. It was anger and fear, not logic that lead her actions.
There was a knob on the inside and as she shouted again for whoever was there to let her out, she turned it, waggled it to and fro, pulled it, and suddenly the door opened. She stepped out and peered around, afraid there was someone waiting for her to emerge, but there was no one. It was silent apart from birdsong and the gentle, sibilant sound of the distant waves. Her purse was no longer around her neck, the crocheted chain had broken when the man had attacked her and she knew she needed it. She couldn’t face going back inside for fear of being locked in again, but if the bicycle was no longer where she’d left it, she’d need money to get back to Cwm Derw.
Hauling a stone from a few yards away took time and she was afraid of the man returning, but she had to go back and before she did, she had to make sure the door couldn’t be relocked. The stone rolled down over the step and wedged itself so the door couldn’t be shut without moving it. She went inside and gathered her things, and ran out as though a thousand devils were at her heels and headed for where she had left the bicycle. As she had dreaded, it was gone.
She was chilled after the hours spent in the cold, damp place and she put on the cape for extra warmth, but the trowel and torch and the flask were no use to her now and she didn’t want to be encumbered by carrying them. She put them under the brambles where she had left the bicycle and hurried on, eating the last of her sandwiches. She ran towards the road hoping to see a bus that would take her at least part of the way home. As she reached the road and turned right, Ken and two policemen came from the left and missed her.
As the hut came into view, Ken and the policemen ran towards it. The door was wide open and they were overwhelmed with disappointment when they looked inside and found it empty. They returned to the path wondering where to look next, when Ken saw her torch and flask. They all went back to look again at the hut.
‘She was here, I’m sure of it,’ Ken said. ‘The floor is disturbed as though someone has been digging, looking for something, and there was a trowel near the torch and flask.’ He left the police to continue their search and went back to Badgers Brook to ask Kitty if there was any news.
*
Dic was sitting on a fence looking down at Treweather’s old farm that was now a muddy building site with new houses in various stages of completion. He went over the little they had learned: Bob had seen Lowri going up the road towards the bus stop on Kitty’s bicycle, but from the corner she could have gone in one of several directions. No one saw her passing the shops and post office so had she turned away from the town? Around the back of the wood? But where had she been going?
His mind was filled with terrifying images. She might have found something that would incriminate someone for the crime for which Jimmy was serving a sentence. If it meant avoiding a prison sentence, then violence was a strong possibility. Even the mildest person was capable of hurting her if that was an alternative to prison. Why hadn’t she told him what she was planning? He knew he had let her down. Restlessly he walked back to Badgers Brook, looking around the garden and the nearby woods, then he went to The Ship, where Marion and Betty were making sandwiches and filling flask
s for the people searching.
People came and went off again, but there was no news, not even a single sighting to report. He sat near the fire and concentrated on people passing on the road that led to the top of the lane leading to Badgers Brook. He was only half listening to Marion, who was telling Bob and Colin about the rusty old key. Then he had a mental picture of the old hut he had often visited with his father and Jimmy. Could she be there, searching for something? He was suddenly sure he was right.
‘Bob,’ he called, ‘can you come with me? I have an idea of where she might be. In fact, I’m sure she’s there.’ Without explaining to the others, he ran from the pub and he and Bob drove to where Lowri had dismounted from Kitty’s bicycle. Parking the car, Dic led Bob along the edge of the cliffs and up on to the hill, where, half-hidden in a shallow depression, was the hut.
‘There’s no sign of the bike,’ Bob puffed.
‘She’s here, I know it.’
They ran to the hut and pushed open the door, calling her name, but there was nothing there and no sign of recent visitors. Dejected and with increasing anxiety, they returned to Badgers Brook. An hour passed and Dic was standing at the gate of Badgers Brook, restless, unable to keep still, when he decided that he would walk up the lane – he couldn’t just hang around doing nothing. As he neared the bus stop, he saw her. She was standing, looking right and left to make sure the road was clear before running across. ‘Lowri!’ he called and ran towards her and hugged her, repeating her name, thanking the heavens she was safe. She clung to him as though she would never let go.
Tearfully she began to tell him what had happened, and as soon as she had explained where she had been, he took her inside, then hurried to The Ship to let everyone know she was safe.
Later, she repeated her story with greater detail as Marion wrapped her in blankets, plying her with hot tea and many hugs. Dic was there, unwilling to leave her even though she was apparently unharmed. The constable who had been one of those present when they searched the hut, looked solemn.
‘And you say you didn’t see this… er… man? You have no idea who he was?’
‘He leaped on me for the doorway, I think. I wasn’t aware of him coming inside, The wind was blowing the door a little, opening and closing it and I didn’t worry when it grew dark and a shadow passed over me, I presumed it was no more than that. Then he landed on top of me, I was winded and terrified. He pushed my face into the floor and wrestled to get the key from my hand.’
‘How did he know the key was in your hand, I wonder?’ The policeman’s voice was casual but his stare was intense. Lowri frowned. ‘I don’t know. Perhaps he’d been watching me?’
‘But the room was very dark, and the key was what, an inch long? He must have had the eyes of an eagle, this… man.’ It was now very clear he didn’t believe her story.
‘Perhaps he felt it when he pushed me over? Perhaps he grabbed my hand?’
‘Well, did he? Grab your hand?’
‘I don’t remember. I was too terrified, thinking I was going to suffocate in the earth to think about what he was doing and why.’
‘Surely you believe her, officer?’ Dic asked.
Lowri stared at the policeman in alarm. ‘You think I made all this up?’
‘You want to bring attention to your father’s situation, don’t you?’
‘Yes, but… that’s rubbish! What it means is that someone doesn’t like the way I’m searching for new evidence. I must be getting close! So catch him and make him talk! My father didn’t steal that money, so someone else must have!’ Her voice was edging towards hysterical as the policeman snapped shut his notebook and stood up to leave. As he reached the door, he turned. ‘Remember, Miss Vaughan, it’s a serious matter to mislead the police and fake evidence.’
Lowri reached out and held Dic’s arm. ‘Why doesn’t he believe me?’
Dic waited until the constable had closed the door behind him. ‘I think he was being a bit cautious, that’s all. Not jumping to the obvious conclusion. They’ll look again at the hut and will see you were telling the truth. But Lowri, you must promise never to do something like that on your own. I’ll go with you no matter how slight the hope of learning something.’
‘And so will I!’ a voice called from the doorway, and Ken walked in. ‘Lowri, thank goodness you’re safe! My darling girl, I’ve been so worried.’ She stood and hugged him while Dic stood aside. ‘I persuaded a man with a small motor boat to take me along the cliffs near that hut, in case you’d fallen. Thank goodness you aren’t harmed.’
Later that evening, when she was bathed and fed and comforted and had slipped beneath fresh clean sheets, she went over everything that had happened once again to Marion.
‘There was a funny smell about the man who held me down, but I can’t think what it reminded me of.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Marion said. ‘It’ll come back to you. Just sleep and try not to think about it any more tonight.’
Lowri lay there but the sequence of events passed through her mind time and again. It was midnight when she crept downstairs and made a hot drink in the hope it would help her settle.
Marion heard her and followed her down. They looked around the room with its carelessly abandoned items left by the hordes of people involved in the search: gum boots on the doormat; a coat left hanging on the banister; food wrapped and left on the kitchen table; cups and saucers belonging to Kitty, brought as the need arose. A coat belonging to Dic was hanging over the back of a kitchen chair and as Lowri looked at it she began to shake uncontrollably. ‘Dic’s coat! There on the chair. It reminded me… it’s the old one he uses when he goes out into the mud and sand to find pieces of old boats for his carving,’ she said, her teeth chattering with shock.
‘It’s all right, I’ll get rid of it tomorrow. Is the filthy smell bothering you?’ Marion asked in concern.
‘That was what I smelt on the man who attacked me. Mud and seaweed. Marion, it must have been Dic who locked me in.’
‘Come on, Lowri, that’s crazy. That hut must have smelled of nothing else if it was used by fishermen. Bits of lug worms and dead fish used for bait, they’re notorious for their smelly habits, fishermen.’
‘It was he who knew where to find me, wasn’t it?’
‘No, your mother told the police. And it was Ken who found it first, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, but he was led there by the police. Mam wouldn’t have known exactly where, she’d never been there. Yet he, Dic, went straight there.’
‘He knew it well. Didn’t you tell me he used to go with his father and yours?’
‘That was years ago.’
‘But he’s older than you and his memories would be stronger,’ insisted Marion.
‘It was Dic,’ Lowri said again with a low groan of despair.
‘Sleep!’ Marion demanded, taking the cup from her shaking hands. ‘Tomorrow you’ll be thinking more clearly.’ She led her friend back upstairs and gently covered her with the blankets. Tomorrow it would be easy to convince her this was nothing to do with her father, just a prank or someone objecting to her using the place. Perhaps now she’d accept what had happened to Jimmy and let things rest.
Nine
When Lowri woke the morning after her alarming adventure it took only seconds for her to remember it. ‘Dic,’ she muttered in growing dismay. Dic, who had always been her trusted friend. He’d locked her in and made sure she didn’t find what she was looking for.
‘Nonsense,’ Marion said when she tried to discuss her conclusions with her over breakfast. ‘How could it have been Dic? What, chance you seeing him and recognizing him? Of course it wasn’t Dic. A smell of fishing on a man’s clothes? The place was used by fishermen for heaven’s sake! What else would you expect to smell except mud and seaweed and rotten fish? Roses and lavender? Come on, Lowri, this is all built up from nothing more than your imagination.’
‘There had to be something to find, or why did someone search through my belongings
? And why did someone follow me and lock me in the hut?’
‘Perhaps no one did.’
‘What do you mean, don’t you believe me either?’ Lowri looked stricken with the shock of her friend doubting her.
‘I believe you couldn’t open the door, Lowri. I really do. But you said the wind almost closed it several times and it wasn’t locked when you tried it in the morning, was it? Don’t you think that the wind might have blown it a bit fiercely and it got jammed? It’s in a place where it gets the worst of the weather, and these things do happen. My mother has a lot of trouble with her back gate in the winter.’
‘It was locked. The man – who I couldn’t have imagined – lay over me and forced the key from my hand. I couldn’t see him, only smell him. He pushed my face into the earth and ran out, locking the door.’ She pointed to the grazes on her face. ‘And these aren’t imaginary, are they?’
‘You did say you fell.’ Marion sounded apologetic.
‘I fell on to my knees, these happened when my face was pressed into the ground.’ Tearfully, she looked at her friend. ‘Please, Marion, don’t say I’m making this up.’
‘Sorry. I do believe you, I was just trying to see it as the police did. A man came in, attacked you, stole the key from you and locked the door. But why believe it’s anything to do with your father? It could have been boys, planning to sneak in and have a sly smoke. Perhaps it was a tramp who used the place for time to time? He would have been alarmed to find someone there and perhaps he panicked. You said it’s been repaired, and there’s a fireplace, so it would make a comfortable place for someone who hasn’t a home to rest a while. There are plenty of explanations, so why automatically presume it’s connected with your father?’
False Friends Page 17
