‘I need the milk for custard, and I was going to set the table,’ she protested. She was uneasy at the contact. His hands warmed her in a disturbing way.
‘No need,’ he said taking her hand and leading her out to the car. ‘We’ll eat near the fire. You’ll find trays in the cupboard.’ On reaching the car, he took hold of her other hand, pulled both her arms out in front of her and loaded them with clothes. ‘Just drop them on the back kitchen floor,’ he instructed, ‘they’re to be washed.’
‘You wouldn’t like me to do that too, would you?’ Her voice was heavy with sarcasm, but all he said in reply was, ‘I don’t think there’ll be time unless you’re staying until Aunt Catrin comes back.’
‘You’ve got a cheek!’
‘Nonsense. Women like tidying things.’
‘This one doesn’t! D’you like being asked to fix drain-pipes and cut down trees just because you’re a man?’
‘I don’t mind at all. Try me.’
‘I haven’t a tree or a drain-pipe. Yet!’ she said as she staggered back to the house with the load of jumbled clothes.
The Landrover was slowly emptied and Amanda said, ‘Dinner, such as it is, will be ready in five minutes. Come on, I might as well carry in one more load.’
‘I should think so. You owe me that for setting the police on me,’ he said ungratefully.
The living room was impressive. Windows filled the whole of one wall and although it was now almost dark, no curtains were drawn. The light from the room made the darkness outside more intense but Amanda guessed that during the daylight hours the scene outside, with the stream running past, was an ever-changing one.
The furniture was large, leather-covered and obviously expensive. Another couch matching the one on which they sat and two armchairs stood against the walls and each had a carved table standing near. The walls were covered with books and objects which were obviously souvenirs of Rhys’s travels. The carpet was oatmeal, the curtains the same and the walls a plain cream. With the brown leather it should have been dull but the effect was one of orderliness and peace. Amanda wanted to ask who had helped him plan it. But instead she asked about his work.
He told her they were filming the life of some of the rarer sea birds.
‘Will you appear in the finished film?’
‘We leave that to the professionals. We are what you might call the back room boys.’ He smiled, then coaxed her to talk about herself.
She explained about her new appointment. ‘I’m so looking forward to telling your aunt,’ she said. ‘It was she who told me about the vacancy and I know she’ll be pleased.’
‘Why not call and tell her now? She’s sure to be home at this time of night.’
Amanda glanced at her watch and was startled to see how late it was. ‘Good heavens! I really ought to get myself home.’
‘Why? Do you have to be back at a certain time?’ The question was double-edged. He wanted to know if there was anyone waiting for her.
‘I live alone,’ she told him, ‘but I have work to finish ready for my class tomorrow. It will soon be Halloween and we’re making masks and—’ she stopped, afraid of boring him.
‘Masks, eh? Would your tribe like to see these d’you think?’ He pointed to a shelf on which were displayed some beautifully carved African masks. The wood was so cleverly polished it shone like metal. ‘Borrow them if you like. You can return them when you next visit my aunt.’
‘You’d trust me with these?’ she gasped. ‘They’re wonderful.’
‘You’re welcome – even if you didn’t finish my washing.’
She smiled at his teasing. ‘Tell your aunt I’ll see her at the weekend.’
‘Can I tell her you got the job?’
‘Yes, you can tell her.’
All the way home Amanda marvelled at the strange way her day had ended. Meeting Rhys for the first time in such embarrassing circumstances and then ending up preparing a meal for him. She pictured the suspicious man glimpsed in the cottage, then compared him to the man with whom she had spent an evening.
The dark hair that had looked so unkempt through the window had turned out to be a strongly curled thick mane that many girls would envy but that in no way looked effeminate. Everything about Rhys, including his attitude to women’s work, was strongly masculine if not downright chauvinist!
As she opened the door of her bedsit she suddenly felt dejected. How long before she met Rhys Falconbridge again? Not long, she hoped. He was the most exciting thing to happen since the solicitor’s letter had told her she owned Firethorn Cottage.
* * *
Roy was given the task of planting out a small area of summer cabbage. It was back-aching, tedious work and, with no one to talk to, never ending. He finished the work and told the farmer he wouldn’t be coming in again. If this was going straight he’d think again. He stretched his aching back. Going straight? Anything but!
With no money to come, he was immediately tempted to return to crime. He found a sort of job in the local market helping out with the fruit and veg, which, as it involved people, interested him more. No pay but a few tips. One afternoon, a man dressed expensively in a suit and carrying a silver-topped cane left his wallet on the display of potatoes. Using a cabbage leaf to prevent leaving fingerprints, he opened it and removed two crisp fivers and a couple of ten shilling notes. Another fiver he left sticking out slightly and hoped it would be sufficient for the man not to examine the wallet when he came back to claim it.
He didn’t tell Gillian he had given up his job and she was pleased and flattered when he went to where she worked and invited her to the pictures and supper afterwards.
Since leaving her secretarial job at the school Gillian had settled in a new job, keeping the books for a company which owned several houses, flats and shops. She entered the rents paid when the collectors handed in the money, and made a note of any arrears. The work was not without interest, with a variety of problems to solve and people to placate. Tenants called to request repair work, explain their reasons for not clearing any debts, or just for a chat. She liked dealing with people and would have been content, but a worm of unease was eating into her contentment; she was worried about Roy’s increasing interest in the people with whom she dealt. After that first visit to the office he began to call regularly and seemed more than a little interested in her clients.
She was so determined to believe he was going straight she had convinced her parents he was the victim of neglect, that love and care had shown him a better way. She had almost convinced herself. Until now, when his questions about the tenants and their movements were leading her to think he was using her. She began to fear he was sizing up the possibilities before breaking in and robbing the places she told him about. So far there had been no reports of any robberies, but knowing he had been capable of a number of break-ins in one night, she was afraid he would carry them out and disappear.
He was always extremely well dressed and the lighter and cigarette case he carried were obviously expensive. He bought gifts too, and they had taxis whenever they went out to restaurants, which were also the very best. He finally told her that the gardening job had long finished and he tried to convince her he earned enough carrying bets to and from the bookies, and in tips as an errand boy for the local fruit and veg market, to pay for it all.
‘One day, love, I’m going to be rich,’ he told her enthusiastically. ‘I just know it. I’m taking every opportunity to earn money but not to save it. That doesn’t make you rich. That’s just a life of misery. Money’s to be enjoyed and if you’ve got confidence in yourself, money brings money. Look rich and you feel rich. Feel rich and you convince everyone you are rich. Gillian, love, with you beside me I can’t fail!’
He was so buoyantly confident that when she was with him, she was caught up in his enthusiasm and would have believed anything he told her. It was only during the night when she lay restless and unable to sleep that she knew she was lying to her parents and, worse than
that, lying to herself. The only possible outcome was a worse misery than she could imagine. These thoughts were pushed aside when he appeared, cheerful, full of plans and hopes and dreams, with never a moment’s doubts.
It was a surprise, therefore, when Roy came to her one evening in obvious dismay.
‘Read this,’ he said, thrusting a letter at her.
Gillian read Amanda’s letter with a growing disbelief. At first the news that Roy and Amanda had an aunt who had left a cottage was a wonderful thrill, but as Amanda went on to explain about the stipulation regarding Roy’s presence, her excitement cooled and she looked at Roy with dismay.
‘So when the tenancy of the flat ends you have nowhere to go? Amanda can’t help?’
Roy couldn’t trust himself to reply. He had been thinking of nothing else. Who was she, this aunt who had decided he was worthless? How did she know about the prison sentences? If she was that close, why hadn’t she made herself known?
He was thankful he hadn’t told Amanda he was not her brother. If she owned a cottage, surely somehow he could persuade her to give him a share, whatever this miserable Aunt Flora said. Amanda was fair and honest with him. If he kept that bit of news to himself and boxed clever, he’d make something out of this.
‘Can she do this? Can she separate Amanda and me?’ he demanded, looking at Gillian for explanation. ‘You know about such things – can she tell Amanda who she can and can’t have staying? No, she can’t. This has got to be Amanda’s doing. She doesn’t want me there!’
‘Amanda wouldn’t be so devious. She cares too much to do that. But your aunt is probably within her rights to insist you don’t share the cottage as a permanent address. There might be a time-limit set. You’d have to find out. Perhaps there’s an amendment stating that if you don’t re-offend, then after a given period Amanda might change the restriction. I’ll try and find out for you, shall I?’
‘Amanda’s done this to me.’ He wondered if Amanda had learned the truth about their supposed relationship. She had found out and this was why she was behaving in this way.
‘She doesn’t have a choice,’ Gillian insisted. ‘Not if that was this aunt’s condition, and you wouldn’t expect her to give up her inheritance because of your police record, would you, Roy? That’s asking too much, even of a generous sister like Amanda.’
He calmed down a little and nodded, accepting what she said. ‘No, you’re right, I wouldn’t ask that, but what am I going to do? Where will I go when the tenancy ends in January?’
‘We’ll find you a room. Perhaps near your sister’s house. Then you’d at least be able to see her.’
‘She might not want that. Now she’s broken free she could resent my interfering in the new life she’s making. New house, new job, new friends, they wouldn’t know about me and perhaps she wouldn’t want them to.’
‘They must know. This Aunt Flora of yours knew about you so I doubt it’s a secret.’
‘Will you write to my sister and ask what she thinks?’
‘Better than that. We’ll go and see her.’
Roy began to demonstrate a deep sense of melancholy. ‘I’m being abandoned for the second time in my life. First my parents, whoever they were, chucked me out, and now an aunt I’ve never met thinks I’m so worthless she wants to keep me from my sister.’
For a while his tale of woe gave him a sympathetic audience and he began to wallow in self-pity. Then one of his mates at the fruit and veg market told him to stop feeling sorry for himself. ‘You’ve only yourself to blame, boy. The reason for your aunt’s actions was your criminal record. You can’t blame that on your sister or anyone else, no matter how hard you try!’ the man said. The bald truth was hotly denied and Roy went over the story of his deprived childhood once again.
But the outspoken remarks rankled. Then Roy had a sense of revelation. With Gillian’s support he could start again. He’d had similar revelations but they had always ended when temptation was too strong, or he was short of money. Thieving was exciting and often so easy. But he would try. He really would try. He felt that optimistic freeing of the spirit. He could go straight. Because he’d been a thief all his life so far didn’t mean he couldn’t change. He only had to stay out of trouble and Amanda would make things right. He could do it, if he was really determined.
Trying to forget the plans he had made for robbing the houses on Gillian’s books was hard. It really went against his nature to abandon what would have been a very lucrative couple of nights. But he managed to push the information to the back of his mind and concentrate on other things. Persuading Gillian into his bed for one thing.
He began to take a greater interest in the job at the fruit and veg stall, hoping for a permanent position. Though not well paid, it would be a beginning. His cheerfulness expanded with his determination to leave the past behind. He was teased by many and doubted by more but he began to make plans in a way he had never done before. One thing he knew was essential; he had to stay away from Dave. If he had to pay back what he owed him from the previous robberies he’d have to resort to crime once more.
Convincing Gillian that having her love was the one thing he needed to give him the strength to make something of his life was surprisingly easy, and during the rest of October they spent very little on the pictures and restaurants, spending the time instead in the flat that had once belonged to his sister. Gillian was contentedly waiting for him to save the money to buy her an engagement ring. He was discontentedly thinking of those houses simply asking to be robbed.
‘We won’t say anything to your Mam and Dad yet about us, love,’ he said. ‘Let’s enjoy it for ourselves for a while, is it?’
If he could persuade Gillian’s parents to take him as a lodger, life would be sweet. No chance of that if they thought there were night-time wanderings across the landing to worry about!
* * *
On Sunday, Amanda returned to Firethorn Cottage having been invited for lunch. As she parked her car she wondered if Rhys would be there. In fact it was he who opened the door. His greeting was hardly conventional.
‘Can you drive me to the Cwm Gwyn Arms?’ he asked, closing the door behind him and striding towards her car. ‘I have to collect some stills from the man who does some of my printing. It won’t take more than ten minutes, there’s plenty of time before lunch. My car’s in for a service,’ he explained as he hustled her back into her seat. ‘Hurry up, I’ll guide you.’
‘Very kind of you!’ she said, but her sarcasm was wasted.
Their route passed his bungalow and the school. They went along narrow country lanes to a small group of houses, one of which was a pub, called the Cwm Gwyn Arms. The house Rhys wanted was next door.
‘Shall I wait in the car?’ Amanda asked.
‘Yes, I won’t be a moment.’ He didn’t go in, but took a large envelope handed to him by a little girl. ‘Have a look at those,’ he said, getting back into the car. ‘They’re some enlargements of some photographs I took in North Wales.’
She took out the photographs of scenery. Fresh green meadows with a backdrop of mountains. There were several close-ups of mountain flowers and one showing a wide expanse of spring squill. There were snow scenes that were breathtakingly beautiful. Trees and dead foliage, water, frost-encrusted banks gave a magical view of winter. The scenery was delicately silvered, and in some touched with pink by the first rays of a winter sun.
‘They’re for a holiday brochure,’ Rhys explained. ‘A friend is planning a holiday experience with a difference. People are shown wild animals and birds in an area where the wildlife is allowed to live undisturbed by man, but with everything arranged so they can be observed.’
The photographs came out again when they returned to Firethorn Cottage to be examined and admired by Catrin, who, to Amanda’s surprise, had some reservations. Some of the scenic views were not quite sharp. One close-up was wrongly angled. The discussion was rather technical and Amanda didn’t join in, she just watched the two people who
were obviously such good friends.
Lunch was a light-hearted affair and discussion ranged widely. As they finished their coffee, Rhys said, ‘Aunt Catrin tells me you’re going to search for some relatives. Is that wise?’
‘If you had been brought up without knowing, wouldn’t you?’
‘Perhaps, but if you are interested, why haven’t you done something before?’
‘I admit to being a bit fearful of what I might discover,’ she admitted, thinking there might be more relatives like her brother Roy, about whom she said nothing. ‘When I was in the Home, Matron warned me that besides the risk of finding someone unpleasant, there’s the likelihood of someone particularly clever and I might have felt the need to compete.’
‘That sounds wise,’ Mrs Falconbridge said. ‘But has learning about your Aunt Flora changed that?’
‘It’s made me curious to learn more,’ Amanda admitted.
‘I’ll be home for a week, I’ll make a few enquiries if you wish.’ Rhys was staring at her, his deep velvety-brown eyes revealing an interest in her that was exciting.
She hesitated to reply and, sensing her conflict, he put a comforting hand on her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, Amanda. If anything unpleasant turns up we’ll be here, Aunt Catrin and me. And,’ he added, smiling, ‘if we unearth Nobel Prize winners, murderers or burglars, we’ll keep it to ourselves.’
Amanda started with shock at the word burglars. Did he know about Roy? Should she have told them? Now it seemed too late.
* * *
A week later Amanda’s car stopped once again beside the firethorn hedge, now sadly denuded of its bright berries. She looked hopefully into the kitchen, half expecting Rhys to be there, but she was disappointed.
‘Just the two of us today, dear,’ Mrs Falconbridge said. ‘He wasn’t satisfied with some of the photographs and wants to try and get the autumn ones before all the colour goes.’
The Tangled Web Page 4
