‘We haven’t mentioned it lately,’ Rosemary admitted. She looked at her friend with some defiance and added, ‘And I don’t care. I’m taking your advice and enjoying it while it lasts!’
‘I was talking about a couple of nights in London, love. Not a drawn out affair that could leave you sadder and more lonely than you could ever imagine.’
‘I still don’t regret it.’
‘I did,’ Megan admitted, turning her face away from Rosemary’s startled expression. ‘I certainly did.’
‘You had an affair that went wrong?’ Rosemary stared at her friend in surprise. ‘All this time we’ve known each other, spent days talking non-stop and I never knew.’
‘The man concerned lived not far from where you now live, that’s why I haven’t said ’til now. Long time ago it was. His mother disliked me the moment we met, I was older than him, you see. She had a strong pull on him and, well, he left both me and his mother in the end and went to live abroad somewhere. His mother wouldn’t even talk to me and certainly wouldn’t tell me where he was.’
‘But why?’
‘We’d spent some time living together and twenty-odd years ago it definitely wasn’t the done thing. Especially in a small Welsh village. Put me down as a fallen woman who’d tried to drag her son down with me, or something equally dramatic. What she did was cruel though.’
‘Why didn’t you marry?’
‘I wanted to, I begged him to marry me but his mam didn’t think we should and he – well, sufficient to say he listened to her.’
‘Who was it, Megan?’
‘Mrs Priestley’s son, Leonard.’
‘So that’s why she’s always a bit cool with you! I remember hearing something about her son leaving, from Gran. Gethyn thought a lot of him and treated him like a fond uncle. But – I had no idea that you and Leonard – I’m sorry Megan.’
‘No need, love, it’s all a very long time ago.’
‘And you don’t know where he is?’ Sally asked.
‘He never wrote and so far as I know he never got in touch with her either. She blamed me for that too.’
‘I never knew. She knows you and I are friends but she’s never mentioned a word. Megan, you don’t think she’s at the bottom of what’s happening to me, do you? I mean she sees you visiting me and perhaps she has some vague notion of punishing me because I’m your friend? But no. She’s a sweet old lady and I can’t see her doing anything so terrible.’
‘Nor can I, not now. Although years ago I thought her capable of anything to keep me from her precious son. She was frighteningly determined and – almost evil in her protection of him against me, the wicked woman.’
Mrs Priestley as the mysterious prowler? The incongruity of the scene made Rosemary smile. Mrs P. with her fluffy blue dressing gown and fur-trimmed slippers, cat under her arm, wandering about trying to create mischief? No, it simply wasn’t on!
‘Stranger things have happened,’ Sally said, as if reading her thoughts through her smile. ‘I’d like to meet this Mrs Priestley, Rosemary. Any chance? I hear all this gossip and it’s driving me mad not to put faces to the names you and Megan talk about.’
‘Yes, we’ll arrange something – soon.’ Rosemary was vague but Sally insisted until Megan was finally irritated.
‘Leave it, Sally, for heaven’s sake leave it! I think Rosemary has enough on her mind without arranging ‘get togethers’ to satisfy your curiosity, don’t you?’
* * *
Driving home from work that evening, Rosemary was apprehensive.
She was relieved to see Huw Rees walking ahead of her along the hedge-lined road as she approached the last turning, and she stopped just ahead of him and offered him a lift.
He threw his coat into the back seat and climbed in, smelling a little of the fungus with which he worked, smiling his thanks.
‘The holiday work is a bit different from your usual activities, isn’t it, Huw?’ she said as she moved off. ‘What are you studying? Not mushroom growing I bet!’
‘Electronics is my subject,’ he laughed, ‘not much use to me at present!’
He looked at her and guessed something was wrong. Her tenseness was obvious and he asked if everything was all right. Because of the state of her nerves she told him something of the events of the night before the last and before she realised it, found herself pouring out the whole story. The attacks on Larry and the intrusions into her home.
‘Is Sally doing some detective work for you?’ he surprised her by asking.
‘No, why?’
‘It’s only that I saw her in the village shop and she was asking questions in her forthright way.’
‘You know her well?’
‘Not really, but she always comes to talk to me when I go in the library. Asks a lot of questions, doesn’t she and in such a way that it’s hard not to answer.’
‘That’s sounds like Sally! No, she isn’t investigating on my behalf, but by the sound of it she has questions of her own. I wonder why?’ she mused. ‘No, Larry and I decided not to tell anyone of everything that’s happened,’ she explained, ‘because we don’t know who is responsible. Telling the wrong one might put the man on his guard. Please don’t let Larry know I’ve confided in you.’
‘I won’t tell Larry you told me,’ he said, ‘but I’m glad you did. It might be useful to have someone else who understands. If ever you’re on your own, or need help of any kind, just call me.’ As the car pulled up near the footbridge, he added, ‘Night or day.’ There was no Citroen parked nearby and Rosemary’s heart began to flutter.
‘Huw, can I ask a favour now?’ she said in a small voice. ‘You see, Larry isn’t here yet and—’
‘And you don’t fancy walking into the house alone? Of course I’ll go with you. Better still, give me the key and I’ll go in first and call you over when I’ve made sure nothing is wrong.’
She watched, feeling a little foolish as the slim, tanned, gangling young man walked over the bridge and approached the house. He opened the door with the key and disappeared inside. Moments later she saw him wave from the front window, then a brief delay before he came out of the door and beckoned her across.
‘The place is empty and it all looks normal, if unbelievably tidy!’ he reported. ‘If you like, I’ll wait here while you look then you can be certain all is well.’ He waited at the door until she had satisfied herself everything was as it should be, then she thanked him and he walked along to number five.
Larry arrived within half an hour, very agitated and apologetic.
‘Honey-baby, I’m sorry! I looked at the time and realised I’d be late, I tried to phone the library but you’d left.’ He hugged her, then looked at the meal she was about to place in the grill-pan. ‘I’m so proud of you! Coming in and carrying on as if the past couple of days hadn’t happened.’
She smiled and was about to confess to accepting some support from the student Huw Rees, when there was a knock at the door. Larry answered the knock, but she heard Huw ask for her and she went out before Larry could call her.
‘Come and see this,’ Huw urged enthusiastically. ‘There’s an owl in the tree behind Mrs Priestley’s house, broad daylight and sitting there as bold as you like!’
‘Turn off the grill for me, darling,’ Rosemary said and followed Huw to where they could see the backs of the cottages.
She felt him push something into her hand, and realised it was a key.
‘Sorry, I walked off with it after taking it out of the door,’ he whispered. ‘I thought you might not like Larry to know.’
Larry joined them and she could only nod to Huw in expression of her thanks, before he asked, ‘Where is this oddity then? This night bird posing for photographs in the day?’ He showed them his camera which he had hurriedly picked up, but Huw admitted sadly that the bird had disappeared.
They went back inside. She picked up the vase where she and Larry now kept it and quickly replaced the key. Larry smiled and came to hug her.
<
br /> ‘Brave girl, but not quite as fearless as she pretends,’ he said, kissing her brow. ‘She has to rattle the vase now and again to make sure the spare key is still there!’
For the second time she took a breath to tell him about Huw’s help but there was a yell and he ran from her to rescue the trout under the grill that he hadn’t quite turned off.
‘Just a smidgin over-cooked would you say? Oh, what the hell,’ he said, staring at the burned mess, a boyish grin on his face, ‘let’s eat out!’
* * *
A week later, Rosemary’s manuscript was ready to send to her agent.
‘I have to read it through once more to make sure everything is right,’ she explained and Larry offered to read it as well.
They sat throughout the evening, reading through, marking any typing errors and remarking occasionally on how she had achieved a particular effect.
‘I’ve never had the benefit of someone else’s eye before sending a story off,’ she smiled as the closed the file on the last pages. ‘I must admit I enjoyed sharing my thoughts and ideas. You really were a great help, darling, thank you.’
‘The teacher in me I guess,’ he said deprecatingly. ‘It’s easier to correct than to create.’ He stood up as she collected together the pages she needed to alter. ‘I’ll make the coffee, shall I?’
‘The last pages can wait ’til tomorrow,’ Rosemary said lazily, ‘it’s a bit late to start typing. I’ll send it off on Monday.’
* * *
‘What does he do day after day?’ There was doubt in Sally’s voice when she began questioning Rosemary about Larry. The blue eyes in the pale face looked quite fierce. ‘You can’t believe he’s spending day after day researching his family. Aren’t you curious?’
‘He’s at the library most of the time, and what else would he be doing? You have to remember that he’s come on a very expensive trip to do some research into his family’s background and he has to make full use of his time.’
‘Not so expensive,’ Megan said quietly, ‘thanks to you he has no hotel accommodation to pay.’
‘He’s appreciative of that and more than pays his way,’ Rosemary admonished firmly.
‘I’m sorry, I know I’m interfering, but there are a lot of coincidences and although I know they happen in life, surprisingly often in fact, it’s unbelievable that he’s always there when something strange happens, isn’t it?’
‘Megan’s right.’ Sally spoke more quietly. ‘His presence could explain everything that’s happened. We’ve discussed it and honestly, Rosemary, you’re mad if you can’t see it too.’
‘You don’t think he’s behind all these frightening happenings, do you? Really, that’s crazy! He simply wouldn’t do this to me. I know he wouldn’t.’
‘All I’m saying, love,’ Megan said, ‘is be careful, and don’t believe everything you’re told, ask yourself questions and consider each answer with great care.’
‘I’d know if it were Larry. Whatever you think, I’d know.’
‘All right, consider these for a start.’ Megan held her fingers wide and touched them as she itemized the coincidences. ‘You saw him in the Citroen before he or a mysterious someone put that note through your door to tell you he had found you, after walking out on you in London. Then there was the fiasco of the on/off weekend in London. He said he put yet another note through your door about that, but you never found it. Then there was the letter he didn’t show you but which made him angry. It was addressed to him at your address.’
‘Then what about the cafe on Constitution Hill?’ Sally added. ‘A girl appears to know him then changes her mind. Then he’s punched in the face by someone whom he insists was a complete stranger.’
‘Then there’s all these break-ins,’ Megan continued. ‘He is seen at the time of some of them, by either Huw or Gethyn, yet insists he was elsewhere. Or,’ she said emphatically, ‘he was already there, in the house.’
‘Invite Megan and me for the evening, we’ll persuade him to open up,’ Sally suggested eagerly.
‘No!’
Rosemary didn’t wait to hear any more, she looked from one of her tormentors to the other then walked away from them.
* * *
When Rosemary walked to the car park at about a quarter past five, Gethyn was standing beside her car, patiently waiting for a lift.
‘I’m sorry, Rosemary, but I missed the bus. Stupid of me, I went for a cup of tea and forgot the time.’
‘Glad I can help.’ She smiled and opened the door for him to get in.
He chattered easily all the way home and Rosemary was grateful not to have to force herself to make conversation. He spoke mainly about the occupants of the five cottages, explaining about Mrs Priestley taking her new kitten to the vet for injections.
‘Lonely she’d be without that animal to look after, going into old age without a soul of her own. Shame she hasn’t a son to look after her, isn’t it? Him being driven away from home like that.’ From the expression on his face she guessed that he strongly supported Mrs Priestley in her blame of Megan, and she hurriedly changed the subject and discussed instead the amusing antics of the young cat. He then went on to tell her that the Hughes’s from number three were still visiting their daughter and grandchildren, in Bala. The students he clearly didn’t like.
‘You can’t lump all students together,’ she laughed when he began to complain about their lack of seriousness. ‘Huw seems a pleasant young man and I can’t complain about their behaviour.’
‘I’ve seen Huw standing on the footbridge staring at your house,’ Gethyn said. ‘And he can’t be looking for that owl. No one else has seen it, I think he invented it for reasons of his own.’
Rosemary knew that was true, but she said nothing.
She met Huw again on the way home and he gratefully accepted her offer of a lift, getting in behind Gethyn, who looked decidedly ill-at-ease. When she parked the car beside the Citroen, Gethyn got out, murmured his thanks and hurried across the footbridge and disappeared through his front door.
‘Gethyn mentioned the elusive owl,’ Rosemary said with a frown. ‘I wonder how he knew?’
‘I’m certain I didn’t mention it,’ Huw said, helping her out of the car. ‘Probably overheard us talking about it. He spends a lot of time in the front of the house, doesn’t he, just looking?’
‘And that,’ Rosemary laughed, ‘is what he says about you!’
8
Sitting alone in Rosemary’s living room, Larry began to feel very uneasy. There was no special sound or movement he could explain in words, just a slow realisation that he wasn’t alone. The silence around him bore a hint of slow and soft breathing. He knew he was imagining it, yet the fear of it still prickled his scalp. He went into the kitchen and began making coffee. At least out here the sound faded until he convinced himself it had stopped. He flicked on the radio then snapped it off again. If there was someone there he needed to know. He daren’t risk masking the sound of their movements.
The admission that he really believed he had unknown company made him laugh aloud. He’d been spooked, that was all. Someone was trying to scare the pants off of him and he’d have to stop his imaginings right now or he’d be ready for the funny farm.
As if to prove something to an imaginary companion, he raced up the stairs and threw open every door. Every room was clearly untouched since his previous inspection.
He was alone. Any hint that things were otherwise was simply fanciful. He went to the kitchen again and poured out the coffee. Then, he heard a sigh, so soft he thought it was in his own head, then it came again, a plaintive sound, sad and utterly chilling.
Someone driving him away? Warning him he was getting too close to what he was seeking? Hell, he thought, I will go away, but only up on the hills for an hour to clear my head a little.
After phoning Rosemary to tell her he would be out for a while, he gathered a jacket from the back of a chair and left the house. It was dull, the sky a low grey c
over, not a day to enjoy views from high hills. Perhaps he wouldn’t go far after all.
* * *
As the door closed behind him, the smaller door of the cupboard under the stairs, known locally as the cwtch dan star, slowly opened and a figure rose and let itself out of the house; then slipped around the back of the row of cottages and up the hill to the churchyard.
Crossing the footbridge, Larry’s shoulders were dampened by the overhanging branches, the leaves already moist with the misty air. He hurried, conscious of the silence broken only by the sound of his sneakers on the wet wooden planks. Following the stream, he walked past where the river and stream joined and strode out purposefully towards the hills.
He tried to pretend, but the feeling of being followed wouldn’t leave him. He glanced behind him several times but each time the road was only a wet, empty ribbon. From the fields on either side, sheep watched him pass, their solemn heads turning to follow his progress with idle curiosity. The River Dovey on his right made hardly a sound as it sullenly slid past the banks, held down by the weighty air.
He hadn’t really thought where he was going and he began to wish he had stayed put. The eerie feeling in the house hadn’t been left behind; it was walking with him.
He touched the fading bruises on his face. It wasn’t all imagination. But how could anyone have guessed why he was here? How could what he was searching for cause such a violent reaction?
He came to a T-junction and he left the road to climb up towards the old quarry.
There were still some old buildings there and he was tempted to explore them, more from the need to add some purpose to his walk than from real interest. He would look at them, consider the expedition at an end and go home.
The climb wasn’t very steep but the way was difficult because of the small blackthorns and birch trees that were already colonising the abandoned place. The spiky branches tugged at his clothes and the clumps of heather underfoot and the trailing brambles tripped him several times. He realised he was hurrying and he slowed down a little, trying not to listen for sounds coming behind him.
Search for a Shadow Page 10
