The water reached the front door and was soon seeping underneath and out in a gentle stream, making its way to join the larger stream in front of the house.
10
While Larry hurriedly threw on a few clothes and ran up to turn off the water at the stopcock, Rosemary knocked on Gethyn’s door and he came dressed in night-clothes and an anorak, to help. He was shocked by the sight that met his eyes and said so. He glared at Larry, making it clear Rosemary knew whom he suspected of causing the disastrous flood. But he worked alongside them, needing only a few words of explanation before he set to and helped them drag out what they could, in the hope of saving at least some of the furnishings.
She was so distraught she was unaware of how incongruous she looked in lacynecked nightdress, pink dressing gown and Wellington boots, but she couldn’t bear to stop and dress more suitably. The priority seemed to be to save her home. ‘Who would do this to me?’ she kept asking, but neither Larry nor Gethyn offered any answer.
They carried out the largest furniture which seemed hardly touched by the water, and then tore the carpet from its pins and pulled that out and placed it as straight as they could on the grass outside. It was difficult, the water gave it extra weight and made it very heavy. In tears, Rosemary said, ‘It’s all hopeless! We’re just adding the mess of mud to the problems of water! There’ll be nothing worth having. It’s all ruined.’
‘You’ll see, we’ll save most of it,’ Larry promised. ‘A couple of weeks and you won’t see a sign of tonight’s disaster.’
Gethyn took a brush and was standing at the back door brushing the last of the water out when the police arrived. He had worked hard and his breath was uneven with the exertion of it.
‘About time you sorted all this, isn’t it?’ he said to the constable.
‘We’re mighty glad to see you,’ Larry said, ‘but, who sent for you?’
‘Mrs – er—’ The constable looked at his notebook and when he said the name, Larry said it with him.
‘Mrs Priestley!’
‘Yes sir, seems she was woken by voices and looked out of her bedroom window to see you vacating the house. Moonlight flits being no longer fashionable, she thought there was a fire, then decided that it was water that was the trouble.’
The night had all but gone before they had decided there was nothing more to be done. They were all filthy, dishevelled and weary and when Larry suggested they abandoned the rest until the morning, there was no arguments. Dawn was not yet breaking but the subtle change in the darkness heralded its approach. The eerie half-dark showed the devastation more clearly.
The immediate landscape, usually smooth grass and a few flower beds, was filled with unrecognisable shapes and shadows. The grass was distorted by a covering of pale carpet, the piled up chairs and small tables. Rosemary stared for so long they almost became commonplace, an extention to the house, a new room, an excepted oddity at the end of a peculiar night. But the rest; ornaments, a television, a box of records, cushions and a hurriedly stacked pile of books looked bizarre.
Her first thought, when they stopped to rest, was to arrange for the council refuse collectors to come and take it all. She remembered the despoiling of her bed and shivered. Someone was driving her out. But who? And why?
While Larry and Gethyn went inside and made coffee, she sat on the front doorstep and mentally listed her friends. She had known them all for years. There was no one who could do this to her. No one.
No one, a voice inside her warned, except Larry. He had told so many lies, how could she be sure of him?
He came out then and sat beside her after handing her a cup of steaming hot coffee. Behind them stood Gethyn.
‘It’s livable,’ Larry said, hugging her. ‘The damage is slight although it looked such a mess. The bare floors make it look as if it’s been abandoned, but the floors will soon dry and we’ll be able to get new carpets down in a matter of days.’
‘I don’t think I want to,’ she said dully. ‘I don’t want to go inside ever again.’
‘Don’t say that, Rosemary,’ Gethyn said. ‘It’s your home, you belong there, it will be all right soon.’
She wondered vaguely if he meant the water damage or the whole mysterious run of disasters and frights. She sighed. How could he understand how she felt about the place now?
‘I’m not staying here tonight,’ she said, still in the low, subdued voice. ‘I’ll stay with Sally.’
‘No, darling,’ Larry pleaded. ‘I’m with Gethyn on this. Don’t let whoever it is drive you out. The rooms are liveable and I’ll get the furniture back inside before you come home this evening.’
She shook her head.
‘I think I’ll accept the offer and sell it as soon as possible.’
‘No, you won’t get your price,’ Gethyn said quickly. ‘Best you forget selling for a while, until the damage is made good.’
‘That’s sound advice,’ Larry looked at Gethyn in surprise.
‘I don’t want you to sell,’ Gethyn went on, turning his shoulder to exclude Larry, ‘and you ought to get inside before you catch cold!’ He handed the coffee cup to Larry, took off his anorak and put it around her, then went back to his own house without another word.
‘That guy is strange, isn’t he?’ Larry whispered. ‘He seems to be unable to support a conversation most of the time, except when it concerns you. In fact, that’s the most I’ve ever heard him utter.’
‘He’s a good friend,’ Rosemary said, snuggling Gethyn’s coat around her, unconsciously appreciating the recently vacated warmth. ‘I have such good friends. Yet,’ she added sorrowfully, ‘one of them must be doing this to me.’
‘Come on, baby, Gethyn is right, you’re freezing sitting here in just your night clothes.’
She looked down at herself as if only just realising how unsuitably dressed she was.
‘If I can force myself to go back inside, I’ll shower and get ready for work,’ she said.
‘Before five o’clock in the morning?’ he laughed. Talking cheerfully in an effort to rouse her from her depression, he guided her back inside.
‘It even smells different,’ she said with a sob. ‘It isn’t my home any more.’
‘It will be, I promise.’ He led her upstairs and ran the bath. The room smelled of dampness and disturbed dust. He leaned over and chose some scented bath foam and poured a liberal amount into the running water. The glued plug had been cut away but he held the water with a coin wrapped in a cloth. When he helped her to remove her clothes he was startled at how cold she was.
‘Honey, you’re like ice.’
‘That’s just how I feel,’ she said. ‘Frozen so I won’t feel anything, ever again.’
She lay in the warm water and he sat on the edge of the bath and talked to her, not about what had happened, not about anything in particular, he just talked.
He described his home in New York.
‘A large apartment on a busy, noisy street. A kitchen you’d love, and rooms that are large enough to lose this place completely. Constant noise, the city buzzing all around, life racing past at hundreds of miles an hour for twenty-four hours of every day.
‘You’d hate it after this place. The greenness of Wales is what you’d miss most I guess.’
She seemed not to be listening to him but the words were going into her brain like hammer blows. He was telling her gently, but quite clearly, that there was no place for her in his life. His future lay in the American city where he was happiest, and hers was here, in the quiet green hills of Wales. She began to shiver. She wished they had never met.
‘Out you come,’ he said, seeing her shiver and presuming it was because of a chilliness. He helped her out and lovingly dried her. She went to gather some fresh clothes but he led her away. ‘You, my sweet, are going back to bed.’
She didn’t protest. He pulled back the covers and she slid into the harshness of the cold sheets. He undressed and got in beside her. His warmth was wrapped around her and
she felt the thawing of her depressed spirits. He lay, just holding her and talking soothingly to her, until she slept.
The alarm woke them at seven-thirty.
‘I can’t face any more of this,’ she whispered.
‘You don’t have to, it’s over. I feel sure that whoever has been doing this won’t bother us any more. The police will be watching carefully now and this morning I’m changing the locks, again. Dammit,’ he said angrily, ‘I should have done it ages ago.’
‘But we bolt the doors. How could a key have helped?’ She was wide awake now and thinking over what had occurred.
‘I forgot,’ he admitted. ‘I forgot to throw the bolt on the front door. I don’t know how, it’s become such a routine, but I did.’
‘It’s as if someone is following our every move, even knowing when we forget to bolt the doors! It’s no use, I can’t stay here any longer. I’ll ask Sally if we can stay there. I’m sure she won’t mind.’
‘She won’t have me there!’ he said with a crooked grin. ‘I’m not one of her favourite people. Suspects me of terrible deeds, does Sally.’
‘Of course she will. It won’t be very comfortable, but we can manage for a few days, until we’ve decided what to do.’
Larry was correct in his assumption that Sally wouldn’t make him welcome.
‘You can stay with me for as long as you want, Rosemary, you know that,’ she said. But her eyes slid away as she added, ‘But as for Larry, well, I don’t think I’ve the room and—’
‘And you think he’s at the back of all this, don’t you?’ Rosemary accused her quietly.
‘Well, it does coincide with his coming here, doesn’t it? Everything was all right until he came. I admit I can’t think why, unless it’s something to do with the family he’s supposed to be looking for.’
‘How can his family roots have anything to do with me?’
‘Perhaps they lived in your house and he wants to buy it back?’
‘That’s nonsense.’
‘I know it’s nonsense. I’m thinking aloud and trying to invent a story to fit at least some of the facts. You must admit it has to be something very unusual to explain it all?’
‘Very unusual,’ she agreed.
‘Could someone be in love with you and Larry is driving them away by all this?’
‘How would that fit into a story?’
‘I don’t know. If he can get you away from there, away from whoever he’s jealous of—’
‘Larry and I don’t have a future together, so that theory’s out. While I was bathing early this morning he was talking about his home. He spelled out the differences so I’d understand clearly that I would never fit in there. He also made it clear that Wales with its green hills and blacker than black nights was not something he could ever become used to. No, either way you can count Larry out.’
‘Then who?’
‘I can’t believe the trouble comes from one of the neighbours. There are the students, strangers until recently, with no known connection with me or any of the others that we know of. There’s Mrs Priestley, three is empty, then there’s Gethyn and me. Who amongst that lot can you see as a villain?’ As Sally shook her red head she added, ‘No, neither can I!’
‘I suppose Huw Rees or Richard Lloyd might be involved in some way; Richard is very quiet and seems distant from the rest. But I’d still like to know what Larry is really doing here! Oh, Rosemary, why won’t you listen to what I’m saying?’
‘He’s been looking for his family and writing a novel. At least that is explained.’
‘Is it? Did you see the novel?’
‘Yes I did!’
‘Apart from the pieces spread over the floor, did you see it?’
‘Well, no, but—’
‘Puzzling, isn’t it? At least admit it’s puzzling.’
* * *
Rosemary drove home that evening with an increased feeling of dread.
Larry wasn’t there, the Citroen was not parked in its usual place and at once the fear of walking into the damaged house hit her anew. She stopped the car and stared across the stream at the row of five cottages. All silent, no sign of anyone there, yet she had the fanciful notion that all the windows were shielding someone, that pairs of eyes were staring across at her and their expression was malign, and threatening, warning her to stay away.
She stepped out of the car and walked across the footbridge. As she approached the houses, she heard a door open and looked up expecting to see Larry. His car was somewhere else; he hadn’t allowed her to walk back into the house alone. She smiled and began to hasten her steps, but it was Gethyn who came to meet her.
‘Rosemary, I have to talk to you.’
She didn’t want to talk to him, she wanted to go inside and see if there was a message from Larry. Had he left her? She glanced expectantly across the stream to his parking place as she followed Gethyn to number one.
The inside of his house was a mess. A cupboard that had once stood against a corner wall was standing awkwardly, further into the room against the shared wall. It was held closed with a tie of string. In front of it was an armchair on which were piles and piles of magazines.
‘Sorry about the mess, but I had to see you. I’ve just had this letter.’ His eyes darted away from hers as he handed it to her. It was an official note, and she at once recognised the name of the senders. It was the firm from whom her grandmother had bought the cottage.
She opened it and read with dismay that Gethyn had been asked to vacate his tenancy in two months’ time. The reason given was that the tenancy had been in the name of his mother and, having no instructions or even a request to transfer the tenancy, they had no alternative but to ask him to leave, he having no legal entitlement to remain.
‘I’ll go with you to a solicitor tomorrow,’ she said after reading it through twice. ‘But, Gethyn, I think they’re correct. You have no right to continue to live here, but why didn’t your mother ask for the transfer?’
‘She did mention it but she wasn’t ill, not so you’d say really ill, only a bit of heart trouble. We thought there was plenty of time.’
‘We all think that time is infinite and things will remain the same. But nothing does. Everything comes to an end and for you, your mother’s life ended too soon.’
He wailed then, an almost childish wail of pain and fear, and she stepped closer and put an arm around his shoulders. His head bent and they stood there for some time, she the comforter and he the comforted. Then a subtle change came over him and he stood tall and looked down at her, his face calm and his eyes unwavering.
‘I’ll help you to sort out what’s happening to you first. Only then will I worry about this,’ he said. ‘I’ve been neglectful of you, leaving you alone thinking that with the American there it’s none of my business, but you are my business, Rosemary, and you always will be. My problem is small compared with yours. Let me be your strength, Rosemary, lean on me, I’ll support you.’
She leaned on him literally and they stood together as strength seeped into her, realising as if for the first time that in spite of his shyness, Gethyn was strong, or would be for her.
A shadow filled the doorway and Larry entered, saying, ‘Can I come in or is this a private party?’
‘Larry!’ Rosemary was startled out of a dream in which none of the happenings of the past weeks had really happened, she and Gethyn were standing together and she had been telling him about the strange dreams from which she had woken. But seeing Larry, she knew where her heart lay, and once again, she had encouraged Gethyn in a cruel way by staying within his arms as if she belonged there.
‘Gethyn has just heard he’ll have to leave this house,’ she said, her voice fast as she extricated herself from Gethyn’s embrace. ‘The rental was his mother’s and it wasn’t altered to make it his.’
‘Gethyn, I’m real sorry. Is it difficult to rent around here?’
‘Impossible.’ Rosemary had recovered from the foolish aberration and
stood now beside Larry. ‘When a place becomes empty it’s usually sold, I’m afraid.’
‘Then you must speak to the landlord and persuade him to change his mind,’ Larry said cheerfully. ‘Difficult but not impossible. Mind you, I suggest you tidy up a bit before he comes to see if you’re taking care of his property. Jesus, this place looks worse than next door, and we’ve had a flood!’
* * *
They left Gethyn, still staring at the letter, and wondering how to deal with it, and went into number two. Larry had been inside and opened all the doors to allow the slight breeze that smelled slightly of the sea to waft in and take away the damp and musty smell of the carpet-less house.
‘Did you ring the insurance people?’ he asked.
‘Yes and they’re sending a form for me to fill in,’ she said. She stood at the door, unwilling to enter. It smelled different, looked different and she couldn’t accept that it was her home.
‘It’s no use, I can’t walk in. It isn’t mine any more.’
‘All right, stay there and look at the brook and I’ll get the fire started.’ He disappeared, whistling cheerfully, coming out a few moments later with a cup of coffee and a chair. He grinned at her and she smiled and sat down, wrapping the blanket he had also brought, around her knees. He disappeared again and then brought out a sandwich and a chocolate biscuit. ‘Picnic time,’ he announced and went back inside still whistling cheerfully.
Larry made everything into such fun. Even a tragedy like the ruination of her home was an excuse for humour. What was funny about sitting outside her door with a chair and a cup of coffee, was difficult to explain, but the way he did it made it impossible to remain sad. His light-hearted approach to everything gladdened her.
Inside, the sticks were snapping and cracking as flames took hold and soon she saw the redness on the logs that was the forerunner to flames. He turned and saw her and smiled, pushing the fair hair out of his eyes and leaving a black mark on his face so he looked like a pirate with an eye-patch.
Search for a Shadow Page 14
