Search for a Shadow

by Search for a Shadow (retail) (epub)

  ‘Have you had lunch?’ he asked.

  ‘All I wanted.’

  ‘Pity.’

  ‘Gethyn, I have to go, there’s work I must do today.’ She smiled regretfully, not wanting to part from him. He offered security and strength in a world fraught with unseen dangers and seemingly false friends.

  He stood to leave and she felt his love and protection enfolding her. He was tall, strong and so familiar and comforting. Impulsively she stretched up and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

  ‘Thank you for listening to me,’ she said.

  ‘I’m always here for you, Rosemary, remember that,’ he said as he turned and walked out.

  * * *

  Rosemary went back to the staff room and found Sally standing there, white-faced, her red hair seeming brighter by comparison.

  ‘Sally? What is it?’ she asked. ‘You look as if you’ve had a shock.’

  ‘I have, but not this moment. Rosemary, I have to tell you something. I’ve befriended you for a purpose.’

  ‘Join the club!’ Rosemary retorted. ‘It seems it’s the only way I make friends, by someone wanting something!’

  ‘I think Mrs Priestley is my grandmother.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘My father left my mother when I was small, I know nothing about him, but I’ve searched and – well, I’m almost certain he was Mrs Priestley’s son, Leonard. Everything fits. Dates, areas and ages – Rosemary, I’m sorry I’ve used you and sorrier still that I couldn’t tell you. Will you come with me and talk to her. I can’t go alone and you know her and — please?’

  ‘He went to Australia or Canada,’ Rosemary said stupidly.

  ‘Perhaps he did, but not before he married my mother and fathered me.’

  ‘But your mother would know where he is, surely? She’d have told you about your grandmother?’

  ‘She died when I was born. That’s why Dad left I believe, he couldn’t cope with a small baby, could he?’

  Rosemary shook her head. She stared about her at familiar things and wondered if she were really sleeping and involved in a dream. All these years she had lived among people she didn’t know.

  ‘Of course I’ll go with you to talk to her. But I don’t think she’ll be anything but pleased.’ She hugged the girl to reassure her.

  * * *

  Inside number two, Larry sat huddled in blankets and anorak in the chilly loft-space. The coffee flask was almost empty and he couldn’t risk turning on the electric kettle, knowing how sharp and clear the sound of a switch was in a silent house. He had climbed down once to use the lavatory but had remembered just in time not to pull the flush.

  Hours had passed without a sound to suggest anyone was near. A box tucked away under some books intrigued him and he pulled it out and unpacked its neatly arranged contents.

  It was clothes, baby clothes, but whose, or even whether they belonged to a girl or a boy, he couldn’t guess. He put these aside with the diary he had also come across, to show Rosemary. He thought of his own mother’s stories about storing the clothes for a next child and guessed they had been packed away for a baby, who had perhaps never arrived.

  The wind rose again and, collecting the items he had left out to show Rosemary, he climbed down onto the landing. His idea had failed and he wondered doubtfully if he could face a repeat of his vigil on the following day. He didn’t go upstairs again but sat in the armchair in the darkening room. He wanted to light the fire but with the curtains open to the darkness outside, it would be a giveaway. He couldn’t even use the electric bar, and he sat and watched the numbers of his watch marking the slow passing of time.

  As five o’clock chimed in the house next door, he stood lethargically, facing the window. He didn’t attempt to look at anything at first, staring blindly at the blackness, allowing his thoughts to wander idly, his eyes sightlessly roaming across the blank windows. What a waste of a goddamned day!

  Gradually he saw objects grow out of the darkness and he began to recognise a few trees, and the banks of the stream; the water the colour of lead in the gloomy autumn evening. He realised he had failed.

  18

  He shared the events of the day with Rosemary, making light of its tedium and the cold that had steadily eaten into his bones. She in turn confessed to having blurted out to Gethyn in the library Larry’s soaking at the hands of the unknown assailant the night before. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said miserably, ‘I know I promised I wouldn’t tell a soul.’ Larry stood up, walked around the room for a few moments then turned and glared at her.

  ‘You did what?’ he shouted.

  ‘I’m sorry, Larry, but I was dreadfully upset and I needed to tell someone and—’

  ‘I’ve had it up to here with your lack of trust!’ he yelled at her. ‘I’ve wanted to help you but I can’t. Not any longer. I’m leaving, here and now.’

  ‘Larry, you can’t go!’

  ‘You’d better believe it!’ He ran upstairs and came down only moments later with a bag packed untidily, the zip caught in the sleeve of a sweater that hung out, dragging the floor. Under his arm he had a sleeping bag.

  ‘Larry! Don’t go, please, not at this time of night. Please!’

  ‘Lock all the doors and make sure the bolts are fixed tight. If you’re frightened, call for Gethyn! You obviously trust him more than you trust me!’

  Suddenly he was gone. Rosemary stared at the door, wide-eyed, her hands on her cheeks, bewildered at the speed of the transformation. Too numb to cry at first, she stared at the cold fireplace, foolishly wondering if she should light it or manage with the electric bar. Dulled as she was from thinking clearly, she knew she wouldn’t attempt to go to bed. This room was where she would stay until dawn. The rest of the house was no longer her domain, but a place in which she feared to trespass.

  She stretched her neck to look inside the coal scuttle like a stranger peering through a window into someone else’s home, and saw the coal was low. There was not enough to last the night. That seemed to be the last straw, and a wail of despair filled the room like an echo of the dying wind.

  * * *

  Outside in Rosemary’s car, huddled against the chilly night and the biting wind, Larry sat and watched the house. He wished he’d made a flask of coffee, and remembered with sudden pangs that he hadn’t eaten either.

  He was pleased with the way he had been able to cause a quarrel. The realisation that Gethyn knew about him being pushed into the stream was a gift and, if his rapidly growing theory was correct, then the quarrel would have been overheard and he was certain it would have sounded genuine.

  As the first minutes passed he had moments of regret that he hadn’t warned Rosemary of his intention, but she was an innocent and not convinced of her danger – or, he thought sadly, of his own lack of guilt, and she might have again trusted someone against his plans. The wrong someone.

  He smiled in the darkness as he imagined their reunion once the situation had been made clear to her.

  Rosemary allowed herself the luxury of crying unrestrainedly and when there was a knock at the door she at first didn’t hear it, then decided it was Larry and refused to open it. She hadn’t thrust the bolts home and was hardly surprised when the door opened. Larry had his key. She forced the crying to an even louder pitch. She wasn’t even going to talk to him after what he had done. Not now or ever!

  She glanced into the mirror through swollen eyes and saw, not Larry, but Gethyn entering.

  ‘Sorry to come in uninvited, Rosemary,’ he said in his quiet, caring way. ‘But I heard you crying and, well, I had to come and see if there was anything I could do.’

  The gently spoken words, undemanding of explanations, a well-known face and arms held just slightly towards her were enough to make her sob louder and run to him.

  ‘Oh, Gethyn, it’s—’

  ‘Hush love.’ He pressed her face into his shoulder, bent his head to hers and made soothing, murmuring sounds and encouraged her to take comfort from him like a chil
d with its mother.

  He smelled of soap, and warm wool and there was the faintest touch of wood-smoke about him and it was all she wanted; familiar scents, familiar touch and the soft, caring familiar voice.

  There was another knock at the door and she stared up at Gethyn, who was looking at her, his eyes large, dark and lovingly aware.

  ‘If that’s Larry back I won’t see him,’ she said thickly, her voice strange after all her sobs and tears.

  Gethyn left her and she heard him open the door, knowing that in spite of her words she wanted it to be Larry. But it was Huw who walked in and came to stand beside her, an arm at once touching her shoulders.

  ‘Rosemary? Are you all right?’ he asked. ‘I went for a last breath of fresh air and thought I’d knock in case you were frightened.’

  ‘I’m fine. Gethyn came when he heard me crying but everything is all right now.’ When the fire was burning brightly and she had made them all a cup of coffee, Rosemary tried politely but firmly to persuade them to leave. Huw took a pen and wrote his phone number in large numbers on a piece of paper which he propped up against the telephone.

  ‘Come on Gethyn, the lady wants us to go,’ he said. ‘Call me if there’s the slightest worry, Rosemary, I can be here in seconds.’ He took both her hands in his and stared down at her from his extra height, making her look at him, making sure she listened. ‘I want you to promise that if anything disturbs you, even if it’s a passing owl, you’ll tell me; I want to know about it. Promise?’

  ‘I promise,’ she smiled.

  ‘I don’t have to make you promise, do I?’ Gethyn said, touching her cheek lightly with his lips. ‘Anyway, I don’t intend to leave for a while. I want to know you are relaxed and calm before I go.

  ‘Rosemary, I want to talk. I know you were upset earlier but now you’re calm. We have so much to say to each other.’

  At once Rosemary regretted allowing Huw to leave before Gethyn. She had fallen once more into the trap of giving Gethyn the impression there was more than friendships by the way she had clung to him and allowed herself to be comforted.

  ‘Gethyn, there’s nothing for us to talk about. We’re neighbours and good friends, when I was in trouble you comforted me as I would you. That’s all. Now, if you would leave me, I’m so exhaused.’

  To her alarm he came towards her, his eyes full of an unfamiliar wildness. He put his arms around her but now there was no comfort in them, they gave her a feeling of vulnerability and alarm.

  ‘Rosemary, I love you. We belong together. Tell me you know it, that we’ll marry and stay here where we both belong.’

  She struggled to be free of his searching lips and for a moment his strength refused to release her. She struggled and called for him to let go and suddenly, his arms fell to his sides and his great shoulders drooped.

  ‘You are my dearest friend, Gethyn,’ she said, her voice trembling, ‘but it’s Larry I love. I’m sorry, so very sorry.’

  He didn’t reply, he lumbered from the room and across the hall like a wounded bear and she followed after a few moments and locked the door behind him.

  * * *

  Outside, Huw waited until Gethyn had gone into his own house and Rosemary had thrust home the bolt on her door, then he walked slowly back to number five.

  * * *

  Larry was attracted by the swinging of a torch as Gethyn walked from his own house to Rosemary’s. He saw, in the uneven beam, Gethyn standing there, having obviously knocked on the door. Then after a while during which the door remained obstinately closed, he saw the light focus on the keyhole and Gethyn appeared to open the door with a key and walk in.

  Larry opened the car door and stood outside. The sonofabitch didn’t waste much time, did he? he muttered. He was carefully walking to the beginning of the bridge when he was halted by the sight of another shadow easing itself from the trees and saw the tall, skinny figure that could only be Huw, heading for Rosemary’s door. He followed, and watched as Gethyn let him in, then settled against the front wall to listen at the window, trying to hear what was being said.

  He ran to hide when Huw, then Gethyn, came out and he was about to return to the car when he made up his mind. He had to take a chance and trust Huw. Turning back from the bridge he ran and knocked on number five, reaching there just as the light on the landing went off. It came on immediately and Huw opened the door.

  ‘Time for a skull-session, I think,’ Larry said as he walked past a surprised Huw into the house.

  ‘First,’ he said after making sure there was no one else in the living room, ‘first, I have to tell you that for a while I thought you were involved in all this. Now, well, I have to trust you. Dammit, I’ll go mad if this isn’t sorted soon! I have to talk to someone!’

  ‘Start at the beginning?’ Huw suggested. ‘Like what you’re doing here?’

  ‘That will have to wait. Sorry, but although I once thought differently, I now think it’s irrelevant. What’s happening isn’t anything to do with why I’m here.’ Huw turned away and opening a cupboard, he handed Larry a can of beer.

  ‘You wouldn’t have a sandwich would you? I’m starved!’ He followed Huw into the kitchen and talked while Huw prepared peanut-butter sandwiches.

  ‘I saw Gethyn go in and although I was too far away to be sure, he seemed to let himself in with a key,’ Larry began. ‘How can he have a key? I had the locks changed twice.’

  ‘I asked the same question of Rosemary. She looked surprised and said she always gives a spare key to Gethyn. It hadn’t ever occurred to her not to. The key had been left with his mother by her grandmother and it was only natural for that to continue.’

  ‘Oooooo-o-oh shit,’ Larry snorted.

  * * *

  A knock at the door startled Rosemary. She rose and looked at the clock, then out of the window. To her surprise it was morning. She went to the door and began to unbolt it but remembered in time the need to be cautious and called to ask who was there.

  ‘Gethyn,’ a voice said. ‘Please, Rosemary, I don’t want to pester you but can I come in, just for five minutes?’ She opened the door.

  ‘I just wanted to say I’m sorry, I don’t want you to think that I’ll allow my love for you to ruin our friendship. That’s all.’

  ‘I wouldn’t allow that to happen either, Gethyn,’ she said. ‘Look, I’ve just woken, will you have some coffee?’

  When she went back into the living room from the kitchen, with two steaming cups, he was examining the baby clothes. His expression, when he looked up at her made her stomach churn with shock. It was accusative.

  ‘They aren’t for me!’ she said with an edge of anger to her voice. ‘Larry found them in – when he was looking for something for me the other day and brought them for me to look at. I suppose they ought to go to one of the charity shops.’

  ‘They smell a little of damp,’ he said. ‘Whose are they?’

  ‘Well, I presumed they were mine, kept by my sentimental old Gran.’

  ‘Blue? Isn’t blue the colour for boys?’

  ‘Perhaps. But if they aren’t mine whose can they be?’ She laughed. ‘Perhaps my mother liked to defy the conventions! I’ll ask her next time I talk to her.’

  While they sipped their coffee, she picked up the diary and leafed through its yellowing pages. The date was 1962.

  ‘Wasn’t that the year you were born, Gethyn?’ she asked, showing it to him. When he nodded, she looked for his birth date, wondering if there was some mention of it. Living next door, her gran would certainly have considered that exciting news and worthy of a mention in a diary.

  There were several references to his mother, Marged. In early June, it noted that she was at a hospital in a distant town. Marged had hinted at a long awaited pregnancy. ‘But,’ the pages remarked, ‘this has happened so many times before.’ He moved away from her, his face revealing shock, but Rosemary didn’t notice his ashen colour or how silent he had become, as she muttered the dates on the pages for June. What s
he then read aloud made him cry out in pain.

  ‘Today, Marged brought home a baby. She admitted that it wasn’t hers but one she had stolen from a pram in the streets of Aberystwyth. I have pleaded with her to return him, but to no avail. I know I should report it but as the hours pass my resolve weakens. I am so ashamed that I have condoned, by my lack of action, the loss to some unknown mother of her child.’

  ‘She promised me she hadn’t told a soul!’ Gethyn groaned. Rosemary didn’t hear the words.

  ‘What does it mean?’ she whispered.

  ‘Surely you can’t be – No. There must be a mistake! There was another child and she returned him. This doesn’t concern you at all. It was a momentary madness, that’s all. My grandmother would never have allowed this to happen.’

  ‘Not even when my mother tried to hang herself?’ Gethyn said softly.

  ‘It’s true?’

  ‘My – “mother” – told me just before she died. The accident and her death were a punishment. I couldn’t grieve for her. When I think how she deprived me of a life among my own family, perhaps brothers and sisters, and cousins and uncles – I hate her.’

  The vehemence in his voice was reflected in his eyes, staring eyes, staring at the clothes.

  ‘They were the clothes I was wearing when she stole me.’

  ‘Perhaps it isn’t too late.’ Rosemary was bewildered, she was on a merry-go-round completely out of control, everything was crazy, the world insane. For a moment she wondered if she were going mad. Surely none of this was happening? She forced her fluttering thoughts to earth and said, ‘It isn’t too late to find your family. There would have been reports in the papers of the time, you’ll be able to find them without any difficulty.’