‘There isn’t anywhere handy, Mrs Clements, it isn’t very hot.’ Ignoring the woman’s protests the cup was pushed into Elsie’s hand and at once her hands shook and the tea spilled over her knees and on to the floor.
On her way home Sophie saw Brenda Morris, the district nurse. ‘Is Mrs Clements still at the hairdressers? I was making my usual call but she isn’t at home.’
‘Yes, she’s just spilled a cup of tea. Such a shame about her problem, isn’t it?’
Presuming she was aware of the facts, Brenda said, ‘The saddest thing is that it will get progressively worse.’
Shocked, sucked into the secret, Sophie didn’t want to embarrass Brenda by making her realize she hadn’t known, so she said, ‘She’s very brave, calling it a trapped nerve.’
‘A lot of sufferers try to pretend it isn’t happening,’ Brenda said. ‘She’ll need a lot of care and very soon.’
‘She does know how serious it is?’
‘Of course. I think Eddie Connors must be a saint, don’t you?’
‘A saint,’ Sophie agreed.
Now what should she do? Tell Betty that Elsie was suffering more than a trapped nerve? Worst of all, what if Ed didn’t know? Should he be told? Why had she allowed herself to become involved with these kindly neighbours? Why hadn’t she stayed outside the community, stayed solitary and lived an uncomplicated life? But when she thought about the years before she had found Cwm Derw she knew she could never go back.
*
It was when Rachel went to the post office that she first heard the rumours, and Tommy was approached later that day when he called into the Ship and Compass for a lunchtime drink. ‘Of course we aren’t selling,’ was the reply they both gave, but still the story spread. They even had a few enquiries from would-be purchasers. They questioned Owen but he told them to ignore the gossip. ‘Because that’s all it is, people putting two and two together and presuming that because Ryan and Gareth don’t want the farm you’ll be selling up. I explained that I’m not going anywhere, and we can cope perfectly well without them.’
‘It isn’t a case of being without them,’ Tommy said sadly. ‘It’s the continuity. I didn’t dream that they wouldn’t want to carry on the tradition. Treweathers have been here for so long, I thought we were a permanent fixture.’
‘I’m here,’ Owen said. ‘I’m a Treweather. It was my grandfather who worked this land. He was my grandfather as well as Ryan’s and Gareth’s, remember.’
‘It isn’t the same!’ Tommy spoke irritably. ‘Father to son, that’s how it works. The eldest son taking over. Your father was the youngest and he didn’t want to stay. He cleared off years ago and went to America to follow his dream. And died there. It’s our sons who we need running the farm, not strangers.’
He was thinking of Harry Sutton and the other Casuals, but Owen took it that Tommy was referring to him. He said nothing, but his anger was almost impossible to contain. He stood up and left the room. ‘I’ll see that the hens are locked in,’ he called back.
Even at Maes Hir market, where Rachel and Tommy had gone to pick up supplies, they met the same comments – this time from other local farmers.
‘Selling up, I hear. Don’t blame you.’
‘Kids, eh? They let you down, don’t they?’
‘What will you do when you sell?’
‘Ill health, is it?’ And so it went on, making Tommy more and more angry as he described the rumours as rubbish and insisted that, ‘Treweathers will be here for generations yet.’
When he could stand no more, he hurried Rachel through the last of her shopping then almost threw the parcels into the van and started the engine.
‘Slow down, Tommy,’ Rachel warned as he turned a corner dangerously fast.
‘Don’t you start!’ He turned to glare at her. ‘Think I’m too old, do you? Unfit to drive?’
‘No, but I’d prefer that you look at the road and not try to pick a row with me.’
He pushed the accelerator harder and the trees rushed past, the van swerving on the narrow, winding lane. ‘Stop, Tommy! You’re not in a fit state to drive. Get out and I’ll take over.’
‘Take over? Certainly! I’ll walk.’ He skidded to a stop, his hand on the door ready to open it, and misjudged the bank at the side of the lane. The van tilted and almost rolled over, tipping Rachel out of her seat. The driver’s door swung open, and, with the van still moving, Tommy fell out, his leg caught under the scraping metal. Inside the car Rachel’s arm was between the seats, and when she moved the pain was intense.
She called to Tommy, who groaned and called for her to fetch help.
‘I don’t seem able to move,’ she replied. They stayed where they were, attempting to free themselves from time to time, but without success. Rachel tried to find out where Tommy was and how badly he was hurt, but he seemed to be numb. The fact that he couldn’t move and lacked the desire to try was alarming. She knew her arm must be broken. She couldn’t move it, and when she tried the pain was excruciating.
She had no idea how long they were there but at last they heard the sound of an approaching engine and Rachel began to sob with relief. ‘It’s all right, Tommy, love, someone’s coming. You’ll be all right now.’
*
Owen was on the hill with the sheep when he saw the police car driving towards the farm. Whistling for the dog to follow, he hurried down. Tommy and Rachel were in hospital, Tommy with a broken leg and Rachel with a broken arm. His first thought was how he could make use of the situation to further his own plans.
At the hospital he made all the right noises, sympathized with them and promised to keep everything on track while they were away. It wasn’t until he was driving back that he began to smile.
Once he had finished the routine work, which he dealt with in remarkably good humour, he went to the Ship and Compass and asked to see Daphne. ‘Are you enjoying your job?’ he asked peremptorily.
‘Not really. A greasy garage isn’t really me, but there isn’t anything else I want to do at present,’ she replied, wondering what was behind the abrupt question.
‘Would you consider helping at the farm? Tommy and Rachel are in hospital and I need someone I can rely on to help run things. What d’you say?’
‘Can I think about it?’
‘No. No time.’
‘I need to give a week’s notice.’
‘Not if I talk to your boss and explain my difficulty. I’m sure he’ll agree and probably keep your job open for when things get back to normal if I ask him. Well? Will you help?’
She held out her hand, her loud laughter giving him his answer, and he went at once to see her employer and demand her freedom.
Betty was sorry to see her go. ‘You’re leaving the Ship? I thought you were comfortable here with me?’
‘I am, Betty, and as soon as Rachel and Tommy are fit, I’d like to come back.’
‘I got used to you being here.’
Daphne thought about it for a while, then said, ‘All right. I don’t see why I have to sleep at the farm, I can be there in ten minutes. All right if I sleep here and work there? I won’t disturb you, getting up at some ridiculous hour, will I?’
‘I’ll even get up and make you a cup of tea,’ Betty offered. She had never slept in a house alone, and, like many people, imagined the emptiness, the silence, and felt afraid.
*
Owen went to the hospital and again reassured his aunt and uncle that everything was running smoothly. ‘Daphne is dealing with the house and the jobs you do, Auntie Rachel, and Harry Sutton and I can manage the rest.’
‘It’s only until Ryan and Gareth get back. You have written, haven’t you?’ Tommy demanded.
‘Of course and I’ll write again now I know exactly what’s happening.’
Tommy had a list of instructions and Owen listened and nodded at each item, telling him that everything was being done exactly as he would want. ‘You don’t have to tell me every little thing, Uncle,’ he said, manag
ing a smile. ‘Who d’you think’s been doing it all these years? We’ll manage fine.’
Tommy didn’t quite believe him but grunted his thanks. ‘I’ll be home in a day or so and then I can keep an eye on things,’ he muttered.
‘No rush. I’m coping perfectly well, I’ve worked with you all my life, remember.’
He took Daphne with him when he went to see his aunt in the women’s ward, and again there was a list of questions and demands. Daphne encouraged laughter, telling Rachel what she had done, admitting a few disasters, asking advice on how to deal with things and making sure Rachel knew she was needed.
‘Don’t rush to get home,’ Owen said, ‘I’m sure the place won’t fall apart in a few days.’
‘I’ll be glad when you’re back, though, even if it’s sitting in a chair and giving instructions,’ Daphne added. ‘I’m such a duffer when it comes to running a busy house.’ Daphne knew she was leaving Rachel feeling content. She was needed, but in the short term she knew Daphne was doing a satisfactory job.
Rachel waved as the two of them left the ward, and her thoughts wandered to Owen’s future. He might do worse than place it in the hands of the cheerful, loudly confident Daphne. She was unaware that Owen’s thoughts were similar.
In the main street later that day Owen went to the post office, where there was the usual queue of people wanting postal orders for sending off their football pools entries. The shop hadn’t reopened after lunch hour and someone was banging on the door and shouting irritably.
Accompanied by Stella’s retorts, a lively discussion about who was actually first, and the barking of Stella’s dog, Scamp, the bolt was pulled and the postmistress scuttled back behind the counter. ‘Next?’ she called loudly, as though she had been the one waiting.
Owen waited patiently in line, the two letters he’d written in his hand. He had delayed writing to his cousins for as long as he dared, and altered the addresses slightly to delay them further, although he suspected that Gareth’s address was out of date, as he had been travelling. This was a perfect opportunity to show his uncle he didn’t need Ryan and Gareth to run the farm. He hoped they wouldn’t hurry home, even when they did hear about the accident – which he had played down, avoiding too many details. He needed them all out of the way for a week at least.
As he stepped outside he almost bumped into Sarah. She was on her way to the dress shop and wore a smart black skirt, a little shorter than was fashionable, and a white blouse that was open at the neck, revealing the swell of her breasts. She wore make-up and her hair had been cleverly cut so it swung round her face, shining like silk. He felt his breathing falter.
‘All dressed up, aren’t you?’ he said, staring at her, a frown on his face in an attempt to hide his admiration. ‘Some new man in your life?’
‘It’s none of your business, Owen. In fact, it stopped being your business years ago. Excuse me, I have to get to work.’ She pushed past impatiently, glaring at him with carefully made-up eyes. ‘Out of my way, and stop glaring at me!’
The sweetly clean, soapy scent of her startled him with its effect. He didn’t walk back to the van, but followed until he saw her step into Nerys’s shop. So she had given up the factory and was a shop assistant. It certainly improved her appearance, if not her temper, he thought with a smile.
*
Every time Owen went to see his aunt and uncle, their first question was whether he had heard from their sons. He spread his arms in a gesture of dismay and promised to write once again. They had asked him to bring notepaper and their addresses, but he conveniently forgot or couldn’t find them. By the time they were told they could soon go home, there had still been no contact.
‘This accident has been a shock for us both,’ Tommy told him. ‘It’s made us realize the need to get our affairs in order.’
‘What d’you mean? You’ve made a will, haven’t you?’
‘It needs updating.’
‘Don’t worry. I’m sure there’s no need to bother just yet. It will make you nervous thinking about it. Let it wait.’
‘The farm is left equally between Ryan and Gareth, of course. No need to follow the eldest-son rule any longer. There’s a good living there for them both.’
Owen hoped the shock didn’t show as he nodded and murmured a reply.
‘We’ll keep it running as you’d wish.’
‘Oh, and there’ll be something for you, Owen. A plot of land where you can build yourself a house. You’ve applied for a divorce and you’ll marry one day and make a good life for yourself.’
Owen stumbled from the hospital and, almost unseeing, drove to a small beach. It was almost time for milking and for once he didn’t care. Harry was there. Let him do it. He thought about his uncle’s words: the farm divided two ways, and he was to have nothing. He’d worked on the place all his life, and much harder than the twins, and he was to be rewarded with a plot of land.
He stared out over a choppy sea where the tide was rushing in on both sides of the small island that was cut off at high tide, with a rocky path allowing access when the water went back. He had often crossed the slippery rocks and spent hours out there fishing when he was younger – until the farm had taken all his spare moments, he thought bitterly. I’m thirty and I’ve given most of my life to Treweather Farm, and I’m still thought of as no more than a farm labourer.
A plot to build a house. Damn it all, the cows were better thought of. Where would the money come from to build it? A piece of useless land. What thanks was that for all the years? Coldly and calmly he got back into the van to drive home. Although, he muttered angrily, it wasn’t a home at all, just accommodation provided with the job. His mind was made up, all doubts gone. They owed him and he was going to take what he deserved.
With luck, Ryan and Gareth wouldn’t be home for a while, and if he could persuade his aunt and uncle to go away for a couple of weeks, that might just give him time to do it. If he failed and had to leave, well, he wouldn’t lose much, just a piece of land, which was probably useless, anyway! It was a gamble and the possibility of being found out was an added excitement.
A van was approaching down the narrow lane and he waited for it to pass. It was Geoff and his wife. What could they want at this lonely beach?
‘Hiya,’ Connie called, ‘Want a cup of tea and a sandwich? We always come here when we’ve an hour to spare and there’s enough for three in the picnic bag.’
They parked awkwardly so he’d have difficulty passing them, and he stopped and jumped out. ‘I hope you don’t want me to walk over to the island for it!’
‘No fear, we never risk that, even though Geoff says there’s plenty of time if you catch the tide right.’
The two men discussed their younger days and the fish they had caught, while Connie set out the food. ‘Is there any truth in the rumour that the Treweathers are selling the farm?’ Geoff asked.
Owen laughed as though it was a huge joke. ‘Nonsense. It’ll be left to me and the twins after Tommy’s days, won’t it? Treweathers will be here for a long time yet.’ His laughter was false, his uncle’s words ringing mockingly in his ears. He needed to prepare his own inheritance, and the sooner the better.
*
When Daphne told Sophie about her work at the farm, she asked her if she would like to help. Sophie happily agreed, especially since, as she wasn’t yet officially a part of the staff at the school, she was earning no money during the holiday.
‘I’ll have to bring Bertie, will that be a problem? I’ve promised to look after him, remember.’
‘I don’t think Owen would complain. Just come and see what happens. They have to face each other sometime.’
Sophie and Bertie arrived at the farm every morning before eight and she started at once preparing breakfast. Feeding the men with sausages and even bacon once a week was something Sophie found difficult. How could they treat pigs and lambs like pets, admire them, care for them, then eat them? She soon found a way of doing something else, happi
ly leaving the cooking to Daphne. She preferred washing dishes and cleaning muddy floors to watching meat being enjoyed.
She said nothing of her abhorrence to Bertie but noticed that he, too, managed with toast and home-made jams. Perhaps loyally following her lead. He was inclined to copy her and listen to her views, which was why she carefully avoided mentioning it.
Owen worked long hours and Daphne, true to her word, arrived soon after five a.m. and helped with the routine chores before getting breakfast for the men. She was very tired, staying to prepare supper before she left to go back to the pub.
Despite all he had to do, Owen helped when he could, and flattered her frequently, singing her praises in front of Rachel and Tommy.
‘What d’you think of the idea of sending my aunt and uncle for a short holiday?’ Owen asked Daphne one day. ‘Before they get back to work properly, a rest would be a good idea. It’s just that I worry about you. I know it’s been hard for you these past weeks and I know I’m asking a lot for you to continue for a while longer.’
‘Another week wouldn’t hurt me. I’m getting over the tiredness – my body’s used to the work now. Yes, I think that’s a good idea. But can I ask Sophie to continue to help? I don’t think I can manage without her.’
‘I’ll ask her myself,’ he promised. ‘And thank you, you’re a blessing.’
Daphne laughed her loud laugh. ‘Never been called that before!’
Bertie was there when he called at Badgers Brook; he could see the boy near the sink obviously standing on a chair, and he almost turned away, but Sophie had seen him coming and called to him as he hesitated.
‘I wonder if I can ask a big favour, on Daphne’s behalf really.’ He stopped a few feet from the open door.
‘It sounds intriguing, come in.’
‘No, I won’t come in, I’m in a hurry and—’
‘Oh come inside, Owen. Neither Bertie nor I will bite!’
A New Beginning Page 14
