‘Thanks, I’d like that. Is there anything I can bring?’ A discussion ensued about who would provide what and gradually the friends dispersed, leaving Ryan and Sophie alone.
‘You didn’t write,’ she said softly.
‘I didn’t think you really wanted me to. So I left the decision to you.’ He stared at her, trying to gauge her feelings but avoided making eye contact.
‘There’s some cider left if you’d like it. I think I’ll have a cup of tea,’ she said, turning away, gathering the last of the dishes from the table, putting the kettle on to boil.
He picked up the half-empty bottle and stretched across to reach a clean glass. ‘What’s going on at the farm?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. I suppose Owen has taken charge with you gone, and perhaps he didn’t want you coming back and… taking over.’
‘My father owns the farm and he’s in charge, not Owen.’
‘All right, Ryan, don’t get angry with me. I don’t even work there.’ She smiled then and added, ‘And I don’t think I’ll be asked to again, either.’ She told him about the piglets and the broken china.
‘I wish I could get in touch with Gareth,’ he said. ‘He sends an occasional card and phones the farm, according to Owen, but there’s no way of us reaching him. I thought he’d be on his way home having heard about Mam and Dad, but perhaps Owen didn’t bother to tell him, either. Sophie, will you keep an eye on what’s happening and let me know if there’s something going on I should know about? I’d love to hear from you anyway, to know how you are and what you’re doing,’ he added.
They carried their drinks into the living room, where a dying fire glowed. Through the open door came the late-evening sounds of birds settling and the faint scent of bonfire smoke, and the low rays of sun were casting shadows on to the lawn like fingers creeping out and grasping the last of the light. It was so peaceful they didn’t speak for a long time, just sipped their drinks and enjoyed the perfect hour.
‘I did write,’ he said as the sun finally set. She stared at him curiously before he added, ‘but I didn’t post it.’
‘I was disappointed not to hear from you,’ she said.
‘Well, here I am, but I don’t expect to see you as much as I’d like to. I want to find out what’s happening at the farm.’
‘Harry Sutton is helping and happy to be doing so. He hated working at the kennels and is glad to be back with what he knows. Daphne is running the house. Even young Bertie has helped, and surprisingly your cousin had been kind to him.’
‘I’m going to Tenby to see Mam and Dad tomorrow, will you come?’ he asked.
‘D’you think we might take Bertie, too? I don’t think he gets many outings and he’d love to see the sea. He and I could play on the beach if you prefer not to take him to see your parents.’
She sensed she was being stared at, but when she turned to look at him he was smiling. ‘Yes, of course he can come with us. Perhaps we could take a picnic, make a day of it.’
‘Bertie loves picnics! I’ll check with Sarah but I’m sure she’ll agree to him coming.’
He looked at her with a hint of amusement and smiled.
They arranged to meet at eleven. Ryan was dressed in casual slacks and an open-necked shirt. Bertie looked startlingly clean in crisp new trousers and shin, still with the creases in. His face shone with scrubbing and his eyes were as bright as diamonds. He carried some greaseproof-paper-wrapped sandwiches. Slightly embarrassed, he said. ‘Mam bought this stuff for my birthday. It’s a bit “new” isn’t it?’
‘Bertie, you look smart and not a bit “new”, just well dressed. I’m very impressed,’ said Sophie.
He made a deprecating grunt and thrust the sandwiches at her. ‘They’re only jam, but I like jam,’ he added defiantly.
‘So do I. I’ll swap one of your jam for one of my home-made cheese and salad rolls if you like.’
‘Home-made cheese? You can’t make cheese!’
‘I can when I’m given stale milk. I’ll show you how one day, if you like.’
Ryan stood listening to their conversation with amusement, sharing a smile with Sophie. Bertie’s package went into the boot with the wicker basket Daphne had packed.
The journey was uneventful but for Bertie it was exciting.
He asked endless questions and insisted on Ryan stopping when he saw something of interest that he wanted fully explained. Sophie and Ryan were caught up in his excitement, admiring the beautiful scenery and the spotless white-painted cottages along the route. They felt like day trippers as they parked the car and wandered with the rest of the visitors along the narrow streets of the charming and ancient town.
It was early for visiting the hotel – lunch would hardly have finished – and they willingly gave in to Bertie’s request to go down on to the beach. Ryan bought him a brightly painted tin bucket and spade and the three of them found a place to unload their belongings. At once Ryan began to show the boy all he remembered about building castles with turrets and moats, while Sophie slipped off her shoes and wandered along the rippling tide’s edge.
They ate their picnic leaning against the sea wall, Bertie with an anxious eye on the tide creeping ever closer, to Sophie and Ryan’s amusement. Then, carrying the basket between them, Bertie following with obvious reluctance, they made their way to the hotel where Rachel and Tommy were staying.
To Sophie their greeting was less than welcoming. She was clearly a disappointing addition to their son’s visit. Almost ignoring Sophie, Rachel gave much more than the usual attention to Bertie, who chatted away excitedly as he described all they had seen on the journey.
‘Shall we go and look at the sea again, Bertie?’ Sophie suggested after about ten minutes had passed. ‘I think Ryan wants to talk to his mam and dad.’ Ryan smiled his thanks.
He said nothing to defend himself when Rachel and Tommy accused him of indifference, but when Rachel went to join Sophie and Bertie outside to view the sea from the veranda, Ryan handed Tommy the letters he’d received from Owen.
‘But these can’t be all he wrote? He must have told you more about the accident.’
‘You have them all. I was given to understand you and Mam were shaken but not seriously hurt.’
‘What’s he playing at? Could he have been thinking of you, not wanting to disrupt your first term?’
In reply Ryan raised an eyebrow. ‘Doesn’t he want to remind us – prove to us – how reliable and indispensable he is?’
‘He does the accounts and manages some areas of the running of the farm, but your mother and I – and you and Gareth, of course – we’re in overall charge, we make all the decisions.’
‘If Gareth and I stay away more or less permanently, he’d be in a good position to take over when you and Mam want to retire, wouldn’t he?’
‘Rubbish. Owen isn’t like that. He isn’t that devious. Not Owen.’
‘Watch him, Dad. Just watch him.’
‘Besides, I’m not ready to sit back and watch someone else run things, and won’t be for a long time. And then I hope it’ll be you, not Owen.’
‘Don’t, Dad. Don’t hope for that. Neither of us wants to take over. By the way, is Gareth on his way home?’
‘Ask Owen.’
‘Or hasn’t Owen told him about the accident, either?’ Ryan said slowly.
He left his parents with the promise to visit again before heading back to college. Tommy was frowning as he waved them off, Rachel giving Bertie a final hug and a sixpence for sweets.
‘Thank you, Mrs Treweather,’ he said politely, ‘but can I buy chips instead? I’m starving hungry.’
Ryan was relieved to see laughter wipe the worried frown from Tommy’s face, but Sophie wondered how they felt, seeing the boy who could have been a part of their life. Did they feel regret? There was certainly no sign of animosity, thank goodness, and Bertie had enjoyed a memorable day. He fell asleep soon after they started the drive back to Cwm Derw and Sophie and Ryan were able to ta
lk.
‘Owen was brought up on the farm and I suppose he’s bound to feel some entitlement.’ Ryan said. ‘His father, Dad’s brother, was killed in America and Owen came to us when he was very young. But he isn’t heir to the land my father owns and never could be. He must realize that.’
‘He’s had a very unsuccessful life in many ways, hasn’t he? Perhaps he’s resentful and would be better leaving and starting again somewhere.’
‘I don’t think he’ll do that. But I know what you mean. His marriage to Sarah, that hurt him dreadfully. And never being included in business meetings apart from him giving a statement of accounts.’
‘If he doesn’t feel a part of anything it must be hard.’ Sophie’s voice was soft, and Ryan immediately picked up on the slight wistfulness.
‘Is it like that for you? Not belonging anywhere? You never talk about your family, yet you must have one. Can you talk about it? Why you left? Why you cut yourself off from everyone and settled among strangers?’
‘I don’t have a family. There’s no one.’ From her voice it was clear she didn’t intend to discuss it further. He glanced at her, her face turned as she stared out of the window at the hedges, and could only guess at the pain she must have suffered before arriving at Cwm Derw and finding a home in Badgers Brook.
‘I’ll have some work to do in the morning – for one thing I need to examine the books, make sure everything is on a sound footing – then perhaps we could go out again. With Bertie, if you need a chaperone,’ he added in a hoarse whisper. ‘But preferably just the two of us.’
She turned then, and smiled at him. ‘Just the two of us will be fine.’
A sleepy voice from the back seat said, ‘I don’t want to be a chaperone, anyway, and I’ve promised to go with Mr Jones to help him build a bonfire on his allotment.’
‘What’s a chaperone, Bertie?’ Sophie teased.
‘Don’t know but I don’t want to be one. Right?’
The conversation was easy and relaxed for the rest of the journey, but Ryan knew he had to find out what it was in Sophie’s past that so distressed her – although if she wouldn’t talk about it, where else could he enquire?’
*
He began with Daphne.
‘We served together in the WAAF’s, and I know she’ll hate me for telling you this, but she was about to be married, and he let her down. At the very last minute.’
‘You mean she was jilted?’
‘Afraid so, but please don’t tell her I’ve told you. I’m sure she’ll tell you herself one day.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘All her family were killed by a bomb. I’d been transferred by then, and I lost touch with her. It was remembering that this was an area she knew that made me come here on a cycling holiday. It was sheer luck that enabled me to find her. You cannot imagine how many times I asked about her.’
‘But surely they weren’t all killed?’
‘She never went back and she won’t tell me what happened. Not a word. If I even hint at being curious she shuts up like the proverbial clam. So, because I don’t want her to lose touch again, I never mention anything that happened before she arrived in Cwm Derw. I have the feeling that when she does feel able to talk she’ll be glad of a friend.’
Thinking of Sophie and of his cousin’s unwillingness to tell him about his parents’ accident, Ryan said, ‘I seem to be surrounded by mysteries.’ But he didn’t explain.
There was a further mystery when he went to the desk and tried to find the accounts books. He went out into the shed to find Owen.
‘They’re with the accountants,’ Owen explained. ‘I was puzzled over something, a few hundred pounds that went out with no explanation of when and why, so I took the books in for him to check. Next time you’re home, eh?’ He took his cousin’s arm and pulled him into the back of the shed. ‘Look up there but don’t make too much noise.’ He pointed to where the chimney breast of a long-disused fireplace made a wide shelf.
Standing watching them was the pale shape of a barn owl. ‘Marvellous, eh? He’s been there since last winter. Lost a previous home maybe. Lots of older barns are being replaced as money becomes available. Your father wanted to take this one down and put the new one he plans to build in its place, but I knew about the owl and persuaded him to leave it.’
‘He wouldn’t have needed much persuading.’ He glanced at Owen’s face. ‘Unless that’s something else you didn’t tell them.’ He saw that he was right. ‘Mam and Dad get great pleasure from observing the wildlife around them. Why didn’t you tell us about it? This lovely sight is something to share, surely?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Keeping it to myself added to the magic, I suppose.’
Like problems with the farm accounts, Ryan thought curiously, but he said nothing more.
The phone rang as he went back inside and by good luck it was Gareth. He was shocked when Ryan told him about their parents’ accident and said he would come home immediately. Ryan promised to be there when he arrived, and Tommy and Rachel ended their holiday early to be there too.
Sophie saw him first, as he was walking from the bus with a small rucksack on his shoulders. This time he didn’t bother teasing her that he was Ryan.
‘Why didn’t Owen tell me about the accident?’ he demanded when she greeted him. ‘I was told about Elsie and Ed Connors’s wedding but not that my parents suffered broken bones.’
‘You’d better ask Owen,’ Sophie said.
Less sharply, he said, ‘I understand from Ryan that you and Daphne have been angels.’
‘Hardly! Besides, Daphne has done far more than me,’ she replied. ‘She’s cooking a meal to welcome you home this very minute.’
The two brothers walked around the farm discussing all they had learned. Daphne had a sizeable lunch ready for them when they returned in silence to the house. She had managed to make some pasties with pastry made with suet scrounged from the butcher, and filled them with potatoes, onions and the smallest scraps of minced meat. She had also made a game pie for supper, with pigeon, rabbit, pheasant and a couple of leaves of sage and thyme and a few of Sophie’s dried mushrooms.
They held a family meeting afterwards, excluding Owen, much to his chagrin, but before Ryan could discuss Owen’s secretive behaviour Gareth said, ‘I’m never coming back and, unless Ryan intends to, I think you should sell up. Why don’t you get a small bungalow and enjoy a retirement, do all the things you’ve never had time to, relish the freedom while you still have good health?’ His words were hardly heard as both Rachel and Tommy shouted him down. When Ryan had calmed things he admitted agreeing with his brother. The row went on for a long time, with the boys trying to explain the reasons for their decisions.
Outside Owen listened and muttered aloud, ‘And when will they tell me, I wonder? As the auctioneers arrive to begin the sale?’
*
It was clear to Ryan that for the present everything was running smoothly, and he was able to return to his studies. But it was with some doubts that he left after three more days, and he made sure his parents were aware of his promise to post a letter every Wednesday and phone the farm on Saturdays at twelve. ‘We don’t want any more… misunderstandings, do we?’ he added, giving Owen a steely stare. ‘And I’ll telephone the accountant on Monday morning so he can explain the problem.’
‘No need,’ Owen assured him. ‘I have an appointment for first thing Monday and I’ll be able to tell you myself.’
A last evening with Sophie was successful. Mainly, Ryan guessed, because he didn’t attempt to question her about her life before Badgers Brook. They found a public house where they served sandwiches, filled surprisingly and probably illegally with rather fat pork, which Sophie declined, and they both settled for salad with scrambled dried egg.
Later, they walked through the wood and sat until late, watching the sun sink down, leaving a beautiful afterglow. Then they waited, Ryan sharing his coat with Sophie as an excuse to put his arm around her s
houlders, to see the badgers emerge. He had chosen their spot with care, making sure the light breeze blew towards them so the creatures were unlikely to pick up on the scent.
There were three adults and two young ones, running, playing chase, safe in the belief they were alone. Ryan watched Sophie’s face as she marvelled at the wonderful sight, before the little group trotted off to forage for their supper.
‘They’re beautiful,’ she gasped as they stood to leave.
‘And so are you,’ he said, taking her hand firmly as they walked back to the house.
Although she didn’t pull her hand away from his, he didn’t try to kiss her. Sophie, he decided with growing affection, was more nervous than the badgers.
Before he left after the usual late-night cup of cocoa, they discussed the wedding of Elsie Clements and Ed Connors. She told him of her suspicions about Elsie’s illness.
‘You did right to mention it, but let’s hope it was nothing more than a misunderstanding.’
‘You will come, won’t you?’
He promised he’d be there to escort her to the church.
*
Owen was at the accountants before the office opened, waiting impatiently, determined to speak to the man who dealt with their business before Ryan could. He insisted that he was the only person he would speak to. ‘I’ll wait as long as I have to but I’m not going until I’ve seen him,’ he said, aggression raising his voice to a threatening snarl. The assistant went into the office and told David Carter that Mr Treweather was demanding to see him and looked like trouble.
David Carter, who had dealt with Tommy Treweather’s accounts for many years, put aside the work he was doing and invited Owen in.
‘Is there a problem?’ he asked, after sending the office girl to make tea.
‘I wish to take my account elsewhere,’ Owen said.
David Carter looked startled and asked why.
‘I don’t intend to go into it. I just want to take my papers and pay any outstanding monies.’
A New Beginning Page 16
