A New Beginning

by A New Beginning (retail) (epub)

  When they reached the market, Connie and Betty were among her first customers, buying mint sauce and, for Connie, the unusual carrot jam and another made with tomatoes.

  ‘Any time you have pickles to sell let me know,’ Betty said, refusing the jams suspiciously. ‘I do a few sandwiches in the bar and I’d be glad to buy some that are a bit different. And Geoff loves your parsnip wine, doesn’t he, Connie? Although I shouldn’t be encouraging you to take my customers,’ she added with a smile.

  ‘The parsnip wine is only for gifts, not to sell,’ Sophie said. She was looking anxious, wishing they’d go away; she knew from experience that after a few casual remarks, the questions would begin. She was raw from Ryan’s persuasions and felt vulnerable and inexplicably afraid. Then she saw Sarah approaching with a reluctant Bertie in tow.

  ‘Where did you learn about this preserving, Sophie?’ Sarah asked. ‘From your mam, was it?’

  ‘I just became interested.’ Sophie looked to the side, where a newcomer was trying to attract her attention, holding up her only pot of wild raspberry preserve. She served the woman and the others thankfully moved on. With an eye on the market inspector, who usually pretended not to notice her, she was busy for the next hour and soon her baskets were empty.

  She stood for a while, enjoying at second hand the bustle and chatter of the customers wandering around the stalls. An outsider with an ache, a longing to be a part of it but invisibly manacled to past errors.

  A crowd was picking over the pile of second-hand shoes that had been unceremoniously tipped out on to the ground. She saw there were none suitable for her. The lively bargain hunters were trying them on, searching for a match, debating colour and style. Besides hoping for a good buy, they were treating the search as an excuse for entertainment; laughing at the height of some of the heels, the poor quality and the impractical designs. A visit to Maes Hir and its popular market was an enjoyable day out. The faces of the customers and sellers alike told her that.

  She stood watching the scene for a while, but when Sarah called and asked if she would join them at the snack bar for a cup of tea and a scone she declined and ran to catch the early bus. She felt a deep disappointment. She would have liked to stay a while, watching the crowd and perhaps picking up a bargain or two when the stalls were packing up, but the thought of travelling back with Sarah and the others was more than she could cope with. ‘Idiot that I am!’ she said aloud.

  Betty Connors was on the bus. She didn’t sit next to Sophie, but behind her, so the girl could talk or not, as she wished.

  ‘I have to get back early to open for lunchtime. Banging on the door they’ll be, like prisoners in reverse, demanding to be let in. And there they’ll stay until I close the doors. Sad isn’t it, how little some people have in their lives.’

  Sophie agreed but she sensed the questions about to begin and took out her notebook and wrote a few words. Betty leaned forwards and patted her shoulder in silence, as though understanding her reticence.

  Sophie wondered if she should repeat her concerns about Elsie, and cautiously she asked, ‘How are Elsie and Ed today, after all yesterday’s excitement?’

  ‘I haven’t seen them today. I might go and see them later, although whenever we meet these days we end up arguing.’ Betty said sadly. ‘It’s hard to believe how he’s changed. He’s on the defensive all the time, treating me like the enemy instead of his friend.’

  ‘Give them time. It can’t be easy to adjust to sharing when you’re used to making all your own decisions,’ Sophie comforted.

  ‘What about you and Ryan? You seem to get on well.’

  Obliquely changing the subject. Sophie laughed and said, ‘I don’t think his mother approves of our friendship. A vegetarian and a farmer? A stranger as well? Impossible!’ She turned back to the imaginary importance of her notebook.

  *

  Ryan telephoned the farm every day and soon after the wedding managed to speak to Daphne, who was still helping each morning, although Rachel was gradually taking over again. After general questions he asked about Bertie and, as though as an afterthought, about Sophie.

  ‘She’s changed so much,’ said Daphne with a sigh. ‘When we were in the WAAFs she was such a lively character. Outgoing, full of mischief, always ready for a laugh. If there was ever a hint of trouble she was usually in the middle of it. But she seems to blame herself for her family’s deaths, and she refuses to tell me why. That’s all I can tell you, Ryan.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Sorry, I have to go, there’s someone waiting to use the phone. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Oh, you don’t happen to have the address of her previous home, do you?’

  ‘Maybe. If I can decipher the scribbled-out words in my tattered address book. I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Who was that? As if I can’t guess,’ Owen said as he walked into the room. ‘My cousin, who leaves me to run the place then checks up on me daily as though I’m not to be trusted.’

  ‘Don’t worry about him,’ Daphne said. ‘He knows you’re running everything as efficiently as he could. He keeps phoning and asking questions simply to cover his guilt at not being here.’

  ‘Well I wish he wouldn’t. He should either be here or leave me alone to run things as I see fit. He can’t have it both ways, can he?’

  ‘Lunch will be ready in half an hour,’ she said, avoiding a reply.

  ‘Where are my aunt and uncle?’

  ‘They went to order winter fodder. Harry drove them.’

  ‘I have to go out. Will you stay until they get back?’

  ‘Of course, but they’ll be back for lunch, they never stay in town.’

  ‘I’ll wait and eat with them,’ he said. ‘There are one or two things I need to discuss. The new barns will need financing, and the road desperately needs to be resurfaced. I can sign cheques but I want authority for a larger outlay.’ He left the room, still seeming disgruntled, and Daphne went into the kitchen to check that the food was progressing satisfactorily. She enjoyed pleasing the particular and fussy Rachel.

  She liked Owen and thought he was treated with a lack of respect for what he was doing, but she avoided becoming involved in his complaints. Better to stay out of family arguments, wherever her sympathies lay. Working in the farmhouse and dealing with some of the lighter farm work, she was aware of a growing contentment, and joining one side of a disagreement, however casually, might see her time here ended.

  Perhaps, she mused, if Owen hadn’t been married she might have allowed herself to become more than fond of him and the life he offered. But he had never bothered to sue for divorce and she often wondered why, after all the years he and Sarah had been apart, he still didn’t break the legal ties.

  Leaving a note for Rachel and Tommy to tell them where she would be found, in case she failed to hear the van return, she went into the barn and began pulling down the bales of hay needed to clean out the chicken coops. She’d deal with the job once lunch was over. The work was gradually extending from the small tasks she had managed at first, and its attraction was expanding too.

  Killing time, half listening for the sound of the van driving up the bumpy road, she began to brush up the loose hay, laughing at the dog’s attempts at catching the mice she disturbed. Yes, she could be happy doing this for the rest of her life. If only Owen were free.

  *

  Sophie had a visitor one afternoon towards the end of the school holiday. Betty came after closing the Ship after lunch and brought a basket filled with assorted empty jars. ‘I asked over the bar if anyone had any they didn’t want and here they are,’ she announced, plonking them on the kitchen table.

  ‘Don’t thank me,’ she said as Sophie began to speak. ‘Selfish I am. I want some of the pickles you make. In fact, have you any to spare now? I thought I’d go and see that brother of mine, take him a gift as an excuse. Crazy needing an excuse to visit my brother, eh? The truth is, I hardly see him since he and Elsie got married. She keeps him
busy and he does a lot more for her than he did for me. The power of love, eh?’

  Sophie thanked her, found a couple of jars of piccalilli and put the kettle on for tea.

  She could see that Betty had something on her mind. She had settled into an armchair in the living room, sipped the tea and nibbled at the home-made biscuits, making the usual polite comments about the simply furnished room with its view of the garden. And Sophie stayed quiet, just making a few comments, waiting to learn the reason for Betty’s visit.

  ‘How are things at the Ship?’ she asked after a particularly long silence, while she refilled their cups.

  ‘Oh, I’m coping. Sarah does a good job of cleaning each morning, and Daphne is becoming very useful in the bar when I’m busy. She’s such a hard worker that one. It’s Ed that’s the problem.’

  ‘You miss him?’

  ‘Yes, of course, but it isn’t that. Sophie, have you heard any news about Elsie’s condition?’

  ‘Only rumours and they’re best ignored, don’t you think?’

  Betty smiled at her. ‘You’re very good at that, aren’t you? Answering a question by not answering it at all,’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘It’s all right, but I don’t know what – if anything – I should do.’

  ‘She’ll have spoken about it to Ed – perhaps you could ask him again.’

  ‘I have and he says it’s nonsense.’

  ‘But you don’t believe him?’

  ‘I believe he thinks it’s nonsense, but I also believe Elsie has been lying to him as well as to the rest of us. Sarah suggested – thinking I knew – that Elsie married my brother because she’s ill and will need someone to take care of her, and isn’t he a wonderfully kind man.’

  ‘If Ed doesn’t want to talk about it you can’t force him to.’

  ‘But what if Sarah’s right and he doesn’t know? He should be warned at least.’

  ‘And if Sarah’s wrong? You’d upset your brother for nothing.’

  ‘You think I should do nothing?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Sophie said at once, alarm widening her eyes. ‘I don’t have an opinion either way. You must decide what to do. Ed is your brother and you know best.’

  That night she couldn’t sleep, worried about having influenced Betty. However long she considered, whatever she did, her conclusions were always wrong. She was a danger to everyone she knew and cared for.

  She was woken at eight o’clock by the sound of a robin singing in the tree outside her bedroom window. It was as though he was trying to cheer her, put her in a happier mood.

  She had to admit to herself that avoiding involvement was impossible. If she were to stay here and become a part of the community, becoming involved with people was a part of the deal. One day she would be able to talk about her own tragedies, but this morning she would call on Betty and try to help her by listening. That was what most people needed, anyway, not someone forcing their opinion on them.

  *

  A long letter came from Ryan with news of his progress, and saying that when he next came home he wanted to take her out for a meal in a village some way away, where they could discuss their plans for the future. A future he hoped they might share. He promised there would be no pressure and he signed it with love. She read and reread it but didn’t reply.

  Sophie wasn’t the only one in turmoil about a growing love. Sarah was beginning to warm towards Owen. He had begun meeting her from the shop and offering her a lift home. He brought gifts for her and for Bertie, and her response varied from anger and irritation to being amused and feeling flattered.

  Swearing her to secrecy he repeated that he might be going away. ‘I’d like you to come with me, you and Bertie.’

  ‘Where to? I haven’t got much but all I have is here. I can’t go anywhere. I don’t have the train fare as far as Cardiff. What are you talking about, Owen?’

  ‘If things go to plan I’ll have enough for all of us.’

  ‘Doing the football pools are you?’ she asked sarcastically. ‘Are you sure you’ll be one of the big winners?’

  ‘Not the pools. This is a certainty. It’s mine, it’s what I’m owed and it will be enough for us to buy a place, you, me and young Bertie.’

  She became intrigued and asked questions but didn’t learn very much, just that it had to be a secret until he told her different. She left him convinced the whole thing must be a joke, an attempt on his part to persuade her to take seriously his efforts to befriend them. ‘Treating me like a child being promised a treat,’ she told Sophie when she called to collect Bertie. ‘As if I’d believe a story like that!’

  *

  Sophie was in the post office on Wednesday morning when Ryan walked in. She smiled, a tremor starting in the corner of her mouth as she wondered how he would behave towards her. When she had bought the stamps she needed, and accepted an invitation from Stella to call on her at the country cottage later that day, she went out. Should she wait for Ryan to be served, or walk away?

  She stood outside staring at her notebook as though checking a shopping list when he came out and joined her.

  ‘Have you time for a coffee?’ he asked rather formally.

  ‘I’d like that. Thank you.’

  They walked to the café, crowded with shoppers having a rest between errands, and found a place at a table, which they had to share with two others.

  ‘How are the studies progressing?’ she asked.

  ‘Fine. I’m lucky to have this chance to prepare. I’ve visited schools and colleges, attended lectures, talked to ex-pupils and teachers, as well as doing a lot of reading. I couldn’t have done any of it staying at home. I’m enjoying the prospect of college and feel more and more certain that teaching is what I want to do.’

  ‘I was training to be a teacher but I gave it up and joined the WAAFs,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Why didn’t you go back?’

  ‘Everything had changed. I no longer felt certain about what I wanted to do.’

  ‘D’you regret it?’

  ‘I couldn’t go back, too much had happened.’

  ‘Such as?’ he asked. She glanced at him and at the two women sharing their table, who were listening with great interest.

  ‘I was no longer the same person. You can’t go through an experience like that and stay the same.’

  ‘An experience like what?’ he insisted.

  Cornered, unable to get up and walk away, hemmed in by the two women, she said, ‘Death, destruction, and more death and destruction. It made what I wanted to do seem trivial and unimportant.’

  ‘Daphne told me about losing your family,’ he said softly. ‘Can you tell me what happened?’

  She looked at the women sipping their tea, implacably blocking her escape. She felt like screaming, shouting at them to get out of her way. She was filled with panic and finding it difficult to breathe. Sensing her distress, Ryan’s hands covered hers, and he whispered softly so the other women couldn’t hear. ‘All right, love. You don’t have to talk now, but one day you will and I promise you the pain will be eased. I hope I’m there when that day comes. I want to be the one you tell.’

  He stood up and politely asked the women to move, and, holding Sophie’s hand firmly so she couldn’t run away, he led her out of the café to where the farm van was parked outside the post office.

  Stella was at the door, taking in the advertising boards. ‘Don’t forget to come and see us this afternoon, Sophie. You too, Ryan, plenty of cakes I’ve made. Only saccharine sweeteners, mind. I’ve run right out of sugar and she’s got the fault – swapped me for some bacon for Colin’s breakfast she did.’

  Ryan went back to the farm for lunch, made by his mother, who was managing heroically with her injured arm. Daphne had gone and he sat with Owen and his parents, listening while Owen and Tommy discussed the finances for the new barn – the reason for his midweek visit.

  He tried to take an interest in what was being said, costs, loans and percentages
, but his mind refused to concentrate. He kept seeing those sad hazel eyes in that beautiful face with its frame of flyaway hair. Somehow he had to persuade her to talk to him.

  Leaving Owen and Tommy still arguing over the position of the new barn, which Owen wanted to site away from the old brick-built one to avoid frightening the barn owl, he went to meet Sophie. He left the car in the lane and they walked together to Stella and Colin’s allotment.

  Scamp ran up to say hello as they approached the country cottage, then went back into his blanket-lined cardboard box.

  ‘Kettle’s on,’ Stella called. ‘Why don’t you go and admire Colin’s vegetables, while I pour? And wait till you see the chrysanthemums. Growing a treat they are, thanks to Peter’s horse’s generous contributions. Delighted he is to be growing a few flowers again.’

  Colin was on the afternoon shift, but they duly admired the neat rows of vegetables and weed-free areas, dug and dusted with lime ready for next year’s crops.

  ‘It’s all looking wonderful,’ Sophie said, and Ryan agreed that Colin was a first-class gardener. As reward for their admiration they were given tea and cakes.

  Rachel had promised to lend Sophie some old recipe books and Ryan used them as an excuse to invite her back. ‘I’ll drop you back at Badgers Brook as I leave,’ he promised. ‘I have to get back tonight.’

  There was no sign of Rachel or Tommy when they got to the farm. Owen was nowhere to be seen and the chickens were hovering around the coops ready to tuck themselves up for the night.

  ‘Where is everyone?’ Ryan said with a frown. He went upstairs to see if anyone was there and came down with the frown even deeper. ‘There’s no sign of them.’

  ‘Phone the pub, Daphne might know,’ Sophie suggested.

  When he replaced the receiver a flash of anger crossed his face. ‘Mam and Dad have gone to Tenby again. Owen decided to book the few days as a treat for them. He’s driven them there. Why didn’t he tell me?’