‘She isn’t here,’ Sarah said with a frown. ‘I thought plans had changed and she must have stayed at the farm.’
‘No. We’d agreed that you two would stay together in case of trouble and I’d be outside.’
‘Bertie?’ she called, ‘D’you know where Sophie is?’
‘Badgers Brook?’ he suggested, as though the question was a stupid one. ’It’s where she lives, isn’t it?’
‘But we arranged for her to be here with you. Where can she be?’
‘My guess is the farm,’ Sarah said. ‘Come on, it’s time we told your parents all that’s been happening.’
Collecting the borrowed car from outside Badgers Brook, they checked to make sure she wasn’t there, but the house was in darkness. Ryan drove them to the farm and at once asked whether Sophie was there.
‘We haven’t seen her. What’s happening? Gareth has been coming and going like will o’ the wisp, today. And where’s Owen? I thought he was meeting Gareth at the Ship? And you were supposed to be in London! Come on, Ryan, tell us what’s going on? I know you’re up to something.’
Gareth came in at that moment and nodded to his twin. ‘The police have been informed,’ he said.
Tommy looked from one to the other, then at Sarah. ‘Will somebody tell me what’s going on?’
‘Mam, Dad, we have something to tell you. Owen has been stealing money from the business and he’s just driven off to a farm he’s bought in Somerset. He thinks Gareth is in on it but thought I didn’t know, until half an hour ago. But Gareth has been there and the place is in the name of Sarah Grange.’
Tommy glared at the young woman, who calmly stared back.
‘How he managed to get her to sign the papers I’ve no idea,’ Gareth said, ‘but I do know she’s helped us trap him.’
‘He told me it was a more generous allowance for Bertie,’ she told them.
Before anything else could be said they heard knocking on the door and Rachel opened it to find Sophie, looking like death, soaked and obviously in pain, lying on the ground.
Rachel took charge and attended to her while Daphne phoned for a doctor. Ryan carried her upstairs and Rachel gently removed her wet clothes, rubbing her to get her warm and talking soothingly. Sophie wallowed in the care but wished it had been Ryan who was closest to her. Dressed in a nightgown belonging to Rachel and with hot water bottles around her she felt that wonderful relaxation that presages sleep, but woke when the doctor came and insisted she went for an X-ray to find out exactly what she had done to her ankle.
Meanwhile Ryan and Gareth were facing their father. Gareth took out a sheaf of papers and showed his father entries marked in red.
‘This hasn’t been properly checked but we think these withdrawals have no invoices to tally with them. We think the money went into a bank account belonging to Owen.’
‘Where is Owen?’
‘The police have been informed that he has gone to the farm that he bought in Somerset.’
‘You’re letting him walk into the arms of the police? We can’t do that! We have to stop him.’
‘But he’s been robbing you, Dad.’ Gareth said. ‘We can’t let him get away with that.’
Tommy reached for his coat. ‘Why wasn’t I told? I might be thinking of retiring but I’m not too stupid to be told what’s going on! I’d have dealt with it, and I wouldn’t have needed the police. Come on, give me the keys to that car you’ve borrowed, it’s bound to be faster than the van.’
Gareth and Ryan stared at each other and nodded. ‘We have to do what he says,’ Ryan said. He ran upstairs to where the doctor was giving instructions for Sophie’s care and said, ‘Sophie, my love, I have to go out. Dad thinks we have to catch up with Owen, hear his story. Will you be all right?’ She assured him she was feeling fine and with a kiss he left her, calling back instructions to his mother to give her the best care as he ran back down the stairs.
‘Come on,’ Tommy shouted. ‘There isn’t much time.’
‘We don’t think he’ll risk the ferry,’ Gareth told him, as they hurried out. ‘But we will, and with luck and the fast car we’ll be there before him.’
‘I have to wait for his explanation before I make a judgement and the police talk to him,’ Tommy said. ‘It’s my fault for not being kinder to him, I know that.’
Luck was against them and the Aust ferry wasn’t operating.
‘How much time did he have before we left?’ Tommy demanded, and they did fast calculations and realized that if they weren’t to break the speed limit and be stopped by the police, they were unlikely to see Owen before the police found him.
At Gloucester Gareth took over the driving. ‘I know the way,’ he explained, ‘and I will save a little time by avoiding taking the wrong road, which is what I did yesterday.’
As they drove, Tommy began to talk about how he and Rachel had taken Owen, at the age of five, into their home. ‘He practically landed on our doorstep as in some Victoria drama,’ he said.
‘I thought his mum and dad went to America and died there?’ Gareth said.
‘That was what I told Owen. It seemed the kindest thing to do at the time.’
‘But the truth…?’ Ryan coaxed.
‘Your uncle brought him to us and said the child’s mother had abandoned him, and as the child was his she said it was up to him to care for him.’
‘But I don’t understand, he was married, so where did Owen come from?’
Tommy appeared lost in his memories and when he spoke it was to himself, justifying his actions, facing his guilt. ‘There’s poor little Bertie, who’s been treated even worse,’ he muttered. ‘And they say lightning doesn’t strike twice. At least we gave Owen a decent home. Rachel and I weren’t willing to take on another unwanted child, so we pretended Bertie was nothing to do with us. Which was true, but unkind.’
*
Near Avonmouth Owen had a puncture. He felt the sudden dragging sensation as the van lost direction and he pulled over to the side. ‘What damned bad luck,’ he muttered as he began to reach for the tools. The spare was fully inflated, something he had checked before leaving, and he thanked his foresight as he rolled it to where it was needed.
*
Tommy was lost in his reminiscences, explaining to his sons the reasons why he and Rachel had never accepted Owen as an equal member of the family. ‘We always presumed the boy was my nephew, but his father died before he could answer any of our questions.’
They drove towards Avonmouth, and as Gareth began to look for the turning they were to take they passed Owen. The shining van was ignored by them, its appearance so different from the usual filthy old van, that it was a moment before Ryan said. ‘That was the van!’
Gareth slowed down and managed to turn and make his way back to where Owen was just starting the engine, turning the starting handle and jumping in as the car slowed to a stop. Owen stared in disbelief at the faces of his uncle and Ryan and Gareth. How could they have found him so soon? How had they known where to come? He rejoined the road and accelerated fast. Foot down he urged the van to move as quickly as it would go.
Gareth had to wait before he could turn again and set off in pursuit of the shining green van.
Owen had reached the turning into the narrow lane that led to his new property and, seeing them closing in on him, he was desperately looking for an alternative to leading them straight there. Anything would do: a turning into another lane, a farm gate, anything to stop them finding his smallholding. If only he knew the area better.
Then, as he saw in the headlights a darkness that seemed like a narrow turning promising escape, a man appeared and raised a white-gloved hand to stop him. As the light showed him more clearly, he saw with utter despair that it was a policeman. Damn, he must have been speeding. He stopped, there was nothing else he could do, and his mind began to sort out what he could say to his uncle. Defence or attack? Probably a bit of both, but he had no excuse whatever he said.
As Gareth st
opped behind the van the police were searching it, and as he walked towards Owen with Ryan and Tommy following he saw them take a box containing papers.
‘It’s all right,’ Tommy said at once. ‘It’s all been a mistake.’
‘Sorry, sir, but this is an ongoing investigation and we have to take him in for questioning.’
It was early the following morning before Ryan and Gareth set off back to the farm. They tried to persuade Tommy to go with them but he insisted on waiting until Owen had been released, which would not be for some time. ‘I have to do what I can for him. Give him my full support. Only giving half measures is what’s brought him to this,’ he said sadly.
The twins slept in the car for a few hours, uncomfortable and impatient to be home, then found a café for breakfast. When they drove into the farmyard Rachel greeted them, and Ryan ran in to see Sophie in an armchair with a leg propped on a stool, Sarah and Bertie in the kitchen with food ready to serve.
After hugging Sophie and being assured that all was well and the damage was only a severe sprain, Ryan thought to himself that now, after an unforgivable delay, he would talk to Sophie about her grandmother. Perhaps this would be goodbye to the last of her demons.
Thirteen
Sophie was staying at the farmhouse being spoiled by Rachel and regularly visited by Daphne, Sarah and Bertie. Ryan was in London making arrangements for accommodation during his year’s teacher training course, which threatened to be concentrated and very hard.
Gareth had stayed, having sent money to his partners in France, and had promised to help with the sale of animals and other stock. He and Daphne worked together and spent a lot of time discussing his new life in France. For Sophie the preparations to sell the animals for slaughter was upsetting and she pleaded to be allowed back home to Badgers Brook long before it all began.
There was little news about Owen, who was staying in Somerset, lodging in a guest-house alone, and filled with hatred towards the Treweather family. Having learned of his indifferent parentage had hardened him. Tommy had tried to stop the charges but fraud was a serious offence and it was impossible. He wrote letters to Owen promising him a home when everything was over, but although Owen read them he then tore them up. He didn’t owe the Treweathers anything. He didn’t know if he was even entitled to the same name.
*
Ryan was on his way home for a final visit before starting college. He knew this was his last chance to let Sophie know about her surviving grandmother. Telling Sophie that Grandmother Morgan had lived when the rest of her family had died the night of the rocket attack had not been as easy as he’d thought it would be and the longer he avoided it the worse it had become. He should have walked in that first time and said, ‘Guess who I’ve found,’ but she was so easily upset and the words hadn’t come.
Weeks had passed since he had found Victoria Morgan and learned of her close relationship to Sophie, but he was still trying to decide on the best way of breaking the news. What a fool he’d been to wait so long. The weeks between hadn’t made it any easier.
On the train journey down, he considered a dozen ways of breaking the remarkable news and discarded them all. His fear was that as well as the happiness at finding her grandmother, Sophie would once again be filled with remorse for not finding her earlier. She would be ashamed of her cowardice at not going back to see the ruined house and face the row of graves to say her last goodbyes.
Now, with Victoria Morgan having been very patient, accepting his plea for her to wait, he had no more time to dither. He’d taken too long and now she was threatening to come without warning and face the girl. He had to act.
When he went again to his parents’ farm, Sophie greeted him with joy. Their reunion was wonderful, their love for each other no longer a secret. She was relaxed and happy, and he could see the outgoing girl Daphne had described, blossoming once again. So he was fearful of sending her back into guilt and unhappiness.
‘I’d like you to come up to London with me this weekend, Friday till Sunday,’ he suggested after they had eaten and the room was quiet. ’We can leave straight after school and you’ll be back for Monday morning.’
‘But won’t you be busy? You still have some work to do before starting college,’ she said. ‘In fact, you ought not to have come home today.’
‘There’s a place I want to see and I want you to go with me.’
‘Tell me.’
Instead, he said, ‘It’s odd how the war is still affecting people. I read in the paper a while ago that after all these years a man appeared after his family had been told he’d been killed. The poor wife had remarried, had a child, and I can only begin to imagine how she must have felt, having shared her life with two men whom she loved. Strange things happened then, didn’t they?’
‘What has that to do with us going to London? There’s nothing there for me, you know that.’
‘I want you to visit the graves and talk to some of the neighbours, see what you can learn about what happened.’ He held her close and went on, ‘Darling girl, if you can get everything clear, go back and face it, then you’ll stop blaming yourself. I want you to feel free of all that. I want us to have a future in which you’ll be happy.’
‘I’ll never be free.’
‘I suppose that’s how that poor woman who married twice in all innocence felt, but she dealt with it.’
‘But there’s nothing there for me to “deal with”. What’s the point of talking to neighbours? Anyway, I doubt there’ll be any who remember me after all this time.’
‘What if there is someone there, someone who you can talk to and who’ll help you?’
She pushed him away, stood up with her hands on her hips and demanded, ‘Ryan, stop creeping around the edges of what you have to say and just say it!’
So after all his planning, his intention of turning the conversation gently around, the fine words he intended to use, he just said it. He stood up and held her tightly and said, ‘Your grandmother Morgan is alive and I know where we can find her.’
He felt the shock of it hit her: she started to fall and would have collapsed on the floor if he hadn’t held her.
‘You must be wrong,’ she murmured.
‘I’m sorry, darling. I was so clumsy. I tried to break it to you gently but there wasn’t anything I could say to make it less of a shock. She is longing to meet you. She believed you had died during those last fearful months too.’
He made her a hot drink and added plenty of sugar. His mother wouldn’t mind such extravagance this once.
‘What will she think of me not going back to find her?’
As he had feared she was immediately blaming herself.
‘She understands you not going back. So far as you knew you’d lost them all that night. Why would you expect to find her alive? She’s a wonderful lady and she’s been so kind to wait, allowing me to tell you before I take you to see her.’
‘Can we go tomorrow?’
‘By the first train,’ he promised. He held her for a long while but she didn’t say any more and he allowed her the silence. He guessed that tomorrow the talk would be plentiful. As he helped her to her room that night she suddenly asked, ‘How did she survive?’
‘Believe it or not she went out to buy fish and chips.’
She laughed, then a moment later the giggles changed to tears and he held her until they stopped.
*
Victoria Morgan was on the telephone. It was an extravagance but she had been used to having the convenience of one when she owned the shop and had one installed in her new flat. When she picked it up that evening and heard Ryan telling her Sophie would be there the following day, she thought it was worth a thousand times more than it cost her. She longed to talk to her but agreed that they should see each other and break the long parting with hugs and kisses rather than through a mechanical voice on the phone.
She didn’t sleep, imagining all they would say, and at seven the next morning went for a walk, cleaned
the flat, then bought what food she could find, preparing for the most remarkable meeting of her life. Two people brought back from the permanence of death.
Ryan took Sophie straight from the station to the churchyard and led her to where well-tended graves bore the names of her brother and sister and her parents. Nearby were her grandfather, Auntie Maggie and Uncle Albert.
A smartly dressed woman approached.
‘Nana!’ Sophie sobbed. ‘I didn’t really believe it!’ They stared at each other through tear-filled eyes before running to hold each other as though never to let go. Smiling, Ryan sat on an ancient grave and waited.
*
The talk went on and it was a long time before Ryan was included. He led them from the churchyard to a café, where they wasted food by allowing it to go cold while they talked and laughed. They walked round the shops seeing nothing but each other. Another café and still they talked, while he sat listening with happiness almost as great as theirs.
When Sophie explained that Ryan was the son of a farmer, Victoria looked surprised.
‘I would never have imagined you living on a farm,’ she said. ‘You used to be too soft-hearted to cope with all that.’
‘She still is,’ Ryan said. ‘Our life together won’t include cows and sheep. A dog maybe? Or a cat?’ He reached out and held Sophie’s hand. ‘In fact, now my parents are selling up, she needn’t go there again.’
‘But I’d like Nana to see the place, and she must come to Badgers Brook. In fact, I don’t want to lose sight of her for a moment.’
Ryan finally led them to where Victoria now lived, and Sophie saw that the small bedroom contained an open, partly packed suitcase.
A New Beginning Page 27
