by Rebecca Shaw
Josh asked how they’d managed the milking this morning.
“I did it with the lad.”
Mrs. Bridges tut-tutted. “Well, then you shouldn’t have, my dear. One of our boys will be there this afternoon and take over Gab’s work till we see how things go. So don’t you fret…”
The back door burst open, and in came Mr. Bridges, haggard, unshaven, tousled. He gasped when he saw eight faces looking at him. “What about work? Done everything, have you? And what are you two doing here?”
Before anyone could answer him, Mrs. Bridges stood up and went to him. Looking up into his face, she asked so softly they could barely hear. “Come now, Billy, tell his mother how he is.”
Billy looked down at her, the belligerence set aside for the moment. “Well, he’s coming around, Adele. Like they said, it’s not nearly as bad as we thought at all. The bullet missed his brain by only a hairbreadth, and they emphasize it’s early days, but things are looking very good. That’s why I’ve come home for a shower and some food and a change of clothes. So he’ll be back before we know it. He’ll have scars and that, but they say plastic surgery can do miracles.”
Mrs. Bridges put her hand to her heart and sat down again before her legs gave way. “Thank God for that. I shall go in a while to see him, while you get some sleep. One of you boys will drive me.” They all five nodded their agreement.
“Dad! I’m volunteering to take over from Gab at Beulah Bank till we get sorted.”
“I see, Josh. That’s if I agree. Now what have you two to say for yourselves?” Billy Bridges turned to look at Megan. “You, young filly, been enticing my boy, have you? Driving him out of his mind with your temptations?”
Indignantly Megan got to her feet. “Indeed I have not. No.” She sat down as abruptly as she’d got to her feet. What else was there she could say? Talk about his obsession? His deliberate goading of Rhodri? Certainly not.
Mrs. Bridges took hold of her hand and said sympathetically, “I know what my Gab is like; once he’s made up his mind, nothing will alter it. But you must be someone very special for him to have tried to…kill himself.”
Billy Bridges was beside himself. Fists clenched, face livid with anger he roared, “He did not try to kill himself; it was someone else who shot him. I reckon there was a struggle and the gun went off, unexpectedly like. If Gab had fired it, he would have made a proper job of it. Him being trained to firearms.”
Mrs. Bridges sprang to her feet with such speed she knocked over her chair, and it bounced with a tremendous clatter onto the tiled floor; and small though she was, she battered his chest with her fists shouting, “Do you want him dead? Is that it? Dead, to satisfy your pride? Eh? To want him dead rather than admit he didn’t shoot straight? And to break my heart. Is that what you want?” She moaned in her anguish. “He’s so very precious to me. Oh! Billy! What are you thinking of? Shame on you.”
A shocked silence followed her outburst. No one knew what to say. The boys had never seen her like this. Then Mrs. Bridges threw herself on Billy’s chest and sobbed so painfully, not one of them could bear it. Mr. Bridges stood there helplessly, as though this accusation were the last straw for his muddled, exhausted mind. He was in such shock that he didn’t even put an arm around her as she lay against him. Josh got up and went to take hold of her. He hugged her tightly and then sat her down on a chair and fished a tissue from a box on the kitchen worktop and handed it to her. He stood behind her and bent to rub his cheek on the top of her head. His father stood, head down, grieving.
Mr. Jones, uncomfortable at witnessing such an intimate moment, cautiously got to his feet and said, “We shall be more than glad of your help, Joshua, if your father approves. The lad’s quite useful—just needs a kick up the behind sometimes; lazy, you know. We’ll go. Billy, I’m sorry for all this and about Gab, but nothing Megan or I have done caused it. We are deeply grieved and we’re grateful it isn’t as bad as everyone first thought.”
Megan gave him her arm to hold on the way out. It was Josh who opened the door for them. Mr. Jones said quietly to him, “We’re so sorry, believe me. You’ll let us know about Gab?”
Josh nodded and closed the door behind them.
Chapter
• 15 •
Josh settled down to work at Beulah Bank as though he’d been there for years. He was the gentle one of the Bridges boys, at nineteen the baby of them all by five years, with the same height and coloring as them but an entirely different temperament from Gab. He worked hard, with none of the swagger and gutsy energy of Gab; he got through the work, and got the best out of the lad without even so much as raising his voice. Within a couple of days it was as if it had been him helping them out all these weeks and not Gab. What he refused to do was drink his tea or have his lunch in the kitchen. He and the lad had decided to eat together in the old tack room. They found a couple of old chairs in a barn and an old blanket box dumped in there years ago to use as a table and set themselves up very comfortably.
“No, thank you, Megan. I’ll have mine with the lad. Keep an eye on him, you know.”
“I really don’t mind; we’d be glad…”
Firmly Josh repeated his refusal. “Thanks all the same.”
Megan hadn’t realized until the pressure was lifted just how much Gab had upset her with his constant closeness. She’d never noticed that she was adjusting her behavior all day to accommodate the vagaries of his moods and his working patterns, and to avoid at all costs being left alone with him, either in a barn or the cow barns or any of the stables. In fact, her whole life had been governed by him, and that didn’t include trying to avoid those hot greedy eyes of his, nor the constant fear of his temper erupting. But she was grateful he hadn’t succeeded in killing himself. That would have been one responsibility too far. She thought of Mrs. Bridges and how she would have been shattered by his death. No, she had to be glad for that. It seemed as if a great load had lifted from her shoulders, and as Josh’s first week progressed and Gab too made progress, life suddenly took on a whole new aspect. She put her engagement ring on and wore it constantly, frequently pausing to admire it, much to her father’s amusement.
They were sitting in the kitchen a week to the day of Gab’s accident when her father said, “I’ve got these plans.” He brought out a folded piece of paper. “Writing’s a bit shaky, but I think you can see what I mean.” He opened up the paper and showed her a rough map of the downstairs rooms. “You see, I already have this room as a bedroom and the downstairs bathroom, and I thought if we broke through into the old dairy from the bedroom, we could make the dairy into a bedroom and have my current bedroom as a sitting room. Then you could have the sitting room for yourselves, and we’d still have a dining room too.”
Megan studied his plans and deep down inside her she was exceedingly grateful for his ideas and could see instantly that it had a great deal of merit, but she was afraid to show too much enthusiasm in case it looked as though she was glad to be done with him and have him shut away. This new considerate parent she’d unexpectedly acquired was taking some getting used to.
“It’s very thoughtful of you, Da. It would obviously work and we’ve never had any use for the old dairy, have we? Yes, that is a good idea, if you’re happy with it.”
“Of course I am. We’ve loads of furniture so furnishing it would be no problem, and if you and Rhodri wanted to buy new…”
“Well, there’s not much of his we’d want to keep. He set up house when he first started earning, so it’s all a bit shambolic; nothing matches.”
“I’ll find a builder. Rose has been having some changes made to their cottage, and she liked the chap who did it, so we could try him. There’s another thing. I want him to change his name to Hughes hyphen Jones.”
“Da!”
“I mean it. Yours are going to be the only grandchildren I shall get, and I want them to inherit not just the farm but the name too. I’m sure Rhodri won’t mind.”
“And if he does?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“But his parents might object. When we go down to see them next weekend, I’ll try to introduce the idea. It’s a bit of a tall order, though, don’t you think?”
“Why? When it means his children will be inheriting this place. When we bought it two years ago, we got it for a song; it’s worth twice what we paid for it. He’ll be a wealthy man, and you’ll be wealthy too.”
“No, Da, his children will be wealthy. Not Rhodri. He could take umbrage.”
“I don’t see why he should, after all—”
“Have you had this planned all along? Let us get engaged and then catch us off our guard with this name scheme?”
“Now, now—”
“Well, you can tell Rhodri, because I’m not, and you can tell him soon because I’m not doing a thing about the wedding until it’s been sorted. Honestly, Da! I can’t forgive you for this.”
“But it’s not much I’m asking. Just to add a name to his own. That’s all.” Patiently Megan’s da protested it hadn’t been in his mind all along; it was something that had occurred to him only the previous day.
“Just when I thought you’d had a complete change of heart. It’s not fair; it simply isn’t fair. You’ve got your own way about me being here to look after you; is there anything else you’d like to dictate to us about? Because if there is, let’s have it out in the open right away.” Megan glared at him across the table and waited.
“It’s just an old man’s fancy, you know. I wouldn’t like to die with no one carrying on my name.”
“They’d be of your blood line though, wouldn’t they, any children we have?”
“It’s not quite the same. I think it has quite a ring to it—Hughes-Jones. Yes, I rather like it. Hughes-Jones. Sounds quite distinguished. Or should it be Jones-Hughes. I can’t decide.”
“It’s not for you to decide—it’s for Rhodri and me. I’m so disappointed.” Megan burst into tears.
“Megan. Megan.”
But Megan fled the kitchen and disappeared upstairs to her bedroom, brokenhearted by this new scheme to upset her and Rhodri. How many more hurdles did he intend putting in their way? She’d marry Rhodri and be damned. She would. She’d leave him here to rot, and rot he would because he didn’t lift a finger for himself. She did it all. He couldn’t help that, she knew, because he was so twisted and crippled with arthritis, but just sometimes she had a suspicion that he could if he wanted. Only last week, after Gab, he’d gone into the kitchen and was making a cup of tea all by himself in the night. So he could do things if he wanted to enough.
There was a knock at the bedroom door. For one stupid startled moment she thought it must be Gab, because no one else had come upstairs since they’d lived there. “Yes.”
“It’s your da. Cup of tea ready for you in the kitchen in five minutes. OK?”
His words were the exact echo of what Gab had said that morning when he’d got into the house before milking. Da had got upstairs! He hadn’t been up there since the week they’d moved in. Megan dried her tears, looked in the mirror, brushed her hair, tied it back with a length of ribbon, and went downstairs, almost afraid to acknowledge that her da had kept her running about after him all these weeks and months when all the time he was capable of doing small things for himself. She saw him with new eyes when she entered the kitchen. He was just lifting the kettle to pour the boiling water into the teapot. Slightly shaky but not dangerously so. Just as he sat down at the table she said, “I fancy a biscuit. Do you?”
“Yes, all right,” he said and got up to get the tin. He had to take his time but he did it, and when he sat down again, by dint of holding the tin to his chest, he got the lid off and offered it to her.
“You said you’d been cruel to me and I denied it, but you have, haven’t you? You’ve made me wait on you day in day out, every little thing, but look at you now. The times I’ve had to come in from the fields in the middle of doing something, take my boots off, wash my hands just to get you your morning coffee, then gone straight back out again—you could have done it yourself, couldn’t you?”
He didn’t reply.
“Couldn’t you?”
He still didn’t reply.
“Well, I’m sorry, Da, but you’re not pulling the wool over my eyes anymore. I’m going out tonight. I’ve already put the dinner in the oven and I don’t know when I shall be back.”
“There’s no need to use that tone with me. I’m your father.”
“Really. The mood I’m in, I don’t know when I shall be back, if ever. You’ve climbed the stairs, you’ve boiled the kettle, you’ve got the biscuit tin, and opened it. The milk from the fridge and not spilled a drop, the cups and saucers from the dishwasher. You’ve hurt me beyond anything you’ve ever done before.” Megan left the kitchen and didn’t speak to or see her father again before she left.
Rhodri was surprised to see her at the practice. He was just about to leave, regretting as he always did at this moment of the day that Harry Ferret wouldn’t be there to greet him when he got home.
“Why! Megan, what a lovely surprise!”
“Footloose and fancy free I am, Rhodri bach. Shall we go out for a meal?”
“Of course, that would be lovely. Where shall we go?”
“We’ll ask Dan for ideas. I expect Rose will have sorted somewhere good.”
Dan was about to leave and was standing talking to Mungo. They broke off their conversation and both said how pleased they were about the wedding, and when was it to be?
“Soon. In fact, very soon.”
Mungo kissed her on both cheeks and stood back to admire her. “Good! You’ll make a lovely bride. Lovely.”
Megan blushed. She couldn’t help it because he so obviously really meant what he said. “Rhodri and I are going out for a meal tonight; do you have any bright ideas for where to go?”
Dan suggested the Italian restaurant in the mall. “Lovely food, and the staff are so welcoming. They’ll be fighting to serve you. They love a good-looking woman.”
“The Casa Rosa?”
“That’s right. It doesn’t look like much from the outside, but the food is fresh—none of that microwave nonsense.”
“Right, we’ll go there then. It seems funny here without Kate, doesn’t it?”
Mungo nodded his agreement. “It does. We miss her. Her stepmother rang yesterday to say that she’s got settled at college and loving every minute.”
Dan said, “She’ll make a good vet; she has a large dose of common sense, no sickly sentimentality, and a good brain. And she’s hardworking.”
“I’ll be off then.”
“How’s your father, Megan? Keeping well?”
She didn’t answer immediately. When she did, all she said was, “He’s fine.” She knew if she said any more, she’d burst into tears and look a fool.
Mungo said, “Good, I’m glad. Be seeing you, Megan.”
Rhodri parked his car in the parking garage, and they walked to the restaurant hand in hand.
“The ring looks lovely.”
Megan held up her hand and admired it. Rhodri kissed it and said how proud he was that she was wearing it.
“Rhodri, I’m not ready to eat yet. Can we just sit somewhere and talk first?”
“Of course. I’ll pop in and make sure of a table for, what? Half an hour or an hour?”
“An hour.”
When he came out of the Casa Rosa, he said, “The food smells marvelous. Let’s sit by the fountain.”
This time he gripped her round her waist, sensing something was wrong. They found a seat by the fountain, and quite by chance there was no one else sitting around it, so they were almost in a world of their own. “There we are. Now what’s the matter?” Rhodri put his arm along the back of the seat and held on to her shoulder, giving her a loving shake. “There’s something, isn’t there? I know, so out with it.”
Megan told him about her father, how suddenly he found h
imself able to climb the stairs, to make a cup of tea, and manage the biscuit tin. How he’d come up with the plan for making himself a set of rooms so they would have the sitting room to themselves. And…how he’d brought up the idea of Rhodri adding her surname to his.
It was such a startling idea that Rhodri couldn’t reply immediately. He gazed instead at the fountain throwing the water about twenty feet into the air. He’d always liked fountains where the water shot straight up into the air before it came down. He didn’t like those newfangled ones that simply dribbled water over stones so the right sound wasn’t there. “Well, Megan, I don’t want to make a mess of things, because it all appears to be going in the right direction. I feel like this fountain, as though my spirits are flying up into the sky, and nothing, nothing can stop them, but this…” He shook his head. “This, I’m not sure.”
“I think he’s gone a tad too far. I’m so angry with him. When I think of the times I’ve come in from the fields, boots off, coat off, gloves off, hands to wash, coffee to make—all because I thought he couldn’t do it for himself when all the time he could have if he’d wanted to.”
Rhodri went back to studying the fountain. It wasn’t adding her surname to his, in truth it was adding Mr. Jones’s surname to his. That was what he meant. The old sod. Did it matter in the great scheme of things? Yes, it did. Why? Because it meant Jones was dictating to him again. Getting the upper hand. Dominating him. And he wasn’t having it. “We’ll have to think about that. I’m glad he’s making an effort, though. Won’t do him any harm, and I like his idea about the dairy. Good thinking, that.”
They sat a while longer, until Megan’s stomach rumbled loudly and made them both laugh. “Time to eat, I think.” Rhodri took her hand and pulled her up off the seat, drew her close to him, and said, “I love you. I can’t wait for my parents to meet you. They’ll both love you to bits. Anyway, lead me to the food. I’m starving.”
“So am I.” Megan smiled hesitantly and he knew why. She was still nervous about her da. Well, he was going to see to that for her. Tonight, in the old man’s own house, he’d tell him where he stood.
