by M K Jones
“Go with your brother, William. And please play quietly, so as not to wake Maud.”
“Yes, Mammy.” He moved towards the door into the small parlour, and turned back to look at her.
“Is Alice all right Mammy? Dada will bring her home, won’t he?”
“We must pray that he will find her, William.” She wanted to give him the reassurance that he craved, but she couldn’t. “Now go to your brother and sister.”
She waited in silence, listening to his footsteps drag slowly up the stairs, where he stopped at the top for a moment, before walking to the nursery.
The kettle had begun to bubble and hiss. Gwen prepared tea for Ruth.
“Please take one for yourself, Gwen. We’ll sit for a moment before I check the dairy.”
“I did it earlier, Mrs Jones. Jane finished the milking. I’ve put your pot into the larder, and Mr Davies collected the rest half an hour ago. Jane has started on the butter, but she wants to talk to you about the cheese.”
Ruth rested a hand on Gwen’s arm. “I’ll speak to her as soon as we’ve had a cup of tea. Then I must help Ifor move the sheep. John wants them in the top field. William and Walter can come to help. Could you…”
“Of course, I’ll mind Maud.”
“Then you must go home, Gwen.”
Gwen responded firmly. “No, Mrs Jones. Gwenny and my mother can manage quite well. I’ll wait until Arthur returns. Now, here’s your tea. I have the salted cloth, so if you take off you shawl, I can work on it.”
Ruth took her cup from Gwen’s hands, placed it on the table in front of her, then unwrapped her shawl and handed it to Gwen. Gwen sat and rubbed vigorously at the stains, occasionally glancing at Ruth, as if waiting for a conversation to begin.
“I did indeed meet with unpleasantness, Gwen,” Ruth began, “as you expected. It was shocking, but perhaps not unanticipated.” Gwen was about to remonstrate, but Ruth held up her hand.
“Later I shall speak to my husband about the response I received at the school. But I would ask you not to speak of this in the village. I know that you don’t gossip,” she smiled at Gwen, “or ever speak of our family affairs no matter how hard others pry, and I thank you and Arthur most gratefully for that.”
“I would never do so, Mrs Jones. But…” Gwen stopped and bit her lip, but shook her head, and returned to the shawl.
“If you mean that people press you, I know that,” Ruth cut in. “It will be hard in the coming days, too.”
“No,” Gwen interjected. “It’s just that I don’t understand…”
“Would you like to explain, Gwen?” Ruth probed gently, mindful of Gwen’s circumstances. Gwen thought for a moment as she battled with her thoughts.
“I would like to think on it a little further, Mrs Jones, if you don’t mind. Perhaps later. Or anyway, it is just that…” she paused, then spoke again in a whisper, so quietly that Ruth thought that Gwen had not realised she had said them aloud.
“She wasn’t there.”
A loud knock on the back door made both women jump. The top half opened and Jane, the dairy workmaid, appeared, looking anxiously at Ruth.
“I’m coming now, Jane. Gwen told me that you want to start the cheese.” She stood up, saw that Gwen had lowered her head down to apply herself to the shawl.
“If the children are looking for me, please send them to the dairy, Gwen.” Gwen nodded without looking up, as Ruth went out of the back door and across the yard to the dairy.
Twenty One
For the next hour Ruth and Jane worked on the new vat. Jane had only worked in the old way and was very frightened of the machine that released near-boiling water into the outer jacket to warm up and separate the milk. Ruth had been uncertain at first, but had made it her job to teach Jane how to work with the machines, and now they were both becoming adept. After Jane was comfortable to be left alone, and they had turned the cheeses on the shelf in the drying room, Ruth called the boys and took them up to the sheep.
She watched in amusement as William and Walter chased after stray sheep and generally impeded both Ifor and the dogs.
Ifor was a shepherd like his father, and John trusted him completely. He had lost his wife in the winter and now lived with his daughter, Gwladys. Ruth had been shocked that, at eighty-five, he still worked to supplement the family income, but she soon realised that Ifor would only stop farming when he died. He was very tolerant of the children, so Ruth encouraged them to spend time with him, learning as much as they could. Walter viewed it all as a game, but William took his role seriously.
“I saw the men leaving at dawn. Do you have any news yet?” Ifor said.
Ruth shook her head. “Not yet, Ifor. It’s too soon. Arthur Ellis is due to return with his men this afternoon, to finish off the farm tasks. He may have some news.”
“She’s a good girl, Mrs Jones. She always speaks politely like, and she’s kind. She’d have been upset enough about that little friend of hers. People that know her know she’s a good girl.”
Ruth swallowed back tears. “Thank you, Ifor. I’m sure the men will find her soon. It’s comforting to know that we have friends.”
“Maybe Mr Robinson will return soon. He will be of help to you and the Ellises.”
Ruth looked at Ifor, who was watching William and the dogs manoeuvere the ewes and their lambs into the top field.
“I’d better go help Walter,” he grinned. “That ewe’ll run him all over the field. Some sheep aren’t as daft as they look.”
Ruth stayed where she was. Mr Pugh’s behaviour was observed more critically than he knew, she thought. She also suspected it would not make any difference to how he behaved even if he did know, as he set little store by the opinions of people he considered to be unworthy. His treatment of Gwen Ellis confirmed that.
Walter came running back towards her, breathless, red faced and beaming. “Did you see me, Mammy? Did you? I nearly got that one!”
He stopped abruptly in front of her, uncertain about the scowl on Ruth’s face caused by Pugh. She smiled at him. “Very good work, Walter. We must tell your Dada how helpful you’ve been today. Look, here comes William.”
“I shall tell Alice how clever I was, when she comes home with Dada, too!”
William glanced at his mother, saw her biting her lip, and took his brother’s hand. “Come, Walter, let’s go back to the farm and you can tell me all about it.”
Ruth brushed the older boy’s head and William smiled comfortingly at her. She waved to Ifor, then followed the boys back to the farm. As she approached, she could hear men’s voices and she thought that she recognised Arthur Ellis. She picked up her pace and ran down the last short incline, bursting into the yard just as men disappeared through the back door and into the kitchen.
Out of breath, she opened the door and rushed in after them to find Arthur standing next to Gwen at the range where Gwen was hovering over a steaming cauldron. They both looked up as Ruth entered and the room fell silent. She knew immediately that they had not found Alice. The men turned their heads to the floor, or avoided her gaze. Arthur walked towards her, his cap held in both hands, to tell her their news.“I’m so sorry, Mrs Jones. We found no sign, not even a sighting.”
“How far did you search, Arthur?”
“We went right to the top and across, past Upper Cwm, over to Cwmynyscoy, and down to the iron works. We decided that it wouldn’t have been possible for her to get any further than that since yesterday afternoon.”
“Of course,” Ruth replied, holding her stomach to try to quell the sensation there. “And the mineshafts?”
“Owners have had them all checked. Nothing there, ma’am.”
“Well, at least that’s a relief. Thank you, Arthur. We must wait for Mr Jones to return.”
Ruth saw William, who had been standing in the doorway holding Walter’s shoulders, drop his chin to his chest. He turned Walter around and they disappeared.
Gwen stood next to Ruth. “I’ve prepared somethi
ng to eat and drink for the men, Mrs Jones. Then Arthur can direct them back to their work until Mr Jones returns.”
For a moment she didn’t respond, but stood staring into the space in the doorway where the boys had been.
“Mrs Jones, would you prefer something else?”
“What? I’m sorry.” Ruth shook her head to clear the image of mineshafts and the fruitless search. “What did you say, Gwen?”
“The men are going to eat now, then they’ll return to work until Mr Jones is back.”
“Yes, thank you, Gwen, Arthur. I’m sorry. I think I must sit for a little while.” Ruth looked shaken.
Gwen took Ruth gently by the arm, steering her into the parlour to sit her down. As they walked she could feel the trembling throughout Ruth’s body.
The kitchen had been silent as they passed through but, as she sat, Ruth heard the hum of voices next door. Gwen hovered behind her. “Please look after the men, Gwen. I just need a few moments to myself.”
From the kitchen she heard the sound of Arthur ushering the men out of the back door and giving them instructions. After a few minutes of silent contemplation Ruth felt better. She stood up and went back into the kitchen.
For the next two hours Ruth and Gwen worked silently, preparing food and finishing the ironing on the kitchen table. At half past five Arthur returned to let them know that all of the tasks were done and that the men were going home. Ruth tried to persuade Gwen to return with him, but she was adamant that she would wait until John returned. Ruth protested, but Arthur interjected.
“I can manage the children well enough, Mrs Jones, and Gwen’s mother is there with our Gwenny.” With that, he turned and left. His footsteps echoed across the yard then stopped at the gate. After a brief pause and a low mumble of voices, the sound changed to the louder march of more footsteps returning to the farmhouse. Ruth’s head snapped up to look out of the window. “It’s John!”
Twenty Two
May 2015
After speaking to Zelah, Maggie spent a couple of hours wandering around the house and garden, mulling over their discussion and arguing backwards and forwards with herself about what to do next. Zelah’s opinion had been clear, but Maggie still couldn’t make up her mind.
“Get it out in the open,” Zelah had recommended, with well-argued reasons. But she was still reluctant to involve Alice more. She wasn’t afraid of showing the photo or the clothes, it was what she suspected about what else Alice might see, what Maggie couldn’t control, that might lead to further danger. “Further danger? Do I really believe this could be dangerous?” Maggie thought.
She had to acknowledge it. Instinct told her that every new piece of information that she uncovered was revealing not just family history but potential danger to Alice. She hadn’t been explicit about this with Zelah but something in her own hesitancy about her explanation of the photograph, told Maggie that her anxiety was increasing.
Zelah had advised her to meet with her at the library the next day, as she had also found out some very interesting information. Maggie had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she had forgotten to ask what it was and had put the phone down before she realised that she hadn’t given Zelah the chance to tell her any more.
She spent so long thinking about what to do that she found herself late for the school pick up. Grabbing her keys, she ran out of the door, forgetting to pack the clothes back into the trunk. Traffic was on her side for once and she was only a few minutes late. Jack had walked to the front gate of Alice’s school. Maggie could see them arguing. She screeched to a halt on the pavement in front of the gate. As they climbed in she asked, “What were you arguing about? You know I hate you two arguing.”
Jack’s tone was indignant. “Actually, we weren’t, for once. I was giving Alice some advice.”
He was about to go on, but Maggie caught a glimpse in her rear view mirror of the face that Alice was pulling at him, that said “shut up!” Maggie had no intention of leaving it there. “Advice about what? Anything I can help with?”
“No!” Alice replied; rather too quickly. She couldn’t carry on the conversation, as a car was now approaching them from school drive and she needed to get out of the way. As soon as they started moving she asked again, “So, can I help?”
Alice was silent and Maggie caught further glimpses of hand gestures and facial expressions that told her that this, for the moment, was just between them.
“OK, if you don’t want to tell me. But don’t let it turn into a big problem?”
“OK,” they said in unison.
She sighed, knowing that this was as much as she was going to get. Despite being close to her daughter, Maggie knew that Alice kept a lot to herself, particularly things that she didn’t know how to deal with. Maggie understood that Alice wanted to resolve her own issues, but she was just ten. No matter how hard she tried, Maggie had never been able to convince Alice that adult experience could actually provide a helpful perspective.
It had been like this since David died. Jack seemed to cope well enough after the initial shock. He understood that he had to get on with his life and despite occasional moments of anger that his father was gone, he managed well enough. Alice reacted very differently. From the time that Maggie had broken the news to them that their father had died in an accident on the motorway, Alice never talked about her father’s death. She carried on as if nothing had changed. Nothing Maggie could say persuaded Alice to speak about her feelings. She remained the same matter-of-fact, straightforward little girl, but increasingly kept her secrets to herself. Maggie had made appointments with psychologists and counsellors but Alice refused to speak to them.
When Maggie had to tell her children that they also had to move out of their home and find a new school, she felt as if she was bringing their world to an end. Jack was upset and cried at the prospect of losing his friends. But he accepted that his mother could no longer pay the mortgage and that there was no choice – sell up or be bankrupted and thrown out. Put like that, he saw that there was no point in arguing, so he said goodbye to his friends and packed his belongings.
Alice had said nothing. She had come to the town as a small child and knew nowhere else. She also shared her mother’s love of their home. She loved her room and loved inviting her friends to play there with her. Maggie operated an “open house” policy, and they became known for their hospitality. Friends and neighbours admired both the house, and the home that Maggie had made of it. She’d tell anyone who asked that she had found her perfect place to live, for her family, and that she had the perfect job, and the best friends. Losing it all was more traumatic than losing her crooked, corrupt, bankrupt husband. But she never told anyone that.
Thinking about Alice and Jack’s experiences occupied her journey, so much so that she found that they were at their front door. The children jumped out of the car and bolted into the house, throwing their bags and coats in a heap on the floor and rushing up to their respective rooms. Maggie walked into the hall after them and picked up their things, shouting simultaneously, when she remembered that she hadn’t packed up the trunk, and knew at the same time that it was too late.
“Mum, what’s all this stuff on your bed?”
With a feeling of resignation, Maggie trudged up the stairs and into her room, where Alice had jumped onto the bed and was kneeling in front of the trunk, gazing around in fascination at the clothes spread before her.
“Do you remember those old trunks that we could see at the far end of the attic?”
Alice nodded.
“I decided to get them down, to see what was in them. It’s mainly clothes, a child’s clothes. You can take a look, but be careful. They’re very old. I’ve laid them out in the order that they came out.”
“Can you explain it all to me?” Alice frowned, not taking her eyes off the bed.
Maggie went through the clothing explaining that they had been carefully packed by someone a long time ago and probably all at the same time.
> “That’s a strange thing to do, isn’t it?” Alice asked.
“Why strange?”
“Well, when my stuff gets too small or whatever, or I get fed up and don’t want to wear something any more, well, you put it in charity bags, but a bit at a time, not all at once. This is all at once, isn’t it? So there must have been a reason for someone to do that.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Maggie replied, “that’s what I thought when I saw them. I think they’re over a hundred years old, and this,” holding up the grey serge dress and white pinafore, “is a school uniform.”
“Can I hold them?” Alice asked, gingerly prodding the dress.
“Yes, but very carefully, please.” Maggie handed Alice each garment. Alice turned them around in her hands, then held them up to herself.
“They’re about the right size for me.” She examined the back of the neck openings.
“Did they have name tags in those days, Mum? Is there some way we can find out what her name was?”
This was the moment Maggie knew was coming and she was still very unsure about the right thing to do. She replied, “I have a clue, I think. I found this,” she held up the photo, “wrapped inside a shawl at the bottom. Be careful!” Alice had snatched the photo out of Maggie’s hand and was peering closely at it. Maggie held her breath. Alice peered at the photo and Maggie could see that she was scanning the faces with great concentration.
“Ha! I knew it!” Alice looked up at her mother with a triumphant grin, pointing to the photograph.
“So, how does it feel?” Maggie asked tentatively.
“I knew it was her.”
“What do you mean… her?” The face she had seen and that had caused her to phone Zelah in confusion and worry was Alice’s face. Different hair and clothes, but undeniably Alice’s features, not just similar, exactly the same. So who did Alice think she was looking at?
“It’s the girl at the funeral. You know, the one in the graveyard last week. I told you, she waved to me. Why is she in this picture?”
