The Runaway

by Claire Wong

  The school term will be underway by now. The rest of my year will be back in the classroom being told they aren’t nearly stressed enough yet about their A-levels. I wonder if they miss me, or envy me, not having to think about things like exams. I sometimes miss my books though. We were going to be doing Hamlet this year.

  In the distance, I hear the faint peal of bells from St Luke’s. They ring on Sunday mornings, and it’s the only way I have any sense of the days of the week any more. I can gauge the time of day pretty well by the shadows on the ground, but it’s far harder to keep track of the calendar. All the same, I could swear I heard those bells more recently this time around. And I know it is not morning. The sun has started creeping around to the west. Something is different today.

  Then I remember. Every year they have a harvest festival in the village, and they ring the church bells for a good half-hour in the afternoon to signal it. That must be happening today. It’s strange to think that I know what everyone there will be doing. Diana will be bossing people around and loving every moment of it. Eira will be smiling at everyone and twirling in her new dress so that they all think she’s adorable and sneak treats off the food table for her. The Evanses will be there, even though Ifan will complain about having to leave the farm for so long. Sometimes even Maebh comes, but she depends on other people remembering to help her make the journey over to the church hall.

  If everyone is going to be at the meal this evening, then that means the rest of the village will be empty. It would be the perfect time to sneak over there and stock up on some supplies I cannot get in the woods. My heart races as I realize I am planning a mission that will depend on stealth, but could mean I don’t starve or freeze to death in the coming weeks!

  Llandymna

  That night, the church hall is full. Diana has overseen its transformation, and the effect is striking. Long tables run down the centre of the room, decorated in rustic colours. The food is served from buffet tables at the side, set around a centrepiece of a loaf shaped like a wheatsheaf.

  Reverend Davies stands up to welcome everyone in his rich, booming voice. He says a prayer of thanks for the harvest this year, and for all that the people of Llandymna have, and then invites everyone to help themselves to the feast that has been prepared. The children, being small enough to run under the tables as a shortcut, make it to the food table first, followed by their parents, who are quick to moderate their portions with warnings of: “Make sure to leave something for the grown-ups to eat,” and: “That’s horseradish sauce, not yoghurt – you don’t want so much of that on your plate.”

  “Don’t be polite,” Ifan tells Adam. “You’ll never get anything to eat that way. You’ve got to push your way forward!”

  Adam greets Ifan warmly. “How’s your day been, mate?”

  “Hard work, I can tell you! I always say you don’t know real work till you’ve spent a day on a farm. You’re not an intellectual like your sister, are you?”

  “Me? No, I was never clever enough for university. I inherited good looks rather than brains from my parents!”

  Ifan laughs heartily as he manoeuvres his way to the food and starts filling up his plate.

  “Your sister must be quite the clever one to have done all that studying. But I always say there’s no school that can teach you common sense, and that’s more important than any exam.”

  “You’re right there, but Grace has plenty of good sense too. She keeps me out of trouble most of the time.”

  “Women tend to do that, don’t they?” Ifan says in his most knowing tone.

  “That stew’s not vegetarian, is it?” asks a voice behind them. They turn to see Callum peering over their shoulders at the options.

  “Looks like lamb,” says Adam.

  “That’s all right then,” Callum says. “Last year I got a huge helping of what I thought was a proper meat pie, only when I sat down and started eating it, it turned out to be filled with potato and stuff.”

  He takes the ladle and starts pouring lamb stew onto his plate until it looks likely to overflow.

  “You got enough there?” asks Ifan.

  “Why would I leave space? What am I going to fill it with? Salad?” He reaches past Adam to grab a chicken drumstick from a platter, and balances it in the middle of his dish. “I’m starving,” he explains.

  “Why? Exhausting day of watching football, was it?” Ifan asks.

  “Yeah, three matches on this afternoon. Did you see any of them?”

  “No, I was busy working.”

  They weave their way back to some seats around the central table.

  “So how long has this been a tradition, then?” asks Adam, wondering if his father might have sat in this hall at a previous harvest.

  “Years,” says Callum, setting his overloaded plate down carefully to ensure he does not lose even a morsel of it.

  “Hundreds of years,” adds Ifan. “As long as there’s been a church and a farming community here, I reckon.”

  Adam looks around the room and tries to picture it: the same occasion, but fifty years ago. Would the young Emrys have been here, or would he already have been too ostracized by the village to show his face? He glances around for Grace, regretting making her feel she needed to be here tonight. But she is chatting with Nia and Tom, and looks happy enough. For his own part, Adam is finding the interactions of this little community fascinating. He has always enjoyed seeing what drives people, and in this village of only a few hundred the relationships seem magnified and intensified.

  “Ifan, I hoped I would see you!” Diana’s voice cuts across their conversation as she marches towards them. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. The community council would value your input on something.”

  “Oh yes?” says Ifan, sitting a little taller. “What can I help you with?”

  Diana lowers her voice enough to denote that this is not public information, though not enough to prevent those sitting nearby from overhearing. “We’re looking at an application for a sports facility in the village. It would mean doing up the old scout hut, and would border onto your land. Can you come to our next meeting on the seventh? We need more local people involved in making the decision on this.”

  “A sports facility?” repeats Callum eagerly. “Like, a proper football pitch or something? Can I be involved? I don’t mind volunteering if it means we get some decent space for games round here.”

  Diana eyes Callum. There is a pause before she says, “Thank you, Callum, but at this early stage we’re just discussing it among the adults. Maybe later on you can be involved.”

  “Well, I’ll be there,” Ifan says. “Happy to help the council if it needs my input.”

  Speechless, Callum scowls into his food and starts stabbing pieces of lamb with his fork. Diana, powering through a to-do list in her head, has already moved on and does not notice. She spots Adam and smiles.

  “Hello. I’m so glad you decided to accept my invitation to come here today. It’s Adam, isn’t it? And this must be your sister Grace coming over to join us.” Diana takes the empty seat opposite Adam as Grace, Nia and Tom all come to sit with the group. “It’s so good to see some new faces in Llandymna!”

  “Thanks!”

  “We don’t get many visitors here, though I’m sure that’s not in any way the fault of your hosts.” Diana casts a glance down the table at Nia that suggests she very much suspects it is her fault. “So we’re delighted you’ve decided to come and stay here – is it a week you’re here?”

  “Two weeks,” says Adam.

  “Excellent. And am I right in thinking your sister will be working here, and that you are looking for ways to occupy your time?”

  “You’re very well informed.”

  Diana looks flattered. “I do my best to know what’s happening – this is my home, after all. Well, I gather you have some experience in woodwork. I
f you need a project to keep you busy, I may have just the thing. Tom here is putting up a fence for me next week, to keep the chickens from escaping or getting under my feet in the garden. I’m sure he’d be happy to have some help. By the way, Tom, I want to speak to you later about another matter.”

  Everyone at the table turns serious, as if they all know what this other topic is. Only Adam and Grace are left in the dark, but they judge from the troubled faces around them that it is best not to pry.

  “I’m sure he doesn’t need me,” Adam answers, fairly sure that Tom’s need for help has been decided for him by Diana. “But by then I’ll be in search of something to do, else I’ll get in Grace’s way while she’s working. Tom, if you don’t mind having the company, I’d be glad to lend an extra pair of hands.”

  Grace chuckles as she watches this exchange. For all that she is less outgoing than her brother, she shares his keen eye when it comes to people, and it amuses her to see him restoring the pride of strangers as fast as it can be knocked down. She knows her brother is better and more natural at this than he ever realizes, and it will not have occurred to him yet how much these people like him already.

  “They’ve both been very helpful to me too,” Nia adds, only just audible over the background din of conversation. “They helped me get through all my errands today.”

  “Isn’t it wonderful to have such generous people around to help us when we fail to manage our own time well?” Diana remarks with an arch smile. Nia looks disheartened and apologetic. She glances across to her husband, whose expression has not altered. He seems to have missed the insult in Diana’s words. The rest of the table have not, however, and there is an awkward pause.

  “I think someone’s trying to get your attention,” Grace says to Diana, nodding over to the child standing behind her chair.

  “Yes, Eira, what is it?”

  “Owen won’t eat his carrots,” Eira says sadly. “He keeps throwing them on the floor.”

  Diana excuses herself and goes to attend to her children.

  Everyone at the table sits looking around at one another, wondering what to say to their new friends about what has just passed.

  “Now you’ve met Diana,” Tom states.

  “She’s on the Llandymna community council,” Ifan explains. “Basically the best person round here at getting things done. She organized all this too.” He motions at the room around them. Callum sniffs loudly and announces he is going up for seconds.

  “Second helpings sounds like a good idea,” says Adam. “Those pasties were good. Can I get anyone anything while I’m there?”

  “Can you see if there’s any more of the pork pie left?” asks Ifan. “I’ll have another slice of that if there is.”

  Adam follows Callum up to the food table.

  “You all right there?” he asks.

  “Yeah, fine,” Callum mutters, but is convincing no one.

  “That’s good,” says Adam, and then waits.

  “I can’t believe she said I’m not one of the adults!” he says after a gap of only a few seconds. “I’m twenty. I finished school ages ago. I don’t get it. Why does she think I’m still a child?”

  “Why does it bother you what she thinks?”

  “It doesn’t. ’Cept that round here Diana’s opinion of you makes a difference. She decides things, you see. So if you want to be involved in something in the village, and she doesn’t think you’re good enough, she can talk to people and make them see things her way. I reckon it’s the only reason everyone runs around trying to keep her happy. I reckon if you asked people what they really think, they’d say they can’t stand her.”

  Callum’s voice has grown louder during this speech, so Adam steers him towards the doors before he is overheard. They sit down on the steps outside the hall, with their plates balanced on their knees.

  “Ugh, I got the wrong flavour crisps!” Callum’s latest misfortune seems to add to his sense of outrage. “Yeah, everyone wants Diana to like them. You saw how Nia tried to get back in her good books there, right?”

  “Has Nia upset Diana?”

  “It was the interview. She went off-script. Diana hasn’t forgiven her for it. Says she made her look stupid on camera.”

  “What interview?”

  “Oh yeah, you won’t know about that. I forgot. It was a police thing – an appeal to try to find Rhiannon. She’s Diana’s niece. She went missing in August. Nia was meant to read something Diana had prepared, but she gave her own appeal instead. It was kind of nice really, what she said. The sort of thing that’d make you feel it was safe to get in touch. But it wasn’t what Diana wanted.”

  Adam stops eating and slowly straightens up. “This niece of hers – did they find her?”

  “No. No one knows where she is, or if she’s even still alive. That’s probably why Diana’s getting worse lately. I bet she feels guilty about what happened and is taking it out on the rest of us.”

  “And is she about your age?” Adam asks, trying to keep his tone free of all signs of urgency.

  “Who? Rhiannon? Couple of years younger. She’s still in school. Why?”

  Adam stands up. “Listen, don’t worry what Diana thinks about you. If you want people to see you as an adult, don’t try proving it to anyone, just go and be an adult. People will notice soon enough.” With that he leaves Callum sitting on the steps and goes inside to find Grace.

  “What is it?” Grace asks when she sees her brother’s face.

  “Callum just told me that Diana has a relative who went missing a month or so ago. A niece who’s the same age as the girl we saw in the woods.”

  Grace’s eyes widen.

  “We need to go and tell her,” Adam says, and is about to go looking for Diana, when Grace catches his arm.

  “Wait. We can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “We don’t know enough about what’s happened here. If that girl is the missing niece, then maybe she ran away to escape something. Maybe there’s something, or someone, here that she’s afraid of. If we tell her family and neighbours, we could be putting her in danger. We need to go to the police first.”

  They spot Tom standing by himself at the edge of the room. Reaching him means weaving between the tables and bypassing a large group gathered around Ifan, who is holding their attention with a loud and highly exaggerated anecdote.

  “Hi Tom, can we talk to you in your police capacity for a minute?”

  Tom sighs. “I’m not really on duty at the moment. I mean, it was a police matter – the thing that Diana asked to speak to me about – but that was a special case really. Is it urgent?”

  “We’re not sure. We might have information about a missing person.”

  Tom’s whole expression changes and he ushers them outside at once. Callum has disappeared from the steps, but they still walk a way down the road to be sure they won’t be overheard.

  “Have you seen Rhiannon?” he asks.

  “We think so,” Grace replies. “We saw a girl in the woods yesterday, about the same age as this Rhiannon, and looking, not exactly dishevelled, but not like someone just out for a morning stroll either. We didn’t know whether to make anything of it, until Adam heard just now that you’ve got a search on for a missing person.”

  “Can you describe her for me?”

  Grace thinks. “Long, light brown hair, and her face was slightly tanned. Shorter than me, so maybe about five foot four? She was wearing jeans and a thick waterproof coat – the kind hikers go for.”

  “It could be her,” says Tom, taking a notebook out of his pocket and hastily scribbling something in it, “but we’ve searched those woods multiple times already.”

  “I was about to go and ask Diana where we could find the girl’s parents, until Grace sensibly stopped me and said we should come to you first,” Adam adds.

 
Tom nods. “That was wise. And you would have had no luck finding her parents. Her mother died some years ago, and she never told anyone the identity of Rhiannon’s father, but it’s generally accepted that he wasn’t from round here. Diana’s her legal guardian, but she’s been through a lot already. We don’t want to get her hopes up until we have some evidence that it was her niece you saw. Right, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll report to the station in Bryndu that we’ve got a possible lead. Tomorrow morning I’ll come over to the cottage with a picture for you to identify whether you saw Rhiannon or not. If it’s her, I’ll need you to show me exactly where you saw her. I’ll be round at nine tomorrow, if that’s not too early for you.”

  Chapter four

  Rhiannon

  They walked in slow single file, the women cloaked in a blue as dark as the twilight sky. As they trod a path through the woods that only they knew, they resembled a funeral procession, as well they might. They were the last survivors of the coastal villages that were drowned by the sea all in one night, as if the waves rolled forward to take a great bite out of the land, and never receded. Their old homes now lay underwater somewhere, with pathways carved out on the sea floor, gold trinkets sitting uselessly on small wooden tables surrounded by seaweed. These women with their torches were the only ones who escaped that night. They walked the land looking for a new place to settle, but they were too restless ever to stop, and so the procession continued.

  The afternoon is a waiting game, and I spend an hour or so of it immersed in the story of Cantre’r Gwaelod. This is, of course, one I first heard from Maebh, though I later found it written down in a book of Welsh legends in the library. It says that Wales used to be a bigger land, but that a huge chunk of the west coast was covered over by the sea. I added plenty to it, since there seemed to be vital details missing. I wanted elegance and beauty in the story, and to dive into the loss that would be entailed in that kind of catastrophe.