by Claire Wong
She hasn’t spotted me yet, and there’s enough distance between us for me to slip away unseen. I begin to edge backwards, staying low to the ground. I reach behind me for my bag, which I dropped when I heard the noise. My fingers close around it and I turn my head to look for my best path to escape. As I do, there is an all-too-familiar cry overhead as a grey shape swoops down towards me.
“Lleu!” I hiss at the bird, though I know he cannot understand. “Why did you have to show up right now?”
Lleu sits in the branch of the hazel tree, and the squirrel jumps for the branches of another and then runs along the forest canopy to safety.
The woman has, unsurprisingly, looked over this way after hearing Lleu. I crouch low, hoping she will decide to ignore the sound, but she starts to walk towards me. I can stay lying here or I can run for it, but either way she will see me. I decide I would rather have the head start, so I spring to my feet and turn to run.
“Wait!”
She has seen me. I don’t know why, but I hesitate. She stops walking any nearer, and we stand there, facing one another.
“It’s OK. I’m not here to harm you,” she says.
You’d better not be, I think.
“We met the other day, when my brother was here. Do you remember?”
Does she think I am stupid? I nod.
“I’m Grace. You’re Rhiannon, aren’t you?”
How strange, to be called by my own name again. I nod a second time. “I’m not coming back, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I tell her.
“That’s not why I’m here,” she says. “Actually, I only came here for my research. And I won’t force you to come back to the village. How could I? Besides, maybe you had a good reason for running away. But will you answer me one question?”
I say nothing, and she seems to take this as agreement.
“Are you all right? I mean, are you safe?”
“I’m fine.”
“Because if you need help, there are plenty of people out there who can support you without making you go home.”
“This is my home!” I say, surprising myself with the ferocity of it.
“Is there anything I can get you? Anything you need?” She looks hopeful.
“I look after myself now.”
“All right. How about a message to your friends? They’re worried about you, you know.”
I think about this for a moment.
“What’s the date today?” I ask.
“September the twelfth. A Monday,” she says, visibly puzzled.
I know what my message will be. “Tell them I’m fine and that I’m not coming back, and they won’t find me, no matter how hard they look. Not that I think they’ll look much more after Thursday.”
“Why Thursday?” she asks, but I decide I will need to run now. She keeps asking questions, and I fear she will try to make me go back with her, whatever she might say. I run in the opposite direction to my house so that she will have no way of knowing where I live. I glance back over my shoulder a few times on the way, but she hasn’t followed me.
Chapter six
Llandymna
On Monday afternoon, Tom arrives at Diana’s house to construct the fence, as agreed. He sighs inwardly as he approaches the house. This fence is one of Diana’s projects, he knows, but so is he. She never does anything without a reason, and asking him for help will be part of her grand plan to improve Llandymna. Perhaps she views him as insufficiently practical compared to the other men of Llandymna, and thinks that some good DIY time will fix that. Perhaps she wants to keep an eye on one of the team charged with finding her niece. Perhaps she already suspects that Tom knows more than he is admitting. He has agreed with his superiors that it is better not to tell her about the sighting of Rhiannon just yet. He suspects it would lead to further interference in the case.
There is no answer when he rings the doorbell, so he lets himself into the garden through the side gate. Everything is set up in preparation for him. The materials are all laid out on the lawn, and the hens have been shut away in their house until their territory has been re-marked.
“All right there?” Adam is already here and pouring tea from a flask into two sturdy mugs before Tom can suggest that they should probably do some work before taking a break.
“Is Diana out?” asks Tom, surprised that he has not already been ambushed by the homeowner, who should surely have handed him instructions of some kind by now.
“Yes, she’s taken the kids out for a walk.”
“She’s what?”
“Well, we were chatting,” says Adam, apparently unaware of the rarity of this event, “and she was telling me how busy she always is. So I asked if she got to spend as much time with her children as she wanted, and it turned out the answer was no. So I told her I’d take care of things here until you arrived – woodwork is my trade, after all – and that she should take Eira and Owen to go jump in some piles of leaves.”
Tom is stunned into silence. This stranger has somehow managed the impossible: to make Diana do something she had not intended to do. And apparently he has achieved it all without angering her too.
“So,” Adam continues, “it looks like we’ve got everything we need. Shall we make a start?”
The fence Diana has chosen is like something out of an American suburb: evenly spaced white posts with pointed tops. Its components lie on the neat lawn, which is bordered by rows of Michaelmas daisies.
“You met her children, then?” Tom says, as they position the first panel.
“Great kids,” Adam smiles, “and clearly a very proud mother.”
“She’s got their whole lives planned out, you know. Eira’s apparently destined for Oxbridge. Never mind that no one round here goes that far away to study. And Owen’s going to be a great leader one day.”
“He’s got the determination for it. He decided to throw a bowl of peas at me rather than eat them. Pass me that mallet.”
It surprises Tom to hear Adam speak with real patience about Diana and her children. He suddenly feels ashamed of his sceptical exasperation where she is concerned. He decides to stop complaining and focus on the work in front of him.
“What about their father?” Adam asks, after they have put up the first two panels in silence. “She didn’t mention him.”
“Edwin died within a week of Owen being born. We knew he was ill, but most of us didn’t know how serious is was.”
“That must have been tough for them all,” says Adam, pausing his hammering and straightening up to give proper space to this information.
“It was, and I suppose all the worse because her sister Elin died before her time, too. Not many people talk about her these days, least of all Diana. It was years ago now – must be something like a decade, I reckon – but Elin was always good with us younger ones: this is back when Callum, Nia and I were all still at school. She liked helping us get into mischief, teaching us tricks to play on our parents, that sort of thing. You wouldn’t think she was the older sister, out of her and Diana.”
They talk as they work, about Llandymna and what little of its history Tom has picked up from Maebh, from the selling of farms to the feuds between local families. When at last they reach the end of the task, Adam passes the hammer over to Tom to put the final nail in place. Then they stand back to view their work.
“Not bad,” he says.
“Thanks for your help,” says Tom.
“Not at all. I know you could’ve easily done it on your own. I think Diana was being kind, giving me a way to get out of the house, but thank you for being so gracious about it. Grace is out in the woods today, doing her surveys of plants. I’d have gone all day without talking to anyone and be going mad by now. Anyway… time for a drink? We’ve earned it.”
They put away the tools and walk through the village to the White Lion. When they ar
rive, the Evanses’ car is parked outside. Ifan is holding an animated conversation with the barman in front to the pub, while Nia stands some distance away.
“Afternoon, Nia!” Tom calls. “Been at the farmers’ market today?”
“Yes,” she smiles. “We’re just stopping off to pick up a few things from the shop.”
Tom and Adam glance from Nia, standing beside the parked car, to Ifan and Terry. Ifan is waving his arms expressively to make some point to the barman, who is used to talking to people who are the worse for drink, and seems to be humouring him. Whatever shopping the Evanses needed to do in the village has clearly been sidelined.
“Maybe I should see if he’s ready to go,” Nia says, and hurries over to the two men, tentatively joining herself to the already imbalanced conversation.
“Might be a while before we get a drink at this rate,” Tom remarks to Adam, as the barman shows no sign of being able to extricate himself and return to his pub. Just then, Diana and her two children appear around the corner. Eira is skipping and jumping wherever she sees a pile of fallen leaves.
“You’ve finished, then?” says Diana in a tone half impressed, half threatening. Adam wonders what would happen if they had not.
“All done,” he says.
At once the warning drops from Diana’s voice. “Well, I’m looking forward to seeing your good work!” she says. “The garden will be much neater now that the hens can’t escape and destroy my lawn. But what are you doing out here?”
“We had planned a quick drink to celebrate finishing the job, but the barman seems distracted right now,” says Tom. “Poor Nia’s been waiting here a while, I think.”
Diana sniffs sharply at the mention of “poor Nia”, reminding them that she has not forgiven Nia for the unsanctioned appeal she gave on camera. Tom looks pained by this reaction, and opens his mouth to say something, but Diana strides off to speak with Ifan before he can find the words.
Callum emerges from the doorway of the White Lion. Adam and Tom, mindful of the last exchange between him and Diana at the harvest festival, quickly walk over in an effort to intercept him.
“Thought I recognized those voices. What’s going on out here?” he asks.
“Nothing that a cup of coffee or two won’t fix,” says Tom, nodding over towards Ifan.
“Ifan’s had too much to drink at the farmers’ market again, then?” Callum observes, unsurprised. Before Tom can stop him, he heads over to Diana, unable to mask the eagerness in his voice. “I was hoping to run into you today, Diana. I’ve been thinking about this sports thing you’ve got planned for the village. I’ve got some great ideas –”
“Oh Callum, I think you must have misunderstood me,” Diana cuts in smoothly, changing her tack from the last discussion of this. “Really, there’s no actual plans at the moment. If there were, I’d be sure to involve you.”
“Oh, right,” Callum says, his voice devoid of emotion, as though the wind has been knocked out of him. He looks from Diana to Tom and Adam, as if appealing for some translation of this platitude. Tom, who is more used to Diana’s tactics, is almost certain the plans are being discussed and that Diana wants no interference from Callum, but decides it would do no good to explain this.
“Let it go, mate,” Adam murmurs so only Callum and Tom hear. “She doesn’t mean any of it. You know she’s dealing with a lot at the moment.”
“He’s right,” Tom agrees. It strikes him, for the first time, that Callum is not so unlike Rhiannon. Perhaps Diana struggles being around a strong-willed young adult with lots of ideas and opinions.
“Some things,” Ifan declares, oblivious of their attempts to calm Callum, and lent conviction by the amount of beer in his bloodstream, “need experience and common sense. There’s no substitute for that. When you’re older, you’ll understand that, Callum.”
“Well said, Ifan,” Diana nods approvingly, and gives a smile that looks a little smug, though she cannot help wrinkling her nose at the smell of alcohol on his breath.
Callum flushes a deep shade of red. With clenched fists, he stares at the ground, unable to even look at Diana as he next speaks.
“You care so much what everyone else thinks, don’t you? But you’re unable to see how much people can’t stand you! I bet I’m not the only one who sees right through you. You’re self-centred and controlling, and people are laughing at you behind your back for it.”
He looks up now, exhilarated at having spoken his mind at last. He flashes a glare first at Diana, then at Ifan, whom he regards as her accomplice in all this, then stomps back into the pub, avoiding meeting Tom’s disappointed expression.
For a second, no one seems to know how to respond. Diana seems unrattled by the tirade, gives a knowing look that says This is exactly what I expected of him, then remembers that her children have overheard the whole exchange, and rushes to distract them by asking what they would like for their tea tonight. Nia is wide-eyed with shock. Terry’s face is a picture of confusion. He prides himself on knowing all the generational feuds in Llandymna, many of which go back centuries, so no one quite remembers how they began, and he knows of no disputes between the Rees and Griffin families. Ifan takes a little longer to process it all, and then starts seething with rage.
“Hey, come back here!” he roars. His hands curl into fists and he starts to follow Callum.
“No, I don’t think you want to do that right now, Ifan,” says Tom. “Let’s get you home instead.”
It takes both Adam and Tom to restrain him. They steer him on unsteady feet into the passenger seat of the car. He shouts angrily, but does not put up a struggle.
“Thinking he can insult me like that, in front of – in front of everyone! The boy’s barely out of school and already lost all his manners. When have I ever picked a fight with him?”
Realization dawns on the faces of everyone around the car.
“He thinks it was directed at him!” says Tom. He looks over to Diana, hoping she will march over to resolve the misunderstanding, but she is deep in negotiations with Eira about dessert. “Will you be all right getting him home, Nia? Would you like one of us to come back with you?”
“No, that’s fine,” Nia murmurs as she gets into the driver’s seat and quickly closes the door behind her.
As they drive away, Adam says to Tom, “Grace and I can check on them later and see if they need anything.”
“Thank you,” says Tom.
They watch the car disappear, while behind them Eira can be heard talking to her mother as they walk home.
“Why was that man being rude? Grown-ups aren’t supposed to do that.”
*
Adam returns to the cottage, where Grace is surrounded by books and handwritten notes. He steps over the pile of ringbinders on the floor and turns on the oven.
“How was your day? I’ve bought some things to make tea.”
Grace puts down her book. “Thanks. It was… interesting.”
Adam laughs. “That sounds mysterious, and a lot like my day. Do you want to go first?”
“Well, I went out to do the first survey, got lots of good data too, but then I decided to go deeper into the woods, and while I was there I saw the missing girl again.”
“Have you told Tom? Or anyone else in the police?”
“Yes, I phoned him not long ago, on the number he gave us. He said you’d just left the village and were on your way back. I told him I’d seen her, and I passed on a message she had given me.”
“What was it?”
“She said, ‘Tell them I’m fine, and that I’m not coming back, and they won’t find me, no matter how hard they look.’ And then she said something about how they wouldn’t look for her much after Thursday.”
“Why Thursday?”
“I asked Tom about that. He said that’s Rhiannon’s eighteenth birthday. After that, she stops bein
g a missing young person and legally becomes an adult. He says the investigation will become lower priority and resources may be moved elsewhere.”
“Seriously? They’ll stop caring about bringing her home because of a date in the calendar?”
“The thing is, I think she really doesn’t want to go back. She seemed scared that I would try to drag her kicking and screaming into the village. Not that I’d have stood a chance of doing that if I’d tried. She’s fast when she wants to get away from you. But I still feel we should do something.”
“And the police still don’t want to tell Diana and raise her hopes of getting her niece back?”
“I guess not.”
“Well, she’s obviously living somewhere in the woods and doesn’t want to be found. I wonder how she’s surviving out there.”
“I’ve been wondering that too. She doesn’t look as if she’s starving to death, but what on earth is she eating? Where does she sleep?”
“I’m kind of impressed,” Adam muses.
“What about your day? What happened that was so interesting?”
Adam tells her how Callum’s temper got the better of him after another snub from Diana, and how Ifan seemed ready to take a swing at him, thinking he was the one being insulted.
“Hopefully he’ll sleep off the drink and forget about it, or else Nia will tell him what was really happening. Otherwise I think the lad might be in trouble.”
“Ifan doesn’t strike me as the best listener. Do you think Nia explaining it to him will make a difference?”
“I don’t know. This village seems to get more and more complicated every day we’re here.”
Grace sighs. “I know what you mean. This place is like knotweed, all tangled up, with roots you can’t see the ends of.”
