Hidden Chapters

by Mary Grand

  Hidden Chapters

  Mary Grand

  ‘The Gower peninsula…a secret that people hug to themselves’

  Wynford Vaughan Thomas

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty One

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty One

  Dedication

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Saturday 30th July 1994

  ‘I’ve found the girl,’ shouted Catrin in panic, her hands shaking as she shone her torch down on the crumpled body. She stepped over the soaking headland grass, reached down and touched the girl’s frozen hand.

  ‘Gareth’ she called, but her words were drowned by the rain and the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks of Rhossili Bay far below. To the left of the headland path was a fence and fields, but the girl lay on the other side of the path where a grassy area led to the treacherous unprotected cliff edge.

  ‘Come over here!’ She screamed to Gareth. To her relief she saw him turn his torch her way. He left the path and came slowly towards her. Gareth knelt down beside the girl, feeling for a pulse. He pushed her long wet hair away from her face.

  ‘She’s unconscious,’ he shouted to Catrin. The sodden, thin, white, smock dress clung to the girl. As Gareth shone his torch down her body, Catrin saw the neat bump, which had been disguised earlier at the party.

  ‘We must get an ambulance, and quickly,’ said Gareth. ‘Where the hell is your brother? Where’s Aled?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Catrin cried, tears now mingling with the rain on her face.

  Out of the darkness, a calm detached voice asked, ‘Something up?’

  Catrin shone her torch beam up and wiped the rain out of her eyes. She saw a man clothed in waterproofs, carrying fishing tackle. He was walking along the path from the direction of the causeway which linked the headland to the island of Worm’s Head. Catrin assumed he had been fishing off the rocks by the causeway.

  ‘This girl has fallen,’ Gareth shouted. ‘She needs an ambulance.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ said the man, almost casually. ‘I could go and call for one from the hotel up there.’

  ‘Great. Tell them it’s urgent. The girl is heavily pregnant.’

  Catrin stood up. ‘Did you see anyone on your way back here?’

  ‘Yeah. A fellow ran past me. He seemed to be heading to the causeway. I shouted to come back. It’s getting bloody dangerous out there tonight. I don’t know whether heard me, but he didn’t stop.’

  ‘Is the causeway covered by the sea at the moment?’

  ‘Not yet, but the tide will be coming in soon.’

  ‘Catrin, this girl needs an ambulance,’ interrupted Gareth. He looked up at the fisherman. ‘Please, can you go now?’

  ‘Right, I’m off,’ said the fisherman, and he disappeared into the darkness.

  At that moment, Catrin heard a feeble voice from the girl. She leant down.

  ‘It’s alright. We’re here to help you.’

  ‘Where’s Aled?’ The girl started to cry quietly.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Catrin. She stared through the darkness in the direction of the causeway and looked down at the girl. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll go and find him.’

  Gareth grabbed her arm. ‘You’re not to go anywhere. It’s treacherous out here. Aled’s not a child. He won’t do anything stupid.’

  ‘I have to go. Maybe he’s lost his sense of direction. It’s so confusing out here in the pitch black. Anything could happen.’

  ‘That’s why you shouldn’t go.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got a torch, and I’ll keep close to the fence,’ Catrin said, adding, ‘You’re the doctor; you have to stay with the girl.’ Before Gareth could stop her, Catrin left.

  She clung to the fence to stop herself from wandering towards the cliff edge. She was soaked through and shivering now. The rain felt like sharp pins. It was hurting her face. Eventually she reached the coastguard’s hut situated at the top of the steep incline which led down to the causeway. In the distance she could make out specks of angry white foam on the peaks of the waves. She pointed her torch down towards the muddy, stony path, then further on to the causeway. She could just make out some rocks, but the sea was slowly devouring the crossing. Catrin screamed out for Aled. There was no reply, so she started to clamber down the slippery path. Catrin managed a few steps but, as she looked up to scream Aled’s name again, she lost her footing, fell forwards, and started to tumble out of control down the bank. She dropped the torch, which smashed on to a rock. Catrin tried desperately to grab at wet tufts of grass, but kept tumbling down, until she crashed into a large boulder which saved her from falling into the gathering torrent below. Petrified, she clung to the rock. She pulled herself up to a sitting position, but continued to hold on. She daren’t move for fear of falling again. She knew that the strong currents of the sea covering the causeway would claim even the strongest swimmer. Her right arm, which had caught the main force of the collision with the rock, was throbbing. The pain was excruciating. Catrin just stayed there, hanging on desperately, waiting. She was just starting to despair of anyone coming when she heard her name, and recognised Gareth’s voice shouting through the darkness.

  ‘I’m here,’ she shouted back. ‘Be careful: it’s really slippery.’

  A powerful light blinded her, and a man in a reflective jacket came and pulled her up the slope. Gareth was waiting, grabbed hold of her and held her close.

  ‘What the hell are you doing? You could have been killed,’ he exclaimed.

  ‘I can’t find him.’ Catrin pulled away from his grasp and shouted hysterically. ‘I kept calling. I don’t know where he is.’

  ‘You have to come away. It’s not safe.’

  ‘I can’t. I can’t go back without him.’

  ‘This man is with the search and rescue. They’ll take over now,’ said Gareth.

  ‘No. I can’t go back. Not without Aled. My parents will never forgive me.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. The people here have enough to do looking for Aled, without worrying about you,’ responded Gareth sharply.

  Catrin had to give in, and allowed Gareth and the man to take her back along the headland, through the gate, into the car park. She saw a police car. A police officer walked towards her.

  ‘Where’s the girl?’ she asked Gareth.

  ‘She’s gone in an ambulance,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t tell them anything about her. I gave them your parents’ phone number.�
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  The policeman shone his torch on the gash on her right arm. Catrin saw for the first time that her coat was torn and that her arm was covered in blood.

  ‘You look cold,’ said the police officer. ‘What’s the matter with that arm?’

  ‘It’s nothing. I’ll sort it out.’

  ‘That needs stitching,’ said Gareth.

  ‘No. I have to get back to The Dragon House, to Mum and Dad; tell them what is happening.’ Catrin heard a helicopter. She saw the spotlights on the surface of the water, which only emphasised the vast area of black unsearched sea surrounding them. Where was her Aled? Nothing made sense. The one thing she knew was that they had to find him.

  Chapter Two

  Saturday 28th July 2012

  Whoever said time heals all wounds is a liar, thought Catrin. Eighteen years: wasn’t that long enough? She thought she had recovered well, but actually being forced to return to Gower was like tearing off the plaster and finding that nothing had healed.

  When her father Lloyd had told her he was planning to sell The Dragon House she had been hugely relieved. The house had been abandoned since Aled’s accident. No-one had visited it, but she had known it was there: empty and looking resentful. Then her father had asked Bethan, her daughter, to go for two weeks to help sort the house out ready for it to be sold. Catrin had been shocked. She had assumed her father would get in house clearance. No-one wanted to go back there. However, her father had been determined to sort it out himself and do some decorating. He said that no way would he get the asking price otherwise. Again, Catrin had been dumbfounded that her father, who was comfortable financially, was prepared to go back just to make money. Bethan, who was determined to go, had been excited. Knowing her mother’s reluctance, she had said that as she was nearly eighteen she would go alone. This was difficult. There would be some very sensitive conversations to be had down there. Catrin was sure that her father did not have the ability to handle them, and in a sense, there was no logical reason for Catrin not to go. She had a long summer off work ahead of her, with no major commitments. Maybe she should help her father? She was starting to weaken, when her father told her that he was planning to hold a memorial service for Aled at Rhossili Church during those weeks and that he was having a bench placed in the churchyard in his memory. At this point, Catrin finally relented: her visit to Gower was unavoidable. It was decided that they would travel down on the Saturday before the memorial.

  And so it happened that Catrin and Bethan were stuck in holiday traffic heading out of Cardiff towards Gower. The sun was burning Catrin’s right arm through the cotton sleeve which covered the long white scar on her arm. On the back seat lay folded cardboard boxes and empty cases and bin bags. Glancing in the mirror, Catrin could see a woman in the car behind tapping her fingers on the steering wheel in time to some music, while her children on the back seat were looking down at screens. Catrin envied their calm, their normality. Bethan touched Catrin gently on the arm and Catrin turned to face her.

  They communicated together using speech and signs. Bethan had been born Deaf. She had some residual hearing and, with the best hearing aids and speech teaching, she had learned to speak. Gareth and Catrin also believed that Bethan should grow up feeling part of the Deaf community. The family learned to sign, albeit they only signed in the order of spoken language. Bethan was fluent in British Sign Language, which had its own grammar and syntax. She loved to use it when she was socialising with her local Deaf friends. Bethan chose always to describe herself as being Deaf with a capital D.

  ‘I know you don’t want to go to Gower,’ Bethan said, her signing as well as her voice reflecting her conviction. ‘I know that you hate it there, but I think it will be good for us to go.’

  ‘It’s not that I hate it–’ Catrin started to answer.

  ‘For God’s sake, Mum. Why haven’t you been back before, then?’

  ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘That’s what you always say. It doesn’t make sense. The accident was years ago. Anyway, I’m really excited. I’ll finally see The Dragon House, the beach, and, of course,’ she paused, ‘Worm’s Head.’

  Catrin bit her lip hard and Bethan, seeing her, tutted in irritation. ‘Honestly, Mum, you should have moved on by now.’

  Catrin looked away. What did people expect? She had carried on with her life, hadn’t she? In fact, in the past eighteen years she had brought up her two beautiful girls and it had been the most fulfilling time of her life. It was just that, somehow, the ghosts of that night never went away. They were always there whispering over her shoulder.

  ‘It’s not that easy,’ she said.

  ‘Well, you only have to go this once. The Dragon House will be sold soon and you’ll never have to come again. Is the house in a real state? No-one has been there to stay since the accident have they?’

  ‘Grandad has had cleaners going in. I don’t think it’s too bad. I just wish he’d sold it sooner.’

  ‘He said he knew it would increase in value if he waited.’

  ‘Yes, he told me that, but it’s not like he’s short of money. I understood why he couldn’t sell straight after Aled died. None of us could think straight then. My mother would have found it hard to let go of the house. After all, it might have just been a holiday home for them by then, but it was where she was brought up. I did think Dad would have sold it after she died, but he kept insisting it would go up in value.’

  ‘And he was right.’

  ‘He was in a sense. It’s worth a lot now, apparently.’

  ‘He thinks this is finally the right moment to sell then?’

  ‘Well, you know, he has decided to move to New York permanently. I think he’s decided it’s time.’

  ‘He’s very old to be moving all that way, isn’t he?’

  Catrin grinned. ‘Don’t say that to Grandad. He’s always telling me seventy is the new, I don’t know, fifty or something. Anyway, he’s spent so much time there over the years I guess it’s not such a big thing. He has a lot of friends over there and a flat. In some ways I’m surprised he’s waited so long to move out there.’

  ‘What will he do with his proper home in Cardiff?’

  ‘I don’t know. Your Grandad doesn’t tell me much. We’ll have to ask him, won’t we?’

  ‘You used to have holidays at The Dragon House before Aled’s accident, didn’t you?’

  ‘Oh yes. When I was little, when my Mother’s Mum, my Nana Beth, was alive, we had wonderful holidays there. Rhossili Bay is an amazing place. It’s been voted one of the most beautiful beaches in the world, but it’s so much more than that. Everywhere is stuffed with ancient history. You know, they found a skeleton in a cave close to Rhossili which is something like thirty three thousand years old. Can you imagine that? On the beach there are old wrecks sticking up through the sand. There are standing stones on the downs, and there are all these stories of ghosts, pirates and smugglers. It’s an extraordinary place.’

  ‘And there’s Worm’s Head,’ interrupted Bethan.

  Catrin stopped speaking.

  ‘I want to see it. Go there, you know,’ said Bethan.

  Catrin glanced at Bethan and saw that screwed-up, determined look she had seen on her daughter’s face so many times. That determination had sparked plenty of family rows but had also played an important part in Bethan’s ability to cope so well with life. A teacher had said to Catrin when Bethan was still at preschool, ‘Never limit what Bethan can do. She can achieve anything she wants.’ The years since had been a journey with many tears as well as triumphs, but it had been Bethan’s determination that had been one of the most important factors in her thriving. Bethan loved music and tried to explain to people that music was so much more that just an auditory experience. She had amazed teachers by not only learning to play the flute but attaining distinction in her exams. She had been offered an unconditional place to study music at Cardiff University in September.

  The car in front moved. Catrin inched forward
. She and Bethan didn’t tend to attempt to converse while Catrin was driving. It was usually an easy silence. However, today Catrin could not relax, and instead was trying desperately to stay calm. ‘Two weeks, and the visit will be over,’ she kept repeating to herself like a mantra.

  The car ground to a halt again. Catrin breathed slowly and started to feel her pounding heart slow down.

  Oblivious to her mother’s discomfort, Bethan started chatting again, her voice calmer, and signing more relaxed.

  ‘Sabrina and I were watching the opening of the Olympic Games last night.’

  ‘Oh really? I’m sorry I missed it. Was it good?’ Catrin answered, thinking the conversation had moved on. But, of course, it hadn’t.

  ‘They showed Rhossili Bay.’

  ‘Really? Are you sure it was Rhossili?’

  ‘Oh yes. I read it on the subtitles.’

  ‘How come it was in the ceremony?’

  ‘They had a film of these kids in T shirts singing on the beach. You and Dad should have seen it.’

  ‘I was busy trying to write this article about Aled for Grandad.’

  ‘What’s that for then?’

  ‘He wants me to write something for the firm’s website about Aled, to put up after the memorial. It’s difficult. I’m not sure how many people will even remember him. I guess if it’s for the website I need to write about Aled as an architect. I know he was meant to be outstanding at his work, but I don’t know any details. It makes me realise how little I actually know about Aled in the years before he died, most of which he spent working in America. We hardly ever communicated then whether by letter or phone. He didn’t even come over to my wedding. The night of his accident was the first time I’d seen him for about three years. It’s a chapter of his life I know very little about.’

  ‘Well, anyway,’ continued Bethan, not interested in her mother’s dilemma, ‘about Worm’s Head. I said we saw it on TV. Sabrina said it didn’t look anything like a worm. What is it like there? Why’s it called that?’

  Despite the heat in the car, Catrin shivered. She was there. She could feel the wind burning her cheeks as she peered into pitch blackness, the driving rain mingled with tears on her face.