One Moonlit Night

by Caradog Prichard

  But everyone at the funeral knew, of course, that Canon and John Elwyn had died at just about the same time. And so we felt as though we were burying them both together, except that John Elwyn wasn’t there. And when they put the gravestone up, John Elwyn’s name was on it underneath Canon’s name, exactly as though he was lying there with his father.

  Dew, I felt sorry for Ceri at the funeral, with some strange man holding her arm and her crying her eyes out. But I couldn’t see her face because she had a big, black veil hiding it, and she was holding her handkerchief underneath that to wipe her nose.

  They’ve put the blinds down or I’m sure I’d be able to see Azariah Jenkins in his study from here. I wonder if he’s walking backwards and forwards and going on at himself like Canon was all that time ago?

  No point bothering to go over Stables Bridge, even though it is moonlight. There’s no sign of Moi and there’s no light in the house. Dew, his Uncle Owen’s ghost might come to meet me if I go that way. I’d better whistle as I pass Stables Bridge, and I’d better keep to Post Lane.

  3

  TO THINK THERE was a time when I didn’t know where Post Lane went after it passed the end of Black Lake. Emyr, Little Owen the Coal’s Big Brother was the first person I remember walking as far as the end of Black Lake, but he didn’t carry on any further cos they found him there on his knees, with his shoes off and his feet all blistered, crying and shouting for his Mam. Huw and me couldn’t understand what was the matter with him, and Moi was only pretending to understand, that’s for sure, or else he would have told us.

  Em was always scrubbing the doorstep when we passed Mount Pleasant on our way to School in the morning, and then he’d go into the house with the bucket and slam the door.

  Why does he talk like a woman, d’you think? I said to Huw as we went by.

  I don’t know, said Huw.

  Nor me, neither.

  Perhaps he really is a woman, said Moi.

  Shut up, you fool, said Huw. He’d be a she, then.

  They say he dresses up like a woman when he’s in the house on his own, said Moi, and puts curling pins in his hair and paints his face red and things like that.

  No, who told you that? we both said together.

  I heard Uncle Owen telling Mam the night Em got sent home from the Quarry for crying and not being able to do his work. But Jesus, you’d never think he was a woman if you heard him swearing at his Mam.

  Get away, we said, does he swear at his Mam?

  Oh yes. We hear him sometimes at the end of the Terrace at one o’clock in the morning. And the sound of a big fight there sometimes when Owen comes home drunk from the The Blue Bell. I heard them at it myself one night last week. Owen ran out after him shouting: Leave her alone, you devil, or I’ll stick this knife into you, and chased him all the way down the street.

  That was the night he went missing, wasn’t it, Moi? said Huw.

  Who, Em? Yes, it was last Tuesday night.

  It was a moonlit night just like tonight and everyone had gone to bed except Little Will Policeman’s Dad. It was hearing him knocking Next Door, to ask Ellis, David Evans’ brother, to come and help him look for Em that made me get up and go to the door to see what was going on. When I saw the Policeman standing at Next Door’s front door, I went straight back to the bedroom and started getting dressed and putting my shoes on.

  What’s the matter? Where are you going? It’s not time to get up yet, said Mam, half asleep.

  Just into the street to see what’s going on, I said quietly.

  Is it that bloomin’ Emyr at it again? said Mam. Don’t go too far with them, mind. And she turned over on her side and fell back into a deep sleep. I went out very quietly, closing the door behind me and taking the key with me so I could get back in again when I came home.

  There was Little Will Policeman’s Dad in the doorway talking quietly with Ellis Evans. We’d better take a rope with us, said Ellis Evans, we might need it.

  Yes, bring a rope, said the Policeman. We’ll go over to Mount Pleasant first in case he’s come back. All the others are waiting at the Crossroads.

  Can I do anything, Ellis Evans? I said, with one eye on the Policeman.

  Bed’s the place for you at this time of night, he said.

  But I followed them, and when we came to Mount Pleasant, the Policeman opened the gate and knocked on the front door. There was no answer until he knocked again.

  Who the devil is it now? came Little Owen the Coal’s voice. Get to Hell with you whoever you are.

  Get yourself down here, Owen, said Ellis Evans, or you’ll be in the Lockup. The Policeman wants to see you.

  Go to the devil, came Owen’s voice again.

  Did Emyr come back? said the Policeman through the keyhole.

  No, and the bugger won’t, neither, came Owen’s voice.

  We’re going to search for him with a rope, said Ellis Evans.

  Well, if you see him, hang him to Hell. Now get back to your beds and get to sleep and let other people do the same, for God’s sake, came Owen’s voice. Let him drown or hang himself or whatever the Hell else he likes.

  He’s been drinking, said Ellis Evans.

  Yes, leave him, said the Policeman. We’ll carry on.

  And we didn’t hear a peep out of Owen’s Mam. She must have been sound asleep.

  And who was standing at the end of the Terrace with his hands in his pockets but Moi. How did you get out, Moi? I said.

  Oh, Mam didn’t mind cos Uncle Owen’s with the men going to search for Em, said Moi.

  Do you think Huw will be able to get out?

  I don’t know, boy.

  Nor me, neither.

  But who was there at the Crossroads with the others but Huw. About a dozen men had turned up with it being a fine moonlit night, and the metalling was shining on Lôn Newydd. And everyone was talking and some were smoking and waiting for the Policeman to give them their orders. Hughes the Curate was there, and David Evans Snowdon View, and Little Harry the Clogs and Will Ellis Porter and Moi’s Uncle Owen and Ann Jones the Shop’s brother and David Jones the Keeper and Frank Bee Hive, as well as Ellis Evans and the Policeman and one or two others we didn’t recognise.

  Now then, lads, said the Policeman, we’ll split into two groups. Ellis Evans will go with one group up the Waun, over Pen y Foel to Pen Garnedd then come down Allt Goch to the end of Black Lake. I’ll go with the other group over the Braich and up Post Lane and along the Riverbank, and we can all meet by the end of Black Lake. If Ellis Evans’ group finds him, Ellis Evans can bring him to the Lockup, and if our group find him, I’ll do the same, and everyone is to come back here to the Crossroads by five, find him or not.

  He went to the Sheep Field to try and hang himself last time, said Frank Bee Hive.

  Yes, we all know that, said the Policeman, but he’s not gone there tonight. Mister Hughes saw him setting off in the opposite direction, and he could only be making for the Waun or the Braich that way. Now, everybody to his group and let’s be away, or it’ll be daylight. You three go home. Bed’s the place for you, so you can get up for school, he said to us.

  Yes, you go back to bed like a good boy, Moi, said Moi’s Uncle Owen.

  So we stood by the Crossroads for a bit to let the two groups go on ahead to the Waun and the Braich.

  Hadn’t we better follow them? I said. I’d like to see them catch Emyr.

  Yes, we’ll go, said Moi.

  Only a bit of the way then, said Huw, or I’ll get a hiding from Mam when I get home.

  Which group shall we follow? I said.

  I don’t want to go up the Waun to Pen y Foel, said Huw.

  Alright then, said Moi, we’ll go up Post Lane past the Vicarage and Stables Bridge.

  Dew, what if we meet him coming the other way on Post Lane?

  Shut up, you fool, I said, we won’t see him.

  If we do see him, we’ll whistle for the others and run home, said Moi.

  Dew, I’ve never been out
as late as this, said Huw. Where do you think he went, lads?

  I don’t know, boy, I said.

  Nor me, neither.

  There are lots of places for him to go if he wants to kill himself, said Moi. If it was the middle of winter, he’d only have to go out like Moi Ffridd and walk up past the Waun onto the side of the Foel and lie down in the snow till morning.

  He can’t do that on a fine night like tonight, said Huw.

  Or if he wanted, he could climb up Pen Ceunant and throw himself head first into Man in the Moon Lake, said Moi. There’s no bottom to that one.

  And I didn’t say anything, I just thought, and let the other two talk. Cos every time anyone mentioned Man in the Moon Lake, I thought about Mam singing in the kitchen while she did the ironing, and me in bed with tears rolling down my cheeks as I listened to the sad song.

  On an ancient clifftop lonely

  der-dum-der-dum dark night

  sat a pure young maiden

  der-dum-der beautiful sight.

  She gazed down far below her: a maelstrom whirling near:

  a stranger’s face she saw there:

  then fainted she from fear.

  Awoken from her fainting

  still wild was she with fright:

  eyes wild and ever-flashing

  like sword blades in the night:

  der-dum-der-dum-der-dum-dee der-dum-dee let me fly:

  der-dum-der-dum-der-dum-dee I’m fated ’fore daybreak to die.

  Dew, I was sorry for that girl, and frightened that Mam would stop singing before she was saved by her sweetheart or whoever he was. And sometimes, I’d go to sleep in the middle of the song and wake up in a sweat as I was starting to fall from Pen Ceunant into Man in the Moon Lake while I was trying to save the girl.

  Huw was saying to Moi: Why do people hang themselves, d’you think?

  Because they’re out of their minds, of course, I said.

  Lor, it must hurt when the rope squeezes round your neck, said Huw.

  No, it doesn’t hurt much, said Moi.

  Hey, how do you know?

  It’s easy enough to hang yourself if you want to. Just hang a rope with a noose on it over a branch or something and stand on a rock or something, and put the noose round your neck and jump off the rock. I tried it, just for fun, in the toilet at the bottom of the yard once, just to see. I put a rope with a noose on it behind the door and put the noose round my neck. I didn’t jump off anything, I just crouched down and let it squeeze for a bit. It’s easy enough.

  Lor, your Uncle Owen would have battered you if he’d caught you, said Huw.

  He would, said Moi.

  Then we walked along Post Lane for a bit without anyone saying anything, except that Huw in the middle was whistling ‘All Through the Night’ very quietly. I was looking at the moon until we came to the bend at the bottom of Allt Braich.

  Bloody Hell, watch out, lads, said Moi, suddenly stopping dead in his tracks. Huw and me stopped too, startled. Come to the side of the wall and hide, he said, ducking down at the side of the wall, and we went after him and crouched down too.

  What’s up, Moi? I whispered.

  Come behind this bank, hurry up, you fools, and lie down flat and listen.

  And there we were, the three of us, lying behind the bank round the corner at the bottom of Allt Braich when we heard something jumping over the wall into Post Lane and the sound of someone walking quickly up the middle of the Lane in big, hobnailed boots with something loose on one foot. He was coming closer and closer, and I was shaking like a leaf, and the three of us were waiting for him to come round the corner.

  And what did we see coming round the bend but Emyr. He was in the middle of Post Lane, walking quickly and taking tiny little steps as though he was wearing a skirt that was tight round his knees, with his chin sticking out and his eyes staring up Post Lane. He had his hands stuffed up his coat sleeves as though he was an old lady wearing a muff. There was a strange smile on his face, and he was sticking his tongue out, and he looked like a dog who’d been killing sheep. I nearly choked trying holding my breath as he went past.

  We’d better whistle three times and run home, said Huw after Em had vanished from sight up Post Lane and we were sitting on the bank.

  No, better not, said Moi. The Policeman’s group will be getting to Post Lane in a minute. They’re sure to catch him.

  No chance of that with him walking so fast.

  Ah, but he’ll be getting tired, for sure.

  It was me who said: We’d better go back now, and Huw and Moi said: Alright then. So we set off without saying anything else, back up Allt Braich and down Post Lane to Stables Bridge.

  Uncle Owen’s with the Policeman’s group, said Moi. He’ll tell me and Mam the full story when he gets home. And I’ll tell you the full story on the way to school tomorrow morning.

  This morning, I said.

  Oh yes, quite right, this morning, said Moi, laughing as he turned to go over Stables Bridge. Good night, lads.

  Good morning, Huw and I said.

  Oh yes, quite right, good morning.

  Maybe Ellis Evans’ group will catch him, I said to Huw as we were approaching the Lockup. It’ll be me who gets the news then, from Next Door, to tell you on the way to school, if I see Ellis Evans Next Door before he goes to the Quarry.

  But it was the Policeman’s group that caught Em on Post Lane by the end of Black Lake. And it was from Moi that we got the story about him on his knees by the side of the lane, with his shoes off and his feet all blistered and crying and shouting for his Mam. They made a stretcher with two poles and Hughes the Curate’s overcoat, and carried him all the way down Post Lane and took him to the Lockup.

  And Little Jini Pen Cae was missing that night too, although nobody knew. And Moi’s Uncle Owen was saying that Em had taken her with him to the Woods on Allt Braich. It was in the Woods they found her next day, anyway, sleeping like a top beside a tree stump. We never saw Em again until that day when Owen’s Mam took us into the house to see him lying on the sofa in his coffin with his mouth wide open.

  Old Em used to love taking little girls for a walk and lifting their skirts up, said Moi.

  Poor old Em. It was right here that we saw him coming round the corner, behind that bank on the side of the lane. And it must have been about this time of night, too, a fine moonlit night like tonight. Good God, watch yourself in case there are any little devils behind that bank round the corner, watching you and thinking that you’ve gone out of your mind. Have a good look to make sure as you pass. I’m sure that if Em had looked properly that night, he would have seen us. But Em was staring ahead up Post Lane the whole time. Dew, I’ll never forget his eyes. They looked as though they were seeing and listening at the same time.

  What was he seeing, I wonder? If he’d turned his head to look to the left side, he wouldn’t have seen anything but that bank with the gorse flowers on the side of the Braich. Maybe he saw a rat running along the top of the wall, like that one we saw once. He couldn’t see anything on this right side either, just the Quarry slate tips shining in the moonlight through the branches of the trees. There’s the odd squirrel in these woods too. He could have seen one of those. He’d have to have looked over the top of the wall to see the salmon leaping in the River. But he didn’t look over the wall. He was looking ahead all the time.

  He must have been able to see a long way from here too. Post Lane goes straight for a long way here after coming round the turn. It goes straight almost as far as the end of Black Lake. He was looking like this, with his eyes closed a little bit. I can’t see anything except Post Lane all white with the River shining over there alongside it. There’s nothing else then except a mountain on each side and lots and lots of shadows at the far end of Post Lane, and those go further away still as you walk on. Dew, I couldn’t keep looking like this for long with my eyes half-closed. It hurts too much. Old Em’s eyes must have been hurting that night, if he wasn’t seeing any more than I’m
seeing. What was it he could see, I wonder?

  But maybe he was listening with his eyes. Maybe he could hear the Voice. What Voice, you silly fool? There’s no Voice. But there was a long time ago, though. Don’t you remember Mam telling the story of Will Starch Collar hearing it on Stables Bridge one night? And it was with his two eyes that he heard It, anyway.

  I was sitting in the chair by the fire, trying to learn Bible verses, with Mam ironing a starched collar on the table. I remember what the verse was, too:

  Behold, I shew you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed. In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption and this mortal must put on immortality.

  I’d repeated it to myself scores of times, and I was watching the iron in Mam’s hand going to and fro over one starched collar after another as I tried to say the verses without looking. And so I’d remember certain words like, say, trumpet, I just thought about the Salvation Army Band. And the words Put On Incorruption and the fact that Mam was ironing made me think about Will Starch Collar playing the trombone with the Salvation Army Band on the street corner by the Lockup every Saturday night.

  Just for fun, to try and make Mam laugh, I asked: Is that Will Starch Collar’s collar, Mam?

  No, indeed. They’re all Canon’s collars. You know full well, she said, and she didn’t laugh.

  I was only joking, I said.

  You get on with learning those verses. You should be ashamed of yourself making fun of a man like Will Starch Collar. If you studied your Bible half as much as Will Starch Collar does every day of his life, you’d be a much better boy, instead of going off to make mischief every night with that bloomin’ Huw.

  And she carried on ironing without saying anything else for a little while, until I was in the middle of saying: Behold, I shew you a mystery…

  He wasn’t always a good man like he is today, either, you know, Mam said. Who? I said.

  Will Starch Collar. He was a bad old devil a long time ago, in the bloomin’ Blue Bell drunk every night, and swearing and fighting in the street and going to sleep under the hedge till morning instead of going home to White Houses. And his Mam keeping the lamp lit and staying up all night waiting for him. A real handful he was when he was a young lad.