by Paul Henke
We sat in silence for a few moments and then I said, ‘Where’s your husband?’
‘Him,’ she said with a curl of her lips. ‘The pig has passed out as usual. And as usual I’ve put him to bed.’ She looked steadily in my eyes. ‘He won’t wake up until morning.’
I nodded. ‘Good. Cabin 8A. I’ll leave now and you follow in a few minutes.’ I did not wait for a reply but left the bar. I was not sure she would follow, but what the hell, I had nothing to lose. I had only just removed my coat and poured a whisky and water when the door opened and she came in. I handed her my drink and poured a second one. We touched glasses and exchanged smiles. I took a mouthful of my drink and stepped close enough to kiss her. She had a nice figure, though a little plump around the waist and backside, but warm and vibrant. Her dress was all frills, cut low on her shoulders. I pushed it lower and her breasts sprung free.
She helped me get her clothes off and then undressed me while we were still standing in the middle of the cabin. The night was one I remembered for a long time.
More nights were spent in a similar way until we reached Cork. There, she and her travelling companions were leaving the ship. I was only partly sorry to see her go. We had spoken very little, neither of us interested in the other in any way except sexually. I did learn her husband was a wealthy land owner in Ireland and that they were returning to their estates. I did not bother to ask where in Ireland and she did not bother to tell me.
On Friday morning at eight o’clock we arrived at Cardiff. I had been in a quandary about what to do when I got there and though I did not want to see any of the family I felt it would be churlish not to do so. Mam and Dad would never forgive me if they ever learnt I had been there and not visited everyone. Reluctantly I came to the conclusion I had to break my journey and stay at least a few days. As I disembarked I had a sudden impulse. Instead of going to Uncle David’s shop in Rhiwbina I grabbed a cab at the customs shed and went to Cardiff Central Station. There I bought a first class ticket for Llanbeddas.
As the train pulled out I watched the city unfolding with interest, trying to remember what it had been like when we had left. It seemed to me that the grey squalor, the cramped houses, row after row of them, were unchanged. After America the first thing I noticed was the lack of space, everything so crammed together. Even New York, by comparison, had seemed more open somehow.
The train travelled alongside the Taff, winding up the valley, stopping every few miles at small junctions with barely more than a few houses and a church nearby. The depressing air of the valley altered my mood and I began to regret the impulse that had brought me there. After all, what was I going back to see? An old house I had lived in years ago, an uncle and an aunt with whom we exchanged Christmas cards and occasional letters? There was little else apart from one thing. I changed trains in Pontypridd. My mind wandered back and I remembered incidents long forgotten in the excitement of being in America. I remembered the strike and the attack on the militia train. I thought of how we had come to know and love Uncle James but most of all that day intruded and I tried to keep it away. I played back every second of the other times, like when Grandma and Granddad died. I noticed there were no longer any gaps in the houses between the villages. Instead, the rows of houses were endless, boring, box after box of grey slated and grime covered walls.
I left my case at the station and trudged the familiar road towards Llanbeddas. God, how the memories continued washing over me. I passed the old house with hardly a glance and went up to the chapel.
I stood at the graveside and looked sadly at the headstone. Somebody was looking after it, as there were no weeds and a sprig of holly sat in an earthenware pot.
Sian
Dearly beloved
Daughter of
Evan and Megan Griffiths
Born 29th July 1882
Died tragically 14th October 1890
“Suffer the little children to come unto me.”
The engraving was still legible. ‘You’d have loved America,’ I whispered. ‘It was meant for you, little sister. You would have had a pony, and lots of boy friends, and gone on picnics like you always wanted to. I wonder what you would be today. Married? With children? Would you have gone to university? What would it have been like to have had a sister with us? I suppose Mam and Dad have often wondered. Especially Mam, now Sion and I have our own lives. Think how much of a friend you could have been to her,’ I said sadly. The memories continued, mixed with make believe of what if . . . I heard footsteps coming along the path and looked up guiltily.
It took me a couple of seconds to recognise the old man as Lewis Lewis and I felt a little surprised that he was still alive. I had no wish to stop and talk to him, so I began to walk towards the gate, intending to pass him by. I could see the ruined building of the old school, now clear of sludge but with the roof collapsed and the walls a heap of rubble. I had tried not to think about it but now that day came back to me. The day it had all started for us. If it hadn’t been for the terrible accident at the school our lives would have taken a different path entirely.
I stood and looked over the valley. My thoughts now a kaleidoscope of memories. I had noticed Lewis Lewis looking strangely at me but he said nothing and I didn’t acknowledge him. As my eyes scanned from the turning gear at the mine, along the river, over the houses towards Pontypridd I realised that the past was a foreign country. Down the valley was the way out. The way of escape. I realised that I had changed not only in appearance but, more significantly, mentally. My horizons had been broadened to a world that few of the people here could comprehend. I felt superior, a greater being than those we had left behind. As I turned to go I looked back at Lewis Lewis. He was kneeling at Sian’s grave, picking weeds, tidying it up and immediately I felt a burning sense of shame. I had no right to feel superior or even different. I turned back, a lump of contrition in my throat.
‘Mr. Lewis. Sir. It’s me . . . David . . . Dai Griffiths,’ I walked towards him and he stood and brushed his knees.
‘Dai, boy? It’s you? Really you?’
I saw him through a blur of tears as I held my hand out to shake his.
At last, I felt a sense of belonging at my return.
Epilogue
The reporter surreptitiously wiped his eyes, the picture of David Griffiths at the cemetery alive and fresh in his mind. It had been two weeks but, my God, this was going to be a story and a half. Just then the door opened and the butler entered. ‘The Prime Minister is waiting in the drawing room, Sir,’ he told Sir David and then withdrew.
Sir David had nodded his thanks, also too emotional to reply for a few minutes. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, ‘That was the beginning. You’ve seen some of the written evidence of it in the safe,’ he waved his hand at the open safe door. ‘It began around the day a million tears were shed. It changed everything for all of us. It led us onto the world stage of events and for the last fifty years we have helped to shape the world. I thought it was important for you to know where we came from, how it is that my parents laid the foundations for the family which have guided us, or more specifically, have guided me, all these years. In 1912, thanks to my father, I began . . .,’ Sir David stopped. ‘No. That can wait.’ He heaved himself up out of his chair. ‘I mustn’t keep the PM waiting any longer. Help yourself to a drink,’ he waved his hand in the general direction of a cut glass decanter containing amber liquid, ‘and I’ll send Sian to entertain you.’
With that Sir David left the room while the young reporter poured himself a stiff malt whisky. He stood at the window and peered into the darkness; night had fallen early with a gathering of low dense clouds as snow was forecast. The door behind him opened and Sir David’s granddaughter entered.
‘What did you think of his story?’ she asked, helping herself to a glass of whisky which she promptly drowned with lemonade and ice.
The reporter hadn’t seen much of Sian during the past fortnight, the phrase ‘ships that pass in the nigh
t’ sprang to his mind. He pursed his lips in thought before answering. ‘We’ve only just begun. I think we’ve reached about, em, 1910, when the old boy returned to Wales.’
Sian nodded. ‘I persuaded Gramps that it was time to tell the story properly. After all, there have been loads and loads of rumours over the years and none of them have even come close to the real story. When you think what it was like back then – all that the family had to go through to get us here today – it makes you wonder.’ She broke off, tilted her head to one side and looked penetratingly at him. ‘Are you going to write the story?’
‘Yes, of course. I’ve decided to call the first book A Million Tears. The second book hasn’t been named yet,’ he suddenly smiled at her. ‘Can I take you out to dinner?’
She nodded.
Also by Paul Henke
The second book in the series about the Griffiths family is called The Tears of War and Peace and is available on Kindle.
The Tears of War and Peace
It is 1911 and David Griffiths is in Wales, bored and lonely. He travels to London at the behest of their family friend, John Buchanan, to start a new business in banking. There he gets caught up in the suffragette movement and falls in love with Emily. Against the backdrop of women’s fight for votes and the looming First World War, the Griffiths build a vast, sprawling company encompassing banking, aircraft manufacturing, farming and whisky distilling.
The enmity of a German family follows them tragically throughout this period, leading to murder and revenge. At the end of the war, thanks to a change in the Constitution, Evan is invited to run for President of the United States. The family rally round for the most important battle of Evan’s life.
With the Brown-shirts running rampage across Germany, David and Sion are soon involved in a battle for survival.
Sir David Griffiths is a colossus of a figure, striding across the world and through the century, a man of integrity and bravery, passion and dedication. Determined to win, nothing comes before the family.
The story is as compelling as ever. Historical fact woven into the fictional characters makes a breathtaking tale of adventure you will not want to put down.
Silent Tears by Paul Henke
The third book in the Tears Series
Silent Tears is full of passion and adventure. You will be captivated as three generations of the Griffiths family struggle to meet the challenges of their time.
From the depths of the depression and the rise of fascism to the abdication of Edward VIII and the Spanish Civil War, Henke’s meticulous research brings the period and vibrant characters to life.
David, powerful and dynamic, at the centre of political intrigue, his love for the family is put to the ultimate test
. . . Meg, his mother, stalwart and determined, guides the family with humour and devotion . . . and Susan, beautiful and tempestuous, fighting for justice. No sacrifice is too great for those she loves.
Packed with excitement, Silent Tears is a masterpiece. A novel that vibrates with sheer narrative power and relentlessly builds the emotional pressure until it explodes in a firestorm of passion and high-octane adventure. A spellbinding epic.
Tears Until Dawn
The fourth book in the Tears Series
Never before have the events of the Second World War been captured so vividly. Paul Henke transports his readers straight to this turbulent period of history. From Dunkirk and the Battle of Britain, through to the final invasion, you feel you are actually there, breathing alongside his remarkable characters. This is a tale of betrayal; betrayal of Prisoners of War as they struggle to survive - and betrayal of a nation by its King.
This compelling story of a family at war is told through the eyes of Sir David Griffiths. At the height of his political power he will do whatever it takes to protect those he loves. But will it be enough?
His daughter Susan, the beautiful and tempestuous pilot, is tested to the limits of her endurance. Cousin Alex’s skill in the air is legend – but can he conquer his demons on the ground? And young Richard, defying his family yet desperately needing their help if he is to survive the horrors that await him.
Tears Until Dawn is a rare blend of truth and fiction - a story you will not want to end. Henke dazzles the reader with passion and adventure in this novel of epic proportions.
Debacle by Paul Henke
A Nick Hunter Adventure
Following a summit meeting in Paris an alliance of interested countries form an elite fighting force to combat terrorism throughout the world. Based in Britain and under the command of a British General, the team is made up of Western, Russian and other non-aligned countries’ special forces.
Without warning the terrorists strike. A group of bankers, politicians and industrialists are taken prisoner off the coast of Scotland and the new, untried force is sent to search for them.
The Scene of Action Commander is Nick Hunter, Lieutenant Commander, Royal Navy, an underwater mine and bomb clearance expert with experience in clandestine operations.
The enemy is one of the world’s most ruthless and wanted terrorists – Aziz Habib! Hunter leads the team against Habib, backed up by two computer experts: Sarah from GCHQ and Isobel, hired by the General to run the IT for the new force.
While stock markets take a pounding and exchange rates go mad, the state sponsoring the terrorism is making a fortune. It has to stop. At all costs.
This is non-stop adventure from beginning to end. A riveting story told by a master story teller. You are guaranteed not to want to put it down!
De´baˆcle mixes fact with fiction which will cause you to wonder, how true is this story? Did it really happen?
Mayhem by Paul Henke
A Nick Hunter Adventure
Israel faces imminent destruction, nuclear Armageddon. A series of kidnaps, bombings and senseless murders have left her isolated from her allies and threatened by enemies of old. Unknown to all but a few, the situation has been orchestrated by multi-millionaire Zionist, Samuel Dayan. His vision of a Greater Israel will be carved from the charred ruins of the Middle East.
But Dayan is up against the international anti-terrorist organisation, TIFAT, and our hero Nick Hunter. To the age-old struggle of Good against Evil, author Paul Henke adds state-of-the-art communications technology and computerised warfare. In a desperate race against time, Hunter and his team of hand-picked specialists deploy satellite intelligence and high-tech weaponry to track Dayan to his lair.
The plot twists and turns in a series of setbacks, betrayals and mind-blowing developments. Myriad minor characters deserve story-lines of their own.
Relentlessly building the tension, Henke strips his hero Hunter of all resources but those within himself – knowledge born of experience and the inability to give up. Hunter simply must not fail.
Chaos by Paul Henke
A Nick Hunter Adventure
Ambitious Alleysia Raduyev has inherited the family business – the largest crime cartel in Georgia. Operating on the classic theory of supply and demand, she caters for her customers every desire – narcotics, arms, prostitution, forced labour. Her payroll has extended to include lawmakers and law enforcers. No one is safe from her tyranny and oppression.
Power base secured, Alleysia moves on to her next objective – the formation of a super crime cartel, whose actions will result in global chaos. As a deterrent to those who would oppose her, she chooses the ultimate weapon
– three nuclear warheads.
Desperate to prevent a new, anarchic world order, the West declares World war III against the cartels and their terror organisations. As violence escalates, the now battle-hardened troops of TIFAT are pitched against their toughest adversary yet.
Spearheading the battle is Lt. Cdr. Nick Hunter, the fearless explosives and diving specialist seconded to The International Force Against Terrorism.
The latest TIFAT novel is a clarion call to the Western world as it comes to grips with the realities of modern terrorism.
The Seventh Circle by Paul Henke
JUSTICE! When Richard Griffiths’ world is turned upside down he expects the justice system to take action. But the powers that be have another agenda and Richard finds himself embroiled in the sinister world of terrorists and international politics. Justice is denied him. He has no choice but to take matters into his own hands. His thoughts and actions consume him as his quest for justice turns to a deep rooted desire for revenge.
But soon the hunter becomes the hunted. The consequences quickly spiral out of control. As action leaps from Europe to the Middle East and then the USA, the pace never slackens.
Breaking free of the circle of hatred and retribution will take all Richard’s courage and determination. Will it be enough?
This is Henke at his page-turning best – thought provoking and act
Acclaim for Paul Henke
AMILLION TEARS
‘The summer’s best holiday read . . .’ Scottish and Universal Newspapers
‘An unquenchable thirst for daring and creativity . . .’ The Sunday Times
‘As a literary publicist we receive over 50 books a week to evaluate – we knew instantly that A Million Tears was a classic.’ Tony Cowell, PressGroup UK
‘Henke has written a gripping story . . .’ Corgi Books
‘I smelt the coal dust in Wales and felt the dust in my eyes as I fought alongside Evan.’ Dr Peter Claydon
‘Henke tells interesting and exciting stories. He doesn’t use bad language and writes good English. A joy to read.’ The Sun