Lili did know. Lilwen Hopkins saw everything – it was a gift. And it was too much.
Don’t tell me. Don’t make me feel sorry for you. She turned on her heel and ran.
In the garden she saw Violet lugging a basket of laundry across the grass.
‘Goodness, Lili, what’s the rush?’
‘Nothing.’ She panted, unsteady on her feet, and clutched at the gate. ‘I’m fine.’
‘If you say so.’
Lili threw herself down on the bench. ‘Sorry, no, I’m not, not really.’
‘Anything I can do?’
‘It’s work stuff.’ Even if Violet didn’t believe her, Lili knew she wouldn’t say anything. And I don’t care anyway. ‘How about you?’
‘Other than the nuisance calls, you mean?’ Violet dropped the basket and sat back on the grass, her legs stretched out with her ankles crossed one over the other.
Lili stared. ‘You’re kidding?’
‘It’s nothing like that. It’s Owen. He is back and he keeps phoning, trying to get me to talk.’
‘Oh.’
‘Oh? Is that all you can say? What am I going to do, Lili? How can I make him leave me alone? He jumped out at me in the village the other day.’
‘Like a stalker?’ Lili tried to look like she was surprised.
‘Well no, but he keeps phoning.’
‘How many times?’
‘I haven’t been bloody counting!’ Violet scowled. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have told you.’ She picked at the grass. ‘I told him I’d call the police.’
‘Good grief, Violet, what did he say to make you threaten him with the police?’
Violet shrugged. She leaned forward on her knees. ‘Everyone will know he’s back. It’ll start all over again. The gossips and the busy-bodies making mountains out of molehills.’
‘What did he actually say, Violet? It’s important. If he’s threatened you…’
‘No, he hasn’t, but I’m still scared.’
‘Of what? A conversation? Listen, Violet, I agree with you, the last thing any of us need is Owen Penry making trouble, but threatening him with the police just because he wants to talk to you. Are you crazy?’
‘That’s what you think, isn’t it? That I’m a nut job? Maybe I am.’ Violet scrambled to her feet and glared down at Lili. ‘You always think you’re so right about everything. If I’m crazy, then it’s your brother and his stupid friend and you, you interfering witch, who made me this way.’
Stunned, Lili closed her eyes and waited while Violet stormed off.
‘The washing?’ she muttered to herself. ‘I’ll see to that then, shall I?’
Thirty-eight
In defiance of her mother, Cadi threw open her window, watched the moon hanging above the trees and wished it would pick her up and carry her away.
When it felt she couldn’t bear the guilt any longer, she remembered Violet calling her father a coward and the photograph with a hole cut in it. Even though Cadi knew her anger was justified, it didn’t help her wretchedness.
‘Cadi?’ Violet’s voice drifted up the stairs. ‘I’ve made hot chocolate.’
‘I don’t want any.’
The only person she wanted to see was Cerys, yet Cadi knew she couldn’t say what she had done, even to her best friend.
Her phone rang.
‘Sorry, it’s late, isn’t it?’ Cerys sounded a hundred miles away.
‘You’re psychic.’
‘I know.’
‘How’s it going?’
‘I’ve been unpacking forever. My mother thinks dirty clothes are contagious.’
Cerys sounded so normal, Cadi almost burst into tears.
‘Shall I come round tomorrow and tell you all about it?’
‘Can we leave it a day or two?’ Cadi’s hand shook so hard she nearly dropped the phone. ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’
‘Ominous. Are we breaking up?’
Cadi tried to laugh only it turned into a gulp. ‘I can’t explain myself to myself right now.’
‘Cadi, you’re scaring me.’
‘It’s okay. Honestly, Cerys. I will tell you.’
‘You sound weird. You’re not ill or anything?’
‘No. It’s family stuff.’
‘Can I do anything?’
‘Not really.’
‘Promise you’ll call me the minute I can.’
Cadi couldn’t think of a single thing that would make her feel better. ‘I will, I promise. Are you okay?’
‘Well, the plane didn’t crash.’
‘I told you it would be alright.’
‘Yes, you did.’ Cerys paused. ‘Don’t worry, lovely, whatever’s wrong, we’ll sort it.’
Cadi pressed her head against the window and watched the tree branches glistening with rain. I wish.
‘You’re the best,’ she said.
As the line went dead, she tried to think of a name for how she felt, weigh the new knowledge against her own deception. Imagine what Lili or Violet would think if they knew. The idea made her sick to her stomach.
She climbed into bed. As a heavy cloud covered the moon, the window darkened and Cadi told herself that by the time the light disappeared she would be asleep. Closing her eyes, she saw Violet’s face, then Lili’s, both blank with disappointment.
The dark fell like a stone. A good night for a ghost? The floorboards creaked and her eyes sprang open. Mr Furry jumped onto the bed. She buried her face in his comfortable bulk and drifted into a fitful sleep.
Rain lashed down and collected in puddles. Puddle on puddle of rain and, tightrope confident, the rooks waited it out in the high branches. In the grip of a witless wind, the rain flung itself against the windows, wetter than April.
‘Sounds like someone rattled the rainmaker’s cage.’
When Cadi didn’t answer, Lili asked, ‘Someone rattle yours?’
Her nose buried in Jane Eyre, Cadi nestled deeper into the armchair.
Outside, the trees bent against the wind. Lili stood at the window, searching for a scrap of blue sky. When the wind blew from the east some said it came from Faerie, smelling of honey and enchantment. If you listened carefully you might hear an echo of a song. Or the cry of someone lost. This wind, strong enough to lift cats off their feet, reminded Lili of magic: the tiresome kind.
‘When it stops will you help me in the garden?’ she said.
‘Doing what?’
‘Picking the last of the beans and clearing the canes?’ Lili’s eyes narrowed, watching every shift in Cadi’s face. She looked terrible. ‘Are you feeling alright? You’re white as a sheet.’
Cadi glared. ‘Stop going on, Lili, I’m fine.’ She flung her book on the floor and folded her arms across her chest.
The temptation to laugh almost choked Lili. Most girls Cadi’s age made petulance look impressive. On Cadi the effect was tragic. ‘Come on, Cadi, what’s going on? I know something is.’
‘Leave me alone. It’s nothing.’
‘Oh, it’s something alright.’ Lili folded her own arms. ‘You can’t kid a kidder, kid. And I have never in my life seen you treat a book that way.’ She waited, knowing Cadi was fighting tears, trying out words in her head.
‘What would you say if I told you I’d found the photographs?’
This was the last thing Lili expected. ‘That I hope you’re joking?’ Her head whipped round. ‘Please tell me you haven’t been poking through your mam’s things.’
A flush spread across Cadi’s face. ‘I didn’t poke. I knew where to look.’
Lili threw her hands in the air. ‘I don’t believe this.’
‘She shouldn’t be so secretive, she shouldn’t tell lies. Neither should you. It isn’t fair.’
‘Fair? For heaven’s sake, you sound like a silly child. And don’t be so damned cheeky.’
‘I’m not silly. I’m never silly.’ Cadi snatched up her book, smoothing the covers, still trying hard not to cry. ‘You’re the one always telling me I’m too sen
sible for my own good.’
It was true. Lili, up to her neck in conspiracy, could only concede. ‘No, there’s barely an ounce of silliness in you. Which only makes your behaviour that more confusing.’ She sighed. ‘It’s my fault, I know it is.’
‘It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. We’re all in it now: dancing the same old dance, tripping over each other’s bloody red shoes.’
This was the most grown-up thing Lili had ever heard Cadi say. ‘What did you find?’
‘I told you – photographs, like you said.’
‘I don’t think I want to know,’ Lili said. The rain looked about to fling itself through the door and flood her house with trouble.
They sat in silence.
‘I wanted to know, that’s all.’ A tear ran down Cadi’s cheek, across the mark where she’d been scratched.
Lili nodded. ‘And did you find anything?’
Cadi shrugged. ‘An album with loads of pictures. Some of them were really old.’ Her hands were shaking in her lap. ‘There were a few of her – of Dora.’ She paused. ‘I still don’t get why Violet doesn’t like her being called Blodeuwedd.’
Lili passed Cadi a box of tissues. ‘It was a misunderstanding. Your mam liked a dancer called Isadora Duncan. Have you heard of her?’
Cadi said she hadn’t and Lili grasped the tangent. ‘She was famous in the 1920’s. I think Violet loved dancing and dancers. Although the irony is, Isadora Duncan had two children who drowned in the river Seine. I don’t think Violet knew that.’
‘So, two tragic namesakes?’ Cadi wiped her nose. ‘That’s awful.’
‘Yes.’ Lili sighed. ‘And I can’t say I ever saw Violet dancing. Maybe she wanted to be a dancer. I don’t know, I never asked her.’ She paused. ‘I haven’t asked her much if I’m honest.’
‘And Violet doesn’t exactly give much away.’
‘No. Your mother is very good at dodging an issue.’
Cadi nodded. ‘I still don’t see why Teilo wanted to call her Blodeuwedd?’
A tangent is only useful if it goes somewhere.
Lili told her how Teilo loved his stories too. ‘All the Welsh myths and legends, he got that from your grandfather. The Mabinogion was his favourite book, he was always reading it. Blodeuwedd fascinated him. As far as I know, they were going to have both names. It was a matter of the order.’ She hesitated, her memory assaulted by harsh words and accusations. ‘It ended up a bit of a muddle, cariad. Your mam registered the birth. She named the baby, and your dad – he’d wanted them, the names, the other way round.’
‘He must have been angry.’ Cadi said.
‘Yes, although it would have been the same for your mam, if Teilo had had his way and called her Blodeuwedd Isadora.’
The names hung in the air.
‘Don’t think I don’t feel bad, Lili, because I do.’
‘I know.’ Lili studied her niece, her tear-stained, drawn face and her regret. ‘If you want me to be angry, I can be. Or we can talk some more.’
‘I shouldn’t have done it. I feel terrible.’
‘I daresay you do. So would I, in your place.’
Outside, the rain rattled the window frame.
Lili sat back in her chair and said, ‘However you arrange them; they’re a bit of a mouthful.’
‘What are?’
‘Blodeuwedd and Isadora.’
Cadi nodded and counted on her fingers. ‘Seventeen letters before you even get to Hopkins.’ She managed a smile. ‘Imagine learning how to spell that lot before you started school? Poor little thing, she never even had a chance to learn how to spell her own name.’
‘No.’
‘I like the name Dora,’ Cadi said. ‘It’s small like her and it suits her. And it was a real name – not a borrowed one.’
Lili nodded. ‘You’ve seen the pictures and you know as much as I do about the names. How do you feel now?’
Cadi didn’t answer. She stared out of the window, watching the point where the garden ended and the sky began.
‘I need to go.’ She got to her feet and left the room.
‘Cadi?’ Lili hovered in the empty space, edged out of further conversation.
All the tears she hadn’t shed in front of Lili flooded out. Cadi sat in her room, weeping and watching her reflection in the streaming windowpane.
Now, instead of birds, I’m made of rain and tears. And there wasn’t a lot of difference. Rain in summer seemed as sad as tears. Weak with crying, she leaned her head against the glass. Maybe I ought to have told Lili about the cut-up picture of Teilo.
How could her mother be so full of hatred she would take a pair of scissors to her husband’s face? Cadi opened the window. A drenched silence greeted her. Had it always rained in August in the village? Had her mother ever been happy? If my father had known me, would he have loved me? If I said none of this was fair, would he think I sound like a stupid kid?
Her phone rang; it was Cerys. She stared at the screen. Cerys wouldn’t think she was stupid. She let the call go to voicemail and pushed open the window as far as it would go. The air seemed alive, waiting.
Everything Cadi knew, or thought she understood, was being swallowed by an ashen, oppressive sky.
Thirty-nine
Three women in the same family – even when they didn’t exactly share a house – meant someone was bound to be left out.
It didn’t matter how polite they were to one another, human nature caused tempers to fray, doors to slam and at times none of their words fitted.
Lili’s bond with her sister-in-law had always been tenuous. And yet, who could not have been moved by Violet’s agony when her baby died? The aftermath, when Teilo died, meant Lili’s instinct to protect Violet prevailed.
That didn’t mean she never doubted her decision.
Look where we are. A promise is a promise.
She walked along the lane. It was a beautiful morning and she wished she had time to waste. Sylvia was on her way and Lili had run out of wine.
Pomona was kneeling in front of her wrought-iron gate, wire-brushing the flaking paint. Lili hesitated, unsure if Pomona had seen her. Was it too late to turn around?
‘Hello again.’ Pomona sounded hesitant too and this irritated Lili.
She nodded.
‘Have I done something to upset you, Lili?’
‘No.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Well, the pub wasn’t a roaring success.’
Lili felt herself blushing. For heaven’s sake, how old am I? Her words ganged up in her throat.
Pomona stood up. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong. Why do people always think there’s something wrong if someone’s upset or preoccupied?’ As soon as she said the words, she wanted to take them back.
‘Logic?’
Lili carried on walking. ‘Sorry, I don’t have time for this.’
Sunlight filtered through the wine bottles. How pretty they looked.
Lili threw a salad together, opened the oven, and lifted a filo pastry spinach and ricotta flan from the oven.
The telephone rang. Please don’t let it be Sylvia, cancelling.
‘Lili?’
‘Owen?’ She banged the baking tray onto the table. ‘How did you get this number?’ She could almost hear him smiling.
‘I’ve had it since we were at school.’
Of course he had.
‘Not a lot changes round here.’
‘Don’t bet on it.’
‘I might.’
Exasperated, Lili said, ‘Owen, what do you want?’
‘I want you to talk to Violet. I’ve been thinking…’
‘Have you?’ Lili’s voice was sharp. ‘And what made you think I’d be your go-between? Didn’t you hear a word I said the other day? Why are you pestering her? She’s scared stiff.’
‘Scared of me? What’s she been telling you?’
‘Enough to
know you’re upsetting her which means you’re upsetting me and that’s really not a good idea.’
‘Lili, give me a break. I’m on the verge of leaving anyway and before I go, I just want a chance to make my peace with her.’
‘That’s as maybe; she doesn’t want anything to do with you.’
The line crackled and she thought he’d gone. ‘Owen?’
‘I’m still here. I have to see her, Lili.’
‘No, you don’t. Listen to me, she’s very vulnerable. You need to leave it. I’m not messing, I really think you ought to go.’
The line went quiet again and when he spoke his voice sounded tight and plaintive. ‘The trouble with you Hopkins women is you think you’re so damn special.’
‘Maybe that’s because we are?’ Lili’s anger singed the ends of her hair and she had to remember who she was. Her inheritance was in the soil, not the cauldron. ‘Don’t push me, Owen.’ She closed her eyes and waited.
‘Goddamn it, woman, who do you think you are?’
‘My mother’s daughter? Goodbye, Owen. Don’t call us again.’
Forty
‘Is everything alright?’
‘Everything? Are you kidding?’
Sylvia grinned, her heavy silver earrings flashing in the sunlight. ‘So, what is going on?’
‘You mean, you don’t know that either?’
As they lingered in the garden over a late lunch, Lili watched her friend enjoying herself with all the appreciation of a city girl. Sylvia’s short, edgy haircut suited her strong features.
‘You look great, Syl.’
‘I know. Don’t change the subject.’
‘I have things on my mind.’ Lili leaned back and squinted into the cherry tree. ‘People.’
‘Anyone in particular?’
‘Owen Penry.’
‘You said.’ Sylvia narrowed her eyes. ‘And?’
‘Who said there is one?’
‘You did. I can read your mind and it’s girl-shaped.’
‘Don’t tease. It’s alright for you, you’ve got nice Joseph.’
As Sylvia poured wine, she said, ‘Joseph isn’t always nice, you should hear him haranguing the postman when the bills arrive. And you’re only saying this because you’re lonely. At some point there has to be someone. All this celibacy, it isn’t normal.’
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