The arrest and conviction of her father, followed by being told she was no longer required to work at the post office had been serious blows to her security. She felt lost, belonging nowhere and with nothing to hope for in the future but friendless, empty days. Marion would lose interest soon like all the rest, giving in to the pressure from others. Then with no job and her mother far away and her father unreachable, she would be alone. At the age of twenty-four the future was an empty place. Now their holiday was over, Marion would leave like all the rest.
While staying with Mrs Potter, she had used the time putting furniture, carefully labelled, into store and discarding all the surplus; memories of childhood burned in the ash bin, she thought sadly. Unable to get a job, she wandered around, searching for a place where she could settle. She cycled or went on buses, passing through towns and small villages as though expecting a place to attract her and persuade her to stay.
She had refused to go with her mother; that seemed like giving in. Staying around here had been a defiance, and half hid the hope that one day her father would return here, head high, to face those who hadn’t believed in his innocence. She had felt that if she went too far away she would be losing faith in him, admitting he was guilty. Now she realized she had no choice. She would have to leave the place her father knew as home. She needed to find somewhere she could earn a decent living. But where?
Something took her back to Cwm Derw and she found herself walking along the lane with the wood on her left and the houses set back from the lane on her right. When she reached the house called Badgers Brook she walked up the path a little way and stopped to stare. It appeared to be empty; the windows lacked curtains, there was no smoke issuing from the chimneys, but it was more than those things: the place had an empty, abandoned look that she couldn’t quite explain. It was as though the house was sad. She laughed at her fey imaginings. The man they had met in the garden told them the tenants were about to move out, so of course it would have an abandoned look.
She walked on up the lane but after a few paces she stopped, walked back and went right up the path to what appeared to be the back of the house. Peering through a window she saw a kitchen with a large oak table, a gas cooker and empty shelves. The walls were painted a cheerful yellow and with the door open into the hall, she could just see a part of what must be a living room, but now the flagstone floor was dusty and without a shadow to suggest any furnishings.
She heard the slam of car doors and turned to see Geoff Tanner, the man she and Marion had met on their earlier visit. A smiling woman followed him carrying a basket covered with a white cloth.
‘Hello again – Lowri, isn’t it? This is my wife, Connie. We’ve brought a picnic, won’t you join us?’
‘A picnic? At this time of the year?’
‘Oh, Connie is a great one for picnics. We sometimes go to the beach and sit and look out at the sea. It’s beautiful whatever the season.’
They went inside and beckoned for her to join them. She hesitated but encouraged by the smiling woman, she stepped inside.
Although the air was chilly, the house was warm even though no fire burned in the grate. As she and Connie walked through the empty rooms, Geoff lit the fire and fed it with wood from a log box in the hearth. Connie unpacked her basket and they sat in garden chairs that had been brought in for the winter and ate sandwiches and cakes and drank coffee from the flask Connie had brought. The place seemed to wrap her in comfort and peace.
‘It’s silly, I know that, but I can see myself living here,’ Lowri told them. ‘It’s far too big and with no job I couldn’t possibly afford it, but I feel in some strange way that I belong.’
‘If it’s for you you’ll find a way. We have no one moving in at present and it’s never empty for long,’ Connie said.
She gently asked questions and at first Lowri was cautious, not explaining why she was without work. Then, knowing she was at risk of discouraging these pleasant and friendly people, she said, ‘Even if I do manage to find a job – which is unlikely – you wouldn’t want me as a tenant.’
‘Why do you say that?’ Connie asked.
‘Because my name is Vaughan.’ Connie and Geoff looked vague and she went on, ‘My father is Jimmy Vaughan, he’s in prison serving a sentence for a theft he didn’t commit.’
Defiantly, she continued, ‘Many people believe he murdered Ellis Owen, the man who really stole the money. Now d’you see why I haven’t a job or a chance of living here?’ Under patient questioning, she told them all that had happened.
‘Stella Jones at the post office is looking for someone to help her, she’s broken her leg,’ Geoff volunteered. ‘Tripped over her little dog she did,’ Connie added, as Lowri stared in disbelief.
‘I worked in a post office for years; it’s all I’ve ever done!’ Her shoulders drooped then as she felt the slight hope drift away. ‘But it’s no use. Once I tell her who I am, she’d find an excuse to say no. Everyone does.’
‘Give her a try. If you’ve had disappointments before you can risk another one, can’t you?’ Connie began packing the basket with the remains of her picnic and Geoff dampened down the fire.
They smiled encouragingly. ‘Come on, Lowri,’ Geoff said. ‘We’ll give you a lift, it’s on our way.’
‘If the house wants you here, you’ll find a way,’ Connie said mysteriously. The post office was on the main road opposite the cafe, and it was closed.
‘Stupid of us, we forgot it’s half-day closing and there’s us with a business ourselves,’ Connie said with a laugh. She got out and knocked loudly on the shop door then called through the letter box. ‘Stella, we’ve brought someone to see you.’
A few minutes passed as, with a dog barking an accompaniment, Stella made her way to the door grumbling about her crutches, her leg and the inconvenience of people calling when the shop was shut and Colin not there to help.
‘Oh, it’s you two, come on in. The kettle’s on the boil.’ She turned apparently without noticing Lowri, who hesitated at the door. ‘You an’ all, girl, shut the door mind, or there’ll be a queue, Wednesday half-day closing or not.’ Lowri did as she was told.
Stella’s living room was overfilled with furniture and on one chair was a large railwayman’s coat. Near it was a bed now occupied by a little terrier.
‘This is Lowri,’ Connie began as she pulled the kettle closer to the fire on the hob. ‘Experienced in the post office and looking for a position in Cwm Derw.’
‘A bit of luck finding her, wasn’t it?’ Geoff added. ‘Sneaking a look into Badgers Brook when we saw her first.’
Between complaining about her leg and how difficult it was to find someone experienced and available, she began asking Lowri questions. ‘Why did you leave your last job, then?’
‘I didn’t leave, I was sacked because people refused to let me serve them.’ Lowri stared defiantly at Stella as she went on. ‘My father is in prison for—’
‘Have you ever been guilty of theft? Embezzlement?’ Stella interrupted.
‘No, but—’
‘That’s all right then.’
‘It isn’t! His name is Jimmy Vaughan and he’s—’
‘Wait a minute, that’s the man who’s suspected of murder, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ Lowri didn’t add her usual defence of him and declare him innocent of that too. This wasn’t the time.
‘You can’t be accountable for what your father did – or didn’t do,’ Stella added quickly. ‘Start tomorrow, could you?’
‘Well, no, I have to find a place to live and—’
‘Elsie Connors’s guest house is empty.’
‘And get furniture out of store, and…’ she stopped as Connie shook her head.
‘We have enough furniture gathered over the various tenancies to start you off and you can stay at the guest house for a couple of days while you get everything ready.’
Geoff smiled. ‘See? If you really want something, it’s easy.’
It was
as though a great weight had been lifted and in her mind she saw her father’s face smiling at her and knew this was the right thing to do. Badgers Brook had called to her, wanted her there, and as Connie had promised, every problem was being pushed aside to enable her to live there.
It was much later, when she was lying on her uncomfortable bed in Mrs Potters’ house that she realized she hadn’t even asked about the rent.
The next day she told Marion of her decision. ‘I know you’re right and I should accept that Dad will be in prison until he’s an old man, but I’ve always felt I should stay here so Dad will be able to come back home. But Cwm Derw isn’t far from where Ellis Owen lived when he embezzled that money from Dad’s business. Marion, don’t laugh at me, but that house, Badgers Brook, called to me, and everything has slotted into place once I decided to live there. Now I think that by living there, near where Ellis Owen lived when the embezzlement was discovered, I might learn something to prove my father is innocent.’
‘You don’t know that this… er – what’s his name – Ellis Owen, is guilty, do you? It’s only what your father believes, remember.’
‘I do know it wasn’t Dad and who else could it have been? If only the money would turn up, then the police would know it wasn’t my father who stole it.’
‘What d’you think of my moving into Badgers Brook with you?’ Marion asked, changing the subject. ‘I can always get cleaning work and we could share the expenses.’
Lowri stared at her. ‘You’d come with me? But that would be marvellous. But your job and your family…?’
‘My family won’t mind. With a house full like Mam’s got they’d be glad of the extra room. Yes, I liked the place and it would be an adventure, wouldn’t it? Well? Yes or no?’
‘Yes, oh yes! The rain shower that drove us to shelter near Badgers Brook has changed my life and perhaps yours too.’
‘It’s time I moved on. Like you, I’ve been in the wrong place for too long. Holding on to Mam’s apron strings, and me twenty-four. Ashamed I should be. Now, who’s the best cook? Housework is my forte as you know, but I’m prepared to try anything and everything.’
*
It was just a week before Lowri took over the tenancy of Badgers Brook. Geoff and Connie were quick to do as they promised and a couple of beds, a surprising number of chairs and some curtains were quickly delivered. She went to the post office on the following day and Stella Jones thankfully told an ex-school teacher she was no longer needed.
‘Slow she was. No mistakes, mind, but so slow the little ones were driving their mams wild, standing so long and impatient to leave. Little ones aren’t good at standing still.’
She was brief in her explanations, leaving Lowri to sort things out for herself and by arriving early and staying late for the first week, she soon grasped the few differences in the system from the way Mrs Potter had run her business.
The local people were curious about her, but from the back room, or the seat she had set up in the shop, Stella interrupted questions by reminding them that: ‘The poor dear girl hasn’t got time to gossip, I work her too hard, don’t I, Lowri?’ Smiling, Lowri agreed.
The furniture she and her mother had placed in store had been sorted and what she needed was on its way. She stood at the kitchen window on a bitterly cold Wednesday afternoon, looking out towards the lane, waiting for the arrival of the lorry. She was curious to examine the contents of her father’s desk, which the police had returned after their investigations were completed. It was unlikely she would find something the police had missed, but she had to keep trying; her father depended on her. He had insisted he had kept diaries in which he had noted his suspicions and the changes in the account statements. Several of his diaries had turned up but there had been nothing to substantiate his accusations against the dead man, Ellis Owen. The important one was missing.
A stranger approached, opening the gate and waving as she walked up the path. Lowri stood at the door and waited for her to introduce herself.
‘Kitty Jennings,’ the lady announced. ‘Me and my Bob live at the next house along the lane. Neighbours we are so I thought I’d come and say hello. Work at the post office, don’t you? Lowri, is it?’
‘Come in,’ Lowri said opening the door wide. ‘I’m waiting for some furniture to arrive.’
‘Kettle on, is it?’ Clearly knowing where everything should be, Kitty went in and filled the kettle and set a tray with four cups. ‘Gasping they’ll be, the driver and his mate.’ She fished out a large pictorial tin from the bag she carried and set out some cakes.
An hour later, as the heavy van pulled up outside the gate, Kitty ran to fetch her husband, and after brief introductions, Bob Jennings helped the van driver to unload, placing the items where Lowri – and occasionally Kitty – instructed.
‘You’d best come back with Bob and me for a bit of dinner tonight, tired you’ll be. Too tired to cook a proper meal.’ Bewildered by the way she had been taken over by the kind and willing Kitty, Lowri could only agree. When she went up the stairs that night, she had a comfortable feeling that by great good luck and against all expectations, she had fallen among friends.
Two
When Marion arrived, complete with a few treasures including a wind-up gramophone and some records, she went to the post office and placed an advertisement in Stella Jones’s window offering her services as a cleaner. The response was immediate and over the first few days she went to several houses and chose ones where she agreed to deal with the regular cleaning. A few people took in summer visitors and at these she agreed to help on ‘changeover day’, usually a Friday. This involved changing beds and washing the linen as well as making sure everything was welcoming for the new arrivals.
From the first day she regularly visited her mother and although Lowri suggested going with her, she always made some excuse.
‘It is a bit disappointing,’ Lowri admitted to Stella one morning as she opened the shop door and let the first customers in. ‘I was so pleased to think I’d have company but she spends a lot of time out of the house, either with her family or just walking. She’s made it clear I’m not wanted. Don’t you think it strange?’
‘I love a bit of company, but I know there are those who need time on their own. My Colin is a very social man, loves people he does, but he often enjoys a quiet hour or two on his own at the allotment or our country cottage.’ Accepting her friend’s need for privacy, Lowri and Marion soon settled comfortably at Badgers Brook, the stout walls gave them a sense of security and once inside they relaxed and felt at home. Lowri was still a little disappointed that at a time when she needed friendship and support, Marion spent a lot of time out of the house. Lowri gave up inviting herself along and hoped one day that Marion would suggest they went together, but it never happened. When she suggested they went to see if they could find where the badgers lived, she was firmly reminded that although they shared the house, their lives were their own.
Although they shared the house and dealt with the running of it in equal partnership, the casual friendship they had enjoyed before her father’s arrest hardly changed. They usually ate together, sharing the cooking and cleaning amicably, they discussed their day as they prepared for bed, but there was a barrier that Lowri knew she must not cross.
‘I’m puzzled at never being invited to meet Marion’s family,’ she told Stella. ‘It’s probably because of my father,’ she added sadly.
‘Doesn’t she talk about them?’
‘Oh yes. She tells me about her sisters, brothers and the step family frequently, repeating some of the amusing events in the lively household, but evades any suggestion that I should visit or that they come to Badgers Brook so I can see for myself.’
‘Give it time,’ Stella advised. ‘With a big family like her mother has, it must be difficult to cope with visitors – and taking them out must be like setting off on safari!’
There were no shortage of visitors to Badgers Brook. Very few days ended without at
least a couple of callers at the house near the brook. Betty Connors from The Ship and Compass often called during the afternoons, and she sometimes brought Gwennie Flint from the chip shop with her. Kitty and Bob often popped in and on Wednesdays, when she could get someone to bring her, Stella Jones came limping up the path asking if the tea was made. Between them Bob and Colin dealt with the garden.
Lowri loved the atmosphere of the old house and every knock at the door pleased her. Whoever was standing there was sure to have a smile, convinced of a welcome. What if Marion’s parents didn’t want to meet her; she wasn’t exactly lonely. Her father’s imprisonment must be the reason they were avoiding her but as long as Marion continued to share the house she could cope with the disapproval of her parents. One day, when he’d been pardoned, they would meet her father and realize how wrong they’d been to doubt him.
*
Lowri’s father, Jimmy Vaughan, had had a fifty percent share in a small factory making underwear and specializing in night attire. When they’d been demobbed from the Navy, he and his friend Jack Morris had started their business when the factory had been stood down from making uniforms and other requirements for the forces, and, from nothing had built up their reputation.
They had taken on Ellis Owen to deal with the accounts as they had been unable to afford a qualified accountant and, with Jack Morris’s son Dic sometimes coming in to help, they had struggled during those first few years. Dic Morris had his own business, designing and selling sculptures and jewellery, helped by his wife before her untimely death from influenza, but he found a few hours every week to check on their progress.
Helped by the end of clothes rationing in March 1949, the business had made steady progress and they were slowly and cautiously expanding. Then it suddenly began to show signs of trouble. Although the orders were still keeping their dozen employees busy, the profit was no longer there. Any savings they had were pumped into the place, but they began to realize that somehow someone was stealing. An investigation of the orders, both out and in, was quietly undertaken but nothing was found. It was Jack Morris’s son, Dic, who found the evidence in the columns of the monthly totals. Close examination showed totals had been altered and figures were giving a false result. There was only one man for whom this deceit was possible, their accountant, Ellis Owen.
False Friends Page 2