‘You aren’t thinking of leaving, are you? I couldn’t manage the extra business without you here.’
‘I thought, as soon as you’re fit again I wouldn’t be needed.’
‘Needed? Of course you’re needed, girl. Lovely it’s been having you with me. I’ll be glad of a bit of leisure later on, when the weather’s better. Me and my Colin aren’t too old to enjoy a day on Barry Island sands. You can take over and I can go out for an afternoon now and then. No, I don’t want you to leave.
‘I thought now your leg is almost better…’
‘Come with me to the warehouse next Wednesday afternoon and we’ll start looking at what’s available.’ She stopped and stared at Lowri with her bright knowing eyes. ‘Unless you’re fed up and want a change?’
‘Why would I need a change from this place? There’s never two days the same! I’d love to stay on if you need me.’
‘Right then. Next Wednesday I’ll fix for us to start looking for our new stock.’
It was as she walked to the bus stop that rainy day, that she remembered what Dic had asked her. Going back to Badgers Brook after the pleasant afternoon with him and his children, thoughts of her father had been temporarily soothed away. The coat she had worn to work on the day of the robbery was hanging in her wardrobe and as she put away the mac she was wearing, she remembered. A search of the pockets revealed nothing except a handkerchief and several used bus tickets.
Emptying her handbag on the bed, she was embarrassed at the amount of useless rubbish she had collected. More bus tickets and shop receipts, small change that had escaped from her purse, her house keys, make-up and a mirror. There were other oddments too, like pencils and some stale sweets. As she searched through, discarding the unwanted items, she noticed a key of which she had no recollection. It wasn’t from their previous home, and looked more like a padlock key than that of a door.
She went to call Marion to tell her about her mystery, but remembering Dic’s request, she held back. She slipped the key into a pocket of her summer jacket hanging in the furthest reaches of the wardrobe and refilled her capacious bag. It could hardly be important if she couldn’t remember its use.
*
The young man who met Lowri and Stella on the following Wednesday at the warehouse was charming and obviously attracted to Lowri. Showing them as many of their lines as they wanted to see and showing no sign of being bored, he waved away a woman assistant who stepped forward to help. He was very fair, his hair straight and worn longer than was usual. His eyes were blue and longing for an excuse to laugh. He introduced himself as Ken Hardy and although he talked to both of them, his admiring eyes rarely left Lowri.
The clothes were fairly expensive but the quality was good and Lowri knew that people would pay if they considered the money well spent. There were party dresses for little girls, each with its own stiffened muslin underskirt, and simple woollen skirts with matching jumpers – clothes for every occasion.
As Ken spread out one outfit after another, Lowri imagined Sarah-Jane and Katie wearing them and wished Dic were there to see them. It was half an hour before Ken Hardy reminded them with an amused smile, that they might like to look at clothes for boys too.
It was as they were leaving, having spent more than Stella had intended, and had arranged to borrow a rail and a glass fronted chest of drawers, that Ken Hardy invited Lowri out.
‘Cinema, or a dance? Or a walk and a place for lunch?’ he suggested. ‘You choose.’
‘I don’t know.’ She hesitated, wondering why as she did so. He was good looking and she knew she would enjoy his company, so what was holding her back?
Stella had overheard, as she had been making arrangements regarding opening an account, and she whispered, hoarsely, ‘Go on, girl, have a bit of fun.’ Turning to Ken, she added, ‘Wednesday’s her half-day, give her time to “doll” herself up, won’t it, us closing the shop at one.’
‘Stella!’
‘Wednesday it is,’ Ken said, shaking her hand and seeming reluctant to let it go. ‘I’ll call for you at six and you can decide what we do.’
‘You don’t even know where I live!’
‘Oh but I do. Stella told me while you were drooling over party dresses for little girls.’
Her cheeks were warm with pleasure and self-consciousness and Lowri was relieved to get out, aware of the other members of staff watching her curiously. As they were closing the door Ken called to them, ‘Your order will be packed in fifteen minutes. If you’d like to wait I can deliver them and give you ladies a lift home at the same time,’ he offered.
The van was large and the three of them sat in front, Lowri in the middle unavoidably close to Ken. She couldn’t join in the conversation easily. She hadn’t been out on a date since Henry Roberts had been killed. She felt gauche and child-like and was glad when the journey was over and they climbed down outside the post office.
‘Shall I take you the rest of the way?’ he offered and Lowri at once shook her head. ‘Thanks, but I want to help Stella unpack and get the clothes on to hangers.’
Something in her voice warned Stella not to disagree.
‘Good on you girl,’ Stella said, as they went into the shop. ‘Pleasant young man, so go out and enjoy yourself. We don’t know him mind, so make it a café, so you can be sure before being on your own with him.’
‘Don’t you trust him, Stella?’
‘Of course, I wouldn’t have told him all about you if I hadn’t. Never does no harm to be sure, though. And I found out a bit about him too. Not married nor engaged, he’s twenty-six and lives with his parents, likes dancing and plays darts in the pub team. How’s that for a start?’
‘Shall I take him to The Ship and Compass and challenge him to a game of darts, so your Colin can sit at the bar and keep an eye on him?’ Lowri teased.
‘Never harms to be sure,’ Stella repeated. ‘Special you are, young Lowri and don’t forget it.’
Lowri frowned. ‘D’you know, I am rather special. I’ve just realized, it’s the sixteenth. Today is my twenty-fifth birthday!’ She was laughing as she walked back into Badgers Brook clutching a cake Stella had given her. ‘Marion,’ she called. ‘Come and have a piece of birthday cake!’
*
The grand opening of the new collection at the post office shop the following Monday was greeted at first with suspicion. People came and looked at the window display, handled the garments when they called for their pensions and postage stamps and shook their heads over the prices. ‘I’ll wait for your next sale,’ a few called, and Stella smiled at their joke and muttered insults under her breath.
Gradually the clothes began to earn approval. Stella kept the prices as low as she could and knew they compared favourably with other places. Mrs Nerys Bowen, who owned the ladies dress shop on the corner opposite Geoff Tanner’s ironmongers called and admired her selection and bought two outfits for a friend’s children. Respected as a woman of taste, her delight in her purchases encouraged others and on the day Lowri had arranged to go out with Ken Hardy, they knew they would soon need to restock.
‘Are you looking forward to your date with Ken?’ Stella asked on that Wednesday morning and was concerned to see Lowri frown. ‘Don’t worry, you don’t have to go if you aren’t sure. Ring him from here and tell him you’ve got a galloping infectious plague, or are needed for something important.’
‘I don’t want to go, not that I don’t like him, but because I can’t get involved.’ Stella guessed the reason. ‘You think he’ll drop you when he finds out who your father is? Why would he?’
‘Why wouldn’t he?’
Stella put on her coat and went around to The Ship and Compass, where she knew Marion was working that morning. ‘Come and talk to her, will you?’ she said after explaining the problem. Marion did so willingly. Anything that would discourage Dic Morris, with his constant talk about rescuing Lowri’s father from prison, was welcome.
So Lowri went and, ignoring Stella’s half
serious advice, she chose the pictures, where she could learn something about Ken’s sense of humour, followed by supper, during which they could talk. The conversation was easy and time went fast. She was disappointed when they stood to leave the restaurant and go to his parked car. Still talking and laughing, exchanging stories of their recent past, he drove her to Badgers Brook, where a light shone from the kitchen, lighting their path, but she didn’t invite him inside. She thanked him for an enjoyable evening and just smiled her non-commitment when he started to talk about ‘next time’. She wasn’t sure. Liking him too much, or not enough, each had its problems. There was the spectre of her father’s situation to contend with, and if she began to warm to him, that threat was likely to end it all. Best to take it slowly.
‘Vain you are, that’s your trouble,’ Marion said when she told her about the evening and its hesitant ending. ‘What makes you think he’s so smitten he’s already thinking of a serious courtship? He might be the kind who takes a girl out a few times then looks for something new. And why shouldn’t he?’ She smiled then and added, ‘Nice he is, mind. I wouldn’t say no to a date.’
‘Then you think I should go again, if he asked me?’
‘Of course. Unless he’s got B.O. or halitosis, of course.’ Then they were both laughing as they discussed their attitudes to the advantages and disadvantages of the various men they had known.
Marion was relieved that Lowri had found someone to take her mind away from her father’s plight and hoped the friendship would continue. Better than Dic and his constant reminders of the insoluble fact of Jimmy Vaughan’s imprisonment.
*
Lowri had heard of Stella and Colin’s shed on the allotment where they grew most of their vegetables for the year. She had never been to see it, as winter and the cold frosts and snows of January were not the ideal time. She had also heard Stella refer to her country cottage. She hadn’t realized they were one and the same.
It was as they were closing the shop for lunch a few days after her first date with Ken Hardy, with overnight snow covering the ground ‘waiting for more’, according to Stella, that she was invited to walk around and see the place.
Colin was on the late shift at the local railway station and he gathered up a few bags of stale food to feed the birds – something Lowri learned that he did every day – and they set off, Stella carrying a small canvas bag containing flasks of soup and some fresh bread.
‘I’ve never known such a place for picnics,’ Lowri said with a laugh as she was handed a second bag with milk and a few biscuits. ‘Haven’t either of you noticed the snow?’
‘Beautiful it is. Just beautiful.’
They trudged along the narrow lane leading to the field that had been divided into equal sized plots, each with its home-made shed to hold gardening tools. The whole area was covered in snow, a perfect carpet on which the only patterns were the tiny footprints of birds where they had gathered to devour the scattering of crumbs left by others.
The birdsong was surprising for so late in the day and added its magic to the scene. Stella opened the shed door and Lowri was surprised to see the interior was more like a kitchen, with gingham curtains and neatly arranged shelves. Two chairs were unfolded and set out near the table to which Stella added a carefully ironed tablecloth and, to Lowri’s amusement, a vase of dried flowers. Tins were opened to reveal cups and saucers, salt and pepper, and soup bowls, each one wrapped in tissue paper.
With limited heat from a primus stove, they ate the hot soup with neatly sliced bread and Lowri declared she had never enjoyed a meal more. Later, when even the small primus stove couldn’t keep them warm any longer, she walked along paths made invisible by the covering of snow, as Colin pointed out areas in the white blanket where his various crops would be. Sticking through the icy covering, the tall stalks of Brussels sprouts leaned drunkenly and, ignoring the cold, Colin picked some and filled a small bowl.
‘I’ll go and wrap some for you and Marion,’ he promised and thanking him, she walked on to where a hawthorn hedge made a barrier to the field beyond.
‘This plot belongs to Gwennie Flint’s husband, Maldwyn,’ Stella said, waving an arm to encompass more of the pristine snow. ‘Lazy man he is, and does very little to grow his crops. My Colin and a few of the others do a bit now and then, feel sorry for Gwennie they do. She runs that fish and chip shop almost single handed, out these cold mornings dealing with the potatoes when the assistant fails to turn up, and him in bed waiting impatiently for his cup of tea. Lazy man he is, and he can be unpleasant too.’
She wandered back discussing future plans with Colin while Lowri stood looking back and smiling at the pleasure Stella found in her country cottage. Then, for no reason at all, she stood up on an abandoned pile of bricks, grasping a branch for security, and looked over the hedge.
A man was walking in the field beyond, striding across her view, his legs rising and falling in a caricature of the goose step as he navigated his way through the deep snow. There was something familiar about the figure and she almost waved as she tried to place him. She stared curiously, running names and possibilities through her mind: Peter Bevan? Ed Conners? Geoff Tanner?
It was none of these, but something tormented her memory, the way he walked through the difficult terrain was obviously distorting his usual gait, but there was something about the angle of the head; he walked tall and with his shoulders held determinedly back, a small man trying to compensate for his lack of height?
A bucket upturned over rhubarb was close by and she climbed up for a better view, stretched on tiptoe, prepared to wave if the man was someone she knew. The man looked towards her, then hesitated in a sort of crouch, and quickly changed direction to walk away from her. Despite the difficult terrain, he began to move faster.
She felt a coldness that was nothing to do with the temperature. The man she was watching, was without doubt, Ellis Owen, the man her father was suspected of murdering.
‘Colin, come quick, who’s that man?’ she called. But by the time Colin had climbed up beside her, the man had disappeared into the next field and was lost to sight. The hedge was thick and there was no visible exit, no way she could run after him. Who would believe her? Yet she was certain it was Ellis Owen she had seen. He had filled her nightmares for so long, she could see his face just by thinking of him. Clear too was the way he walked. She often recognized people by the way they walked, and he had a way of holding his head that no one else could copy. In her heart and her mind, there was no doubt. No one would believe her, in fact she was already beginning to doubt her own eyes, so what should she – could she – do?
Four
The man was gone from sight but still Lowri stared. She must have been wrong. Yet there was something about the walk, the angle of the head, stretched up and slightly back. Her father had often teased him about it.
‘You all right, Lowri?’ Stella called anxiously, as she ran to where Lowri stood looking over the hedge.
Lowri turned towards her and asked, ‘How can I get into the next field?’
Stella and Colin pointed to a gate, hidden in the tangles of hawthorn and ivy and Lowri ran and struggled to pull it open. When she could not, she climbed over and, ignoring the scratches from the sharp branches and the chill as she landed in deep snow that rose over her boots and soaked her skirt, she ran to where she had last seen the man. Following close behind, were Stella and Colin, calling, asking her who she had seen.
She reached the place where the man had suddenly changed direction when he had seen her and looked along the line of snow prints which were at right angles from his initial direction. The trail led to a narrow road and when she reached it, the passing of traffic had obliterated all trace of him. As Stella and Colin reached her, panting and concerned, Lowri told them what she had seen.
‘You have the man on your mind so much, it isn’t surprising you think you’ve seen him,’ Stella comforted.
‘I remember when my grandad died,’ Colin added,
putting an arm around her shoulders and leading her back. ‘I couldn’t believe that he was gone. Several times I ran after a man who looked like him, called his name, “Grampy!”, only to see a stranger when he turned his head. I was only about seven,’ he added. ‘Missed him dreadful I did.’
‘I’m twenty-five,’ Lowri replied. ‘And I’m certain that man was Ellis Owen.’
‘Stranger things have happened, mind,’ Stella said, with a warning glance at her husband. ‘Oh yes, it could happen, no doubt about that. Truth stranger than fiction, indeed.’
Lowri walked home in a daze. The buses were running now the main roads had been cleared but she needed to walk and clear her head. Of course it wasn’t Ellis Owen. How could it have been? He had died in that wild sea. Yet hope, dormant within her, had reawakened. She had always dreamed that, as the body was never recovered, Ellis Owen might still be alive.
Her face revealed her shock, and when she walked into Badgers Brook, Marion looked at her in concern.
‘Lowri? What is it? You look frozen, and as though you’ve had a shock. Is everything all right?’
‘Cold, that’s all,’ she murmured, forcing a smile before going up to her room to remove her outdoor clothes. She stared, unseeing, at the clothes in her wardrobe and frowned. Was she going mad? Allowing imagination to make a distant view of a stranger into someone who could solve all her worries? It was impossible. Ellis Owen fell into the sea when the storm was it its height and was never found. The last few words echoed in her brain. Was never found. Hope – never far from the surface of her mind – leapt anew. Couldn’t that mean it wasn’t impossible? That there was a chance, however slight, that Ellis Owen had survived?
She lifted out the summer jacket and felt in the pocket. The key lay dully in her palm and she stared, urging it to give up its secret. But then reality flowed painfully back and she knew that it was most likely to mean nothing. If it belonged to her father she would know its purpose. There had been no secrets in their family. It was probably one her father found and dropped into his pocket as he would have picked up a coin.
False Friends Page 6