While the kettle boiled and the tea was made, Dic picked up several pieces of wood. He picked up a few unusual shapes and stared at them, visualizing what they might make.
‘Can you make a model of my old boat, Olwen?’ Jake asked him. ‘I’ve tried but I don’t have your skill and it never looks right. It was named for my mother and she’s seventy next month and a model of it would be a nice birthday present for her.’
‘Have you got a photograph? I can’t remember her well enough to make an accurate model.’
‘I can do better than that.’ He pulled a couple of curled and faded snapshots from the wall and without turning around called, ‘Alun?’ at the top of his voice. A scruffy, bearded man appeared carrying a bucket and mop. Katie, who had been exploring the samples of woods and varnishes, saw him and ran to her father’s side in alarm. He was a strange sight. The man was untidily dressed in an overcoat and Wellingtons, which were covered in mud and paint stains. ‘He does the cleaning,’ Jake explained in a low voice. ‘And good he is, too. I don’t know much about him. Some sort of cook he was by all accounts. He might have been once but he doesn’t look the part now! Something happened to ruin his life and he’s never been able to do a proper job since.’ He found some paper and a few pencils for Katie and started drawing a boat which he coaxed her to complete, to distract her from the man who had frightened her.
The man didn’t come any closer, he just stood and waited for Jake to tell him what he wanted. ‘Can you shift the junk from around Olwen, so Dic can sketch her?’ he asked. ‘Tea in a few minutes, we’ll come and help when we’ve had it.’
‘No. No need,’ the man replied gruffly, and walked away to the furthest part of the yard, where he began to throw things aside.
‘Miserable old devil, but he keeps this place tidier than it’s ever been,’ Jake whispered. They watched as the man opened up a view of the old boat. ‘We had a few good times in that boat, your dad and Jimmy Vaughan, and me. Sometimes Ellis Owen too. Expert swimmer he was, and he could handle a boat better than most.’
‘Not even the strongest swimmer could have survived that storm, though, could they?’
Jake shook his head. ‘No one. Sad mind, him losing his life like that.’
‘Sad for a few others too. It’s affecting Jimmy Vaughan’s wife and daughter badly.’
‘I can’t believe Jimmy Vaughan’s locked up. Working in that clothing factory was bad enough, but being locked up, it must be hard for him. Always one for the out doors, old Jimmy. Fishing, sailing, camping and climbing cliffs for a dare. Almost as foolhardy as Ellis. I can’t imagine how he’s coping.’ He looked quizzically at Dic and asked, ‘D’you think he did it?’
‘Robbed his own firm?’ Dic asked. ‘No, I don’t. At first the facts seemed to point to him being the thief. But not now. Unless the money turns up, most will continue to believe it, mainly because of the suspicion of murder that went with it. I think the case for murderous attack was weak without the theft and there’s no sign of the money. If Jimmy didn’t steal the money, then surely Ellis’s death was an accident?’
‘Too many witnesses insisted he held the man under.’
‘A form of mass hysteria, maybe? Like the knife: one saw it and others convinced themselves they had too. It must have been impossible to see anything in those conditions.’
‘You think he could be alive?’
‘Lowri has that hope in her heart and it won’t go away.’
‘His missus would know, wouldn’t she?’
‘Not if he had a girlfriend helping him.’
‘Fantasizing you are now, Dic, my boy. Fond of young Lowri are we?’ he teased.
‘She has me wishing for a miracle now,’ Dic admitted.
The three of them went to where the remains of the once proud Olwen lay. The large untidily dressed man walked away after moving much of the pile that had blocked their view of her. Dic and Katie drew sketches and Katie proudly showed hers to Jake, who gave her sixpence for it and fixed it on his wall. There was a discussion on the type of sails and a few other details long gone, and Dic and Katie left to go to the school to collect Sarah-Jane.
That evening, after the girls were in bed, Dic spread out the drawings of the boat but he couldn’t concentrate. He was restless, frustration making it impossible to settle. He wondered where and how he could find some small, overlooked piece of information that would lead him on to find proof of Jimmy Vaughan’s innocence. If he were innocent, surely there must be some way of proving it? Better still if it was revealed that Ken was a part of the deceit. He badly wanted to be the one to find that proof and he went to sleep imagining the look on Lowri’s face when he told her.
*
Lowri watched as Marion dressed ready to visit her parents. Several times she had suggested she went with her but still Marion made excuses. ‘Mam’s so busy and the house is so chaotic,’ she always explained. ‘Our Mam would spend all day clearing up if she thought she might have a visitor. So I never take friends home.’
Marion’s family didn’t live very far away and, working in the post office, Lowri wondered if she had actually met her mother Harriet without knowing. She didn’t even have any idea what the woman looked like, she’d never even seen a photograph, yet she and Marion had shared a house, and confidences, for months. She thought of the people who used the post office and although there were several Lewis’s, none fitted the little she knew about Marion’s mother.
Marion set off for the bus stop at the end of the lane but before she reached it, she glanced around then slipped into the trees. A man was leaning against a beech tree and came forward and took her in his arms.
*
Dic still suspected that Ken Hardy could be Marion’s secret lover, mainly because of Lowri’s shocked reaction. Marion visited her parents often and could use the visits to hide the fact that she and Ken were meeting. The mention of the man having a wife was easily explained as a pretence, a way of covering his identity. It would also explain her reticence to invite Lowri to visit her family, which in itself was strange.
He called at the post office the next day, buying stamps as an excuse to see her and he smiled politely at a woman in her late forties, carrying a little girl about two years old. As the woman and her child left, Dic asked, ‘Isn’t that Marion Lewis’s mother?’
Lowri looked surprised, but shook her head. ‘No, she’s Mrs Davies, not Lewis.’
‘Doesn’t Marion have a stepfather?’ Dic said teasingly, his head on one side, a smile on his lips. ‘And wouldn’t she have changed her name?’
‘Oh, how stupid of me! I’ve been trying to think of a Mrs Lewis who fits with what I know.’
‘What d’you mean, don’t tell me you’ve never met her?’
‘Marion is unwilling for me to meet her family.’
‘Then come with me on Wednesday. I’m delivering a rocking horse, which I restored for her. It isn’t what I normally do, but this time, I agreed.’
‘That little girl, is she Marion’s baby sister?’
He nodded. ‘I think her name is Sandra.’
‘Then she is Marion’s mother. How strange that she avoids us meeting. The mother seems very friendly.’
‘Come with me and we can lie and plead innocence.’ And perhaps find out whether the secret boyfriend is Ken, he thought.
Curiosity overcame any qualms Lowri had about going where she was clearly not wanted. Marion can’t have any reason apart from embarrassment over her mother’s untidy home. If she went once, and made friends with her brothers and sisters and her mother, then those worries would be soon forgotten. On Wednesday she went home and prepared a light meal for herself and Dic and at two thirty they set off.
She thought the garden gave a good inclination of what was to come, with broken bicycles and two ancient prams thrown carelessly on the front lawn – although lawn was a euphemism for a patch of weeds and bare earth. The door was open and two children were just outside, playing with buckets and spades, maki
ng mud pies in what might once have been a flower border. The woman who had been pointed out to her as Marion’s mother came to the door, recognized Dic, and invited them both inside.
After a smiling welcome, they were led through a kitchen that was overcrowded with clutter but surprisingly clean, into an orderly living room. Armchairs and a couple of small couches were set around a cheerful fire protected by a fire-guard, and on a coffee table were a few children’s books, one open, as though Harriet had been in the middle of reading to the two children who sat on the hearth staring at the newcomers.
Lowri at once picked up the book and began talking to the eight and nine year olds who, she and Dic were told, were home from school with head-colds. At their request, she continued with the story, leaving Dic and Harriet to carry in the rocking horse.
There was great excitement when the splendid toy was brought inside and Harriet had to stop the two mud-modellers from bringing half the garden in with them. ‘Stay put!’ she warned them. ‘I’ll fetch your slippers and get a bowl of water ready for hand-washing.’ Accompanied by loud protests, the mud was cleared and the two children ran in to join the rest, taking turns at riding what would soon be a favourite toy.
They were offered tea which was served in good quality china. ‘Apologies for not having any biscuits,’ Harriet said. ‘They never last in this house.’
‘I’m not surprised. I only have two girls and they take some filling!’
‘We have eight between us,’ Harriet said proudly. ‘Some are mine, some my husband’s and some ours. It’s hard work, but it’s a wonderful life. Marion is a great help. My husband’s a teacher and has short days and long holidays, so he’s here more than most men. Although,’ she added, ‘he does have a lot of work to do at home, marking and preparing lessons, but at least he’s on hand.’
They were told the repaired rocking horse had been bought as a birthday present for Sandra who would be two the following weekend. ‘Can you believe it, she wants a party!’ Harriet said with a laugh. ‘As if there isn’t a party here every day of the week! But she’ll invite a few friends, no doubt.’
As Lowri and Dic walked back to the car, Sandra was in Harriet’s arms waving goodbye, with four others hugging their mother’s skirts. Lowri said, ‘I find it even more curious that Marion didn’t want me to meet them. It’s a wonderful family and she should be proud of them. Her mother and stepfather cope amazingly well and they’re all so happy.’
‘The evenings are the worse, according to Mrs Davies. Getting them all fed, washed and up to bed she describes as a whirlwind, chased by a thunderstorm, battered by an avalanche, with clothes everywhere and food dropped and drinks spilt, and arguments about pillows and towels and pyjamas.’ He laughed. ‘Yet every morning, her husband and the children probably march out of the house as neat and tidy as any family you’ve ever seen. They are a remarkable couple.’
At Badgers Brook Ken was waiting. He didn’t look pleased to see Dic. ‘Where have you been?’ he asked. ‘You knew I’d be here.’
‘Sorry,’ Lowri said. ‘I didn’t think we’d be so long. Dic had a delivery to make and I went with him.’
‘Something interesting?’ He wanted to add ‘more interesting than me’, but he held back.
‘Dic has restored an old rocking horse which we delivered to Marion’s mother. It’s a birthday present for Marion’s little sister.’
‘I thought Marion didn’t want you to meet her mother?’
‘As it happens I already knew her. Like most people in the vicinity of Cwm Derw, she comes to the post office. I just didn’t know who she was until today.’
Dic stood with his hands in his pockets, unsure whether or not to leave. Lowri decided for him. ‘Shall we have a cup of tea? The weather’s warm enough for us to sit in the garden. Get the chairs out, will you, Dic? And can you knock on Kitty’s door, please, Ken? She might like to join us.’
She touched Ken’s cheek with her lips as she passed him to go to the kitchen.
‘Safety in numbers?’ he whispered. ‘We never get a moment alone.’ He didn’t stay long. He made vague excuses of having office work to do and left with a kiss for Lowri and Kitty and the briefest of nods for Dic.
He didn’t drive straight home but stopped at The Ship. ‘No barman again,’ Betty complained as she began serving a group of strangers who had just arrived. Ken helped her hand out the plates of food and collected the glasses.
‘“Willing-But-Won’t” isn’t coming in, would you believe. He has a touch of flu and has to rest. I’m sure he’s telling the truth, but it always seems to coincide with a particularly busy time. Twelve cyclists have booked supper and unless I can get my brother to help I’m on my own. As half the cyclists are staying with him it’s unlikely.’
Ken promised to stay until the meal had been served and Betty thanked him, grateful for his kindness. ‘But I really have to find someone I can rely on before the busy summer months,’ she said.
*
Lowri and Dic were alone when Marion came in. ‘I met your family today,’ Lowri said in greeting.
‘I had to deliver a rocking horse I’d repaired,’ Dic explained.
‘What a wonderful family. You’re so lucky. Little Sandra is sweet,’ Lowri said.
‘All of them, not just Sandra,’ Marion said sharply. ‘She’s a favourite because she’s the youngest, but they’re all lovely.’
‘I agree,’ Lowri replied quickly. ‘I mentioned Sandra because I can’t remember the names of the others.’
‘Mam’s Thomas, eighteen. Mam’s twins, Dave and Ray, seventeen. His Jennifer fifteen. Bobby, ten. Margaret, nine, Sandra, two – theirs!’ Marion chanted angrily.
They ate the meal Marion prepared, but there was little conversation. Marion was curt almost to the point of rudeness, and anger sparked in her eyes. When Dic had gone to collect his daughters, Lowri didn’t know what to say to ease the situation.
‘I’m not ashamed of my family, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ Marion said, noisily piling the dishes and throwing the cutlery into the bowl.
‘Ashamed? Of course not. That never crossed my mind! Proud you should be. You’re very lucky to belong to such a happy group.’
‘Well I’d prefer it if you don’t go there again. Right?’
‘Right,’ Lowri echoed quietly. Puzzled by Marion’s attitude, she asked none of the questions that buzzed around her mind. Perhaps one day Marion would explain and until then it was safer to say nothing.
A few days later, Lowri bought a soft, cuddly doll for Sandra’s second birthday. She labelled it and left it near Marion’s handbag, but when she returned that evening, the gaily wrapped package was still there.
*
The gossip that filled the post office was usually only half remembered by Lowri. For Stella, with years of experience of serving and at the same time listening, much of what was said remained in her mind. But whether it was because Lowri’s thoughts were never far from her father’s predicament and those involved in it, she remembered little, yet the half whispered comments about Gaynor Dallow caught her attention.
She had never met the woman as far as she could remember, but the name had a familiar ring. She gathered from the comments overheard as she served a shop filled with chattering customers that Gaynor was in her early twenties and had just given birth to a child. She had no husband and there had been no sign of a boyfriend. So could she be the girlfriend, for whom Ellis Owen had been about to leave his wife?
‘Who is this Gaynor Dallow?’ she asked Stella, as she was closing up that evening.
‘Very glamorous she is, dark hair all shining curls, and blue eyes, gorgeous figure which she dresses to show off. Nothing “tarty” about her, mind, even though she did get herself in a spot of bother and ended up with an illegitimate baby. “Irish looks” many said. Lovely girl. Clever too, mind. She used to live in Barry. In fact, didn’t she work for your father and Jack Morris for a while? I think she helped with the accounts.’
<
br /> Startled, Lowri said, ‘That must be from where I remember the name.’
She handed the money and books to Stella, refused an invitation to stay for a cup of tea and hurried home. The facts fitted, and Gaynor was certain to have known Ellis if she worked at the clothing factory. She could easily be the woman Ellis was hoping to marry. So did she have plenty of money that couldn’t easily be accounted for? There must be a way of finding out. Her father didn’t have it and it had to be somewhere.
She couldn’t talk to Stella about her suspicions and Ken would be sceptical, but she had to talk to someone or she’d burst. After a meal, during which Marion hardly spoke, obviously still angry about Lowri’s visit to her mother, she went out. It was a long way and required two bus journeys but she would go and see Dic.
To her disappointment the rooms behind his shop were in darkness. He must be with his parents. Dejected, knowing she couldn’t call at the Morris’s home, a place once as familiar as her own; she would no longer be welcome. She returned to Badgers Brook.
Marion was cleaning the kitchen cupboards. Lowri apologized. ‘I’m sorry, Marion, it was my turn for cupboards. I meant to do them at the weekend but I forgot.’
Marion shrugged. ‘I don’t mind. Cleaning is something I find soothing. It frees my thoughts and takes away irritations.’
‘You’re still angry with me for visiting your mother?’
Marion threw the cloth she was using into the hot water and stared at her friend. ‘I like to keep certain parts of my life separate, that’s all. I don’t mean to be secretive, but although we’re friends and share this house, my work and my home are my business.’
‘But I tell you everything – or practically everything,’ she amended.
‘That’s your choice, I just don’t want to do the same.’
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