by Flora Kidd
'I don't imagine she would,' remarked Jessica dryly. It sounded as if Mrs Owen had similar ideas to Chris Pollet; amalgamate first and then take over completely.
'And she's going to be awfully put out when I tell her I found you here,' continued Glynis. 'Are you staying long?'
'I'm not sure,' replied Jessica shortly. 'It's been a while since Alun and I were able to live together, and—well, we have a lot of catching up to do.' She managed what she hoped was an enigmatic smile and then, determined to change the subject, she gave Glynis another straight look and asked, 'Did you ride over?'
'Yes, on Dusky, my grey mare.' Glynis had lost some of her adolescent arrogance and was frowning in puzzlement, her black brows making a bar above her violet-coloured eyes. 'You're not a bit like I imagined you to be,' she blurted out suddenly.
'Oh. How did you imagine me?' asked Jessica curiously.
'Older. As old as my mother, who is as old as Alun. Not as pretty. And crabby—yes, definitely as sour as a crab-apple and nagging and whining all the time, you know, like some middle-aged woman are when their husband's don't make love to them any more.'
'Do you ride over often to see Alun?' asked Jessica, refraining from making a sharp retort. There was something about Glynis that reminded her of someone else; another person about the same age who had talked possessively about Alun and had fawned on him like a puppy all the time.
'As often as I can. I've got a crush on him, see, and I came today to find out why he didn't come to see us last evening. He was supposed to. Mum had invited him.' Glynis's eyes glittered with hostility. 'I suppose you prevented him from going to see us,' she accused.
'I would never prevent Alun from doing what he wants to do,' retorted Jessica loftily. 'That has always been our arrangement.'
'Then you'll let him have-a divorce so that he and Mum can go into business together?' pounced Glynis, sharp as a tack. 'And so he can marry her?'
'Marry her? Why would he want to marry her?' exclaimed Jessica.
'He'd be better off married to her than to you. She wouldn't leave him, see,' said Glynis, scowling fiercely as she got to her feet. 'I must go. Dusty gets restless and tries to wander back home without me.' At the door she gave Jessica another glinting, malicious glare. 'I hope that when I come to see Alun again you won't be here,' she added rudely.
'I wouldn't count on it,' returned Jessica acidly.
The outer door crashed closed behind Glynis, and picking up her clothes, Jessica left the kitchen to go upstairs to wash and dress.
Sally. Sally Fairbourne. Glynis reminded her of Sally at the same age, she thought. Sally had been possessive about Alun, showing much more affection for him than had been decent in a near-cousin and behaving spitefully and jealously whenever Alun had shown more attention to herself.
Sally, always hinting that Alun hadn't married for love. Sally implying that he was having an affair with another woman, Ashley King. Sally suggesting that she, Jessica, should set Alun free from his marriage because he had only married her to help her when her father had been angry. Sally, pretending to be a friend and all the time slyly destroying her fragile relationship with Alun.
So you trusted her more than Alun because you'd known her longer than you'd known him? Margian had jeered. Jessica bit her lip as she fastened the waistband of her skirt, remembering how readily she had believed Sally. Had she been wrong to believe her? Had she made a big mistake? Had there been nothing between Alun and Ashley King, as he had insisted?
But if she had made a mistake he had made her pay for it by staying away from her, by never getting in touch with her. And during that time there had probably been another woman. She couldn't imagine him remaining celibate as she had done. Another woman. Maybe Mrs Owen, the widow of his friend? Maybe the youthful Glynis? Oh no!
Still frowning, Jessica watched her reflection in the mirror on the wall above the chest of drawers while she brushed her hair with Alun's brush. Behind her she could see the reflection of the bed, the sheets creased and tangled, the pillows still dented where their heads had rested. Memories of how they had made love, hungrily and desperately, the beauty and violence of their coming together after being apart for so long, surged through her mind.
Had their bodies been trying to tell them something that their minds refused to admit, that their tongues refused to say; that they belonged to each other and should never have been separated?
Flinging down the brush, she sank down on the end of the bed with a groan. Oh, what was she going to do? She had told Alun she would leave this afternoon and he had said she must do as she pleased. She had been nothing but a nuisance to him since she had arrived. She had disrupted his way of life here; a way of life that included visits to a riding school run by the widow of an old friend and visits from that woman's attractive young daughter who had a crush on him.
She became aware that the sheep were bleating again. She went over to the window and looked out. A flock of them was streaming past the garden. Greyish-white woolly creatures, they jostled one another, baaing mournfully in protest as they were urged forward by two sleek black and white Welsh sheepdogs under the control of a stockily-built middle-aged man wearing a tweed suit and a flat cloth cap who was carrying a handsome crook. Dai Jones? she wondered. Then where was Alun?
Downstairs she ran, pulled on the Wellington boots again, went out into the yard, and walked along the side of the house to the front. At the corner of the house she waited, unable to go any further because of the flock of sheep streaming past on their way to the gateway. She couldn't see Alun anywhere.
When the man was on a level with her he stopped, took a pipe from his mouth with the hand that held the crook and, raising his cap, said, 'Good afternoon. You must be Alun's wife, Jessica.'
'Yes, I am. Where is he?'
'He sent a message to you. He phoned from my house to Evans the garage, see, about the Land Rover, and Evans said he would be sending his tow-truck out to be lifting the Land Rover out of the stream, see? Alun has gone to be there when they try to lift it, to see what damage there is to it. I am David Jones and it's pleased I am to be meeting you.' He offered her his right hand.
'Thank you,' said Jessica, shaking his hand. 'I'm pleased to meet you too, Mr Jones, but I'm sorry I left the gate open and put you to all this trouble.' She glanced at the sheep. 'How do you know which are yours?' she asked.
'By the brand on the-fleece.' Using his crook deftly, he caught one of the passing ewes around its neck and hauled it towards him and showed her where the letter J had been burned into the fleece. Then he let the animal go to join its fellows. 'Between us, the dogs and I were soon able to separate mine from Alun's which have a G branded on them, for Gower, see?'
Jessica nodded and glanced admiringly at the two dogs that were sliding back and forth behind the flock, on the alert for any sheep that left the flock and wandered off on its own.
'They're very clever and beautiful—the dogs, I mean,' she said. 'Does it take long to train them to fetch the sheep?'
'Fetching the sheep comes naturally to them. They're predators, see? And the secret of training them is to get them young and harness their natural hunting instincts to the service of the shepherd. It's training them so they'll leave the sheep alone that is hardest. If they're not trained they could destroy the flock. It's best to teach them the basic commands before letting them anywhere near the sheep.'
'What commands?' asked Jessica, falling into step beside him as he followed the flock.
'There are only five. Walk. Go on. Go left. Go right. And most important of all is: lie down. That means stop whatever you are doing. Most shepherds can whistle their commands using two fingers between their lips. A good whistle will carry for miles against the wind. Watch Captain now, the dog nearest to us when I whistle to him to move right and catch that yearling that's got ideas of its own.'
Two fingers in his mouth, he produced an ear-piercing whistle and immediately the bigger and older of the two dogs began to prowl th
rough the grass, its belly close to the ground, following the straying sheep.
'I was offered two thousand pounds for Captain by an Australian sheep farmer at the sheepdog trials at Bala last year,' Dai continued in his soft sing-song voice. 'But I wouldn't take it. Captain is worth more to me on the farm than anything else I own and without him I couldn't look after the sheep properly. I would be losing some of them all the time.'
'Alun doesn't have a dog, he says,' murmured Jessica. The sheep had reached the gateway and were pushing through it, urged on by the dogs.
'No, but he will be getting one,' said Dai, stopping to lean on his stick. 'If he stays, that is. There is no knowing what he will be doing, yet and I'm thinking he does not know himself what it is he wants to do.' He slanted her a bright inquisitive glance. 'It could be depending on you, Mrs Gower.'
'Oh?' Jessica was immedately defensive. What had Alun been saying about her to this man? 'In what way?'
'It will depending on whether you could live all the time in a remote place like this. Alun's mother couldn't, and that is why she didn't stay. Winters can be harsh. Huw and I lost sheep winter before last on these hills, and last winter Alun and I both shipped our ewe lambs and some older sheep to warmer lowland pastures, and that cost us money. The Department of Agricultural Economics at the University College of Wales has analysed our situation and recommends that the two farms be amalgamated for greater efficiency. Huw wouldn't agree to do that.'
'Why not?'
'He was of the old breed, see? One of the gwerin, as we call them in Welsh, tied to his own land that had belonged to his family for hundreds of years as well as to a stubborn culture that produces poets today as it has done over the centuries, living the simple life here and wanting nothing more.'
'And you think that Alun isn't what you said, a gwerin?’ she asked. The sun had gone. Grey clouds were fast covering the sky and already the hills on the other side of the lake were shrouded in mist.
'I know he isn't,' said Dai mysteriously. 'He married you, didn't he? And his mother's blood runs in his veins.' The sheep were all through the gateway now and he swung, the gate shut and looked back at her over it. 'Be thinking about it, Mrs Gower. The government offers incentives to farmers like me to amalgamate with another sheep farmer, and once we had amalgamated there would be no need for this gate between our land. I'll say goodbye to you for now. You'd best be going back to the house. It is going to rain again, see?'
The drizzle was wetting Jessica's hair and shoulders by the time she reached the porch. In the kitchen the clock was chiming. It was one o'clock. All the morning had gone by and she was still there, and now rain was sweeping through the valley and mist was clinging to the tops of trees, veiling everything from sight. If she set out on foot for Dolgellau she would soon be soaked to the skin again. It would be best to wait where it was dry; wait for Alun to come back.
CHAPTER FOUR
JESSICA was making something to eat when the back door opened at last and Alun came in. His hair was wet with rain and coiling closely to his head and his thin sweater was sodden. In one hand he held her handbag. He tossed the bag on to the kitchen table and sitting down on a chair began to pull off his boots.
'You're still here, then,' he remarked dryly.
'Well, where else would I be?' she retorted.
'You said you'd be leaving this afternoon.' He glanced at the clock and back at her, his eyes glinting mockingly. 'It's well past noon now.'
'I couldn't leave until I'd mended my skirt and had found something to put on my feet,' she argued.
'You seem to have done that. But you're still here, Why?'
'Oh, you know damned well why! I couldn't leave until I had my handbag again.' She picked up the bag. 'Is the Land Rover out of the stream?'
'It is, and it's on its way to Dolgellau to be dried out. I couldn't start it because all the electrics were wet. There was damage too to the left side.' He gave her a scowling glance. 'I hope you can pay for it, girl.'
'And what about my car? she asked. 'Did you ask the garage man to put some petrol in it?'
'I did.' He had stood up and was striding towards the doorway leading into the hall.
'Then where is it?'
'Still on the road,' he replied, half turning to look back at her.
'But why didn't you drive it here? Why did you leave it there?' she demanded:
'I couldn't,' he replied coolly. 'You see, I didn't have the keys.' Turning away, he went on through the door, silent-footed.
'But . . . but. . . .' Jessica realised she was muttering to herself as she unzipped her handbag. Alun had gone upstairs, presumably to change out of his wet clothes. Delving into her bag, she felt around for her keys and didn't feel them, so she turned the bag upside down and everything it contained fell out on to the table; wallet, comb, make-up, but no ring of keys. Frantically she shook the handbag, not believing it didn't contain anything else. Nothing fell out, so she turned it right way up and looked into it. It was empty.
She was dishing up the Welsh rarebit she had made on to two plates when Alun came back to the kitchen wearing dry clothes, another pair of jeans and a blue denim shirt, his hair rubbed dry.
'That smells good,' he remarked. 'I hope you made enough for two—I'm starving after my efforts of this morning!' He pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. 'Did Dai come for his sheep?'
'Yes, he did,' she said shortly, and put a plate of food in front of him, then sat down opposite to him. 'Alun, where are my car keys?'
'How should I know?' he replied, giving her a bland-eyed glance across the table.
'They're not in my handbag.'
'I realise that. If they'd been in there I would have driven your car here so you could have left ... this afternoon ... wouldn't I? I thought you would know where they are.' He began to eat ravenously.
'I did ... know where they were' she replied. 'I put them in my handbag after I locked the car yesterday afternoon. I know I did.'
'You might imagine you did,' he said.
'Imagine that I did?' she exclaimed. 'I didn't imagine I put them in my handbag—I know I did. I always do when I lock the car.'
Alun looked at her with a sardonic gleam in his eyes.
'You know you did?' he remarked softly. 'Don't you mean you assume you did because it's your habit to put them in the handbag?'
'All right, then,' she retorted, becoming ruffled by his calm arguments. 'I assume I put them in my handbag. Now where are they? Where have-you put them?'
'I?' He raised his eyebrows in mocking surprise. 'I haven't put them anywhere. I haven't seen them. If I had I would have opened your car and driven it here so that you could leave this afternoon as you said you would. You must have put them somewhere else. In your raincoat pocket, perhaps. Or your suit pocket. Or perhaps you laid them down somewhere in the house. In this room. In the bedroom.'
'They're not in my pockets and I haven't put them down in the house,' she retorted, glowering at him. 'Someone has taken them out of my handbag. Someone must have robbed it while it was in the Land Rover in the stream.'
He gave her another derisive glance but didn't say anything and finished eating his food. Jessica, too irritated to eat any more, pushed her plate aside.
'Now what am I going to do?' she muttered. 'Without the keys how am I going to get into the car for my other clothes and drive it back to Beechfield?'
There was another silence, broken only when Alun, having finished eating, stood up and went over to the sink to get himself a glass of water. Standing up too, Jessica collected up the plates they had used and carried them over to the sink.
'Alun, please give me my keys.'
He drank the water, set the glass down on the draining board and without looking at her or saying anything strode over to the pantry and stepped into it. He came out with an apple and began to eat it as he went over to the chair where he had left his boots and started to pull them on.
'I suggest you stay here until tomorrow,' h
e drawled without looking at her. 'Until Evans brings the Land Rover back. He might have some ideas on how to open your car and get it started.'
'But . . . but I'm supposed to be back by this evening. Mother will be expecting me. Oh, if only you had a phone I could have let her know!'
'Does she know you're with me?' he asked, standing up and walking over to the porch door.
'Yes.'
'Then she won't be worried,' he replied enigmatically as he took down a short waterproof jacket from a hook in the porch and put it on. He slanted her a glance. 'You could, of course, walk into the town and ask Evans to drive you back to your car and unlock it for you,' He glanced past her at the wall-clock. 'Not for one moment do I think he will, though, looking at the time, because by the time you reached his garage he'll be closed, and he isn't keen on working after hours.' He glanced at her again, his eyes narrowed between black lashes glinting with amusement. 'Much better to stay the night here and see what tomorrow brings,' he added, and opened the door into the yard.
'But ... but ... couldn't you, wouldn't you go into the town and ask him to come out?' asked Jessica following him.
'Oh, no.' He shook his head. 'I've done my walking for today. I have other things to do, like feeding the hens and counting the sheep and then finishing that book.' He gave her another glinting glance and sighed exaggeratedly. 'A farmer's work is never done,' he said softly and mockingly and, stepping out into the yard, closed the door after him.
Irritation boiling through her because she was sure Alun was teasing her and that he knew very well where her car keys were, Jessica whirled back into the house, ran through the kitchen into the hall and up the stairs into his bedroom. Snatching up his wet jeans from the floor where he had dropped them, she searched the pockets. All of them were empty. Where then had he put her ring of keys? She was sure he had taken them from her handbag.