‘You were hoping for a cousin?’
‘Oh, that? It doesn’t matter. I’ve resigned myself to the truth. It’s too long ago and the family was too small. It has died out and I’ve been following a false trail.’
Catrin was home and they went in to tell her about their wasted journey. Rhys said nothing about knowing Jessica Maybury and Amanda followed his lead.
‘Never mind, dear,’ Catrin patted her hand affectionately. ‘There’s still a chance someone in the village will know something.’
‘Perhaps.’ She shrugged disconsolately and Catrin looked at her shrewdly, guessing that Amanda had lost more than the hope of finding a cousin.
She wondered if they had argued, or if Rhys had just realised they could never be more than friends. Either way, Amanda was subdued and unhappy.
Amanda didn’t see Rhys in the weeks that followed. She tried not to think of him or imagine what might have been. It was a blessing to have the new job on which to concentrate, and the dreams of Rhys loving her, and of finding a family, were both locked away in a corner of her mind.
Jane was slowly accepting her as a person to trust. She was beginning to open her shell and take notice of some of the fascinating discoveries the classroom offered. She spoke very little but instead of staying in her corner, had begun to edge nearer and nearer to the group, especially when it was story time. Amanda made sure she had a view of the pictures and the puppets she frequently used, and was included in the happy communal activity.
She learned the date of Roy’s release from prison from the Probation Officer, Eric Green. She didn’t give him the chance to be rude, just asked for the date and time. Then she wrote to Roy at Gillian’s parents’ address wishing him well and asking him to arrange a time and place where they could meet and catch up with each other’s news. She had written to the prison regularly but had not received a reply. His allowance of letters was presumably going to Gillian, she thought with sadness. His most recent time out of prison had lost her a friend and a brother. It was frightening as well as hurtful to think she might lose touch with Roy altogether.
After school one Friday, she posted another letter to him and knocked on Catrin’s door. It was opened by Philip.
‘Come in,’ he said, ‘Catrin’s making pancakes. We hoped you’d call.’ He was wearing old, shabby trousers and a jumper with holes in it. He apologised for his untidiness. ‘I’ve been winter-pruning the apple trees,’ he said. ‘Catrin called me in for pancakes and tea.’ He washed his hands and sat at the table as Catrin came from the stove, flushed from cooking.
‘Tuck in,’ she invited. ‘They’re best eaten warm.’ She joined them and they sat companionably in the fast fading light.
‘How did you get on with the enquiry?’ Philip asked. ‘Learn anything, did you?’
‘No luck,’ Amanda groaned. ‘The woman was an actress from America, her name wasn’t Beynon and she said she has no family here.’
‘Ah,’ Philip said, nodding wisely, ‘but we all know what actresses are for changing their names!’
‘She would have remembered her own name when I said it,’ Amanda argued. But, she wondered, had she actually used it? The woman hadn’t listened to a word she said anyway. She had been too busy looking goggle-eyed at Rhys!
‘Why not go there again?’ Philip suggested. ‘Perhaps if we asked the right questions, the right answers will pop up? My newspaper sources definitely reveal that she has connections in the area.’
Yes, Amanda thought, Rhys was her connection, not a family called Beynon. She did not mention Rhys recognising the woman; if he hadn’t admitted to knowing her it was best she said nothing.
‘It wouldn’t hurt to talk to her again,’ Catrin coaxed.
Amanda was filled with dread at seeing Jessica Maybury again yet at the same time curious enough to agree. She wouldn’t want Rhys to think she was prying though, but as her reason was a genuine one and supported by Philip and Catrin, wasn’t a second visit justified?
‘Let’s go now.’ Philip stood and collected Amanda’s coat.
‘You’re more enthusiastic than Amanda!’ Catrin laughed.
‘Be careful you don’t unearth a few skeletons of your own!’
Like Rhys had, Amanda thought uneasily.
They went in Amanda’s car. She had sold the Austin and treated herself, spending almost four hundred pounds on a brand new Ford Popular. Philip’s only transport at that time was an ancient bicycle.
As she parked she saw there was a light in the window and suffered panic at the thought that Rhys might be there. But she was reassured by realising there was no Landrover outside. The door was opened quickly, as if Jessica was expecting someone. Amanda stepped back and left Philip to explain.
‘We’re looking for someone called Beynon,’ he began. ‘It’s a long time ago but we thought you might be able to help us?’
Amanda saw the woman stiffen as if the name had surprised her. She glanced at Amanda and recognition dawned.
‘Beynon? There’s no one of that name here.’ She turned to Amanda. ‘Weren’t you the woman who called here with Rhys?’
‘Yes,’ Amanda said, then gabbling somewhat in her haste to get out what she wanted to say before the door was shut, she added, ‘I understand someone connected with the Beynons who once lived in Tri-nant was here. She might be called Sian Talbot and would be about forty years old.’
‘That lets me out for heaven’s sake!’ Jessica snapped. ‘I’m nowhere near that age!’
‘I’m sorry, I wasn’t suggesting—’
‘Why do you think I can help? What d’you want with her anyway?’ Her American accent was strong as she added, ‘What in hell are you pestering me for?’
Amanda hesitated and Philip answered for her. ‘Someone we know is looking for her family. We thought this Sian Talbot might be able to help.’
‘Sorry, I don’t know anything about any Talbots or Beynons.’
She disappeared inside and Philip and Amanda looked at each other as the sound of the slammed door echoed around them.
‘Did we touch a nerve then?’ Philip wondered.
‘She doesn’t fit anyone we know about. She’s only about ten years older than me.’
‘Oh, I think she’s more than that. Could she be a cousin, a decendant of Tom?’
‘She’d have said, surely? And if she’s from America, how could she be expected to know about someone so long ago? Oh Philip, it’s hopeless. Let’s go back and report our failure to Catrin.’ They got into the car with Philip in the driving seat. He started the engine but didn’t immediately drive away.
‘Get married, have lots of children and start a family of your own,’ he advised. He put a hand on hers. ‘Are you open for offers?’ he asked softly. In the glow from the fascia his eyes had that piratical glint in the ruggedly handsome face; that hint of recklessness which made her curious about his past, but she wouldn’t encourage him to talk about marriage and children. That would mislead him into thinking some interest was implied.
He was charming but he made no demands on her heart. She enjoyed his company but he didn’t pull at her emotions like Rhys, although in many ways he was more considerate. It was a difficult moment and she decided to treat it humorously. ‘Would you expect to be waited on in true chauvinistic style?’ she asked lightly.
‘Never,’ he said with mock severity.
‘Would you complain if I ruined the dinner?’
‘I’d eat every scrap.’
‘Would you tell me I’m wonderful, even when I’m not?’
‘Constantly.’
‘I’ll put you on my list.’
It was late when Amanda reached the bedsit and for the first time she had found the journey long and boring. It might be an idea to find accommodation in the village. There was no difference between a bedsit here or there. It would be further away from Roy when he was released, but distance could be measured in more than miles.
It would certainly shorten her day and make
it easier to involve herself in village life. She decided to place an advertisement in the post office window.
Perhaps I’ll advertise for a family too, she thought foolishly. There’s no chance of my finding one. As for beginning one of her own as Philip had suggested, first she’d have to fall in love. Rhys was the only possibility there, and Catrin had made it clear he was not the type to settle and raise a family.
She picked up the photograph of Rhys. Inheriting the cottage had led her to many new friends. Besides Rhys, there was Catrin and Philip, plus Rhys’s friends the Jameses. So why did she feel more lonely than ever before?
She counted out the possibilities on her fingers. Her brother no longer needing her had left a void. The faint chance of finding someone of her own had made her dissatisfied. The attractions of Rhys Falconbridge had woken her from her passive acceptance of what life held. Better if that solicitor’s letter had never found her, she thought as she settled unhappily to sleep.
6
Roy was accepted into the Harris household like a longlost son. Gillian’s story that he had been abandoned by first his mother then his sister had truly aroused her family’s sympathies. The fact that he had been in and out of prison since a child had been hurriedly brushed aside, a result of no one caring.
‘Cuddles,’ Mrs Harris said firmly. ‘If you’re lacking in cuddles when you’re little, you can’t never be happy!’
The room he was given was at the back of the house with a window looking out over wasteland on which an old hut stood, a relic from the war when it had been used for civil defence exercises. Other houses backed on to the square of untidy grass on which people walked their dogs, children played and courting couples promised each other the moon.
To Roy it was heaven, sweet-scented and luxurious after the weeks spent in prison. The greatest joy, as always after a spell inside, was having a room to himself.
Plump Mrs Harris bustled around making sure he lacked nothing, searching for ways to please and surprise him. Roy was not very tall but as she was a little under five feet she had to stretch up to hug him. Hugs he would never lack while he was living under her roof, she constantly reminded him. He loved it.
Although he was still hurt by Amanda’s refusal to give him a bed, he couldn’t help being glad she had not. She had never been able to completely hide her disapproval. She had not been an enthusiastic cook either, and Mrs Harris seemed determined to fatten him into a portly young man to match her plump young daughter, Gillian.
Mr Harris did his bit to make sure Roy felt at home. He worked on the railway as a porter and on his days off he would encourage Roy to work with him on jobs about the house, to make him feel a part of it. He looked at Roy proudly as he tended the garden, chopped wood and, with Mr Harris’s help, mended an old bicycle given to him for his use.
He didn’t work Roy very hard, always saying, ‘Now steady on, boy, don’t go at it bald-’eaded, there’s all tomorrow not touched yet.’ Roy was the son he never had.
Roy had said goodbye to Dave when they had parted at the café near the prison, and he was really determined not to fail. With his debt to Dave paid off and a couple of hundred pounds hidden for when he felt able to collect it, he knew he stood a chance of keeping out of prison, especially with Mr and Mrs Harris treating him like a deserving case and Gillian treating him like the lead in a romantic film.
His determination to forget his life of crime grew and was partly thanks to Gillian for her support. A greater part of his new-found strength was a childish wish to blame Amanda for not giving him the right encouragement on past occasions. He had to prove he was not weak but lacked the right kind of help. Twice in the first week he succumbed to temptation, each time a purse resting on the top of a shopping bag he considered fair game. It would be a lesson for the owners and lessons had to be paid for.
The orderly routine of the Harris’s houshold was balm after the regime of prison but after only a couple of weeks it began to pall. He couldn’t admit it to anyone but himself, but he needed excitement and a use for his particular skills.
Staring out of his window late at night he almost unthinkingly began to plan a night’s work. The self-destructive need to take a chance and try one more night of daring break-ins was strong and sometimes when his need of that foolish excitement frightened him he would cringe under the blankets and wish Amanda were there to talk to. Gillian, sweet as she certainly was, couldn’t understand this need to dare, to try and beat ‘them’, to come home with some stolen item and laugh at his own audacity.
He would have been all right if Dave hadn’t found him, he was sure of that. Pity he had taken to calling into that particular café each day after going down to look for work.
Dave had a rough idea of where his friend was staying and having located the Labour Exchange, had guessed with startling accuracy the exact café among several in which Roy would choose to while away the afternoon. He stood at the corner one morning and waited for the arrival of Roy, all the time watching the crowds for the opportunity to pick up something of value. Like Roy he was adept at grabbing a woman’s purse from the top of her shopping basket.
He missed Roy as he came around the corner and entered the Labour Exchange but saw him on the way out. He was looking pleased with himself.
Roy had found a job. Only washing-up in a café, but it was approved by his Probation Officer and the employers knew about his record so there was a good chance of sorting his life out. He thought he would stay for as long as he could with the Harrises; it was cheap, they certainly looked after him, and Gillian was in love with him and gave him the adoration he needed.
Optimistic thoughts danced in his head as he left the Labour Exchange and turned to go back to the Harrises. No cup of tea and an idle afternoon today. He was excited at being able to tell Gillian his good news. She was so enthusiastic and it was flattering how proud she was of his smallest achievement.
The smile faded as Dave moved away from the wall he was leaning against and called to him. But his confidence remained high. He could cope with Dave’s persuasion, easy. They’d have a bit of a confab then he’d run off to tell Gillian his good news.
‘Hi there, Dave. What you doin’ round here then?’
‘Looking for you, boy, looking for you.’
‘I thought we’d agreed not to see each other again. I’ve got Gillian, see, and she doesn’t like me meeting up with pals, you know what women are like, jealousy I suppose, Dave.’
‘I’m in trouble Roy, and I need your help to get out of it.’
‘If it’s money, well you know I can’t do nothin’. I pay Gillian’s mother and that about finishes me off. Sorry mate, but I can’t help, honest.’
‘I owe the bookies and you know how rough some of them can play. Got to have fifty by Saturday and you’re my only hope.’
‘Fifty? I couldn’t find fifty fags!’ Roy laughed.
‘This is serious stuff, Roy my old mucker. I told them if I can’t raise it you’re my partner, see, so you have to help, right?’
With such a threat, it didn’t take long for Dave to rouse enthusiasm for ‘one last go’ in Roy. Dave played on the man’s need for the excitement as well as his fears of being attacked for debts for which he was not responsible.
‘A job washing up?’ Dave sounded horrified. ‘You’ve been had, mate. That’s not a job, it’s a damned insult!’ After two cups of tea, laced with slyly-added alcohol, Roy agreed with him. Within fifteen minutes, he was already planning how he would get out of the house and over the waste ground. Dave stopped him.
‘I’ve got a better plan. This time we have to have a sound alibi. I’ve sorted all that out. Now, tell me again about this girl of yours.’
Much later, when their plans were made, Roy walked over the ground they intended to work, storing in his mind every alleyway, every short cut, the gardens with broken fences, the weak hedges where he could push through and disappear.
When he went home he invited Gillian to go to the pic
tures to celebrate his fortune in finding a job.
‘It’s only washing-up in a rotten old café, love, seven in the morning till five at night with a couple of hours off during the day. But it’s a start. And they know all about me so there’s no fear of something being said and ruining it all.’
‘I was going out with Mary,’ she said doubtfully.
‘Great, love, bring her an’ all.’ Then he started to complain about a stomach upset, running to the lavatory several times with desperate urgency. He assured Gillian it was all right and nothing would spoil their celebration.
There were only two seats together and Roy insisted Gillian sat with her friend. It couldn’t be better. It was working beautifully. Going to the toilet was amusing as such things often are and he waited until the girls were involved in the film before darting out of the side entrance through the fire door, leaving it slightly ajar and going to where he planned to meet up with Dave.
Dave was waiting in the doorway of a derelict house and, taking the stuff from him, Roy ran as fast as he could to the garden shed where they were hiding it. Dave returned to the dancehall and looked for the girl he had danced with four times.
Neither had been missed. Each would have someone swearing they couldn’t have been away long enough to rob houses. The police would begin to think there was another thief working the area.
Roy was puffing a little when he returned to his seat but that was put down to his stomach upset and regretfully he agreed when Gillian insisted they went home early.
Their system was so successful they were unable to resist trying it again. One robbed a couple of houses, the other stashed the stuff away so he wouldn’t get caught with it on him, and both were absent for less time than was needed for a burglary. They both had an alibi of sorts, sufficient at least to add doubt to the police when they were questioned. After a couple of times they didn’t bother to use the cinema plan, going out at night was so easy, and with the unsuspecting Harrises asleep Roy began to enjoy his return to ‘what you do best’ as Dave put it.
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