The Tangled Web

by The Tangled Web (retail) (epub)

  ‘Are you trying to keep in teacher’s good books by inviting her to tea?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ll show you teacher’s good book,’ Jane said seriously. She took out her school book and proudly read to him.

  Amanda stood to leave. She hoped Rhys would follow but he did not. She left him still talking to Helen and Jane and it was Haydn who helped her fill her car with the boxes of jumble.

  10

  Roy was soon a highly popular citizen of Tri-nant village. He endeared himself to the elderly by working on the gardens of those less able to pay, for nothing more than a cup of tea and a slice of cake. A few of the more wealthy paid him extra in appreciation of his kindness.

  When he lost his bicycle, someone found him a replacement. He couldn’t explain that he had thrown it into a quarry some twenty miles away, having been involved in a accident while travelling home from a break-in! He said it had been stolen.

  ‘The biter bit, eh, Mand?’ he said cheerfully as he showed her the rather neglected Raleigh Sports he’d been given.

  The bicycle needed attention and with brazen nerve Roy asked Rhys to give him and the bicycle a lift to the Harris house so he and Mr Harris could do the repairs.

  Seeing a scar on Roy’s arm, Rhys said, ‘No ill effects from your knock with the car, apart from that graze?’ Rhys smiled as they put the bicycle in the back of the Landrover.

  ‘Knock with a car? I never had no knock. Pity I didn’t, I’d have been able to demand a new bike. No, pinched it was, and from the front garden under my bedroom window. Now there’s a nerve some have got, eh, Rhys?’

  Rhys stared at him hard, wanting him to know how certain he felt that Roy was the person he had hit that dark night a few weeks previously. Roy whistled insouciantly, apparently without a care.

  Mr Harris was pleased to see him and called for his wife as Roy stepped out of Rhys’s car and struggled with the bike. He began at once to sort out the tools they would need, humming cheerfully and chattering about how they would set about bringing it back to a good condition.

  ‘We’ve missed you, boy,’ he said, as he tugged to remove the back wheel. ‘A bit dull it is round here without your ol’ nonsense.’

  Gillian was working, but when he and Mr Harris had spent a few hours in the shed, stripping down the bicycle, he went to meet her.

  She was working in a shop, selling men’s clothing and when she stepped outside, her greeting was more ecstatic than her father’s had been, throwing her arms around him, her face held up to his for his kisses. They went back to the house where a meal had been prepared in his honour and then to the pictures.

  They had met from time to time, making love in the back of the car and once at night on a distant beach under a starry sky, but Gillian had despaired of them ever returning to the close, loving relationship they had enjoyed while he had been her mother’s lodger.

  ‘Won’t be long before we’re really together,’ he assured her as they finally parted. ‘Savings coming on a treat. But I got to go now. I was hoping to ride back on the bike but your Dad has stripped it so it looks like a Meccano set! There’s more parts to that bike now than even the inventor would believe. I’ll have to get the last bus and come back for it next week.’

  ‘Unless we can persuade Mam to let you stay the night,’ she said. ‘It’s very late for you to be out, knowing how tempted you’d be. I think it’ll be for your own good, for you to stay, don’t you?’

  ‘Very much for my own good,’ he grinned, then, arm in arm, they went to ask her mother.

  * * *

  Imperceptibly, a veneer of disapproval settled around Amanda as people wondered why she had not offered a home to her brother before he came to the village, and even now saw fit not to invite him to the cottage for more than the occasional cup of tea. In vain she explained that the cottage was not yet hers, that, as a lodger, she was not in the position to invite whom she wished to come for meals. Overheating this and misunderstanding her reasons, Catrin reassured her.

  ‘I enjoy Roy’s company, Amanda, dear. If you want to ask him here for a Sunday dinner you can, you know. You don’t have to ask each time.’

  But Amanda shook her head. He was her brother and she loved him but didn’t trust him not to be summing up the houses he would rob. He probably wouldn’t disappear after getting what he could from those who trusted him, no, he would face it out and deny any complicity. Dave was still around and the possibility was that, between the two of them, Roy and he could make sure of an alibi which, together with an attractive face and an honest expression, would clear Roy completely.

  ‘What about asking him for Sunday for our celebration lunch, dear?’ Catrin suggested and Amanda agreed; it would have seemed churlish to refuse.

  ‘I still wonder if he was the one who broke into those houses some months ago,’ she admitted to Philip and Catrin one day.

  It was July 1954 and they were planning a meal in celebration of the end of rationing. At last, almost nine years after war had ended, the beige and green books were being burned in the streets, or stored away as unnecessary souvenirs of a time most would never forget.

  Rhys came less often to the cottage, now. The typing he had been bringing for Amanda was apparently done. Jessica Maybury was often seen around the village and Amanda presumed she was staying with Rhys, although she didn’t ask. She would rather not have her suspicions confirmed. The idea of them together was a pain which increased every time their names were mentioned.

  ‘I haven’t seen Rhys for a while, is he away again?’ Philip asked.

  ‘No, but I think he’s busy working on his book, and content at home. While Jessica’s there he doesn’t need his aunt’s company as much as usual.’ She spoke lightly but Philip was not fooled.

  ‘Jessica isn’t living there if that’s what you’re thinking. And,’ he added, ‘don’t think her constant presence in Tri-nant is Rhys’s doing. She spends her time asking about you.’

  ‘About me? Why should she be interested in someone she doesn’t know?’

  ‘Strange, isn’t it?’ There was something in Philip’s voice that made Amanda stare at him, but he didn’t explain.

  ‘Does she know something about my family? Perhaps some scandal, and she’s afraid of being involved if I find out?’

  ‘Perhaps. Although with someone like Jessica, I doubt we’ll ever get any straight answers.’

  They were in the garden behind the cottage and Catrin was busy cooking dinner, to which Philip had been invited.

  Catrin had made a sponge pudding with butter, to which she had added fresh fruits and would serve with a jugful of thick cream. From the oven a tantalising smell of roasting lamb issued forth, and fresh mint chopped ready for the sauce was adding to the promise of a delicious meal. All the vegetables were from the garden, tended by Philip, and the first course was melon sprinkled with ginger and decorated with slices of orange and a few grapes. Although the real celebration would be on the Sunday, with Rhys and Roy invited, this too was a fitting tribute to the final end of austerity.

  Since the day when he had spoken of his marriage to Heather and its devastating end, Philip had spent a lot of time with Amanda. With the unhappy situation between herself and Rhys unresolved, Amanda was glad of his company. She watched as he finished tidying the flower bed and collected the last handfuls of weeds, and she waved to him as he slipped through the hedge, to return as a dinner guest an hour later. She put away the tools and stood for a while in the quiet garden, thinking of the rapidly approaching day when all this would be her own.

  How would she feel with both Catrin and Philip gone? They had become an important part of her life and the resulting loneliness was a fear. What if someone unfriendly moved in next door? Then living alone might not be as pleasant as she imagined.

  Not for the first time, she wondered if the solution was to invite Catrin to stay. Somehow she knew that was not what Catrin had in mind, although she couldn’t see any other way ‘fate’ might intervene. There wa
s still time to work something out, she decided, as she went indoors. But not the solution she dreamed of, with Rhys sharing her life.

  When she went into the dining room she saw the table was set for four.

  ‘Who else is coming?’ she asked Catrin.

  ‘Just us four, dear.’

  Amanda’s heart sank. Rhys was invited for Sunday. Surely Catrin hadn’t also invited him today, expecting him to eat and be sociable with Philip?

  ‘Yes, dear. I did. I thought it was time they were grown up and faced each other. You never know, they might even agree on something!’

  ‘That you’re supplying an excellent meal, maybe! I can’t see them seeing eye to eye on anything else!’ Amanda groaned.

  She dressed with care, choosing a summery green suit which flattered her bronzed skin and emphasised her blue eyes. Confidence was badly needed tonight if she were to avoid another quarrel. She determined to stay out of it and allow the men to find common ground. Surely they would, if only out of respect for Catrin?

  Philip was first to arrive, wearing casual slacks and an open-necked shirt. At Catrin’s insistence, Amanda sat with him while she attended to the meal. She heard Rhys before she saw him. Her nerves were jangled and the pulse-beat in her neck increased alarmingly although she tried to stay calm.

  He had come through the back door and had spoken briefly to Catrin. Entering the room, he stopped on seeing Philip. The two men looked at each other, both waiting for the other’s reaction. Rhys glanced at Amanda, suspicion in his eyes. She pleaded silently for him to stay, not to walk away.

  ‘Hello, Rhys,’ she said after a long pause. ‘I’m glad you could come. Catrin has gone to such a lot of trouble.’ There was a warning in her voice. He mustn’t leave. She gripped her chair tightly as he hesitated, then to her relief he removed his coat and sat down. The urge to run into the kitchen, away from the tension of the meeting, almost won over her determination to stay. She offered drinks and the men visibly relaxed.

  Catrin called to say the meal was ready and once the four of them sat down, things improved. Catrin ignored the possibility that the men wouldn’t speak and soon involved them in conversation. If she doesn’t solve the problem she’s at least achieved a temporary lull in the fighting, Amanda thought admiringly.

  Philip mentioned that as the one-year lease on his cottage was almost up he would soon have to search for accommodation.

  ‘Like me,’ Catrin said brightly.

  ‘Catrin, you know I’ll—’ Amanda began.

  ‘Don’t say it,’ her friend interrupted. ‘I know you’d offer me a place with you, but it wouldn’t be fair. One day you might want to sell, or invite someone else to share with you. And there’s Roy to be considered. No. I want you to feel free to plan your life and accept changes as they occur.’

  ‘But what will you do?’ Rhys asked.

  ‘Too early to say, but things are working out.’

  ‘What things?’ Rhys wanted to know but, as usual, Catrin wouldn’t say.

  When Catrin and Amanda went to prepare coffee, Catrin laughed like the conspirator she was. ‘D’you think it’s working?’ she whispered.

  ‘At least they’re talking to each other,’ Amanda smiled. ‘Why are you doing this? Does it matter if they don’t agree?’

  ‘It would be nicer for me if they did.’

  ‘Catrin?’ Amanda looked at her with a suspicious frown. ‘What are you up to?’

  ‘Me, dear? Nothing. Nothing at all.’ But she gave one of her saucy winks.

  Philip left early but Rhys stayed on. He asked Amanda if she would type some more pages for him. ‘There are a few changes the editor recommends and I’d like them sent off without too much delay.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, thankful he felt able to ask.

  ‘Can you come and fetch them tonight?’

  ‘If you wait while I help Catrin with the dishes.’

  ‘Amanda, dear. I told you this was a dinner party and no hostess expects her guests to help with the dishes!’

  ‘But I live here,’ Amanda laughed.

  ‘Tonight you’re my guest. Now go on, the pair of you.’

  Lights were showing when they reached the bungalow and Amanda stepped back when Rhys put his key in the lock. What if Jessica were there? She steeled herself as the door opened but her fears were groundless. Yet she stood in the hall, unsure of how she was expected to behave.

  ‘Are you in a hurry?’ Rhys asked when he returned with some untidily scribbled pages. ‘We could go through what I’ve done so far if you’ve time?’

  ‘I’m in no hurry.’ She took off the light coat she wore and went through to the lounge. As she began to sit, Rhys pulled her towards him.

  ‘Was this evening arranged to introduce me to the idea of you and Philip announcing your engagement?’

  She was so surprised by his question she took a moment before saying, ‘Of course not!’ Then some devil made her add, ‘What if it was? It’s no business of yours!’

  ‘I’d hate you to get hurt.’

  ‘There’s no reason to suppose I would. Philip has a lot to offer.’

  ‘Ask Heather about their marriage!’

  ‘Ask Philip about their marriage!’ she retorted. ‘He has a story too!’

  ‘Talking about stories, did he tell you he wrote a story about her uncle, bringing out accusations of fraud and deceit? Did he tell you that the uncle killed himself? Heather was very fond of the man, he was almost like a father to her. Yet given a choice between his wife’s peace of mind and a damned good story, he chose the story!’

  ‘I’d better go.’

  ‘Yes, you better had.’

  As she opened the door he looked at her, his brown eyes serious. ‘If only things had been different.’

  ‘How different?’ she demanded.

  ‘I can’t tell you that.’

  ‘It must run in the family,’ she said in exasperation. ‘You and Catrin are both fond of mysteries and half-said trifles.’ But she knew he was thinking of his work, that barrier to loving her, erected by himself with the help of Heather and Philip.

  * * *

  Walking past Philip’s door a few days later, Amanda heard typing and wondered if it meant Philip had taken her advice and was starting to work again. If he was good, and the job he had previously held suggested he was, then he should be able to start again on a journalistic career.

  She asked Catrin about the story he had written that Rhys had mentioned with such bitterness.

  ‘Rhys can hardly blame Philip for doing the job he was paid for,’ Catrin protested. ‘It was a court case and every newspaper followed it. If Philip hadn’t written it someone else would. It’s unfair of Rhys to hold that against him, dear.’ She sighed and went on, ‘But then, Rhys and Philip have never tried to understand each other. They haven’t talked through their differences, they seem to prefer prolonging them.’

  * * *

  The clatter of Philip’s typewriter filled the air every time she passed his house. She also had been busily typing, completing the work Rhys had given her. She was dismayed to see the same pages over and over again as he scribbled out and added new thoughts as they occurred to him. ‘He’ll never finish at this rate!’ she complained to Catrin.

  She was on her way to the bungalow one day to leave the newly-typed pages when, after a few yards, Philip called, and caught up with her.

  ‘I’m off to the pub, d’you fancy coming?’

  ‘I’m putting these through Rhys’s door but if you can wait, I’ll be glad to.’

  At the gate of her destination they stopped, both seeing Jessica at the same time. She was walking towards them and to Amanda’s surprise, smiled and joined them.

  ‘Hello – er – Amanda Brighton?’

  ‘Clifford,’ Amanda corrected.

  Jessica turned her lovely eyes to look at Philip. ‘And you’re the man who came with her to seek some mysterious relations, aren’t you?’ she asked Philip.

  ‘That�
��s right. And you’re the lady who said she couldn’t help. Had any more thoughts?’

  ‘How could I possibly help? I’m an American.’

  ‘Your parents weren’t,’ Philip said, watching her closely. ‘They were from Tri-nant, weren’t they? You were born here too.’

  ‘Where did you get such a preposterous story?’ Jessica laughed.

  ‘According to my enquries, your name is—’

  ‘Oh dear, you sound like an investigator. Now what could you be investigating about poor little me?’

  ‘Not an investigator, just a defunct reporter with contacts. I’m told your real name is Sian Talbot.’

  ‘You have been busy, haven’t you?’ she drawled in a bored voice. ‘So what? It wasn’t a name I felt happy with. It didn’t suit me so I changed it. But that doesn’t mean I can help find your goddamned family so forget it, will you?’

  She hurried off and Amanda and Philip looked at each other, Amanda confused by the look of distress on the woman’s face.

  ‘Run after her,’ Philip urged. He too had seen the woman’s distraught expression. ‘Go on, ask her again. I’ll give this stuff to Rhys. Go, quickly before you lose the chance!’

  Without understanding why, Amanda followed Jessica and walked beside her along the lane leading to the school.

  ‘Who are you?’ Amanda asked softly. ‘You do know something about me, don’t you? Why won’t you help me?’

  She was startled when Jessica turned sharply and glared at her. ‘I’m your mother, damn you! I thought you’d never find me!’

  Amanda was stunned. She reached out a hand to grasp the branches of the roadside hedge. ‘My mother?’ she gasped, staring into clear blue eyes which were very like her own. Tears welled up as she thought of the thousand ways she had imagined this scene. Never in her dreams had she envisaged standing facing such bitterness as she saw now in Jessica’s expression.