‘We mustn’t judge,’ Amanda said. ‘Not without knowing the facts.’
‘Poor Haydn. She wouldn’t do it to him again, would she? Not even Heather could be that cruel.’
‘Rhys told me Haydn was intending to marry her, then she left him for Philip.’
‘Practically on the eve of their wedding, dear. They went to live in London, Philip and Heather. But she couldn’t cope with the life of wife to a travelling newspaper reporter. She loved London and having plenty of money at first, but then Helen came along, and being forced to stay in was hard for her to take, with Philip away so much. There was no one she could to go to for help. Heather isn’t very good at coping, I’m afraid.
‘Philip was offered the job of Far East correspondent, you know,’ Catrin went on, ‘and he turned it down. Heather told him she couldn’t live anywhere but London. Then she persuaded him to give up his career, threatening to leave him if he didn’t… After messing up his life she left him anyway. She came back here and fell into Haydn’s arms once more. Now it seems she’s off again.’
‘She probably can’t help it,’ mused Amanda. ‘She’s helpless in some ways, isn’t she? Just not good at coping with what life throws at her.’
‘Weak and helpless, afraid of her own shadow? Perhaps. Yet she has a remarkable skill at getting what she wants, and for landing on her own two feet. Poor Haydn,’ she said again.
Amanda groaned, the irony of the situation becoming apparent. ‘Just when Rhys and Philip are talking with some civility to each other, this is going to start the war all over again!’
The day had ended on a solemn note and they were both relieved when Philip didn’t appear that evening.
* * *
Philip had travelled with Heather as far as Cardiff and put her on the train back to Tri-nant, then he had gone to see Roy and Gillian.
‘I’m trying to sort out the facts for Amanda about you and your family,’ he explained. A fussy little Mrs Harris, covered with shiny jewellery and dressed as if for a summer ball, invited him inside and began to prepare a tray of tea and cakes. Sitting in the small ‘best room’ which was overcrowded with highly polished furniture, he talked to Roy. He gave out a little information, hoping Roy would fill in the rest.
When he realised Roy was not going to be forthcoming, he said with a sigh of impatience, ‘Roy, you know damned well you aren’t Amanda’s brother. Why keep up the pretence?’
‘What? Of course she’s my sister. Brought up separate, but that’s only because of the Children’s Homes’ rules. Close we are, always have been. What a lot of ol’ rubbish to suggest different!’
Silently, Philip handed him the details he had copied from the register. After Roy had read them, he said, ‘Convenient, wasn’t it, to go on pretending, so she’d help you and support you in between your prison sentences? Wanted a share of the cottage, did you? Afraid she’d find out you aren’t her brother before she’d been persuaded to give you half? Is that why you sent her off up into the mountains hoping she wouldn’t come back?’
‘What you talking about? Slander that is and I’ll damned well report you for that!’
Philip could see Roy was shaken.
‘Why else did you suggest it?’ he demanded.
‘Because she was on about how Rhys was cold and didn’t seem to want to know her no more. I only said that if she did that for him he’d at least be a friend and that was better than nothin’. That’s all I said, honest. I didn’t dream she’d go off there and then with them clouds gathering up for a storm. Where was her sense, man? Where was her sense?’
‘I believe you,’ Philip said. Then, ‘I just had to be sure.’
‘You’re right about the other thing, mind,’ Roy said. ‘I did find out she wasn’t my real sister. And I did hope for a share of the cottage. Not saying what I knew, that’s all I’m guilty of, man. I’d never have sent her into danger like that. She isn’t my sister but she’s the next best thing.’
‘And you’ve no objection to her being told?’
Roy shook his head sadly and asked, ‘Tell her you’ve only just told me, eh? Nothing lost by that. I’d hate her to think bad of me.’
When Philip got home that night he heard the usual coded knocks on the wall and went in. Amanda was holding a flimsy airmail letter in her hand.
‘It’s from Jessica,’ she told him. ‘She says Roy isn’t my brother. Oh Philip, I’ve been so stupid. I should have worked it out. If she was fifteen when I was born she’d have had to be very precocious to have had Roy eighteen months earlier.’
‘Actresses are notoriously unreliable when they talk about their age, but in this instance she’s been honest. Roy was the son of the couple who adopted you, Gareth and Frances Clifford. They died soon after you arrived and you were both put into care under the name Clifford.’ Philip handed her the paper on which he had written it down. ‘I’ve told Roy and he’s upset,’ he added.
‘He’s still my brother. We can’t forget each other after being brother and sister all our lives. I’ll write and tell him nothing has changed.’
‘So, dear, you’ve found your family. Now you can relax and forget all about who you were and enjoy who you are,’ Catrin said.
‘I still don’t know who my father was,’ she said.
‘Does it matter? He hasn’t shared your life so far. Even if we found him, he wouldn’t take on the role of father now.’
‘I was called Clifford; d’you think…?
‘No, I don’t think Gareth Clifford was your father. You aren’t even half-sister to Roy, best to face it,’ Philip said.
‘I still feel that Roy is my brother. We’ve shared so much over the years.’
‘He feels that too,’ Philip assured her. ‘He and Gillian are coming down at the weekend to talk to you.’
‘Instead of finding a family I’ve lost the only member of it I had.’ Amanda tried to smile at the irony.
‘And what about you, Philip?’ Catrin asked with a slight tilt of her white head. Her blue eyes looked piercingly into his. ‘Have you got any news for us?’
Philip stared from Catrin to Amanda in surprise. ‘News? Me? My life is as dull as the proverbial ditchwater and far less interesting.’ He looked ill at ease though, and after another glance at the sharp-eyed Catrin, he left.
* * *
When school began again, Amanda was no longer Jane’s teacher as she had moved to a higher class, but she saw her often and quickly realised that all was not well.
Once more, Heather was over-protective to the point that Jane was never allowed out of her sight for longer than was absolutely necessary. Heather would be at the gate long after school had begun and again twenty minutes before school ended. From Jane’s teacher, Amanda learned that the child spent a lot of time looking out of the window waving to the lonely figure standing just outside the gate and Amanda realised with a jerk of anger that it was five-year-old Jane reassuring her mother, and not the other way about, as most would presume.
Resolving to go and visit Heather after school in the hope that she could persuade her to talk, she told Catrin at lunchtime that she would be late.
‘I thought I’d call and see Heather and talk about how Jane is getting on in her new class,’ she said.
‘Not to find out if Heather and Philip are meeting in secret?’ Catrin queried.
Amanda put down the sandwich she was eating and said, ‘Well, I do feel there’s something wrong. Heather is back to her old possessiveness where Jane is concerned. I want to find out why, if I can.’ She told Catrin about Heather waiting at the gates as she had before, and Catrin frowned.
‘Then you think there might be something going on between Heather and Philip?’
Amanda shrugged. ‘I just want to see if I can help Jane before she slips back to her previous withdrawn state. I don’t want to pry, but it is part of the job as you know, solving any problems that affect the child’s progress when you can.’
‘Be careful, dear. Concern can easil
y be misconstrued.’
When Amanda had finished tidying the classroom after the afternoon session, she ran to the gate in time to catch Jane and Helen with their mother. Helen was talking animatedly, Jane was walking with her head hung low and Heather seemed unaware of either of them. What a sorry little group they make, Amanda thought as she caught them up.
‘Hey there,’ she called. ‘Any chance of a cup of tea at your house?’
‘Mam, can I put the biscuits out?’ Helen said at once. Heather turned and smiled.
‘Lovely. We haven’t had a chat for weeks.’
Amanda took both Helen and ]ane’s hands and talked to them as they walked to the house next to the Cwm Gwyn Arms.
The house wasn’t in its usual state of orderliness. A pile of washing covered one armchair, waiting to be ironed, and toys had been left where they had fallen. A bowl of flowers drooped miserably, long dead, and the grate was filled with the ashes of a previous fire.
‘Sit down, Heather,’ Amanda said. ‘Jane, Helen and I will make the tea.’ Going into the kitchen she found the same disorder. Unwashed china, potatoes and vegetables cut and left, with stale cabbage filling the air with its pungent and unpleasant smell. She didn’t say anything to Heather, who had come to the doorway and was surveying the chaos, she just found a teapot, washed a few cups and set a tray. She handed a plate to Helen and asked her to arrange the biscuits as prettily as she could.
‘No biscuits,’ Heather said wearily. ‘I forgot to go shopping today.’
‘Bread and jam then!’ said the capable Helen.
‘There’s so much to do,’ Heather excused.
‘Because you’ve let things slide. Jobs pile up if you don’t keep on top of them, don’t they?’ Amanda said rather sharply.
When the children had been given a snack of toast and marmite – there having been no jam – they went to play in the garden and Amanda sat beside Heather and put an arm on her shoulder. ‘Now, are you going to talk about it or would you like me to go home?’
‘I want to go back to Philip,’ Heather said.
‘But what about Haydn? What’s gone wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong. I just feel trapped with the wrong man. The girls should be growing up with their father. I want to move to Cardiff, with Philip.’
‘Why move to Cardiff?’ Amanda asked. ‘The children are settled in school and with their friends. You too are surrounded by friends. So why leave?’
‘I couldn’t live here with Philip after living here with Haydn. They all think Haydn’s my husband but we’ve never married, and Philip and I have never divorced.’
‘But you can’t do this, Heather. You can’t disrupt people’s lives like this. Haydn doesn’t deserve it and what about the girls? They look on Haydn as their father. Where is Haydn?’ she asked.
‘Staying with his mother for a couple of days while I think things out.’
‘Think about this carefully, Heather. About what it will do to Haydn, who’s been good to you. Think how it will affect little Jane to leave everything she knows, including the man who has been such a wonderful father to her. You can’t leave Haydn.’
‘I belong with Philip. Philip loves me.’
In what Amanda took as a dismissal, Heather leaned over and started the radiogram. Touching the edge of a record with the needle, the room was quickly filled with the lively sound of Frankie Laine singing ‘Sugar Bush’.
Walking down the road the sound followed her as Heather increased the volume.
* * *
The following day Amanda was surprised to see not Haydn, but Philip waiting outside school with Heather. She gathered her things and hurried out as soon as the children had gone, curious to hear an explanation.
‘We thought now the children are older they should know who their father is,’ Heather explained hurriedly. ‘Haydn understands.’
‘Oh I see.Yes. Probably a very good thing. Nice for you all.’ Amanda thought she had better shut up, she was babbling mindlessly.
In the hope of being able to help, and out of concern for the family, Catrin called on Heather when the children were at school. Presumably because she had telephoned first, she found the place in its usual neat state. Heather was playing for a few different audiences it seemed. Pathetic and helpless to some, efficient and misunderstood to others.
Heather said very little and Catrin did not stay long. She admired the garden, said what a pretty little cottage their home was and left in time to meet Amanda from school. She did learn, to her regret, that Heather and Haydn no longer shared a bedroom. Things seemed to be getting worse, she reported to Amanda.
Apart from talking it over with Catrin, Amanda didn’t discuss it with anyone, wanting to stay out of what was bound to become a difficult situation.
Over the following weeks Philip was frequently seen with Heather, Haydn and the girls, and if it worried Haydn he seemed not to show it, although, Amanda confided in Catrin, he didn’t seem quite as relaxed as usual.
‘Bound to be afraid, dear. She’s left him before and I doubt he’s ever felt secure. Pity they haven’t had another child. That might have made them legalise it all.’
The usual loud music was playing when Amanda called one evening with some photographs she wanted enlarging, and the door was open. She called, but there was no sign of the children, who were usually in the garden. She called again then went inside, intending to leave her photographs on the hall table. Haydn and Heather walked in immediately after her, unaware of her presence, and they were quarrelling.
‘If you love the children you can’t do this to them!’ Haydn was saying.
‘I haven’t any choice. He’s their father and they need him.’
‘I thought I’d provided all they needed in a father. Have I failed you? Or them?’
‘No, Haydn, but Philip belongs with us.’
Horrified and dreadfully embarrasssed by her unintentional eavesdropping, Amanda slipped out of the kitchen door and scuttled around the house out of sight, hoping she hadn’t been spotted. Running past the Cwm Gwyn Arms she saw Philip with Helen and Jane, all on bicycles, heading towards Heather and Haydn’s house. She hid around the corner of the building, feeling more like a criminal by the minute and when they had passed her, ran on. A nervous chuckle escaped her lips, as she remembered a similar situation in Rhys’s bungalow.
She heard Philip call her but she ignored him and hurried on. She didn’t want to speak to him. If what she had heard was confirmed, and he was taking Heather and the girls away from Haydn, then she had nothing to say to him.
Slipping through the front hedge, damaging the firethorn in her haste, she almost fell through the kitchen door.
‘A burglar, but a clumsy one I think,’ Rhys’s voice announced as he offered a hand to steady her. ‘What’s happened? You look as if you’ve had a nasty fright.’
‘I was in Heather and Haydn’s house thinking it was empty. I was only going to leave some photographs,’ she defended, when he began to frown in disapproval. ‘Well, they followed me in and from what I overheard before I ran out of the back door, Heather is leaving Haydn and going back to Philip!’
‘What!’ Rhys looked around as if searching for a weapon and Amanda tried to calm him.
‘Rhys, it’s nothing to do with you or me. It’s for Heather, Haydn and Philip to sort out.’
He relaxed and nodded. ‘But if I see Philip I’d want to attack him for what he’s done to Heather and Haydn.’
‘And what’s that then?’ Philip’s voice announced his presence and they both turned to the doorway where he stood, panting, looking huge and dangerous, his face a trifle red after his fast cycle ride back after depositing the girls. ‘Well Rhys? What d’you want to attack me for?’
‘For messing up Haydn and Heather again. That’s what!’
Amanda backed away from Philip’s anger and tucked herself into Catrin’s armchair. But Philip was unaware of her, he only saw Rhys.
‘For your information, I have n
o intention of getting back with my ‘devoted’ wife. She has been using the girls to try and persuade me. Her life is in a rut and, as with several times before, she doesn’t mind who she hurts to change it. She left me once before, you know. For a man who ran the local grocer’s shop. She came back fast enough though, when she realised she was expected to help him run it. Then there was Haydn, and he, poor fool, promised her a life of comfort.
‘Heather is selfish and devoted only to her own comfort,’ Philip went on, ‘so you can give over making excuses for her and blaming me! This is the tragedy of a silly woman who can’t make up her mind. She’s psychologically incapable of staying true to a commitment. This time I won’t be a part of it. Right?’
He walked forward in a crouch, his arms hanging loose but looking dangerous. ‘You’re so high and mighty, Rhys Falconbridge, always knowing what’s best, always judging others, usually when you only know half the facts. I didn’t ruin Haydn’s life, he did that on his own, by believing he could make Heather happy. I tried once and I won’t try again. I know when I’m wrong!’
‘I’ve always believed the reason Heather left you was because you didn’t want Jane,’ Rhys said quietly.
‘It was Heather who couldn’t cope with another baby. Little Helen had spent a lot of her time with people who would mind her for the afternoon or the odd evening while Heather went dancing or just listened to her records. She knew she wouldn’t get away with it with two children. The girls only had a play session or had a story read to them when I or someone else was there to do it. Heather blotted everything out with music.’ He continued to glare at Rhys. ‘There, now you have it. So, what are you going to do about it? Eh? Sort me out for being a wicked husband?’
Amanda sat there, white-faced, expecting at any moment that the shouting would become a fight, but Rhys’s voice was low and apologetic when he spoke and she felt the tension leave her body in a long slow breath.
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