by Stead Jones
‘Tell us, for heaven’s sake,’ I said.
‘Tell us what, then?’ Dewi asked.
‘He went to see the man on the boat,’ I said.
‘Oh, yes – Ashton Vaughan,’ Gladstone said lightly. ‘I paid him a call this evening.’
‘What did he say?’ I asked. ‘Tell us…’
Gladstone sat down. ‘I had a word with Martha after tea,’ he said, brushing his hair clear of his forehead. I asked her about Ashton Vaughan. She told me a lot…’
‘They fought with daggers,’ I said, getting it in quickly. ‘Him and his brother.’
Dewi whistled, high pitched. ‘Daggers? Never…’
‘It’s true,’ Gladstone said. ‘They had this fight, then Ashton vanished into thin air. Never been back till today.’
‘Where’d he go?’ Maxie asked.
‘Oh – everywhere. Australia. America. All over. He can speak six languages – fluently…’
‘Did he say so?’
Gladstone nodded. We all considered this.
‘Including Welsh?’ Maxie asked.
‘He’s been a sailor and a rancher…’
I envied Gladstone now, having heard this before any of us.
‘A gold prospector, too…’
‘Did he find the lost mine?’ Maxie asked.
We ignored the question.
‘Went away in 1920, and this is his first time back.’
‘Fought his own brother?’ Dewi said. ‘With daggers – seriously?’
‘By the harbour,’ I said.
‘And he’s going to live on the old Moonbeam, too?’
Gladstone’s face softened. ‘“Only the old Moonbeam for me”, he said. Never said a word about his brother in that big house…’
‘Marius Vaughan’s a big bastard,’ Dewi put in. ‘Our Tada worked for him once. Hard, our Tada said. Hard like iron.’
‘Won’t take his own brother back?’ I asked.
‘Ashton hasn’t asked him,’ Gladstone said. ‘He told me he wasn’t going to lick any man’s boots. Said he wasn’t a pauper.’ He thought about that for a moment, then he added, ‘Ashton Vaughan’s a sick man, though. You can tell by his eyes…’
‘Has he got malaria, then?’ Maxie asked.
We ignored that as well.
‘Years and years wandering away from his native land. “Funny what a grip the old place has on you,” he said to me. He had to come back, you see.’ The electric went out as Gladstone said this. There was no more money in the house for the meter so we stirred up the fire and made do with that. ‘He was sitting alone in the cabin there – looking at the stove. I put a fire in for him. He didn’t seem to have anything, except bottles…’
‘Glad to see you, then?’
‘Oh – very pleased. I took him half a loaf, but I don’t suppose he’ll eat it. Said he’d lost the taste for solid food. Then he said he’d been to a public school. Just like that. I didn’t ask him or anything…’
‘What’s a public school?’ Maxie asked. ‘Where they send you if you’re bad?’
‘A boarding school,’ Gladstone explained. ‘In England. Cost his father a fortune, he said, and gave him the manners of a gentleman and the brain of a Chinese sea-cook. That’s what he said.’
‘That’s a good one,’ Dewi commented. ‘Son of a bloody Chinese sea-cook.’
‘No need to swear,’ said Gladstone.
‘What else, then?’ I asked.
Gladstone brushed back his long hair. ‘He asked a lot of questions about people who used to live in the town. I didn’t know half of them. He said, “I don’t know why I’ve come back, kid” – he called me “kid” all the time. “I don’t know why I’ve come back – there’s nothing for me here…”’
‘What did you say?’
‘I told him this was his native town, like. I didn’t know what to say. “Is that reason enough, kid?” he said. I said I thought it was. I was only talking, like.’ Gladstone jabbed away at the dying fire. ‘Martha told me I didn’t want to have anything to do with the Vaughans. Said she remembered Ashton Vaughan. He was rough, she said. Wicked. But – I’ll tell you this now – I don’t think he’s rough.’ He turned to me. ‘Lew – I thought he was a man with a bit of style to him, somehow. Know what I mean?’
I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I nodded. The man aboard the Moonbeam was important now, and exciting.
‘What does he want us to do, though?’ I said.
Gladstone stared reflectively at the fire for a moment. ‘“This bloody little town, God damn it” – that’s what he said.’
‘Said that?’ Dewi too had forgotten we’d had our boat pinched by one of the Vaughans.
‘“If I’ll be needing friends anywhere,” he said, “I’ll need them here.” He wants us,’ Gladstone ended, ‘to be his friends.’
We crouched on the hearth and held our hands out to the fire, suddenly cold all of us with the news. Gladstone looked very pale and very serious.
‘He’s right, isn’t he? Bloody little town. He meant they’re all hypocrites here. That’s what he meant…’
‘All lick my ass and money,’ Dewi said fiercely.
‘What did he say about his brother?’ I asked.
‘Not a word.’
‘The fight, then?’
‘Nothing.’
‘With knives?’ Maxie said. ‘That right, Lew?’
‘Polly told me. She’d know…’
Gladstone broke in, ‘Martha said there was another brother. Had a funny name, she said. You know Martha – every name that’s not Gwen and Mair and Elin is real comic. Maybe that’s why she gave me Gladstone.’ He stirred the fire up. ‘You know what she said? She said that one on the Point – Marius Vaughan – shot this other brother dead!’
The plain words stunned us all.
‘A bloody murderer,’ Dewi managed to say at last. ‘But – why didn’t they hang him, then?’
‘An accident,’ Gladstone said grimly. ‘They said it was an accident.’
‘A bloody murderer, though,’ Dewi said again.
‘Suppose,’ Maxie said, ‘the one on the boat wants us to help him kill the one on the Point?’
‘Don’t be bloody daft,’ Dewi replied. ‘That would make us assessors before the fact…’
‘Bloody hell,’ Maxie said, ‘would it?’
Martha came in at that point. We went home. But I didn’t get much sleep that night for thinking of the man lying there alone aboard the Moonbeam, one of the Vaughans of Porthmawr, the man who had come back, the man who had asked us to be his friends. It was exciting, all of it, but sad too, like the sounds the curlews made in the harbour at dusk.
VI
I woke up in the morning, full of sadness and pity for Ashton Vaughan, and went down to Meira in the kitchen.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘it’s started.’ And before I could knock the top off my boiled egg I was hearing how Ashton Vaughan hadn’t been lying there all alone on the damp boards of the old Moonbeam while the heedless town snored. He’d been taken to the police station instead because he’d fallen into the harbour and been fished out, like a cod, with a boathook. ‘Drunk as a monkey,’ Meira added. ‘Wet as a conger eel.’
‘Is he all right?’ I said, but not anxiously. I was less sad about him all of a sudden.
We went down to the Moonbeam later that morning. We didn’t expect to find him there, but he was, looking more ravaged than ever, the furrows deeper in his face. He was trying, with trembling fingers, to heat up some water for a shave.
Gladstone led us in and took over straight away.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked anxiously.
‘Not so loud,’ Ashton Vaughan said. ‘By God, are you all in hobnailers or what?’
‘Do you feel all right, Mr Vaughan?’
‘Damp,’ he replied, ‘but undismayed. Fell like a brick into the harbour.’
‘We heard,’ Gladstone said. The children were chattering away so he ordered them up on deck after war
ning them against falling over the side.
‘Thanks, kid,’ Ashton said. ‘You’re a very considerate young man.’
‘Did you have too much to drink?’ Gladstone asked.
‘Considerate and inquisitive,’ Ashton replied. He pulled at his long, red nose and looked intently at each of us in turn.
‘Bet you’ve heard some words spilt about drink in your time, eh? The evils of demon alcohol.’ He held up trembling hands. ‘When in doubt blame the old red beer…’
He was sniping at us, I knew, but he did it quite gently. We were Sons of Temperance to a man, after all – practically experts on the Evils of Drink.
‘Any long service medals in the Band of Hope? Thought so. One sip, boys bach, and you’re a goner…’
‘I’ve had a drink,’ Dewi bragged.
Ashton began to lather his face. ‘Get thee from me, Satan,’ he said through the soap.
‘I was drunk as a lord one afternoon…’
Ashton winked at Gladstone and me. ‘What on – wine gums?’ Dewi had asked for that with his boasting, I thought.
‘It was whisky,’ he replied, giving us a side glance because he was lying. ‘Nearly a bottle full…’
‘Jesus!’ Ashton said, ‘you’re for the high jump straight off.’ He pointed the razor at me. ‘What about you, Lew Morgan?’
I didn’t answer. It was something that worried me – this drinking business. Everywhere you went they were always on about it. Even Meira and Owen, though I’d smelt drink on Owen many a time. I didn’t think there was anything wrong in having a pint or two – but if anybody’d asked me what sin smelled like, I’d have said Owen’s breath when he was straight in from the Harp. I looked at Ashton Vaughan, and tried a smile, but my mouth was stiff with embarrassment.
‘I’ve had a barrel full,’ Maxie said, and I was glad to see those pale blue eyes switch away from me.
‘A big barrel or a little barrel?’ Ashton asked with a grin.
‘Biggest they had in the Harp,’ Maxie said.
‘And full of lemonade,’ Dewi put in.
Ashton was suddenly serious. ‘No joke, though,’ he said. ‘You lads want to steer clear of the drink, or you’ll be tumbling like a brick into the harbour too. Mind you – with having been away a long time like this, I forgot my way. Been away from my old home town so long, see. Sp – LASH – that’s how I went. Took me so much by surprise I even forgot to swim.’ He looked along his trembling fingers. ‘Shook me up, though, mind. See my hands this morning? Know what’s done that? Shock. That’s what the doctors call it – shock.’
One of the Vaughans, I found myself thinking, and he’s talking like one of the town drunks – same voice, everything.
Gladstone took over. ‘Have you had anything to eat?’
‘Had a cup of police station slops, kid.’
‘Could you eat anything, then? I mean – sometimes people can’t face food in the morning after…’
‘What kind of food, kid? Mussels from the harbour?’
Gladstone dipped into the carrier bag he’d brought and produced two eggs, a piece of fatty bacon and a sliver of lard.
‘By God,’ Ashton said, ‘a banquet.’
Gladstone went behind the stove and brought out the old frying pan we’d rescued from the harbour. In no time at all he had the fire going properly, and the fat was singing in the pan.
‘I struck a good day,’ Ashton said as he rinsed his face, ‘when I came across you lads.’
As we watched him eat he plied us with questions about Porthmawr, and laughed at our answers. He never said a word about his brother. It wasn’t like talking to a grown man at all – a Vaughan, too, I thought – oh, no, he was one of the boys in no time, easy and amiable. It was as if he was a bit simple, somehow – a bit simple and all broken down.
Every afternoon that week we spent in his company. Until six, that is: at six he was off like a flash. After two nights aboard the Moonbeam he decided the trips back from the pubs were too risky. It was better he found a dry berth, he said, and quickly fixed himself up with a room over an empty shop on Harbour View. It had an old iron cot and a gas ring. We cleaned the place out for him, and moved his kit over from the boat.
‘Stay around with me, lads bach,’ he said. ‘You’re the only friends I’ve got.’
He came with us to the beach, and joined us when we had a spell fishing. But he wasn’t really with us at all – hunched up inside that brown jacket most of the time, even on the warmest days. He was silent and withdrawn, and I had the feeling he was waiting for something all the time, but whether it was for the pubs opening or for something else it was impossible to say. He bought us bags of sweets and seemed to really enjoy watching the children snap them up. Towards the end of the week, however, we began to notice that his speech was going – not only when he was fresh from the nearest bar, but late in the afternoons as well. ‘The poor man’s nothing but a sponge,’ Gladstone remarked. ‘I wonder if he’s been without a drink for a long time before he came here?’
‘He’s bloody well made up for it since,’ Dewi said. Gladstone gave him a dirty look for saying it. None of us took Ashton as seriously as he did.
Owen came up with his own ideas. ‘That Ashton Vaughan,’ he started on me one night.
I was on the defensive straight away. ‘He’s all right – why?’
‘He’s a Vaughan, that’s what. With you lads all the time, isn’t he? What does he talk about, then?’
‘Nothing much. Just talks.’
‘About his brother?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Never mentions him.’
Owen nodded gravely. ‘Look, Lew – I’ve been meaning to have a word with you, like. You – you’ve heard about these funny men, haven’t you? You know – queer lot?’
‘Nancy boys?’ I said, and was pleased to hear Owen draw his breath in sharply.
‘Well – that’s right, aye. Who told you about them?’
‘In school,’ I said. ‘The boys talk. Why do they do it, then?’
‘I don’t know,’ Owen replied quickly. ‘Got a kink, see. But you listen a minute – you keep clear of that sort, understand? And if Mr Ashton Vaughan tries anything funny you let me know straight off…’
‘He’s harmless,’ I said.
Owen didn’t look convinced. ‘That’s what you say – but keep your eyes open and let me know…’
‘What’ll you do, Owen?’
‘I’ll flatten him,’ Owen said harshly. ‘Wouldn’t mind the excuse, either. Nobody likes that Vaughan lot, Lew. Neither that old soak, nor that brother of his on the Point. They’re dangerous, mate – so you watch out. And if he tries anything let me know…’
I was all out to defend Ashton immediately. ‘He’s all right. Just a soak…’
‘You let me know, though. And keep clear of him. And if he offers you money don’t take it, see. All right?’
‘All right,’ I said.
‘So you’ve been warned off too,’ Gladstone said. ‘You know what, Lew – this town doesn’t hate the Vaughans, it’s just scared stiff of them.’
‘But why?’ I said.
‘Because they dare to be different,’ Gladstone replied.
We were in Ashton’s room. It was evening and Ashton was touring the pubs.
‘I wish I had this room,’ Gladstone said. ‘Just me and the children. We could really make something of it if we had a place like this. I could look after them properly. I’ll get a place one day too – nicer than this. You wait…’
‘Why did he come back?’ I broke in. ‘What’s he doing here?’
‘Why shouldn’t he be here? This is where he started. It’s where you started that counts, Lew.’ He flicked away some dust off the window sill. ‘I mean – imagine you having to leave Porthmawr. Where would you go?’
‘Plenty of places,’ I said. ‘Liverpool, London…’
Gladstone looked at me in wonder. ‘Would you go, though? Would you really go to all those places? Leave here? Leave
Wales?’
‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘I don’t know.’
‘But you’d come back, though. You’d be glad to come back. I went on that Sunday-school trip to Rhyl, and I wasn’t happy all day. Not until I was back on Porthmawr station. This is the place that counts, see. That’s why Ashton came back…’
‘Maxie says he’s planning to kill his brother…’
Gladstone laughed scornfully. ‘Maxie’s just a child – mentally, I mean. Not sophisticated at all.’
Sophisticated was new to me: I stored it up for the dictionary.
‘Do you suppose the one on the Point knows he’s here?’
‘All Porthmawr knows it,’ Gladstone replied. ‘It’s a seven-day wonder.’
I sat on the edge of the bed and watched Gladstone tack an old piece of lace he’d found as a curtain. Outside, the narrow street was in shadow although it was not yet dark. Gladstone stepped back to look at his work.
‘That should stop the nosy ones – that lot across the way always looking in… God, it depresses me. It really does. All these people watching and waiting. Why can’t they leave him alone? I bet they’re glad enough of the drinks he buys them, but behind his back it’s talk, talk, talk…’
‘Where does the money come from?’ I asked.
Gladstone turned on me sharply. ‘You asking questions too?’
‘Just wondering,’ I said.
‘Well – what does it matter? He’s an allowance from what his mother left him, as a matter of fact…’
‘Is it a lot?’ I couldn’t help asking.
He went to the door. ‘Come on. Let’s go.’
I followed him uneasily, knowing that I’d offended him.
‘Why do people get like this?’ he was saying. ‘Always watching and asking questions, always waiting for something terrible to happen…’