He stepped in, trying not to look at the boy, who appeared to be washing jam jars.
‘I hope to persuade my aunt and uncle to go away for a holiday before getting back to a full day’s work. Daphne wondered if you’d consider helping her for a few more weeks. I don’t know what she wants you to do, you’ll have to discuss it with her.’
‘I have to look after Bertie while his mother is working. If he can come too, and he would like to, then, yes, of course I’ll help her.’
‘I’ll let her know.’ Owen backed out and, still not acknowledging the boy, hurried down the path.
Sophie smiled sadly.
‘It’s you and me or neither of us, eh, Bertie?’
‘Have you got any more jars to wash?’ he asked, ignoring the remark.
‘Come on, Bertie, let’s go and see Daphne, shall we? She might have some cake and a drink of pop.’ She saw him hesitate, knowing Owen Treweather didn’t like him, but not understanding why. ‘Come on, there might be some chickens to feed.’
‘You’ll be staying with me, won’t you?’
‘We’ll go together and come home together. Unless the bull tosses you over the wood and into the garden!’ she teased, handing him his coat.
*
There had been no letters from Gareth. He hadn’t given them a new address, as he was travelling around France. He sent an occasional card but there was no way they could get in touch to tell him about his parents’ accident. He had telephoned once but fortunately Owen had answered and made a pretence of a faulty line and not being able to hear.
Owen had been fielding letters from Ryan, opening them, replying with casual reassurances, telling him his parents were well and back on the farm. He said as little as possible apart from telling him there was no need to come home, reminding him how both Rachel and Tommy hated a lot of fuss. He didn’t mention Harry Sutton being there or Daphne running the household. When they eventually came home he’d only need a few quiet lies to settle the matter. Misunderstandings happen in the closest of families and the Treweathers could hardly be described as close, when they were going to ignore his contribution and family connections and leave him a useless piece of land.
Seven
Having learned of Elsie’s problem, Sophie didn’t know what to do. If she repeated it did that make her a gossip? When did genuine concern for Ed Connors become nosy interference? She finally decided to talk to Daphne, who knew Betty well and might have been told something about the truth of the ‘trapped nerve’.
‘Are you sure that’s what this nurse, Brenda Morris, meant?’ Daphne asked.
‘I mentioned her problem, meaning the trapped nerve, and she presumed I knew more and she said, “The saddest thing is that it will get progressively worse.” How could I have misunderstood that?’
Daphne pondered for a moment then said, ‘Will you mind if I mention it to Betty? Living at the Ship I can more easily mention it casually, perhaps as though repeating words said in jest, hinting that Elsie is the type to leave more and more work to Ed once they are married.’
‘That’s fine by me. Ed probably knows, but Betty can have a word with the nurse or the doctor if he doesn’t. He’s entitled to know the truth.’
Betty was upset, convinced that her brother knew nothing about Elsie’s illness. ‘We don’t talk like we used to, him spending so much time at Elsie’s B&B, but I’m sure he would have told me something as important as that. What can I do?’ Like Sophie, she was afraid of being accused of gossiping or of trying to cause trouble between the couple. Eventually she decided to mention it as though it was common knowledge and note his reaction.
‘Pity poor Elsie’s hands are so bad, but I expect the doctors will do what they can as time goes by.’
‘What d’you mean? A trapped nerve isn’t serious and she’ll be fine once she’s rested it for a week or so longer. I do what I can to save her lifting and carrying. Between us we’ll soon have her back to normal.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘What d’you see? What are you talking about?’
‘I thought it was more serious, something long term. I understood that it wouldn’t get better, but in fact might get worse. I was wrong, was I? I misunderstood?’
‘Of course you misunderstood! This is a terrible place for gossip. I’m happy and Elsie’s happy and that’s enough for people to want to spoil it. You as well, although I did expect better from my own sister!’
‘This is a place where people care, and I care. I couldn’t ignore this and let you walk into a marriage without knowing what you’re facing!’
The words became more heated and Eddie eventually stormed out, leaving Betty to deal with the delivery he had promised to help with as Daphne was at the farm.
She was left wishing Daphne had said nothing. She couldn’t change anything so wouldn’t she have been happier not knowing? Then she admitted that being warned meant she was better armed for when things became difficult. Ed hadn’t been very supportive of her since he and Elsie had become close but she would be there for him as she had always been.
*
Sophie knew that Bertie was excited to be at the farm, even though he was aware that Owen disliked him. Her intention that day was to deal with the kitchen and the cooking while Daphne dealt with the work among the animals and she made sure she said nothing to Bertie to make him hesitate to help wherever he wanted. Her aversions to farming were her own and she had no right to force them on Bertie.
She went to find Owen to ask whether sandwiches and cake would be acceptable for midday, and vegetable soup with fresh bread and some fruit for the evening, and in her haste she accidentally let some young piglets out of the barn.
She expected Bertie to run around in great excitement panicking the little creatures, but to her surprise he followed Owen’s calm approach, and, with the dogs helping, peace was quickly restored.
There was worse to follow, however. The plates she had chosen to use were the best ones, and Owen told her Rachel only brought them out on ‘high days and holidays’.
‘Heaven help you if you break one,’ he warned. Being extra nervous, she did. A plate and a gravy boat, which Owen rather gleefully told her were irreplaceable.
As often happens in a moment of stark drama, she and Daphne couldn’t stop laughing and the pieces of china broke into smaller pieces as they tried to fit them together to decide whether they could be repaired. The shattered remnants were put in a drawer until Rachel returned and they would be able to confess.
To her surprise Owen behaved pleasantly towards Bertie, and after the routine work was dealt with walked with him around the fields and explained what was going on. When Bertie came in for lunch, red faced and excited, she could see that the visit was a great success. He ate an enormous meal of sandwiches and cakes, then looked hopefully towards Owen, hoping for an invitation to follow him again. In case he was going to be disappointed, she said, ‘Bertie, when we’ve dealt with the dishes would you like to stay with me? Perhaps we can help Daphne feed the chickens?’
‘Oh, miss,’ he said in a world-weary tone, ‘they was – were – fed ages ago.’
‘I’ll take him to check on the sheep,’ Owen said, cuffing the boy’s head and smiling. He shared an amused glance with Daphne and added, ‘I think I might need his help counting them.’
The phone rang when they were finishing their meal, and Owen jumped up quickly and pushed away from the table to answer it, but Daphne was there first. Sophie noticed his irritability as he snapped his fingers, demanding to take it from her. Daphne listened, then said, ‘It’s your Ryan, asking what’s the matter, wondering why his mother hasn’t written.’ She was frowning, turning away and hugging the phone as Owen tried to take it from her.
‘Give it to me,’ he said, but she held it tightly and listened.
Then she said, ‘But you must have been told they’re both in hospital.’ Another frown, then, ‘Both hurt in an accident, yes… Hardly trivial! Your mother has broken an arm and�
�� Yes, a broken leg… Yes, of course. I’ll hand you over.’
At last Owen was able to take the phone.
‘I was… No you listen, Ryan! I was thinking of you. We thought you’d worry and come home and there’s no need, everything is running perfectly smoothly here.’ He listened for a while, then, glaring at Daphne as though his secrecy was her fault, replaced the receiver on its hook and walked out.
Bertie watched him go and said, ‘He forgot me, didn’t he?’
‘He’s worried, Bertie. Maybe he’ll come back later.’
Half an hour later the telephone rang again and Ryan told Daphne he was coming home at the weekend. Sophie felt a tense excitement when she was told, then reminded herself that he hadn’t written and it was his parents he was coming to see. When Owen was informed, he went straight to the hospital for the afternoon visit.
‘Uncle Tommy,’ he announced, ‘I’ve spoken to the doctor and arranged for you and Auntie Rachel to go to Tenby for a week. Convalescence, right? You’re leaving at the weekend, it’s all arranged.’ He told them that Ryan was coming home but didn’t tell them when, and felt sickened by the delight they both showed. All right, he wasn’t their son, but he had shown them more loyalty, had worked many times harder and received far less reward than Ryan. He could have gone away, seen something of the world, found a job that was both easier and better paid, but he’d stayed because they had needed him. But when would they realize how much they depended on him? Never!
He sold a few lambs and chickens at the market that week and the money, paid in cash, went into the new account. The fourth deposit in as many weeks. With luck he had until the annual audit; by then he’d have made his move.
Although he’d never felt close to the family whose name he shared, and had few friends, he had moments of unease as he contemplated moving right away from everyone and everything he knew. If only he and Sarah could sort out their differences and she could be persuaded to go with him: sharing with someone would make the whole thing so much better. Trying to make friends with her son was a beginning. If he could win him over Sarah might reconsider. She was on her own too.
Sophie made an excuse not to go to the farm at the weekend when Ryan would be there. It was obvious he hadn’t wanted to retain her friendship, and her appearance might embarrass him, so she told Daphne she was needed by Bob, who was pricking out another bed of seedlings. Bob was delighted when she offered to help, especially as Bertie was likely to be with her.
She joined Daphne at the farm on Friday and cooked a large pot of vegetable soup, baked cakes and filled the bread crock with several loaves. Then, making sure everything was in order and the pieces of broken china had been placed where Rachel would see them with a note of apology nearby, she said her goodbyes and went around with Bertie for a last look at the chickens, including the eight-week-olds being bred for Christmas, and the delightful piglets, whose fate she dared not imagine, and walked back towards Badgers Brook up the field and through the wood. She and Bertie wandered slowly at the edge of the trees, stopping to look around them, identifying birds in the trees, admiring the colourful display of wild flowers amid the grasses, hesitant to leave sight of the farm, as though something was pulling them back, a tugging regret at leaving the place.
‘It’s been fun, hasn’t it?’ she said.
‘I like the chickens best, they shine with so many colours, don’t they? Like rainbow feathers. And I like their beady little eyes. But I don’t think I’ll enjoy eating one, ever again,’ he replied. Sophie said nothing. She didn’t want to influence him and guessed that hunger would change his mind long before Christmas, which was the only time he was likely to find chicken on his plate.
*
Ryan reread the brief note he had received from Owen, staring at the words, wondering how someone suffering broken bones could be described as ‘only slightly hurt’. Owen had lied; but why didn’t he want him home? His father and mother would need extra help for a while. Even when they were out of hospital they wouldn’t magically return to how they were before. Their disappointment at his leaving wouldn’t have prevented them expecting his help in an emergency.
He had telephoned the farm several times and been reassured by Owen, who’d said there was nothing to worry about, that Tommy and Rachel were out, or busy, but he’d give them the message. Don’t come home, your father would be disappointed if he interrupted your education for something so trivial, Owen had written in another letter. So what was going on?
He sat on the train and tried to read a book but the words didn’t penetrate his mind, thoughts of the farm, his parents, Owen and Sophie, hovered over the page. He had written to Sophie but hadn’t posted the letter, even though he had made at least four attempts before he was satisfied with the contents. Their growing friendliness and warmth, then the sudden backing away from the lightest of kisses or even a touch, the offer of a hand to hold, puzzled him. They had seemed to be getting on well and he’d had visions of returning and carrying on where they had left off, their growing friendship being held in place by letters. But her apparent indifference at their parting had given him doubts – hence the hesitation in writing to her. She allowed him close but only within her limits.
Yet he knew she liked him. So what was holding her back from relaxing into an affectionate friendship? He wondered vaguely if she might be estranged from a fiancé or had recently lost someone she had loved. She was holding back for some reason, and it must be something important to her. He wondered if he would ever find out what it was.
On Cardiff Central station he sat and waited for his connection to steam noisily and importantly in. It came to a hissing, shuddering stop at the platform, the size and the din alarming. Doors opened and, half hidden by steam, people flooded out and rushed towards the exit. Most were carrying suitcases, and many were being met by friends and loved ones. Hugs wherever he looked. He felt a stab of loneliness until he saw a hand waving in greeting and saw Colin Jones waving to him. They found a seat together, Colin explaining he was on his way home after his shift.
‘Come to visit your parents at last, have you?’ Colin asked. ‘We wondered why you hadn’t been before. Had some college work to finish, did you?’
‘I had no idea they were so badly hurt,’ Ryan replied, grimly. ‘Owen chose not to tell me they were in hospital with broken bones.’
Ryan showed Colin the letters written by Owen. ‘Seems he didn’t want me to come home, but I’ve no idea why. You’d think he’d be glad of the help with Dad out of action, and how are they managing without Mam?’
‘Why didn’t Sophie write to you?’ Colin wondered. ‘Helping up there she’s been, her and that friend of hers, Daphne Boyd.’ He glanced at Ryan and added, ‘I thought you and she were friends?’
‘My fault. I promised to write but I didn’t. I wasn’t sure whether she wanted me to or was just being polite. She’s such a private person.’
‘Her interest seemed more than polite, Ryan.’
‘I’ll see when we get home. I’ve gathered from Daphne that Sophie and the boy belonging to Owen’s wife have been helping.’
‘Strange that, how Owen could cut Sarah and the boy out of his life so finally.’
‘Owen isn’t an easy person to understand, but she didn’t give him much of a chance, did she?’
Ryan received a further shock when he reached home to find that Rachel and Tommy were out of hospital but away from the farm for a week.
‘Why couldn’t they have waited?’ Ryan demanded. ‘They knew I was coming.’
‘It had all been arranged before you got in touch,’ Owen excused.
‘Where are they? Tenby? That isn’t far, I’ll go down there tomorrow,’ Ryan said, glaring at his cousin as though daring him to disagree.
‘You can, if you think it’s wise, but the doctors said they need complete rest. Shock,’ he explained. ‘And they are getting on a bit.’
‘Rubbish! What d’you think I’m going to do to them?’ Ryan went out into
the yard and examined the vehicles. The van was empty of petrol and had bald tyres, one of which was flat. The ancient car didn’t look as if it would make the journey. ‘I’m going, if I have to go in the tractor!’ he said firmly. He spent the rest of the day checking and cleaning the car and getting ready for the trip to Tenby, about forty miles away.
At seven, a meal was ready for them, cooked by Daphne, and after they’d eaten Ryan telephoned the hotel to tell his parents he would see them on the following day. Only then did he set off to see Sophie.
Badgers Brook seemed filled to overflowing. Before he had knocked on the door the buzz of chatter and laughter reached him; he hesitated and was about to walk away when a face appeared in the kitchen window and a small fist knocked against the glass. Bertie had seen him. The door opened and a smiling Sophie invited him inside.
Stella and Colin were there, and Kitty and Bob, the men still in the clothes they wore for gardening, their boots left on newspaper on the kitchen floor. Betty Connors stood near the window, wearing a coat, a handbag on her arm, obviously just about to leave.
‘Hiya, Ryan. Home to see Rachel and Tommy at last?’ Betty called.
‘I’d have come sooner if I’d been told.’ Ryan said, glancing towards Sophie. ‘No one told me how badly they were hurt.’
‘You didn’t know?’ Stella queried. ‘Didn’t Owen tell you?’
‘No, he didn’t.’ He glanced again at Sophie, making the words a criticism. ‘Someone should have let me know.’
Sophie came towards him. ‘I presumed you knew. Daphne and I were told that Owen had written several times. Isn’t that true?’
He shook his head, then, smiling at the room in general, he asked, ‘What’s going on here then? Some sort of party?’
‘My brother is marrying Elsie Clements next week and we’re trying to organize a party,’ Betty explained. ‘I’ll hold it in the pub, of course, but these kind friends are helping with the food.’ She glanced at Sophie and then added, ‘If you’re still home, Ryan, why don’t you come?’
A New Beginning Page 15