Unlocking the Past

by Grace Thompson

  “I do feel guilty, me being there before the incident and not knowing or able to help him.”

  “But you did help, you rang the police didn’t you?” she said in a hoarse whisper. “Saw you while we were in the trees getting all steamed up and into our quarrel. Gary and me, we saw you. We could tell them when we saw you, exactly, to the minute.”

  “Are you going to tell the police? They would be very interested in times and places.” He tried to sound casual but he was quaking.

  “Take me out this evening and I’ll think about it,” she said.

  “Take you out?”

  “That’s right. So I can make Gary a bit jealous. You do me a favour and I’ll do one for you. You don’t want the police pressing for more details of what you were up to, do you, Frank?”

  “I’ve done nothing wrong,” he mumbled.

  “For sure. But meet me so we can discuss it, is it, Frank? Seven at The Railwayman’s.”

  “The Railwayman’s? Your Gary often calls in there, doesn’t he?

  “Too often. That was what the quarrel was about.”

  Frank made sure she didn’t follow him before doing a U-turn and finding the place where he had hidden the flask. He found it easily and this time stuffed it well down into a sack of rubbish then threw it into the quarry nine miles from where he had first hidden it. Having to walk home was daunting but he set to and plodded across the fields heading for home and food and sleep.

  At the gate he saw the police guard had been changed and there were now two men standing beside the back gate. He stopped, filled with alarm, and in a fluster of panic turned away from supper and sleep and went once more into the fields.

  He went first to where Mair Gregory lived, and explained that he was under suspicion for something he hadn’t done and pleaded for her help. With a slightly doubtful expression, she packed a bag with food and drink, and gave him a blanket. He left to find a place to hide for a few days. Once they found the van, and a few fresh clues they’d have enough to keep them busy and perhaps they’d leave him alone.

  He felt sick. Why had he been so stupid? How could he have been so upset at Ernie finding himself a girl that he had allowed himself to get into this mess? Mam was right. It was time they all grew up. It seemed that he was the last one to do so!

  * * *

  Mair’s date with Frank didn’t happen, but Mair stood rather self-consciously in the Railwayman’s and when Gary turned up told him she had a date with Frank. A talk of talk, a bit of flattery and Mair agreed to give him one more chance. She’d say nothing about Frank’s midnight ramblings. Of course she wouldn’t. Her mother might want to know what she was doing in the trees with Gary in the middle of the night.

  * * *

  When it was clear that Frank had run off, they all began to worry. Ernie was unwilling to go out, instead Helen came to the cottage and sat with them, as they waited for news. She played with Joseph, making pictures for him to colour until it was time for him to go to bed. She went up the stairs with Caroline and the little boy and Caroline told her she was trying to imagine where her brother would go to hide from the police. “I wish he had spoken to me before running off,” she told Helen. “I’d have pointed out the idiocy of such a move.”

  “Your brothers must know a dozen places where they could shelter,” Helen said. “They’ve spent their lives in the fields and woods. Know it like the back yard, don’t they?”

  “But all the places they know would be known by others. It won’t take long for the police to find him.”

  “Can’t you think of somewhere further afield? Ten, fifteen miles wouldn’t be too much for someone like Frank or Ernie or Basil. With their long legs they can eat up the miles.”

  Caroline frowned and shook her head. “I’ve never been involved in their ramblings, being a girl,” she replied sadly.

  Barry arrived, having heard about Basil’s troubles and he was told everything that had happened.

  Typically, Janet’s main worry was whether Frank had enough to eat and whether he was sleeping somewhere safe. Hywel didn’t voice his suspicions but wondered grimly whether his stupid son had been involved in the robbery in some way. Why else would he have made a run for it? Neither parent considered his continued absence meant anything else but that he had gone into hiding. But where? The “why”, they didn’t want to consider.

  * * *

  Charlie Bevan was not taken in for questioning, but the police made repeated visits, obviously curious about the scrape marks on his house and the possibility that the van that made them was involved in the robbery.

  “Bashed the wall as they stopped to drop you off, did they?” he was asked.

  Rhiannon went over there late one night when she saw him standing in the doorway, reminiscent of how poor Maggie Wilpin, Gwyn’s great-grandmother, used to do.

  “Don’t let it get you down, Charlie,” she said. “You must have expected this. With a record like yours you’ll be pestered for a long time before the police are convinced you’re going straight. Let it wash over you. Accept it as part of the punishment and don’t let it get you down.”

  “You’re right,” he said and touched her arm with a hesitant affection. “You’re cold,” he said and took off his coat and put it around her. His arm stayed across her shoulders and she moved slightly towards him, a tacit acceptance of the move.

  “Gertie Thomas told me that Maggie used to sit here for hours at night, unable to sleep, and waiting for me to come home,” he said softly.

  “We all tried to persuade her to go inside and keep warm but she hated the night. I think she was afraid she’d die before you came home and Gwyn would be left with no one to care for him.”

  “If she’d been sitting there when that lorry passed—” He shuddered.

  “Mam used to take her food sometimes.”

  “I’ve caused a lot of trouble, haven’t I?”

  She moved a little closer. “No more though. All that’s finished now and your future looks good.”

  “Does it?” he asked quietly. “With you in it I’d ask for nothing more.”

  She turned her head to look at him and his head came down slowly, and they kissed.

  “If the frustrations and stupidities of these past years were leading me to this, Rhiannon, it will all have been worth it,” he whispered.

  * * *

  Ernie walked Helen home late that night and when he returned, Caroline and Barry were talking to Janet and Hywel.

  “I think I know where Frank might be,” Caroline said, her dark eyes shining.

  “I want to go and see, now this minute, but she insists on going herself,” Hywel said.

  “I’ll take you in our van,” Barry said and to Janet’s sharp ears, he emphasised the penultimate word. Not his van but their van. For the first time since Caroline had left the flat, Janet felt the stirrings of hope.

  Leaving word that Caroline would not be in work the following day was easy. Barry dropped a note through the door of the wool shop as he drove back to Sophie Street. They had decided to set off with a laden picnic basket, during the afternoon. That would make the reason for the drive more believable. Janet added a few words to the policeman watching the comings and goings at the gate, that the young couple had been having difficulties which they were trying to resolve.

  Although it was July, the weather had refused to co-operate and there was a cloying mist over the trees that blocked out the sun and made the day humid and dull. They drove around in silence, each wanting to talk but afraid of saying something that would be misunderstood. Joseph asked questions about everything that caught his eye but they didn’t answer him as fully as they would normally have done. The ride seemed long as they made their way to the village of Cwrt y Celyn, where Janet had sought news of her sister.

  Taking the picnic basket and the toys, and offering a hand to Joseph, Barry walked up the overgrown muddy lane and tried to make fun of the difficult walk, for the sake of the little boy who had been so excited a
t the prospect of a day out with his mother and the man he had learned to call daddy. When they came out at the other end, they went to the ruined Spring Cottage and dropped their baggage on the floor of what had once been a kitchen.

  “Frank?” Caroline called. “Frank? It’s me, Caroline, and Barry and Joseph. We’ve come to see you.” No response so Barry joined in.

  “Come on, Frank. We have a picnic to share.”

  There was a rustling sound, a disturbance of straw, followed by footsteps across the partly collapsed ceiling above them, and a face peered down through a gap.

  “How did you know I was here?” Frank asked.

  “Caroline remembered how you had wandered about, exploring when you drove them here to look for the missing aunt,” Barry explained as Frank moved cautiously down the staircase.

  “Did you help in the robbery, Frank?” Caroline asked.

  “Would I? With our Basil there?”

  “Basil wasn’t supposed to work that night, was he? Only George was ill and he had to change his nights.”

  “Come on, Caroline, you know Frank wouldn’t be that stupid,” Barry said uneasily. “How can you ask?”

  “Then come back with us,” Caroline pleaded. “It has to be sorted and you’re only prolonging it by running away like a frightened chicken.”

  Frank bent his knees, crouched down, flapping his elbows and moved around doing an imitation of a frightened chicken to amuse his nephew, but Caroline was not deterred.

  “Frank? Will you come with us? You can tell the police you needed time to think and if you go to them, rather than wait for them to find you, they’ll have to believe it was nothing more than nerves after what has happened.”

  “Caroline’s right, Frank. Don’t make everything worse by staying away any longer. After all, your brother was attacked, even if the weapon was only some knockout drops. To be accused of that, well, you’re bound to be upset.”

  “You have every right to be scared,” Caroline added.

  Caroline and Barry were sitting as far apart as they were able to in the tumbled down kitchen. Both drawn and unhappy, yet so obviously aware of each other. Frank wasn’t a highly intelligent man, but seeing them so afraid to touch each other, so obviously unwilling to make a move to put right their estrangement, he used their plight to take the pressure off himself, to allow himself time to ponder on what they suggested.

  “At least I’m afraid of real live people. You two silly buggers are afraid of a ghost!” he snapped.

  “What are you talking about?” Barry demanded. “What ghost?”

  “Your Joseph, that’s what ghost!”

  “We’re here to talk about your problems,” Caroline said, and Barry stood up and walked about in an agitated way not looking at Caroline.

  “That flat is filled with memories of Joseph and you two were stupid enough to try and make your home there.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Frank,” Barry began, but Frank interrupted.

  “And that flat is only part of the trouble, mind. Trying to make your marriage work is madness while you’re both feeling guilty of cheating on Joseph.”

  “Leave it, Frank,” Barry warned.

  “No, I won’t leave it. You both believe you’re betraying Joseph, don’t you? There in the flat where he was going to live with Caroline? Well, let me tell you both, the Joseph I remember would laugh at that bit o’nonsense and wish you both the best of luck!”

  Frank had heard all this from Rhiannon and his parents, but had managed somehow to make it sound as though the ideas were his own. Caroline and Barry stared at each other in amazement.

  “Frank! I would never have marked you up as a thinking man,” Barry said.

  “I’m not stupid,” Frank retaliated.

  “No, you’re not,” Barry said thoughtfully.

  “Can we get back to you, please,” Caroline said in a shaky voice. “Then there’s this food to eat.” She beckoned to her son and said, “Come on, Joseph, help me set out the food on this cloth then we can have tea.”

  They ate, Frank talking about anything that came into his mind to break up the horrendous silences as Barry and Caroline avoided each other’s eye, and Caroline served food without coming close enough to Barry to risk their hands touching.

  Frank felt ashamed of interfering and wondered if he had made things worse between them.

  “All right,” he said as the food was wrapped and packed away and they prepared to leave. “I’ll come with you, right? You’ve talked me into it.”

  “If they hadn’t, we would,” a stern voice said, and four policemen appeared around the broken corner of the building.

  “You never told them you were coming on a picnic, did you?” Frank said raising his eyes in disbelief. “They’d be daft not to work out that you were meeting me and bringing supplies!”

  Frank was marched back to a car waiting at the end of the lane and Caroline and Barry followed.

  “They were probably listening to everything that was said,” Barry remarked. “Thank goodness he didn’t confess.”

  “You don’t think he was involved, do you?” She was trembling at the thought of the lengthy sentence that robbery on that scale carried.

  Barry saw her distress and tentatively put an arm around her shoulders and drew her to walk closer to him. “It’ll be all right, Caroline,” he said. “Everything’s going to be all right now.”

  * * *

  When they reached home, Basil and Eleri were there with baby Ronnie, and Caroline told them about the police following them and finding Frank.

  They discussed the possibilities and Hywel went with Janet to the police station to find out what was happening.

  “There’s some good news,” Basil said. “I’ve got another job.”

  “Well done,” Caroline smiled. “What will it be this time? Not another night watchman?”

  “No, there’s a new factory starting, making plastic brushes and combs and the like. They’re importing the raw materials from America, would you believe.”

  “That sounds very technical, Basil.” Barry said.

  “They give you training and I don’t think it’ll tax my brain too much. And it’s not nights, it’s days, eight till five-thirty, so I’ll be with Eleri every evening. Worked out for the best, it has.”

  “You love being out of doors, Basil,” Barry said. “Can you face working inside day after day?”

  “For Eleri? Yes, of course I can! I’ll do anything I have to, to make her happy.”

  “It does sound good,” Barry said and for the rest of the evening he was deep in thought.

  To everyone’s relief, Frank was released. He came home with Hywel and Janet a few hours after he had been taken into custody.

  “We don’t know what happened, but we think one or two of the men have been caught,” Hywel told them.

  “And they believe it was one of them who persuaded Basil to open the gate.”

  Frank was delirious with relief, although he did have a moment of sadness when he realised he would never see those fifty beautiful pounds.

  A few days later, when he saw Percy Flemming walking purposefully towards him, he began to quake. His legs went to jelly as the man drew nearer. Now would come the accusations, the reminder of his failure, the threats and warnings, but, without looking at him and hardly pausing as they passed, Percy handed him a roll of ten shilling and one pound notes.

  Basil was unharmed, he and Ernie were friends again, he seemed to be in the clear, and he had his fifty pounds!

  Chapter Eleven

  The excitement at the end of rationing on July 3rd 1954, which had built up during the preceding weeks, faded quickly. By the following week, people were ordering their requirements of the previously restricted foods with panache. Sandwiches were spread with butter and margarine was banned from many pantries by people who swore never to touch it again. Joints of meat and rich pies rapidly become the norm and if any ration books escaped the ash-bin they were
thrown into the back of a drawer as novelties to show the children when they were grown up and could laugh at it all.

  As the grocery shop closed its doors behind its final customer of the day, Helen Gunner looked at advertisements and drooled over pictures of wedding cakes made with butter, and elaborately iced, making the shortages of the war years and those that followed melt away from memory. She wondered if she would be ordering one of her own before 1954 ended. Ernie Griffiths showed no sign of becoming bored with her, in fact there was hardly an evening that they didn’t meet.

  She collected the simple ingredients she had bought and, dragging her gaze from the magnificence of the wedding cakes, set off home to make a butter-based sponge with real cream filling for tea the following day, which was a Sunday. Ernie was coming to tea and – that important development in the ritual of courtship – he was bringing his parents with him. Everything depended on whether her parents got on with Mr and Mrs Griffiths. Dad was all right, he wouldn’t make trouble while they were there, although he would certainly kick up a fuss when they’d gone.

  No, it was Mam. As long as she didn’t start showing off to Mr and Mrs Griffiths about how much better the Gunners were than most of the inhabitants of Pendragon Island, all would be well, and Ernie might pop the question. From what she’d heard of the Westons, her Mam came second only to Old Gladys.

  * * *

  Helen’s mother, Gloria, had begun life as Gwen Dunn and when she reached the age of fourteen she had decided that she deserved a more interesting name. So, against all her mother’s pleadings she had renamed herself Gloria and it was as Gloria she had been known ever since. Mrs Wilfred Gunner wasn’t really to her taste either but she didn’t know how to change it into something like De Gunnair, or she would have persuaded Wilfred to do so.

  When her daughter Helen was born she had visions of the girl living out her dreams for her and becoming someone famous and important, but Helen had ignored her mother’s attempts to launch her into the world of the prestigious, and left school at fourteen to start work in a grocery store. The only compensation for Gloria was that it was the largest one in the area and her daughter was quickly promoted to shop display and window dresser, besides running the provisions side of the business.