At the gate a fox peered through the wooden slats and, seeing the dogs, trotted on up the lane. The silence was like a blanket; warm, comforting and utterly peaceful. Only worry about Dawn spoilt their contentment. Then, they saw her.
Like a wraith she slipped past the gate, hesitated before running on, her small feet making only the faintest pattern of sound on the firm surface.
‘Did you see…?’ George stood up.
‘Poor little kid, what’s she doin’ wanderin’ about at this time of night all on ’er own?’
‘Just as long as she isn’t breaking windows and going into houses to steal,’ George said anxiously. ‘It will be hard to help her then, Nelly.’
Constable Harris returned after an hour and he looked serious. ‘There was no one in when I got to the house,’ he said, ‘and when Mr Simmons arrived he was not pleased to see me. I explained what had happened and he lost his temper and accused you two of making it all up. Said Dawn was asleep and refused to wake her.’
‘Then the little girl came home, no coat, just a thin dress and only daps on her feet. With her father interrupting constantly, I asked her what she knew about the vase and warned her that you were suspected of entering with intent to steal and she told me the whole story, although I’m not sure that her father is as innocent as he makes out, between you and me.’
He stopped and took the cup of tea Nelly offered and nodded agreement when she held a small bottle of whisky over the cup. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you this, mind, but I know you have the girl’s interests at heart. Anyway, she said the door was unlocked and slightly ajar and she went in, saw the vase and picked it up. She went no further than the kitchen and that’s all she knew.’
‘So who’s the burglar?’ George asked. ‘If what Dawn says is true you’re no further ahead.’
‘Tad’s house is poorly furnished. There’s food on the kitchen shelves and the coal bucket was full, with a good fire burning, but it’s a sad place with little comfort. I wonder if perhaps Tad Simmons is short of cash. He’s very bitter about something too, isn’t he?’ he mused.
‘Ain’t ’e got no job then?’ Nelly asked. ‘I’ve bin told ’e leaves the girl with neighbours while ’e goes to work.’
‘I’ll find out more tomorrow.’ The constable put down the cup and saucer and stood to leave, his head almost touching the ceiling of the room. ‘You won’t discuss anything I’ve told you, will you? Thinking out loud, that’s all I’ve done.’
‘No fear of that, we wouldn’t do nothin’ to cause more trouble fer the kid, would we, George?’
They sat for a long time discussing the evening’s events before taking a candle each and climbing the stairs to their beds. There was a moon and, with sleep evading her, Nelly sat looking out towards the lane, wondering what would become of Dawn if her father were to be taken to prison for burglary.
In the other bedroom, George also lay awake. An owl hooted, its mournful cry saddening him. He was so lucky here with Nelly and all the comforts of a home. If he and Nelly could help that tormented man and his unhappy child, he would feel satisfied that he was giving something back as payment for his own good fortune.
There was a good excuse to go and see Dawn and her father. They hadn’t sorted out what had happened to the camera Dawn had – borrowed. The word ‘stolen’ came into his mind but he blocked it. She had borrowed it and not told them. They would make the camera a gift and relieve her of the guilt she must be feeling.
He rose from the bed and went quietly into Nelly’s room to see if she were sleeping. When he called softly, she answered at once and he went on and sat on the edge of her bed.
‘About that camera,’ he began.
‘Yes, I’ve bin thinkin’ about that too. We must go up and let her know it’s a gift, ’cos she never came down with it like we asked. We’ll thank ’er too for bein’ honest about the vase, George. That saved us a lot of embarrassment.’
‘Exactly my thoughts.’
‘My Evie stole once, you know. I bet she wouldn’t want to be reminded of that now! It was only a doll. A baby doll with eyes that opened and closed and a mouth where a dummy fitted. It belonged to a friend of ’ers and I took it back when I found it ’idden in Evie’s bedroom. I never said nothin’ much, just that it was cruel to take something someone loved and deprive them of it. I remember the word “deprived” was a favourite word with Evie fer a while an’ so far as I know she ain’t never touched a thing that wasn’t ’er own since. I wonder, George, would she be as understandin’ as that with young Oliver, if ’e did something stupid?’
‘I know children are often tempted when they want something badly but I don’t think Oliver is like that. He accepts what he has and seems to yearn for very little, except perhaps for a bicycle.’
They sat while the moon rode the skies, until Nelly dropped off to sleep with George still sitting beside her. He kissed her soft cheek and tiptoed back to his own bed.
* * *
Constable Harris went steadily around the houses asking questions, making a note of everything unusual and in this way received reports of a motorbike being heard at night. He went to the house near the fish-and-chip shop where Griff and Hilda Evans lived with their son, Pete. Pete and his friend Gerry Williams from the council houses were keen motor-cyclists and always roaring around the roads on their machines. Both Griff and Hilda were out. Pete welcomed the constable in, excited at being invited to help with the enquiries.
‘Gerry and I have heard that bike. Powerful it is, like mine, but we don’t know who it belongs to. Dad had one too but his is in pieces, has been for months.’
‘I’ve like to have a look, if you don’t mind,’ Harris asked politely. ‘Unless you’d rather your dad be there?’
‘No. He won’t mind.’ Pete led him to the corrugated iron garage which led out into the lane behind the houses and showed him the shining bike he used, and also the one which lay in pieces on a wooden work bench near the grimy window. ‘See? Dad’s lazy about getting his fixed. Now me and Gerry, we keep ours up to scratch, like. Always working on it we are, just ask our mam.’
When his father came home, having been up in the woods to inspect his traps, Pete greeted him with the news of the policeman’s visit.
‘Gave me a bit of a fright, seeing him standing there, like. I thought he’d come to ask about the betting slips, you being a bookie’s runner! Relieved I was when he only wanted to ask about our bikes!’
* * *
When George finished work the following day it was later than usual. Hay-making was almost finished and he had spent the day taking out the machines used for the harvesting, making sure everything was in good order, while Leighton finished the final field. After they had eaten, he and Nelly walked up to the council houses to see Dawn and Tad. Tad opened the door and stared without speaking for a moment, unnerving Nelly and making George pull her back.
‘It’s Dawn we’ve come to see,’ George said, but the man began to close the door.
‘Can we see Dawn? We want to talk to ’er,’ Nelly shouted. At this the door opened slightly and Tad growled, ‘I don’t know how you’ve got the neck to come here after what you did to her! Coming to apologise are you, for hiding behind a child of ten? You ought to be ashamed!’
Dawn appeared round the corner of the house and Nelly smiled at her, the missing teeth on the left of her mouth turning it into a grimace. ‘Dawn, about the camera.’ Then, as shock registered on the child’s face, she added quickly, ‘The camera you borrowed, well, we’ve bought you a film for it and you can keep the camera as a present from George an’ me. Just promise to let us see any photos you take.’ She handed the girl the film and George stepped forward to show her how to load the camera.
‘Leave her alone. Take back your presents, we don’t want them. If Dawn wants a camera, I’ll buy her one. Right? Hiding behind a child. Shamed you should be, the pair of you.’
With a hint of firmness in his voice, George said, ‘Mr Simmons, don’t
you think you should stop all this aggression? No one thinks ill of Dawn; her behaviour is understandable in the circumstances and—’
The door swung suddenly back against the inside wall and Tad leapt out and struck George a stabbing blow in the face.
‘What d’you know about our circumstances, eh? Should be minding your own business, not ours!’
He did not say any more as Nelly began kicking him in the shins, her skirt pulled up – not to impede the strength of the blows for she used one foot after the other in a well-aimed attack, careless of showing her fat knees.
She had kicked him at least three times before the pain of it reached him and he began to dance about with a wailing cry. The brief fracas ended abruptly as Dawn covered her face with her hands and began to laugh. She twirled on one foot then the other, pointing at her father, then at Nelly and George, who was holding his nose and looking tentatively for signs of blood.
Tad, bent almost double, holding his shins, disappeared inside, leaving the three of them standing looking at the closed door.
‘Always like this, is ’e?’ Nelly asked as she examined George’s face for damage. ‘An’ don’t stand there laughin’, get a cold wet cloth to stop this bleedin’.’
The laughter stopped as Dawn saw the trickle of blood from George’s nose.
‘I’m sorry. He usually misses by miles.’ She ran around the house to emerge with a dripping towel. ‘Will this do?’
‘George,’ Nelly said solemnly, ‘I think you’re goin’ to ’ave a black eye and everyone’ll think I did it.’
They walked home with Dawn following at a distance. When they reached their gate, she followed them through, the camera and film in her hand.
‘There’s a competition at school for the best photograph,’ she said. ‘Can I enter?’
‘Why not?’ Nelly said. ‘Just so long as you don’t want a picture of George’s black eye!’
* * *
Bert Roberts called soon after they got home. Archie Pierce was unable to play in the darts tournament since the burglary had made him afraid to leave his home in the evenings.
‘I thought you might like to take over his place, George?’ Bert explained. ‘He’s through to the second round and there’s a prize at the end.’
‘It seems a shame Archie can’t stay in the contest. He’s a regular in The Drovers’ team.’
‘Oh, I agree with you,’ Bert said stiffly, ‘but I can’t spend any more time arguing with him. There’s a lot to see to, you know – the tournament, and selling tickets for the concert and solo competitions. And now some bright spark has the idea of organising an outing from The Drovers and, of course, guess who they’ve asked to arrange it? Me, of course. Muggins gets landed with it again!’
‘Perhaps if Nelly and I had a word with Archie?’
‘Go on, you. Try if you like. I wash my hands of him. Let me know what’s happening though, will you.’ He added sarcastically, ‘I am the one supposed to be running it all.’
‘That’s not what I hear,’ George chuckled as the man bustled his way up the cinder path and back down to the village. ‘Seems they’ve tried to persuade him to let someone else do the job but it’s no good. He wants to do it and nothing short of murder will prise it out of his grip.’
Phil confirmed this the following day when he brought a letter for Nelly. He sat in the chair near the door and touched the side of his nose in a familiar gesture which Nelly knew as a sign that some gossip was about to be told.
‘Seems there was a bit of a ruckus at the darts match last week,’ he began. ‘Three of them tried to persuade Bert he should let someone else run things as he’s mixed up the date of the next round and forgot to let the teams from the council houses know about an alteration. Turned up they did and were landed with no one to play.’
‘’E came to ask George to play instead of Archie but never said nothing about no ruckus, but we ’ad one of our own. ’Ave you ’eard about Tad and—’
‘Yes, I heard about your George ’avin’ a black eye,’ Phil interrupted. ‘Shamed you should be, Nelly, hitting a bloke twice your size!’
‘I knew it! I knew I’d get the fault!’ Nelly laughed as she picked up the dogs’ leads. ‘I’m goin’ ter call in to Amy’s on the way ’ome from work to tell ’er what ’appened so she can spread the news before I gets meself arrested fer assault!’
Chapter Five
George persuaded Archie to go to the darts match on the following Wednesday, and he and Nelly went with him.
‘We’ll go back with you and make sure everything is all right. We’ll have the dogs with us too – they’d soon tell us if anything was wrong, so you will be able to sleep easily,’ he assured the nervous little man.
The Drovers was full that evening. The tournament was an attraction, with families following the games and supporting the players. Nelly and George pushed their way in with the two dogs and found a place in a corner with a table under which the dogs could settle to sleep.
Nelly was short of money and she glared at Griff when he smiled and said he was sorry not to have any winnings for her.
‘No chance you didn’t get it to the bookies in time then, not like when I ’ad a thirty-three-to-one winner!’ she accused loudly.
‘Bad luck that was, Nelly, don’t try to make more of it. Bad luck it was. Accuse me of cheating on you and I won’t take no more bets. Right?’
He glared at her, hissing the words and she curled her lip and retorted, ‘Watch it, or I’ll be takin’ bets on ’ow soon your Hilda finds out about you an’ Milly Toogood’s daughter!’
Through the smoke of the fire that burned brightly in the grate and the cigarettes, Nelly peered about her and recognised several friends. Phil was there with his quiet wife, Catrin, in support. Two of Freddie’s friends, Griff’s son Pete and young Gerry Williams, who were determined to show the older ones how to play, were teasing Bert and referring to him as ‘Sergeant’ much to his irritation. They were streaked with grease, having come straight from the garage where they both worked, repairing motorbikes.
Bert Roberts managed to keep a space in the over-filled room to allow him to walk up and down, peering at the board accusingly to confirm or deny a disputed score and march back to his position, from which he followed the play and yet managed to add a cursory remark to one or other of the various conversations going on around him.
The two local farmers were present. Leighton silent as usual, merely nodding in reply to any remark, and Billie Brown, who constantly glanced at the door as if expecting someone.
‘Amy,’ Nelly whispered, nudging George. ‘Billie’s waiting fer Amy, I bet yer.’
‘So is he.’ George gestured to the opposite corner where Victor sat in a cloud of smoke as he puffed nervously on a cigarette.
When Amy did arrive, both men half moved towards her but it was to the young boys she went first. ‘Pete, Gerry,’ she greeted them, ‘heard from my Freddie have you? I thought he was coming home but he didn’t turn up. He hasn’t told you why, has he?’
‘Home? But he was home, Mrs Prichard.’ Gerry said. Too late his friend dug him viciously in the ribs to hush him.
‘No, he hasn’t been, not for a while.’ Amy laughed. ‘I’d know for sure, wouldn’t I?’ The light caught her earrings as she shook her blonde head. ‘No, you must have been dreaming!’
‘He’s been back in camp for a few days,’ Gerry admitted. ‘But not weeks.’
‘Shut up, you fool,’ Pete muttered. But the look on Amy’s face made Gerry realise it was too late.
‘Sorry not to have told you, Mrs Prichard, but he asked us not to say, like.’
‘But I don’t understand. If he came home, where did he go?’
The boys looked at each other, their heads lowered guiltily.
‘He said not to say,’ Pete murmured.
‘Where did he go? I insist you tell me. I’m his mother and I demand to know!’ Neither boy spoke and she leaned closer to them and whispered through clen
ched teeth, ‘I’ll just go and have a word with the landlord, shall I? About boys of sixteen drinking in his bar?’
‘He stayed with Sheila Powell – er Davies.’
‘What? You’re telling me Freddie came home on leave and didn’t come to see meor his sister? I don’t believe you!’
‘It’s true, Mrs Prichard, honest.’
Nelly had overheard most of the conversation and she waved to attract Amy’s attention.
‘Budge up, George. Hey, Amy, come an’ sit with us, why don’t yer?’ Nelly moved the dogs along with her feet to avoid Amy stepping on them. ‘Something upset you?’ she asked.
‘You might say so!’ Amy snapped angrily. ‘Did you know my Freddie came home on leave and stayed upon the council houses with that Sheila?’
‘No, er, yes. Er, sort of.’
‘What do you mean, Nelly?’ Amy’s voice was still sharp.
‘I saw Sheila in a taxi, comin’ ’ome from ’ospital, an’ I thought I saw Freddie in the taxi with ’er. Only thought I did, so I said nothin’.’
‘Gerry Williams let it out just now. He and Pete promised not to tell me. Great, isn’t it? My son home on leave and I’m not supposed to know!’
She picked up the drink that Victor had brought and sipped it before banging it down on the table. ‘Thanks, Victor. I’d better go home after this or I might decide it’s a night for getting drunk!’
‘Don’t do that, Amy,’ George said, offering a couple of crisps to the dogs, under the table, ‘Freddie will explain when he feels able to. Until then try not to question him. He’s very sensitive about his feelings for Sheila, knowing you don’t approve, and it’s easy to make things worse.’
‘Worse? How can things be worse than my son not telling me when he’s home? Staying in the village, and I bet everyone knows. That Milly Toogood will know for sure and she couldn’t keep her tongue still if it was tied to a hand grenade!’ The two boys nodded sheepishly at her and left, their turn in the darts match completed. Amy glared at the door as it closed behind them, her blue eyes like ice.
The Changing Valley Page 8