The Changing Valley

by The Changing Valley (retail) (epub)

  ‘Damn, I wish I hadn’t mentioned it now,’ Archie said with a groan. ‘No sooner than I start to feel better about going home, someone mentions burglars and I start to shake.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Pop, we’ll walk home with you tonight, won’t we Pete?’

  ‘Don’t call me Pop,’ Archie said, hanging on to his glass in case they took it off him.

  ‘And don’t call me mate!’ Constable Harris closed his paper. ‘Now, what’s this about a late night motorcyclist?’

  ‘We’ve heard them too,’ Gerry said, his urgent expression making him look even younger than his sixteen years. His face was redder than normal, the dark eyes staring and wide. Here they were, talking to the police, and them under the legal age for drinking.

  ‘I’ll call over later, after you’ve finished work and have a look at those motorbikes of yours,’ Harris said slowly. ‘Yes, and perhaps glance at your birth certificates while I’m there.’ He stood beside them threateningly as they finished their drinks and disappeared around the door. He chuckled and leaned on the bar beside Archie.

  ‘They aren’t bad kids, Constable,’ Archie said. ‘Bought me a drink and offered to go back with me tonight if I was worried. Still half-expecting another burglary, I am.’

  ‘Mrs Dorothy Williams wasn’t expecting one but an hour ago, when she got back from the sewing circle in the church, she found her house open and all the cash she had missing.’

  ‘Damn me, another one!’ Archie spluttered. ‘I’ll be too afraid to go to work soon!’

  ‘Mrs Williams,’ Sheila said, ‘well, she’s got plenty. Not as bad as taking from Archie the little he had.’

  ‘It’s all stealing, Sheila,’ Harris said. ‘And I only hope we catch them soon. It’s getting to be a real worry.’

  ‘Them? You know who it is?’

  ‘No, but I’m beginning to get a picture of them. I believe there’s at least two, and talk about motorbikes in the night makes me think I know how they get about. Easy to ride and they can even cross fields if they need to. Now, not a word, Sheila, or you, Archie. But if you hear them bikes again, just let me know. Right?’

  The constable went out, his slow stride clearly heard as he crossed the concrete forecourt, until he reached the place where he had left his bicycle leaning against the wall. Then he gave a shout of rage and came running back inside.

  ‘Someone has stolen my bicycle!’ he stormed.

  Sheila ran out with others in time to see Pete riding the constable’s bike with Gerry sitting on the cross-bar.

  ‘It’s all right, Constable, only a joke,’ they laughed.

  ‘Perhaps it was to take your mind off their motorbikes,’ Sheila whispered to Constable Harris as he waited for his property to be returned.

  Chapter Eleven

  Constable Harris walked along the lane behind Amy’s shop, almost to the back of Milly’s daughter’s fish-and-chip shop. He stopped at the gate of Griff Evans’s house and went in. It was quite early and the streets were quiet, with the children not yet leaving for school. There was something about an early call that put people off their stroke, he always thought. Maybe it was the unwashed breakfast things and the crumbs on the table cloth, or the hair not yet combed and the apron covering the work-skirt used to clean the grate of the previous evening’s ashes. Whatever the reason, Harris knew it had happened again when Hilda Evans opened the back door to his knock. She glanced back into the house as if deciding whether it was possible to invite him in and avoid him seeing the mess in her kitchen.

  ‘Come in, Constable.’ Hilda pushed ineffectually at the hair just removed from Dinkie curlers and in small tight rolls around her head. ‘There’s early you’re calling. No trouble, is there?’

  ‘Trouble? No. I just want to have a look at your son’s motorbike, see if he’s got the lights working. Had a complaint about a bike being ridden without lights, that’s all.’ He shook his hands, palms up as if to say it was a trivial thing and not his decision, but he was simply following the instructions of less acute men.

  ‘Lights not working?’ Mrs Evans laughed, showing her white artificial teeth, incongruous in her dark and wrinkled face. ‘Damn it all, Constable, nothing’s working! Them two boys, my Pete and Gerry, they’ve never finished working on those bikes. Always a pile of pieces on the shed bench, those bikes are, and that’s where you’ll find them now.’ She laughed again, relief that it was nothing more serious making the laughter unnecessarily loud.

  ‘Do you mind if I look?’ Harris asked politely.

  ‘Of course, come and look!’

  She led him down the garden where rows of cabbages, potatoes and runner beans and an assortment of salad vegetables grew in orderly rows.

  ‘Not much for flowers, your Griff, is he?’ Harris remarked.

  ‘Saves a lot of money, growing food. Not much pay at the forestry,’ Hilda explained. ‘But it’s me who does most of it, mind.’

  The shed was half-hidden by a screen of honeysuckle growing along a trellis fence. Flowers were faded now but still with a hint of scent on the air.

  ‘I won’t let Griff pull this down,’ she said proudly. ‘Brought it with me when I married and kept it through three moves, I have.’ She opened the door of the shed and ushered him inside. ‘There they are, look. Lights working? That’s a laugh! Griff says they should sell the bikes and buy a Meccano set each. That’s what they really want, something to fiddle with and pull about every five minutes.’

  The building was large and in poor condition, its corrugated iron walls showing rust and, in places, holes, where the weather had defeated it. But at the furthest end, near the double doors which led out into the lane, was a huge bench on which Constable Harris recognised the pieces of an engine. Alongside the bench, on cardboard boxes opened flat were the wheels and mudguards and other more complicated parts of the two machines. In an old biscuit tin, soaking in what he guessed was paraffin, were the chains. He laughed.

  ‘I see what you mean about wanting a Meccano set! How often are the bikes like this?’

  ‘How many months in a year?’ Hilda sighed. ‘All their working days in a garage and all their spare time messing about with these. Can’t understand the attraction myself. They do get them going sometimes, mind, but most of the time this is where they are, spread out like a jigsaw puzzle over the shed and even the garden. Griff gets mad and tells them to get the place cleared, but you know what boys are like, Constable. Never take a blind bit of notice, do they?’

  Constable Harris scratched out the boy’s names from the list he had written in his notebook and left. Too bad the slight suspicion he had nurtured since seeing that money in Pete’s hand had come to nothing. He had learnt at the garage where the boys worked that they had been delivering motorbikes to a customer and had collected the payment.

  He wouldn’t have really wanted it to be a couple of the local boys who were carrying out the robberies. Best if it was someone from outside the village. He never had a moment’s trouble working among these people and a local arrest might change things. Getting on his bicycle, he went home to make himself a bacon sandwich. Butter he’d have on the bread. Now it was off ration, he would spread it till it dribbled out and on to the plate in golden splashes.

  * * *

  The farm run by Billie and his sister Mary was not large. The buildings, apart from the new and splendid cow house and milking parlour, were whitewashed ex-cottages and stone-built sheds from over a hundred years before. There was a huge woodpile against one of the outhouses and an axe sticking out of a piece of wood ready for Billie to use.

  The farmhouse itself was very large, a rambling building with windows looking out over the hills which rolled up on all sides. The stream ran close by and, in the distance, looking towards Hen Carw Parc, the ruins of the old castle could occasionally be seen. When the trees in the woods lost their leaves and the grasses and wild flowers fell back into their winter rest, the ancient stones stood out, a sombre grey amid the yellows and greens.


  Billie walked up through the fields and called for Amy and the children at two o’clock, while Amy was putting the dishes away after their Sunday lunch. She was flushed from the kitchen heat, her blonde hair a little awry. Billie thought she had never looked more beautiful, or desirable. She wished he could have told her so – he even tried – but with Margaret and Oliver asking question about the various activities of the farm he could not. Instead he mumbled about the beautiful day and how nice Margaret looked in her new green print dress.

  He waited while Amy went upstairs to change from the beige skirt and sleeveless blouse she had worn to do her weekend housework, and smiled his pleasure as she returned. She wore a cap-sleeved dress with a low vee neck, a tight waist and a full skirt. The small belt in the same coral linen as the dress made her small waist look even tinier and Billie imagined he could span it easily with his hands. He was fascinated by her small waist. The rest of her was curvy, yet she had this smallness that made him feel protective. He straightened up to his full height and smiled to himself. He was beginning to act like a man about to charge dragons in defence of his love.

  His large hands cradled the baby against his chest and his dark eyes looked down at her with such gentleness, that Amy, as she went to take Sian to dress her, was overcome with affection for him. He really was a gentle giant of a man and if she married him he would care for them all with devotion. The thought made her light-hearted and as they set out they were all chattering gaily, Margaret and Oliver hand in hand in front and Amy beside Billie, who carried Sian.

  Billie’s heart was swollen with happiness as he strode out with them. He imagined how wonderful life would be if he were a part of this group every day of his life. He had to make her forget Victor. He had to, He needed to wake each morning and see Amy’s fair head beside him, her blue eyes watching him – or perhaps she would still be sleeping and he would go downstairs and bring her a cup of tea which she would drink while he sat beside her on the big bed. He did not realise he was smiling, until Margaret asked, ‘What are you laughing at, Uncle Billie?’

  Billie turned to see that Amy was smiling too. ‘It’s a lovely day,’ he laughed.

  ‘It isn’t,’ Margaret said. ‘It’s cold and the sun won’t wake up.’

  ‘A lovely day because I’m enjoying myself,’ Billie explained with a shy glance at Amy.

  They walked along the banks of the river, wandering without any hurry towards the farmhouse where Mary had prepared tea for them all. When they reached the front door, she opened it for them and smiled a welcome.

  ‘Lovely to see you all,’ she said, taking the baby from Billie and putting her on the big settee. ‘I hope you’re hungry after your walk?’

  The table was spread with a white cloth and, on large blue-rimmed plates, Mary had set out an assortment of sandwiches, pasties and scones as well as jellies and blancmange, which she knew Oliver and Margaret loved. The children wanted to begin at once but Mary had other plans.

  ‘Before we eat I want to take you to see the lambs, show you how they’ve grown,’ she said. ‘We’ll leave Sian here with your mother, Margaret, and you and Oliver can help me bring them down from the top field for Uncle Billie. He wants to make sure they’re all marked,’ she explained as she led them out. ‘Won’t be long, you two. Why don’t you show Amy the house, Billie?’

  It was so contrived that Billie felt embarrassed. But he picked up Sian and said, ‘Might as well have a look at the old place while you’re here.’ He waited until Amy followed, then led her up the long staircase to the first floor.

  To Amy, the place seemed to be a warren of corridors and odd spaces which made the place more like a film set for an historical story rather than a place where two people lived. Corridors opened out on to wide landings on which a piece of furniture had been placed to fill the emptiness: a chair, or a small chest of drawers and even in one place, a small chaise-longue.

  ‘I have to keep looking out of the windows to see where we are,’ Amy laughed. ‘All these long passageways makes me lose my sense of direction.’

  Most of the rooms had furniture although they did not feel as if they were ever used. She wondered, as Billie explained about his ancestors, what it would have been like to have been born into a large family such as the one this house had been originally built for.

  ‘Seventeen children they had, the couple who built it, but it goes back even further than that, as they used an older house to start with, building on and adding room after room as the family and wealth grew.’

  ‘It’s fascinating. I can see that a place like this would soon grow on you. Be like wearing a well-loved coat,’ Amy laughed. ‘But, being practical, who does all the work?’

  ‘Mary mostly. We have someone in a few times a year to go through it all, and when it comes to decorating, well, I do that.’

  ‘But it’s so much to look after.’ She thought of how much time it took to keep her own small house clean and shining.

  ‘Not really. In fact, if someone came here, they wouldn’t have to do anything they didn’t want to.’ His eyes slid away from her and he added, ‘It can be what ever you wanted it to be, a house like this. A burden or a joy. We can afford for someone to do all the work if necessary. I can’t imagine it being a burden, not ever. And it’s a happy house. I don’t think anyone living here has been anything but happy.’

  ‘I can believe that,’ Amy said.

  He went ahead of her again, opening a door on a big, sunny room which, facing south must, Amy decided, have a warmth and light that some of the other, back rooms, might lack. The furniture was heavy but as there was not too much of it, the dark polished wardrobe and chests did not fill the room and hide its beauty. It was a beautiful room, with three tall narrow windows covered with casement lace and chintzy gold, cream and blue floor-length curtains.

  Amy felt the atmosphere thicken and Billie stood closer to her as she stood looking out of the window to where fields rose towards the woodland. It was so still, not even a tree-top moved in the late afternoon. The sounds coming from the children below, whooping and playing were cut off, distant, leaving Amy with the sensation of being alone with Billie in an isolated world into which they had intruded. She became conscious of Billie breathing faster than normal. His eyes were upon her and she moved, only a fraction, but he reached out and held her arm, the baby still cradled contentedly in the other.

  ‘Amy.’ He reached out clumsily and, startled, she turned so the intended kiss touched her cheek. He’s an amateur and so am I! she thought foolishly as he tried once again to find her lips and, for a moment his mouth trembled against hers, a slight pressure but no conviction making it little more than a feathery salute such as a stranger might give at some silly party game.

  ‘Amy, could you live here with me?’ She stopped his words with a kiss that was sweet and full of promise. She knew what he had been about to say and she was not ready to reply. She forgot Victor and everything else in the demands of his kiss, surprised at his new-found strength. He forced her head back, his lips moving against hers in sensual rhythms that spread to her body and made her want to sway, and press herself against him. Sounds from below ceased and there was nothing except the two of them. She brought herself back to earth with a stunned gasp, with the baby separating them and his hand just resting on her waist. How could she feel like this? It was Victor she loved.

  ‘We’d better go down,’ she said breathlessly. She was confused and needed to clear her mind.

  ‘I want to look after you, Amy. You and Margaret and Freddie. We’d be such a happy family, living here.’

  Amy slipped out of his one-handed embrace and sat on the edge of the over-stuffed bed. ‘I don’t think this is something we can discuss now. Let you and me meet one day soon and talk about how we feel. I – I don’t feel free to promise anything. I have to be honest with you, Billie.’

  ‘Victor, isn’t it?’

  ‘Victor, and the fear of such an enormous change in my life.’

/>   He bent down and lifted her to her feet and tried again to kiss her, his arm holding Sian, the other hand on her shoulder. Amy found it very unsatisfactory and in a sudden impulse wrapped her arms around him after placing the baby on the floor at their feet. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and pressed her body tightly against his and kissed him as she expected to be kissed.

  She felt him react sharply, jerking himself away from her before surrendering with a low groan and slipping into the exciting sensation of two people coming together in love. She rolled against him, and felt his body responding before she breathlessly eased herself away and stared up into eyes that were dark with passion. She knew that once he had been released from his inhibitions he would be an impossible man to hold back. The thought did not greatly displease her.

  They went downstairs, Amy laughing as she constantly went along the wrong corridors, looking out of every window they passed, running briefly into each room to look out and check on their progress, and making both Billie and Sian laugh. They reached the kitchen where Mary and the two children were preparing the big teapot and setting out the sugar and milk in the blue bordered china.

  Excusing herself she went back up the stairs to the bathroom. She had been excited by Billie and the thought of teaching him about love made her want to spend a few moments by herself before she went down to face Mary and the others. She must take things slowly. Impulse and the desire for love had brought her little happiness in the past and she had recently broken a promise she had made to herself never to start another affair with a married man. She must not let her body dictate to her. Billie was a temptation, but was he a man she could spend the rest of her life with? The corridor was dark and chilly and she shivered as she thought how easy it would be to succumb to the needs of her body and ignore the warnings of her mind.