The Changing Valley

by The Changing Valley (retail) (epub)

  Leaving the castle behind them, they walked across some open ground and Dawn knew she was now following the man because she was lost. She began to cry, silently, the tears welling up and coursing slowly down her cold cheeks. She wished she could see her house and be able to run through the back door which she had left open, and go in and warm herself in her bed in the room next to her father’s. There was no moon, and the blackness of the night seemed to mass behind her and only allow her the slightest hint of the man in front. She was tiring now and wondered if she would be able to keep up with him for long enough to find a place she recognised. Stupid to take a photograph: it had been far too dark anyway, she thought. She should have gone home as soon as she had seen him instead of following him until darkness overcame her.

  There was a risk that the man would hear her sobs if she could not hold them back. He would be angry at discovering her and she bit her lip until it bled. Then lights showed faintly in the sky and she knew they were near the council houses. Her cold hands covered her mouth to muffle sighs of relief and she found a new burst of speed and nearly caught up with the man striding ahead of her.

  He stopped and looked around him and she crouched in panic, but he went on, apparently unaware of her, and she set off again in pursuit.

  At the top of St Hilda’s Crescent he slipped under a hedge and disappeared in the shadows. She knew the house. It was where two girls from school lived, Betty and Gillian Taylor. She did not wait for him to reappear, shivering with cold she ran around the Crescent and into her own garden. Her hot-water bottle was cold but she hugged it anyway and her father found her the next morning, dressed, dirty, her legs covered in scratches and he demanded to know where she had been.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she lied. ‘I must have been sleep-walking.’

  ‘Dawn, don’t be silly. Even I can’t accept that!’

  But she was asleep again, and he left her. He had better let her recover, then perhaps he would have some answers. And perhaps, he thought grimly, he would get the locks changed on the back and front door!

  He was very worried when, on the news later that day, a robbery was reported in St Hilda’s Crescent. He went up to look at Dawn, who had spent the day in bed after he had washed her torn legs, but had been given no satisfactory explanation for her dishevelled state.

  ‘Dawn, you had better tell me what really happened last night. I think you might be in trouble and I have to know before I can defend you. Now, what happened after you left the house? Did you go into someone else’s house? The truth, Dawn. I mean it this time, none of your lies, this definitely is not the time for them.’

  ‘Dad, I don’t remember. Honestly. I must have walked in my sleep. Remember you told me I did once or twice when I was a baby?’

  ‘The truth, Dawn.’ He stood beside her bed and glared down at her. Tempted by her smallness to abandon the questioning, he hardened his heart and waited. ‘And while we’re about it,’ he added grimly, ‘I’d like to know what really happened when you asked Miss Honeyman for help when you were in town a few weeks ago.’

  Dawn rubbed her eyes and began to cry. ‘Everyone hates me, and now they’ve got you hating me too. I haven’t got anyone in the whole world to love me. I don’t remember, and what Miss Honeyman did was so mean, I can’t think how you can pretend she’s nice.’

  Defeated, Tad comforted her and, tucking her under the covers, went down to make her a hot drink. Was she lying? If she were wandering around at night in semi-sleep, the dangers were enormous. Should he consult a doctor?

  He dropped into a chair and held his head in his hands. He was so useless. Why had fate left someone as useless as him in charge of a small child? If only there was someone he could talk to.

  Delina Honeyman came into his mind and he imagined her sitting opposite him and letting him talk about all that bothered him. But that was no way to think of her. Surely he should be thinking of the reverse, him caring for Delina? He would not want a woman just to lean on but someone he could protect and love and – he stopped, startled at where his weary mind was taking him. Delina could hardly bear to look at him, let alone be the recipient of either his complaining or his concern. But thoughts of her remained, refusing to leave him for an instant during the rest of the day, as he watched over the dozing child.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was raining and had been all night and Nelly decided that she would walk around the lane to go in through the back entrance of Amy’s shop when she went to do some cleaning. There was always mud on her shoes from walking down the lane and since the new bathroom had been fitted, the mud was worse. Remnants of the trench-digging had spilled over on to the lane and the tractors and occasional cars, plus the lorries that had delivered the materials for the work, had spread the surface of the lane with a glutinous film.

  Nelly skidded once when she reached the main road and her laughter rang out as she grasped at a branch for support. Walking slowly and giving the impression to the occasional passer-by that she was drunk, she went carefully across the main road and behind the row of cottages in which Amy’s shop stood.

  The rain was fine and misted her view of the fields behind the shop as she approached it, but, looking back, she saw a man she recognised coming out from the back of the fish-and-chip shop.

  ‘Griff Evans,’ she muttered, pulling the dogs to stop them barking. ‘I wonder what ’e’s doin’ that I’m not supposed to know about?’

  She opened the gate of Amy’s yard and tied the dogs where they could sit just inside the shed that had once been Amy’s storeroom and went to begin her work. As her hand touched the knob of the door, the gate opened and the constable stepped in.

  ‘Nelly. Got a minute, have you?’

  ‘O’ course, so long as it won’t take all mornin’.’

  ‘I wondered if you’ve seen any strangers around the village lately? I know I’ve asked you before, but you might have remembered something or perhaps there’s something you hadn’t thought worth mentioning? You wander around more than most with those dogs of yours and you’ve a sharp eye.’

  She leaned forward and grinned wickedly, ‘I just seen that Griff comin’ from where ’e ain’t supposed to be,’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘Does Hilda know, I wonder?’

  ‘I saw Griff too.’ PC Harris showed slight disapproval at Nelly’s innuendo. ‘He told me he’s called with a message from his wife. She won’t be going in to work until later.’

  Nelly grinned unrepentantly.

  ‘Hilda’s away fer the weekend, went last night. You don’t think she’d ’ave fergotten to tell Bethan that, do yer?’ Her crooked teeth gave a cheekiness to her grin that made the policeman smile.

  ‘Interesting,’ he admitted.

  ‘Yes, ain’t it?’

  ‘Well, if there’s nothing more you can tell me…’ He thanked her for her time and went back to the lane.

  After a moment, Nelly went to the gate and peered out. Harris was standing near the back entrance to Griff and Hilda’s house, where the garage opened on to the lane. She crept along and stood peering through the weaker parts of the wooden doors into the dark interior. At first she could see nothing, but gradually she could make out the shapes of two motorbikes and a bench on which there were several boxes, presumably of tools. There was the sound of voices and the further door, which opened on to the garden beyond, opened and Griff’s son Pete, came in wearing large leather gloves and with a pair of goggles hanging loose around his neck. The extra light revealed the floor covered with leaves and patches of mud from the boots that had walked across the garden. The boy called something, presumably to his father and closed the door. ‘’Ere,’ Nelly said suddenly, ‘come an’ ’ide in Amy’s yard, why don’t yer?’

  The suddenness of the voice behind him and close to his elbow, startled the policeman into a gasp of alarm. He had been so intent on studying the garage he had not heard her approach.

  He allowed himself to be dragged by his sleeve back along the lane and in through Am
y’s gate. They heard the roar of the motorbike as it turned down past the chip shop and out on to the main road.

  Nelly continued to listen, her head on one side.

  ‘’E’s gone up Sheepy Lane, to call for Gerry,’ she decided as the whine of the engine faded.

  ‘Thank you,’ Harris said sarcastically. ‘But there was no need for that, Nelly.’ He pulled his sleeve straight fussily. ‘I don’t have to explain my presence.’

  ‘But it’s best not to let ’em know you’re investigating ’em.’

  ‘I’m not investigating them. Now you be careful what you say, Nelly.’ He raised a warning finger. ‘Say nothing about this, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  She added to his doubts about her keeping silent, by showing her teeth in another crooked grin, and saluting him. She laughed loudly then, and walked back to start Amy’s cleaning. Harris adjusted his jacket and coughed, reorganising his dignity, before walking on.

  * * *

  When her work was finished and she and Amy sat on the bottom step of the stairs which led to the now-sealed door leading to the flat, the shop suddenly filled up and Nelly watched while Amy served her customers quickly and efficiently. But after a while she could see there was little chance of a chat, so she stood up to leave. Phil, coming into the shop with his second delivery, stopped her.

  ‘Heard about Sheila, then?’ he asked the knot of people standing talking and blocking the doorway of the shop. ‘And about Griff off work with a bad leg? Caused by Archie’s carelessness he says.’

  ‘What now with Sheila?’ Milly Toogood asked. ‘More trouble for her parents, is it?’

  ‘Got herself a new boyfriend, that’s what.’ Phil said. ‘A smart lad too by all accounts. Accounts, being his job,’ he joked. ‘An accountant in a building firm so I hear, don’t know which one,’ he added sadly. ‘Posh that, isn’t it?’

  Nelly watched Amy’s face on which surprise, relief and sudden doubt showed. She hoped Amy would not be the one to tell Freddie. He would hate whoever took it on themselves to do so.

  ‘Blimey, ’ere’s the farmer’s union!’ she shouted to take the talk away from Sheila and her new boyfriend. Everyone moved to make room for Billie and Mr Leighton and Sidney Davies, Phil’s brother.

  ‘’Morning, Billie,’ Amy said sweetly. ‘Up early were you?’ Even though Billie had repeatedly apologised for falling asleep in the cinema and had tried to explain his sudden tiredness because of the ewe that had fallen in the stream, Amy wouldn’t let him forget it. Now, others heard of it too. Billie took the teasing in good part and joined in the laughter that followed.

  The customers were still reluctant to disperse and Billie was obviously in a hurry. He came to lean closer to Amy and asked, ‘Dare I invite you out again, Amy? I thought we could go to the pub for a drink or two then back to the farm for supper. Mary will leave everything ready for us. She’s going out, see, to the evening class for lace-making.’

  He groaned as his words were repeated with heavy emphasis and laughingly, Amy agreed. ‘If I can find a baby-sitter,’ she warned.

  The shop finally emptied and Amy sat with Nelly for their belated cup of tea. As soon as they had poured their second cups, there were footsteps, and Victor came in.

  ‘Y’re late!’ Nelly said. ‘Missed Billie by ten minutes, yer did. You must be losin’ yer second sense where ’e an’ Amy’s concerned.’ She collected the dogs, damp and cold in their shed, and went home.

  * * *

  Evie had been made to feel guilty at the number of times Amy had looked after Oliver and had agreed to stay with Margaret and the baby until eleven o’clock.

  ‘No later, mind,’ she warned as Amy stepped into the battered van in which Mary delivered her milk. ‘I have to be up early in the morning.’

  ‘Half-past-five, I’m up,’ Amy replied. ‘Can you beat that?’

  Billie drove her to Llan Gwyn where they found a small public house a little way off the main road where they were not known and which Billie planned to make their own, special place. He told Amy as much and she smiled. He had some nice romantic ideas. Pity he was so slow telling them. He made everything mundane by his slowness, she sighed.

  ‘We get along all right together, don’t we, Amy?’ he said after a lull in the conversation, which had been mainly about the troubles with sheep. ‘I think your Margaret likes me, thinks of me as a favourite uncle. No trouble there. And as for little Sian, well, I’d love her like I love Margaret, and Freddie too. If we were to marry, I think you’d be very happy with how I treated them all.’

  ‘Is this a proposal?’ Amy stared at him. He’d made it sound like a contract with sheep-shearers.

  ‘Well, you know how I feel about you—’

  ‘No, I don’t. Tell me!’

  ‘I – I’m not very good at this sort of thing, Amy, but I – I’m fond of you, always have been, like…’

  ‘Fond?’ She was not going to help him at all. ‘Is that all?’

  ‘No, no. That’s not all. I’ve always dreamed of us being married, you sharing my life and being there when I wake up every morning and there when I finish my work and never having to say goodbye ever again.’

  ‘Billie, you need to feel more than fondness to take someone into your home and share your life.’

  ‘Amy, you’re teasing me.’ He put a large hand over hers and smiled at her. ‘Come on, let’s go home, we can talk easier there.’

  He helped her on with her coat and, with his hand resting on her shoulder, guided her out of the pub and across to the car park to the battered van, incongruous between smarter, newer cars. As if she had spoken of the comparison, Billie said, ‘Sorry about this, the Land Rover’s in for a service. Anyway, first off, I’m going to buy us a really smart car, so when we take the children out they’ll be really comfortable. Can’t expect Margaret to sit in the back of a van much longer. Getting to be a real lady she is.’

  Amy did not reply. There was no excitement in the prospect of marrying Billie, yet she did not discard the idea, afraid that there would never be another chance for her. Even Billie was better than a life spent alone, never experiencing the partnership of a man and woman living together, sharing everything and working in harness for the benefit of their family. ‘Working in harness’, she thought wryly, I’m even beginning to think like a farmer’s wife!

  She was silent as Billie drove her back to the farm. The countryside had changed colour with the approach of autumn, and the headlights caught patches of rich gold on the leaves of the hedges as they travelled along the twisting lanes, the tyres hissing on the road. As the farm house came into view at the end of the long drive between fields, they saw at once that the front door was open. Billie sighed with disappointment.

  ‘Mary must be back,’ he said.

  ‘Night school finishes at nine,’ Amy said, and felt relief flow through her. ‘Can’t expect her to stay away from her own home, now can you?’ Dog in the manger I am, she thought guiltily. I don’t want him, yet I hang on to him in case I change my mind.

  Billie stepped out of the van and opened the door for her and she walked across the recently scrubbed yard to the house. In the living room door, Billie gasped in horror. The place had been ransacked.

  ‘Stay there,’ he warned Amy. ‘I’ll go and see if they’re still here. Murder them, I will, if I catch them.’

  ‘No, Billie, I’m coming with you!’ Walking close behind him and looking nervously around her, she went from room to room along dark passages as they searched every corner of the rambling house.

  It was empty but in several rooms drawers and wardrobes were open, their contents strewn across the floor. In the bedroom where Mary slept a small metal box was lying on the carpet, its lock obviously forced.

  ‘Damn me, there’s all her collection gone! I warned her. I told her this might happen. She used to take it straight to the bank regular, but lately she’s been careless. I warned her!’

  ‘Billie, don’t you think we should r
ing the police?’ Amy said.

  She watched as, with hands trembling with rage, he dialled PC Harris’s number, then they stood silently until he arrived together with two men from Llan Gwyn. They had waited in the doorway, Billie unable to go inside the ransacked house and face the chaos the intruders had left, and Amy needing to be close to him, his warmth and his arms around her a protection from the fears the burglary had caused. She glanced around her, afraid that the events of the evening were not yet over, that someone would suddenly jump out at them. The mellow old building was no longer friendly, the evening already turning into an unpleasant memory with all the enjoyment fading from her mind.

  * * *

  Bert Roberts called a meeting in the church hall for the following Monday evening and the small building was crammed full. The Reverend Barclay Bevan was there to open the proceedings and the main speaker was Constable Harris, with one of his superiors to add information where necessary.

  ‘Now, first of all, let me reassure you that this spate of burglaries is, so far as we know, not connected with the death of Harry Beynon. The methods used are so dissimilar as to make that very, very unlikely.’ A murmur of conversation resulted from his words and he allowed it to continue for a few moments before continuing. ‘I want you all to think about the past weeks and let me know of anything unusual, however insignificant, that might help identify the people responsible. Or anything that might be assisting them to get information. They are certainly aware of times when houses are empty and this suggests that information is being gathered.’

  People looked at each other nervously.

  ‘What are we doing here, then?’ someone called. ‘Best we were home, minding our property.’