The Runaway

by Claire Wong

  Does she know yet, does she see, how much I am changed from the anguished girl prepared to hurt anyone around her if it made life closer to the fairy tales she treasured? My best hope of being welcomed home, and the best reconciliatory gift I have to offer anyone, is that I am a little less cruel than I once was.

  “Have you really been living in the forest all this time?” she asks.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not quite as thin as I’d have expected, then.”

  It is hardly a tearful, joyful return. There is nothing dramatic or easy about this. Our conversation is stilted, as we each try to remember what we ought to say to one another.

  “Owen has grown since I left.”

  “Yes. He was only just walking then. Now he runs away faster than I can keep track of him.”

  I don’t know what I expected. Of course there are many hurts to heal now, and a great gulf between us to bridge. But I think that in time my aunt and I may well be friends.

  We talk a while longer about all the various people who have played a part in our lives, how they fit in different ways. I tell Diana how much Callum is changed for the better, and she admits to me she thinks Tom may have some knack for leadership after all, given last night’s events. It is impossible to avoid mentioning Ifan, though that is uncomfortable, as neither of us quite knows what we ought to feel with regard to him. All this talk of other names makes me mindful of the people I have yet to see.

  “I came to see you as soon as I woke up. I don’t think many people know I’m here yet.”

  Diana is gratified at the special attention paid to her, and this helps her to accept the idea that I must now pay some more visits, though she doesn’t let me go until I have eaten some breakfast.

  I approach the next house and rap against the wooden door. A wonderfully familiar voice rasps an invitation to enter and, as the door is unlocked already, I step inside.

  “It’s me,” I say.

  Maebh looks as though she has aged many years in my absence. Her face is more gaunt, and she looks as if she might not have the strength to stand. Yet at my words she breaks into a beaming smile and her blue eyes shine as they search for the speaker.

  “Rhiannon, my child, you have come home!”

  And yes, as she says those words, I really do feel as if I have come home. She reaches out a bony hand and I take it in mine quickly, sitting down on the footstool beside her chair. She is chuckling to herself with delight now, and I find it impossible not to join her in laughing gleefully.

  “It’s so good to see you again, Maebh!”

  “Tom brought me the news last night. You and Callum: both back! How wonderful. It’s good to have a homecoming to celebrate. And I expect we have Emrys’s children to thank for much of that.”

  “Yes,” I say, “they suggested to us we should come back. Neither of us liked the idea at first, but after a time it started to make sense – but that isn’t really what you mean, is it?”

  Maebh cackles appreciatively. She has always had an interest in people: in their minds, their hopes, their choices.

  “You know me well, my girl. You have learned something out there, then.”

  She knows something must have changed and wants to hear my account of it. What can I tell her? That I have learned the necessary skills to sustain my own life with no help from anyone else? That I was independent for a time, but that soon lost all its charm? That I think maybe life can be beautiful enough, and full enough, that stories exist only to augment it, not to compensate for its failings? That unconditional friendship is not a mere fairy tale?

  “I think people don’t have to be perfect, do they? To still deserve love, I mean.”

  “Very good. Loving others in spite of their imperfections is not at all a child’s game. You have grown older while you were away.”

  I feel older. The ground beneath my feet seems less shaky now. I think back to all the anger and disappointment I felt when I marched stubbornly into the forest, and wonder how I had the energy for it all, or why it seemed so important what everyone thought of me then.

  Voices seem to be gathering outside, growing louder as they call their neighbours.

  “Tom is going to make an announcement at the church hall, to explain to everyone what happened last night,” says Maebh.

  “I guess I’d better go and be there for it. I don’t suppose you’ll come?”

  “No, dear. It needs something more urgent for these poor bones to deign to move. Besides, you know old Maebh always knows exactly what is being said out there.”

  She says the last part with a mischievous smile. She plays the role of the wise old woman so convincingly, which at times reassures and disconcerts people in equal measure, but always affords her a place in the village.

  “I’m glad to be here again,” I say, as I leave her house. She waves me away with an air of complete contentment.

  A small crowd has gathered in the hall, where tables and chairs have been hastily rearranged from the party that happened here last night. I quietly join at the back of the group, afraid that if anyone were to see me unexpectedly it would cause too much of a stir. Tom will give the announcement in his own way. That said, he is doing a remarkably good job of keeping their attention. When I was last here, he was widely mocked for not being more practical or interesting. Men laughed at him because they were glad to think they commanded more respect than he did. Yet now all eyes are fixed on him.

  “Friends,” he begins, “thank you for coming. There will be a more formal statement from the Bryndu station later today, but I have been authorized to speak here this morning. The Dyfed-Powys police were called to respond to an incident that took place in and around Llandymna last night. I was part of that response. You’ll have heard parts of what happened already. But incomplete knowledge can be a dangerous thing, so let me tell you all the full story.”

  Here we are, at the end of all the trouble, still needing stories. They are powerful things, because with words alone Tom is going to give this village back its peace. As he begins the account, I hear reminders in his voice that this is a man who grew up listening to Maebh’s tales. But he is also a police officer, and everything he says is fair and balanced. He does not take sides.

  “Ifan Evans is co-operating with the police as we fully investigate all the circumstances surrounding this event.”

  I think of what this will mean for Nia: will her husband go to prison? Or will he come home and rage further at how he has been treated by the police? But lately we’ve learned that Nia isn’t as fragile as she looks, and I feel sure she’ll face it well, whatever happens.

  Tom moves on to tell how all those who followed Ifan last night will need to be questioned, as will many who attended the party here in the hall. So far I have not been mentioned. Perhaps I am one controversy too many on this morning when people are trying to return their lives to something that looks normal and predictable.

  When Tom finishes talking about last night, he turns to a much older incident in this village which he himself has only just learned about, and so announces what has been rumoured all morning: that Adam and Grace are descended from one of our own people. All murmuring stops as people listen intently. He briefly tells the story of Emrys, and I see the discomfort on people’s faces as they hear how this village treated him. They will not forget that easily.

  “And finally,” Tom says, “today is a day for many returns and reconciliations. We are welcoming back not just Callum Rees, but also Rhiannon Morgan.”

  As he says this, he looks straight at me and I realize that he has known all along that I am here. A few people audibly start at hearing my name, and everyone follows Tom’s eyes to where I stand. It is intensely uncomfortable, having all these faces turned towards me. I do not know if I should speak, or smile, or do nothing.

  Fortunately, Tom calls their attention back again and fi
nishes his speech. When it’s done, the crowd slowly disperses, and a few people murmur “welcome back” as they pass me. The rows gradually thin, like a mound of sand being carried off by sporadic gusts of wind. First to leave are those who had little to do with this affair; then those who were involved but not arrested thank Tom and hurry away, trying to forget what they have done. Soon the only ones remaining are those who were caught in the centre of the fight and the fire. I suppose we had the most invested, the most at risk, so it makes sense we should find it hardest simply to wander off and return to life as if it’s another ordinary day.

  Callum approaches Tom, and to my amazement they hug one another like brothers. Can it be that these rivals are now friends again? Near them, Adam says something to Grace which makes her smile. It also turns out that Nia is back from Bryndu already. They gesture to her to join the conversation, and they speak softly, as they would to someone in mourning. Adam’s arm is bandaged, but he seems to keep forgetting this. He tries to pat Callum on the back encouragingly and then winces as he remembers his injury.

  I want to walk up to the five of them, but I am transfixed for the moment, unsure what to say to anyone, so I stand at a slight distance, watching them and delighting in this sight of five of my favourite people finally all safe. I stay here until Grace glances over and notices me. At once they call me over to join them. As I cover the short distance between us, I wonder what I can possibly say to these people that will be appropriate to what has happened to us all.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your shawl,” I blurt out to Nia. These are my sensitive first words?

  But she smiles. “Of course not. The colour suits you – it matches your eyes.”

  “I thought she had brown eyes,” says Callum. Nia gives a short laugh at Callum’s skills of observation.

  “Was it right, to tell everyone you are back?” Tom asks. A police officer who just commanded the attention of the whole village is asking my opinion!

  “Yes, it made perfect sense,” I reply. “Is anyone badly hurt from last night?”

  “Not badly,” Grace reports. “A number of small injuries from running around in the woods, and some scuffles that broke out, of course. But nobody had their heart fully in it, so bruises and shallow cuts make up the most of it. Adam has some nasty burns from throwing himself through the fire, unsurprisingly, but that’s entirely his own stupid fault.”

  Adam gives a rueful grin as he is once again reminded. As I think of how he stepped through the wall of fire rather than leave us there; how Grace trusted me enough to let me guide Callum without her help; how she and Nia risked so much to warn us; how Callum showed his newfound character when he stopped running; how Tom defied everyone’s expectations to take charge of the village and lead them out of chaos and violence into a peaceful fresh start, I feel as if I am overflowing with admiration for them all. I beam at each of them, and say, “Thank you for bringing me home.”

  And now everyone is smiling back at me, as if they are actually happy I’m here. I would not exchange all the forests and fairy tales in the world for this.

  Callum wonders aloud what we should all do now. Tom, who is ready to take a short rest from being responsible for everyone, suggests we go and sit for a while by the old war memorial. I suspect he chooses it because it faces north out of the village, and you cannot see the forest from there. If it is burned and charred, I don’t want to know just yet.

  Chapter seven

  Rhiannon

  We have begun to settle into this new shape of our lives: so like the old way of things and yet so different. Adam and Grace have been gone a few days, but we haven’t said goodbye to them yet because we knew they’d be back today.

  Diana and I take my cousins to meet them in the village when they arrive. They have brought their mother with them: a gentle-looking woman whose age I would never have been able to guess. As I see the way they help her from the car and walk with her across the road, I am struck by all the kindness I have yet to show Diana.

  “Ooh, she’s beautiful!” Eira whispers. “I like her dress.”

  I squeeze Eira’s hand. “Shall we go and say hello to her then?”

  She nods eagerly, and we walk over to them, while Diana follows with Owen. It has been less than a week since I saw Adam and Grace, but it feels much longer.

  “Hello again, Rhiannon,” says Grace. “We’d like you to meet our mother, Abenaa Trewent.”

  “You are Rhiannon?” she says in a strong, beautiful accent, and I can’t help but wonder what she has heard about me. “Bless you, dear girl. I am glad to meet you.”

  She has such sparkling eyes; she reminds me of Maebh. And here, as if on cue, is Maebh herself. Tom is walking with her over from her house. I wonder what the two of them will make of each other: Emrys’s widow and the woman who has been trying to tell his story for almost fifty years.

  I stand back as the two of them meet. I do not hear what is spoken between them, but I see the moment when Abenaa hugs Maebh.

  We are meeting the others at our destination, so we all get into the cars and set out. We drive out of Llandymna, past the farm. I imagine Adam and Grace in the car ahead of ours pointing out to their mother the house where they stayed.

  We have to stop a short way from Dyrys, because the roads are in bad condition after several days of rain. We walk together up the slope, taking it slowly for the sake of those who find walking much harder. To my surprise, Diana deliberately relaxes her pace to walk level with Abenaa, while I go on ahead with Adam and Grace.

  “May I ask you something about your husband?” Diana asks.

  “Of course,” Abenaa nods.

  “Did you talk with him much, towards the end?”

  “Oh, we talked about everything! Why do you ask?”

  “It’s just that when Edwin, my late husband, was ill, it took me so long to face up to what was happening that I never got to have that last conversation with him. I would have liked to say so much.”

  “How long were you two married?”

  “Ten years.”

  “Ten years is good. You live with someone every day, care for them, laugh with them: that’s your conversation. I’m certain you had already said everything that mattered – through your days together if not in your words.”

  “Yes,” Diana says, looking a little more hopeful. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

  Up ahead, Nia is waiting for us on a little corner of the farmland where the forest has strayed past its borders. I hear the sound of running behind us, and there is Callum, racing to catch up with the group after he set out too late.

  Everything is ready for us: the spot of earth, the green sapling the Trewents have chosen, the plaque that will sit at its foot. Though Emrys’s life came to an end far from where it began, Adam and Grace decided they wanted to commemorate him here as well, as an act of reconciliation with the village. So we’ve gathered here today to remember someone many of us have never met but have all been affected by.

  Adam starts the digging, but others step in and offer to take a turn, and he is happy to hand over the spade. When the hole is deep enough, he and Grace plant the young tree while their mother says a prayer of thanks for her husband’s life. I notice that she is holding the pocket watch that I found in the woods. I’m glad they gave it to her. They set the plaque in front of the tree, and we all stand in silence for a while on the side of that hill. Over the shoulders of my friends and family, Dyrys stretches away, like an old friend with whom I share many secrets.

  As we walk back down towards the road, I skip to catch up with Nia.

  “Goodness, you can run fast these days, Rhiannon!” she remarks.

  “I wanted to talk to you about something,” I say. “Well, to ask you a question, really. I was wondering whether – what with Ifan being away for a bit – if it would be OK for me to come and help out on the farm. Becaus
e the thing is, I don’t think I can go back to being indoors all the time, not straight away. I’ve talked to Diana, and we’ve agreed I won’t go back to finish my A-levels just yet. I’m going to take some time off first and then maybe do my exams later. So I hoped I could maybe come and work for you for a while.”

  “Of course you can. I’d love to have your help. And I might even pay you in something better than a few sneaked vegetables.”

  My mouth drops open. “You knew it was me who stole them?”

  Nia smiles. “I guessed eventually.”

  Callum joins us on the way back.

  “She said yes then?” he says.

  I nod.

  “You’ll get to keep living outside, more or less. You’ll be good at that too.”

  We go back to the farmhouse and sit in the front room. After a while the solemnity of the memorial gives way to lighter talk, and suddenly we are our normal selves. Callum tells the story of how he once tried to push Adam into the stream and managed to miss and lose his balance. Then we move on to explaining how we built a house from scratch for Callum. Abenaa asks Maebh to tell her what Emrys was like as a child, and Maebh shares some stories from her school days that sound almost familiar, as if she has told them before in another way.

  I want to keep on laughing and talking, but the moment I’ve been dreading is here. Adam, Grace, and Abenaa are getting ready to leave. I watch them say their goodbyes to each person, and part of me hopes that they’ll forget me – that I won’t have to say anything. I have no idea how to thank them enough for all they have done. Whatever I say will feel inadequate. They thank Nia for her hospitality and welcome, commend Tom for all he has handled in the last few weeks, tell Callum to keep out of trouble, and wish Diana the very best for herself and her family.

  Abenaa reaches me first. She takes my hands in hers.

  “You have lived in the woods, so you know part of Emrys’s story better than anyone now,” she says. “Thank you for finding the watch that was his. I will treasure it, and so will Kofi and Ayawa.”