‘Annie! Annie, wake up!’ I could hear the panic in Sarah’s voice as she shook me by the arm. Dazed, I gradually opened my eyes and looked about me. For a moment I was unsure where, or even who, I was. Abruptly, it was as though a switch had been flicked; I remembered that I was Annie Philips and that I was at the Reverend and Mrs Evans’ cottage with my sister, Sarah. Nia and Arfon were hovering behind her, their faces drawn and concerned.
I tried to sit up, but felt nauseous and disorientated. I lay back down for a moment and tried to collect my thoughts.
‘Thank God! I thought we were going to have to call an ambulance,’ Sarah told me, tears glistening in her eyes. I could hear the relief in her voice. ‘You were out cold. We’ve been trying to bring you round for a good five minutes or more.’
‘What happened?’ I asked, trying to recall the events of the day so far. My thoughts were muddled and I felt heavy and drained.
‘You came up for a nap,’ Nia told me. ‘But when I brought you a cup of tea, I couldn’t wake you. You were mumbling and your eyes were darting about underneath their lids as though you were dreaming, and you didn’t appear to be conscious. We were all really worried.’
‘The baby? Is the baby all right?’ I felt momentary panic, but a reassuring kick from within assuaged my fears.
With Sarah’s help, I pulled myself into a sitting position and clutched at the side of the bed momentarily until the dizziness had passed. I tried desperately hard to think what had happened; snatches of something started to seep through and then I gasped, remembering that I had dreamed about Aneira … and had witnessed the horror of her demise. I closed my eyes briefly and the memory of what I had learned came flooding back. It had been no dream. I knew that now. My pulse began to race.
I turned to look at Nia. At first speech seemed to evade me, but the words came eventually.
‘I think Aneira somehow took over my mind,’ I said slowly. ‘She showed me what happened to her …’
Nia nodded, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to be entered by a spirit – which, perhaps in her experience, it was.
‘Can you recall her thoughts?’ she asked eagerly. ‘Take your time – think carefully.’
‘I saw it all. What happened to her before she died – and beyond. It was the strangest thing. But I know now who helped Peter. We really need to go and see Mrs Parry. Aneira revealed everything and it’s absolutely shocking.’
*
Mrs Parry was alone once again when we arrived at the farm. She seemed troubled.
‘It’s Will. He didn’t come home last night,’ she told us, as she answered the door. ‘He’s never done that before – not without ringing to let me know, anyway. He’s been acting very strangely these last few days – well, ever since Aneira was found really. I don’t know what to do – do you think I ought to contact the police?’
I looked at Arfon knowingly, remembering his conversation with the man in the pub. What was Mr Parry up to? Did he think that the police might be on to him? He wasn’t involved in Aneira’s death as such, but helping to conceal a body was a pretty serious offence. I knew how Peter had twisted things, to make it seem that Aneira had provoked him and that she had said terrible untrue things … Having learned the truth first-hand, I felt all the more determined to see justice done. I knew Aneira now – the real Aneira, and she was neither manipulative nor vindictive. Just a rather naive girl who had been looking out for her little brother. It was all so sad.
I was about to speak when the crunch of tyres on gravel made us turn to see who was about to join us. We were all surprised to see a police car containing the plain-clothes officer we had met the other day, plus his constable, drawing to a halt adjacent to the outbuildings.
The more senior policeman wore a grave expression as he approached the farmhouse. His assistant lagged behind, looking ill at ease.
‘Mrs Parry, can we have a word, please? In private, if possible. I’m afraid we have some bad news.’
We all looked at one another. Mrs Parry clapped a hand to her mouth as if expecting the worst. We moved aside to allow the police officers to enter the building.
‘This doesn’t look good,’ said Sarah in a low voice.
Only a few moments had passed when there was a sudden cry from within. Mrs Parry reappeared, looking shell-shocked. The constable was close behind her, offering an arm to lean on, but she brushed him away.
‘He’s gone!’ she cried, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘Will has gone!’
‘Gone where?’ asked a puzzled Sarah, turning to the policeman for some clarification.
‘I’m afraid Mr Parry was found in a lane, on the road to Llangefni, in his parked vehicle earlier today,’ he explained quietly. ‘It seems he had suffered a massive stroke. There was nothing that could be done, unfortunately.’
We all exchanged glances. I wasn’t sure which would have been worse for the poor woman: to learn that her husband had played a part in Aneira’s disappearance or to hear that he was lost to her for ever. I decided that revealing his actions now would achieve nothing – the police would never entertain the idea of accepting a testament that had supposedly come from beyond the grave. And to tell Mrs Parry what had actually happened that fateful night would be like rubbing salt into a wound.
‘I told him,’ she wailed. ‘The doctor warned him that his blood pressure was too high. He should have stopped smoking that damned pipe years ago.’
Privately I thought it more likely that the stress of the current situation was responsible for Mr Parry’s demise. I suppose it was a combination of factors, but the fear of being found out as an accessory must have been pretty high on the list.
The older police officer explained that someone was required to identify Mr Parry’s body. Arfon, seeing the look of distress on Mrs Parry’s face, said that he would be happy to accompany the policemen to do so.
Nia, Sarah, and I waited with Mrs Parry for Arfon’s return. Our roles reversed, Sarah and I made tea and sandwiches for everyone in Mrs Parry’s kitchen as she sat in her husband’s armchair weeping quietly.
Upon Arfon’s reappearance, he told us quietly that an unsigned contract for the sale of Bryn Mawr had been found next to Mr Parry on the front seat of his truck. At least, then, the deal had not yet been struck and Mrs Parry still had her home. The rug had already been pulled from beneath her – she didn’t need any more shocks to contend with. Although I did wonder how she would cope with the operation of the farm alone.
‘I know it’s early days, but have you thought what will you do now, Mrs Parry?’ asked Nia gently. She crouched down next to the old woman, taking her by the hand. ‘It’s a lot of work, running a working farm. How will you manage things?’
Mrs Parry considered for a moment. She lifted the front of her apron and dabbed at her eyes. ‘Well, I’ve often thought about it, to be truthful. What I would do if I was left on my own. We’d been aware for some time that Will’s health wasn’t good. I had thought about selling the main house and the land but keeping Tyddyn Bach on and living there instead. But after Aneira …’ Her voice trailed off. She shook her head sadly. ‘I don’t think I could live there now. Not after what happened.’
‘There’s a nice little cottage for sale, close to us in Penmynydd,’ Arfon chipped in suddenly. ‘It has a decent bit of land round it, so you’d still be able to keep your chickens, at least!’
Mrs Parry appeared to brighten a little. ‘Yes, I love my hens! I wouldn’t want to part with them.’ She looked contemplative. ‘I suppose I could have a look. It wouldn’t hurt, would it?’
‘And you’d have friends close by,’ added Nia. ‘You could pop in for tea whenever you wanted!’
‘Oh, this all too much!’ sobbed Mrs Parry all of a sudden. ‘Why did he have to leave me? Why?’ She buried her head in Nia’s shoulder. It was heart-breaking.
Not wanting to leave the old woman alone in such circumstances, Nia said that she would spend the night at Bryn Mawr. Arfon announced that he would be happy to take care of the funeral arrangements, for which Mrs Parry was extremely grateful.
I asked to use the bathroom before we left and went out into the gloomy hallway, taking a deep breath. Through the shadows, the grandfather clock chimed in the hour, taking me by surprise as always. It was already 9 p.m.
Sarah and I planned to drive home in the morning. I couldn’t see what more we could do and prayed that Aneira’s spirit would be able to move on now. I began to climb the stairs to the bathroom. Looking up, my legs all but turned to stone as I saw a figure on the landing. It glided downwards towards me as I stood motionless, hardly daring to breathe. But as the cool air reached me, the figure paused, hovering at my side. The anger and hostility seemed to have evaporated and it radiated a feeling of peace.
‘Diolch, Annie,’ the voice whispered into my ear. ‘Your work here is done.’
I gasped as the figure seemed to disperse like smoke carried on the wind. The trace of a faint, musky odour lingered briefly, but that too was soon gone. My heart soared, as I knew with some certainty that Aneira had been liberated from her purgatory. I hoped that she might be reunited with Glyn and that they could be together now. I knew that her feelings for him had never faded and felt sure that his love for her was equally powerful. For the one thing that could survive beyond the grave was love.
*
It had been an incredibly long, eventful week. I was unsure that I would want to relive any of it. But I was a stronger and wiser person at the end of it all. And I knew I would now be capable of taking in my stride anything that life had to throw at me. I was ready to start again.