Chapter 7: Richard Schormann

Ashford, evening: Wednesday, September 17th

‘Richard, lad, thank the lord you’re here.’ Ted Booth flung his arm around Richard’s shoulders and ushered him into the house. ‘We were that worried. William’s gone out to look for you again. He feels that bad he was a bit late meeting the train and then he couldn’t find you. We decided you must be making your own way here – but that’s hours ago. Where’ve you been, lad?’ In the light of the hall he studied Richard. ‘And what the heck happened to you? You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.’

‘Been in a spot of bother, Uncle.’ Richard tried a smile but his mouth felt stiff, immovable. Now it was over, now he was on familiar ground, he was angry with himself for being so scared. For running. Even if common sense told him it was the only thing he could have done if he didn’t want a beating.

‘Looks like it an’ all. Come on, come into the living-room, I’ll put the fire on. Let’s get your coat off, you can tell me all about it.’

‘Uncle, this is Karen.’ Richard held his hand out to the girl who was hovering on the doorstep. ‘She helped me.’

‘Oh? Well, any friend of Richard … an’ all that.’ Ted glanced uncertainly at Karen. ‘Come in.’

Ted helped him with his parka. In the bright light they could see it was ripped and dirty. ‘You’re in a right mess. You hurt? We could do with our Linda here to see to you but you’ve just missed her – she’s on nights.’

‘I’m okay – I’m not hurt, Uncle. But I lost my rucksack.’

‘Never mind that. So long as you’re okay, we can sort that out later.’ Ted fiddled with the switch on the gas-fire until flames flared. ‘New fire,’ he said, with a proud smile, ‘called a Flavel Debonair. Had it put in last month, ready for the winter. Your Auntie Ellen wanted it.’ He cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. ‘She’s in bed … bit of a headache today. Sorry, rabbiting on a bit. I’ll make a brew.’ In the kitchen he raised his voice above the sound of the water gushing into the kettle. ‘She’ll probably stay there tonight, but she’s looking forward to seeing you and getting all the news from Wales. Now then…’ Ted came to stand by the door. ‘What happened?’

‘He was attacked by a gang of louts. Rockers.’ Karen spoke for the first time. ‘I saw them chasing him in Bradlow and picked him up.’

‘She saved me from a hammering.’ For a moment Richard recalled the rush of gratitude when he’d tumbled into the car.

‘So, you didn’t know one another before?’

‘No.’

‘Well, that was really good of you, Karen, some folk wouldn’t have stopped.’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ She was blushing.

Duw, makes her look even prettier, Richard thought.

‘Well, I do,’ Ted said. The kettle switched off with a loud click. ‘There’s some rough parts in Bradlow. And some rough folk. You were lucky, our Richard.’ He went back into the kitchen. ‘I’ll make that brew.’

‘I know how lucky I was.’ Richard grinned at Karen. ‘In more ways than one.’

Colour rose from her throat to her cheeks. ‘Actually…’ she felt in her jacket pocket, brought out her car-keys. ‘I’d better be off.’

Richard felt a twinge of disappointment; she’d obviously done her bit for a fool who’d got himself into trouble and now couldn’t wait to go. Just his luck – he really fancied her.

She must have seen the fleeting disappointment in his eyes. ‘Like I said … my stepfather … he’ll be wondering where I am. Remember?’ she touched his arm. ‘I should have been meeting him at the hospital to go and visit Mum?’

‘Oh yeah. Will he be all right about it?’ Richard remembered what she’d said about her stepfather being a bully. It troubled him. ‘Tell him what happened. What you did. How you helped me.’

‘No.’ A short silence. And then: ‘No, he wouldn’t understand.’ She half-smiled, just one corner of her lips lifting. ‘You know? Picking up a stranger. He’d be bound to have a go at me for that.’ She tossed her hair back. ‘Not that it’s anything to do with him.’ Her words didn’t hide her nervousness.

‘But you’ll be okay? I could come with you to tell him what happened?’

‘No.’ She spoke sharply. Then her voice softened. ‘No, I’ll be fine. Honest.’ The way she jangled the keys in her hand showed her impatience to leave.

‘Right. Well, thanks again, then. See you around?’

‘I’d like that,’ she said. ‘Look, I know you’re only here for an interview … that you don’t live here. But I would like to see you again. I’m free Friday night?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh.’ Richard grinned. He didn’t think he’d ever smiled this much. ‘Gwych … great. And you never know, if I do get a place I’ll be up here all the time. Well, in Manchester, anyway. I didn’t ask you where you lived.’

‘Not far. Just outside Bradlow. Little village called Mossbridge.’

‘Okay.’

‘Have you a pen?’

Richard looked around. ‘I don’t…’

‘There’s one there, by the newspaper. And a pencil.’ She wrote on the top margin of the crossword. ‘This is the number you can get me on. Give me a ring.’

‘I will.’

‘Between four and five in the afternoon’s best. I’ll be home from college then.’

‘Okay.’ He walked with her to the front door. ‘Still raining,’ he said, ‘so be careful driving home.’

‘I’ll be fine.’ Karen stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. Even in her high-heeled boots she was still smaller than him. ‘Ring me.’

‘Yeah. Noso da.’

‘Welsh again?’

‘Yeah. Means good night.’

‘Oh. Nos da, then?’ Her pronunciation made him laugh. He was relieved when she joined in.

Richard watched her drive off and turn onto Shaw Street before closing the door. He touched his cheek. His fingers brushed against his hearing-aid. She hadn’t mentioned it. And she couldn’t have missed it. He smiled to himself.

Ted came out of kitchen, two mugs in his hands. ‘She gone? I thought…’

‘She had to. But I think she’ll be back sometime, Uncle, if that’s okay.’

‘Aye, fine. Now…’ Ted handed one of the mugs to Richard. ‘We must ring your mum and dad. Let them know you’re here.’