Chapter 88: Richard Schormann & Linda Booth

Llamroth: Monday, November 10th

‘Do you remember him?’ Richard faced Linda and pointed to the grave where Mary had placed a spray of bronze chrysanthemums. The small stitches across the cut on Linda’s forehead hadn’t yet been taken out; one eye was still swollen and the bruises on her face were now a blend of purple, yellow and green.

‘Uncle Tom?’ She sighed. ‘Not really. I remember kind eyes, a gentle smile, gentle hands. I think I remember him picking me up and swinging me around once. Vague memories.’

‘Mum idolised him, I know that,’ Richard said. ‘There’s the family story about him getting Mum and Dad together after the war.’

‘Yes, I heard that from my mum too. She helped as well, she says.’ Linda traced the words on the headstone. ‘What’s that mean?’

‘Hedd perffaith hedd?’ Richard read it out. ‘Peace perfect peace.’ He pointed to the next grave which had single white chrysanthemums threaded into a metal vase. ‘Same as there. “Hedd perffaith hedd”. That’s Iori’s grave, Tom’s friend. Nain Gwyneth’s son. Actually they were more than friends, Mum says. They loved one another. He was killed in prison. Both he and Tom were conscientious objectors.’

It was as though all the sad memories had been resurrected over the last few weeks, Linda thought. ‘They must have been really brave,’ she said. ‘It would have been so hard to stand up for what they believed, when the whole country was at war.’

‘Yeah. Nain Gwyneth was proud of both of them. She used to say she wouldn’t have had the courage. She’d tell us that Dad was brave too: that coming here so soon after the war to find Mum was one of the most courageous things she’d ever known.’ He looked around. ‘That’s Gwyneth’s grave,’ he pointed to a headstone just behind them. ‘And over there, that stone covered in the green lichen, is Grandma Howarth’s.’ He smiled. ‘Mum would never let us clean it off; she said Grandma would like it because she really liked gardening.’

A scuffle of noise made Linda look up. ‘Your mum’s leaving,’ she said.

They watched Mary being led out through the lych-gate by Jean and Ellen. Ted was talking to a large group of villagers just outside the church wall.

‘A good turnout,’ Richard said. ‘I wish Dad had known how popular he was.’

‘How could it not be? He was a lovely man.’ Linda looked up at the scudding grey clouds that covered the pale yellow smear of winter sun. She blinked back the tears. After a moment she said, ‘Should we go too?’

‘In a bit.’ Richard looked around. Over by the yew-trees Karen was talking to two men. One of them was constantly blowing his nose, the other talking and waving his arms around in an enthusiastic way. ‘Karen’s talking to Alun and Alwyn. We should go and say hi.’

‘Okay.’

‘The landlord at the pub’s putting food on. Mum won’t go, but she says she’s grateful to him.’

‘Do you want to go?’

‘No.’

‘Nor me. William and Jack have gone. William said they have some stuff to sort out without Patrick being there. I think he’s always been the one to stop them being friends.’

‘Hasn’t Uncle Patrick gone to the pub, then?’

Linda allowed herself a small chuckle. ‘No. Auntie Jean wouldn’t let him. She told him to walk Jackie and Nicki back to the cottage while she stayed with your mum.’

Richard grinned. ‘Perhaps she’ll make him into a nice chap yet.’

‘Don’t hold your breath.’ Linda glanced towards the church. Victoria was sitting alone on the seat by the porch. ‘She’s quiet.’

‘Yeah.’ There was an edge to his voice.

‘She’s learned her lesson, Richard.’

‘Has she? I wonder.’

‘She talked to me last night…’ Linda remembered the increasing horror and sympathy she’d felt as she listened. ‘The lad who got her involved with that group … she called him Seth, but she said they were supposed to call him Master, he— ’

‘Call him what?’ Richard caught hold of her arm, turned her towards him so he could see what she’d said.

‘Master. They had to call him Master.’

‘Huh.’

‘When he got fed up with her he gave her to an older Irish bloke. The bloke forced himself on her. Like I said, she’s learned her lesson.’

‘Bastards.’ Richard closed his eyes but not before Linda saw the rage in them. ‘I’ve a good mind to—’

‘To what? You’ve never believed in violence, so don’t start now. Anyway, they won’t be there; Jackie says the Council and the police are moving them this week.’

‘Is Vicky going to report them?’

‘She says not. She says she just wants to forget it all. But I persuaded her to tell Jackie. She’s had a hard time forgiving your sister. She blames Vicky for what happened.’ She looked back at Peter’s grave beyond which three Council workers waited trying to look inconspicuous.

Richard followed her gaze. ‘I know. I do a bit, too,’ he said.

‘I thought if Jackie knew what Victoria’s been through she might not be so hard on her.’ Linda sighed. ‘Perhaps you should talk to your sister as well, Richard. Time to forgive and forget? If your mum can do it…’

‘I suppose you’re right, Lin.’

‘Good.’

A sharp breeze scuttled leaves around their feet and over the graves. A few caught in the flowers on Tom’s grave.

Linda bent down to clear them away. She shook them from her fingers and looked up at him.

‘What will you do now, by the way?’

‘How?’

‘Your place at university?’

He thought for a moment. ‘Mum says I should carry on in Manchester.’

‘Will you?’

‘If she’s okay. I don’t like the thought of her being down here on her own. We’ll see.’

‘What about Karen?’

‘She wants to be near her mum now Shuttleworth’s gone.’ Richard looked directly at Linda. ‘But she won’t go back to that house; she’s got a flat in Manchester. We’d be okay if I stay here. I could go to see her sometimes.’

Linda straightened up. The road outside the church was empty now. ‘We should go and rescue Karen, she’s looking a bit overwhelmed.’

‘Alun and Alwyn are smashing chaps, but they can go on,’ Richard said. ‘Well, Alun anyway.’

‘And we should ask Vicky if she’s going to come back to the house with us.’

‘Yeah.’

They wandered down the path towards Karen and the men.

‘Alun, Alwyn.’ Richard shook hands with each of them.

The brothers pulled at the cuffs of their black jackets, shiny with age, and straightened matching black ties.

‘We’ve been telling your, er, friend, what a fine man your da was, haven’t we, Alwyn?’ Alwyn nodded, rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles. ‘And what a good friend he’s been to us. Anything we can do for your mam, we will. We mean that, don’t we Alwyn?’

‘Aye.’

‘Anything at all.’ Alun looked earnestly at Richard. ‘You’ll never have to worry about her when you’re not here, dyn ni’n addo hyn i chi.’

‘Promise,’ Alwyn repeated.

‘We’d better be going now.’ Alun shook hands with the three of them and nodded towards Victoria

‘Are you going to the pub?’ Richard asked.

‘No. We nearly always met with your da for a pint on Fridays. Somehow it don’t feel right to be there without him today. We’ll miss him.’

‘Aye, we’ll miss him.’

They watched the two men amble away.

‘They’ve been friends with Dad since he came to Llamroth,’ Richard said. ‘They will miss him.’

We all will, Linda thought, he’s left a big hole in all our lives. ‘Come on,’ she said, holding out her hand to Victoria, ‘Let’s go.’