Having learned of Elsie’s problem, Sophie didn’t know what to do. If she repeated it did that make her a gossip? When did genuine concern for Ed Connors become nosy interference? She finally decided to talk to Daphne, who knew Betty well and might have been told something about the truth of the ‘trapped nerve’.
‘Are you sure that’s what this nurse, Brenda Morris, meant?’ Daphne asked.
‘I mentioned her problem, meaning the trapped nerve, and she presumed I knew more and she said, “The saddest thing is that it will get progressively worse.” How could I have misunderstood that?’
Daphne pondered for a moment then said, ‘Will you mind if I mention it to Betty? Living at the Ship I can more easily mention it casually, perhaps as though repeating words said in jest, hinting that Elsie is the type to leave more and more work to Ed once they are married.’
‘That’s fine by me. Ed probably knows, but Betty can have a word with the nurse or the doctor if he doesn’t. He’s entitled to know the truth.’
Betty was upset, convinced that her brother knew nothing about Elsie’s illness. ‘We don’t talk like we used to, him spending so much time at Elsie’s B&B, but I’m sure he would have told me something as important as that. What can I do?’ Like Sophie, she was afraid of being accused of gossiping or of trying to cause trouble between the couple. Eventually she decided to mention it as though it was common knowledge and note his reaction.
‘Pity poor Elsie’s hands are so bad, but I expect the doctors will do what they can as time goes by.’
‘What d’you mean? A trapped nerve isn’t serious and she’ll be fine once she’s rested it for a week or so longer. I do what I can to save her lifting and carrying. Between us we’ll soon have her back to normal.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘What d’you see? What are you talking about?’
‘I thought it was more serious, something long term. I understood that it wouldn’t get better, but in fact might get worse. I was wrong, was I? I misunderstood?’
‘Of course you misunderstood! This is a terrible place for gossip. I’m happy and Elsie’s happy and that’s enough for people to want to spoil it. You as well, although I did expect better from my own sister!’
‘This is a place where people care, and I care. I couldn’t ignore this and let you walk into a marriage without knowing what you’re facing!’
The words became more heated and Eddie eventually stormed out, leaving Betty to deal with the delivery he had promised to help with as Daphne was at the farm.
She was left wishing Daphne had said nothing. She couldn’t change anything so wouldn’t she have been happier not knowing? Then she admitted that being warned meant she was better armed for when things became difficult. Ed hadn’t been very supportive of her since he and Elsie had become close but she would be there for him as she had always been.
Sophie knew that Bertie was excited to be at the farm, even though he was aware that Owen disliked him. Her intention that day was to deal with the kitchen and the cooking while Daphne dealt with the work among the animals and she made sure she said nothing to Bertie to make him hesitate to help wherever he wanted. Her aversions to farming were her own and she had no right to force them on Bertie.
She went to find Owen to ask whether sandwiches and cake would be acceptable for midday, and vegetable soup with fresh bread and some fruit for the evening, and in her haste she accidentally let some young piglets out of the barn.
She expected Bertie to run around in great excitement panicking the little creatures, but to her surprise he followed Owen’s calm approach, and, with the dogs helping, peace was quickly restored.
There was worse to follow, however. The plates she had chosen to use were the best ones, and Owen told her Rachel only brought them out on ‘high days and holidays’.
‘Heaven help you if you break one,’ he warned. Being extra nervous, she did. A plate and a gravy boat, which Owen rather gleefully told her were irreplaceable.
As often happens in a moment of stark drama, she and Daphne couldn’t stop laughing and the pieces of china broke into smaller pieces as they tried to fit them together to decide whether they could be repaired. The shattered remnants were put in a drawer until Rachel returned and they would be able to confess.
To her surprise Owen behaved pleasantly towards Bertie, and after the routine work was dealt with walked with him around the fields and explained what was going on. When Bertie came in for lunch, red faced and excited, she could see that the visit was a great success. He ate an enormous meal of sandwiches and cakes, then looked hopefully towards Owen, hoping for an invitation to follow him again. In case he was going to be disappointed, she said, ‘Bertie, when we’ve dealt with the dishes would you like to stay with me? Perhaps we can help Daphne feed the chickens?’
‘Oh, miss,’ he said in a world-weary tone, ‘they was – were – fed ages ago.’
‘I’ll take him to check on the sheep,’ Owen said, cuffing the boy’s head and smiling. He shared an amused glance with Daphne and added, ‘I think I might need his help counting them.’
The phone rang when they were finishing their meal, and Owen jumped up quickly and pushed away from the table to answer it, but Daphne was there first. Sophie noticed his irritability as he snapped his fingers, demanding to take it from her. Daphne listened, then said, ‘It’s your Ryan, asking what’s the matter, wondering why his mother hasn’t written.’ She was frowning, turning away and hugging the phone as Owen tried to take it from her.
‘Give it to me,’ he said, but she held it tightly and listened.
Then she said, ‘But you must have been told they’re both in hospital.’ Another frown, then, ‘Both hurt in an accident, yes… Hardly trivial! Your mother has broken an arm and… Yes, a broken leg… Yes, of course. I’ll hand you over.’
At last Owen was able to take the phone.
‘I was… No you listen, Ryan! I was thinking of you. We thought you’d worry and come home and there’s no need, everything is running perfectly smoothly here.’ He listened for a while, then, glaring at Daphne as though his secrecy was her fault, replaced the receiver on its hook and walked out.
Bertie watched him go and said, ‘He forgot me, didn’t he?’
‘He’s worried, Bertie. Maybe he’ll come back later.’
Half an hour later the telephone rang again and Ryan told Daphne he was coming home at the weekend. Sophie felt a tense excitement when she was told, then reminded herself that he hadn’t written and it was his parents he was coming to see. When Owen was informed, he went straight to the hospital for the afternoon visit.
‘Uncle Tommy,’ he announced, ‘I’ve spoken to the doctor and arranged for you and Auntie Rachel to go to Tenby for a week. Convalescence, right? You’re leaving at the weekend, it’s all arranged.’ He told them that Ryan was coming home but didn’t tell them when, and felt sickened by the delight they both showed. All right, he wasn’t their son, but he had shown them more loyalty, had worked many times harder and received far less reward than Ryan. He could have gone away, seen something of the world, found a job that was both easier and better paid, but he’d stayed because they had needed him. But when would they realize how much they depended on him? Never!
He sold a few lambs and chickens at the market that week and the money, paid in cash, went into the new account. The fourth deposit in as many weeks. With luck he had until the annual audit; by then he’d have made his move.
Although he’d never felt close to the family whose name he shared, and had few friends, he had moments of unease as he contemplated moving right away from everyone and everything he knew. If only he and Sarah could sort out their differences and she could be persuaded to go with him: sharing with someone would make the whole thing so much better. Trying to make friends with her son was a beginning. If he could win him over Sarah might reconsider. She was on her own too.
Sophie made an excuse not to go to the farm at the weekend when Ryan would be there. It was obvious he hadn’t wanted to retain her friendship, and her appearance might embarrass him, so she told Daphne she was needed by Bob, who was pricking out another bed of seedlings. Bob was delighted when she offered to help, especially as Bertie was likely to be with her.
She joined Daphne at the farm on Friday and cooked a large pot of vegetable soup, baked cakes and filled the bread crock with several loaves. Then, making sure everything was in order and the pieces of broken china had been placed where Rachel would see them with a note of apology nearby, she said her goodbyes and went around with Bertie for a last look at the chickens, including the eight-week-olds being bred for Christmas, and the delightful piglets, whose fate she dared not imagine, and walked back towards Badgers Brook up the field and through the wood. She and Bertie wandered slowly at the edge of the trees, stopping to look around them, identifying birds in the trees, admiring the colourful display of wild flowers amid the grasses, hesitant to leave sight of the farm, as though something was pulling them back, a tugging regret at leaving the place.
‘It’s been fun, hasn’t it?’ she said.
‘I like the chickens best, they shine with so many colours, don’t they? Like rainbow feathers. And I like their beady little eyes. But I don’t think I’ll enjoy eating one, ever again,’ he replied. Sophie said nothing. She didn’t want to influence him and guessed that hunger would change his mind long before Christmas, which was the only time he was likely to find chicken on his plate.
Ryan reread the brief note he had received from Owen, staring at the words, wondering how someone suffering broken bones could be described as ‘only slightly hurt’. Owen had lied; but why didn’t he want him home? His father and mother would need extra help for a while. Even when they were out of hospital they wouldn’t magically return to how they were before. Their disappointment at his leaving wouldn’t have prevented them expecting his help in an emergency.
He had telephoned the farm several times and been reassured by Owen, who’d said there was nothing to worry about, that Tommy and Rachel were out, or busy, but he’d give them the message. Don’t come home, your father would be disappointed if he interrupted your education for something so trivial, Owen had written in another letter. So what was going on?
He sat on the train and tried to read a book but the words didn’t penetrate his mind, thoughts of the farm, his parents, Owen and Sophie, hovered over the page. He had written to Sophie but hadn’t posted the letter, even though he had made at least four attempts before he was satisfied with the contents. Their growing friendliness and warmth, then the sudden backing away from the lightest of kisses or even a touch, the offer of a hand to hold, puzzled him. They had seemed to be getting on well and he’d had visions of returning and carrying on where they had left off, their growing friendship being held in place by letters. But her apparent indifference at their parting had given him doubts – hence the hesitation in writing to her. She allowed him close but only within her limits.
Yet he knew she liked him. So what was holding her back from relaxing into an affectionate friendship? He wondered vaguely if she might be estranged from a fiancé or had recently lost someone she had loved. She was holding back for some reason, and it must be something important to her. He wondered if he would ever find out what it was.
On Cardiff Central station he sat and waited for his connection to steam noisily and importantly in. It came to a hissing, shuddering stop at the platform, the size and the din alarming. Doors opened and, half hidden by steam, people flooded out and rushed towards the exit. Most were carrying suitcases, and many were being met by friends and loved ones. Hugs wherever he looked. He felt a stab of loneliness until he saw a hand waving in greeting and saw Colin Jones waving to him. They found a seat together, Colin explaining he was on his way home after his shift.
‘Come to visit your parents at last, have you?’ Colin asked. ‘We wondered why you hadn’t been before. Had some college work to finish, did you?’
‘I had no idea they were so badly hurt,’ Ryan replied, grimly. ‘Owen chose not to tell me they were in hospital with broken bones.’
Ryan showed Colin the letters written by Owen. ‘Seems he didn’t want me to come home, but I’ve no idea why. You’d think he’d be glad of the help with Dad out of action, and how are they managing without Mam?’
‘Why didn’t Sophie write to you?’ Colin wondered. ‘Helping up there she’s been, her and that friend of hers, Daphne Boyd.’ He glanced at Ryan and added, ‘I thought you and she were friends?’
‘My fault. I promised to write but I didn’t. I wasn’t sure whether she wanted me to or was just being polite. She’s such a private person.’
‘Her interest seemed more than polite, Ryan.’
‘I’ll see when we get home. I’ve gathered from Daphne that Sophie and the boy belonging to Owen’s wife have been helping.’
‘Strange that, how Owen could cut Sarah and the boy out of his life so finally.’
‘Owen isn’t an easy person to understand, but she didn’t give him much of a chance, did she?’
Ryan received a further shock when he reached home to find that Rachel and Tommy were out of hospital but away from the farm for a week.
‘Why couldn’t they have waited?’ Ryan demanded. ‘They knew I was coming.’
‘It had all been arranged before you got in touch,’ Owen excused.
‘Where are they? Tenby? That isn’t far, I’ll go down there tomorrow,’ Ryan said, glaring at his cousin as though daring him to disagree.
‘You can, if you think it’s wise, but the doctors said they need complete rest. Shock,’ he explained. ‘And they are getting on a bit.’
‘Rubbish! What d’you think I’m going to do to them?’ Ryan went out into the yard and examined the vehicles. The van was empty of petrol and had bald tyres, one of which was flat. The ancient car didn’t look as if it would make the journey. ‘I’m going, if I have to go in the tractor!’ he said firmly. He spent the rest of the day checking and cleaning the car and getting ready for the trip to Tenby, about forty miles away.
At seven, a meal was ready for them, cooked by Daphne, and after they’d eaten Ryan telephoned the hotel to tell his parents he would see them on the following day. Only then did he set off to see Sophie.
Badgers Brook seemed filled to overflowing. Before he had knocked on the door the buzz of chatter and laughter reached him; he hesitated and was about to walk away when a face appeared in the kitchen window and a small fist knocked against the glass. Bertie had seen him. The door opened and a smiling Sophie invited him inside.
Stella and Colin were there, and Kitty and Bob, the men still in the clothes they wore for gardening, their boots left on newspaper on the kitchen floor. Betty Connors stood near the window, wearing a coat, a handbag on her arm, obviously just about to leave.
‘Hiya, Ryan. Home to see Rachel and Tommy at last?’ Betty called.
‘I’d have come sooner if I’d been told.’ Ryan said, glancing towards Sophie. ‘No one told me how badly they were hurt.’
‘You didn’t know?’ Stella queried. ‘Didn’t Owen tell you?’
‘No, he didn’t.’ He glanced again at Sophie, making the words a criticism. ‘Someone should have let me know.’
Sophie came towards him. ‘I presumed you knew. Daphne and I were told that Owen had written several times. Isn’t that true?’
He shook his head, then, smiling at the room in general, he asked, ‘What’s going on here then? Some sort of party?’
‘My brother is marrying Elsie Clements next week and we’re trying to organize a party,’ Betty explained. ‘I’ll hold it in the pub, of course, but these kind friends are helping with the food.’ She glanced at Sophie and then added, ‘If you’re still home, Ryan, why don’t you come?’
‘Thanks, I’d like that. Is there anything I can bring?’ A discussion ensued about who would provide what and gradually the friends dispersed, leaving Ryan and Sophie alone.
‘You didn’t write,’ she said softly.
‘I didn’t think you really wanted me to. So I left the decision to you.’ He stared at her, trying to gauge her feelings but avoided making eye contact.
‘There’s some cider left if you’d like it. I think I’ll have a cup of tea,’ she said, turning away, gathering the last of the dishes from the table, putting the kettle on to boil.
He picked up the half-empty bottle and stretched across to reach a clean glass. ‘What’s going on at the farm?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. I suppose Owen has taken charge with you gone, and perhaps he didn’t want you coming back and… taking over.’
‘My father owns the farm and he’s in charge, not Owen.’
‘All right, Ryan, don’t get angry with me. I don’t even work there.’ She smiled then and added, ‘And I don’t think I’ll be asked to again, either.’ She told him about the piglets and the broken china.
‘I wish I could get in touch with Gareth,’ he said. ‘He sends an occasional card and phones the farm, according to Owen, but there’s no way of us reaching him. I thought he’d be on his way home having heard about Mam and Dad, but perhaps Owen didn’t bother to tell him, either. Sophie, will you keep an eye on what’s happening and let me know if there’s something going on I should know about? I’d love to hear from you anyway, to know how you are and what you’re doing,’ he added.
They carried their drinks into the living room, where a dying fire glowed. Through the open door came the late-evening sounds of birds settling and the faint scent of bonfire smoke, and the low rays of sun were casting shadows on to the lawn like fingers creeping out and grasping the last of the light. It was so peaceful they didn’t speak for a long time, just sipped their drinks and enjoyed the perfect hour.
‘I did write,’ he said as the sun finally set. She stared at him curiously before he added, ‘but I didn’t post it.’
‘I was disappointed not to hear from you,’ she said.
‘Well, here I am, but I don’t expect to see you as much as I’d like to. I want to find out what’s happening at the farm.’
‘Harry Sutton is helping and happy to be doing so. He hated working at the kennels and is glad to be back with what he knows. Daphne is running the house. Even young Bertie has helped, and surprisingly your cousin had been kind to him.’
‘I’m going to Tenby to see Mam and Dad tomorrow, will you come?’ he asked.
‘D’you think we might take Bertie, too? I don’t think he gets many outings and he’d love to see the sea. He and I could play on the beach if you prefer not to take him to see your parents.’
She sensed she was being stared at, but when she turned to look at him he was smiling. ‘Yes, of course he can come with us. Perhaps we could take a picnic, make a day of it.’
‘Bertie loves picnics! I’ll check with Sarah but I’m sure she’ll agree to him coming.’
He looked at her with a hint of amusement and smiled.
They arranged to meet at eleven. Ryan was dressed in casual slacks and an open-necked shirt. Bertie looked startlingly clean in crisp new trousers and shin, still with the creases in. His face shone with scrubbing and his eyes were as bright as diamonds. He carried some greaseproof-paper-wrapped sandwiches. Slightly embarrassed, he said. ‘Mam bought this stuff for my birthday. It’s a bit “new” isn’t it?’
‘Bertie, you look smart and not a bit “new”, just well dressed. I’m very impressed,’ said Sophie.
He made a deprecating grunt and thrust the sandwiches at her. ‘They’re only jam, but I like jam,’ he added defiantly.
‘So do I. I’ll swap one of your jam for one of my home-made cheese and salad rolls if you like.’
‘Home-made cheese? You can’t make cheese!’
‘I can when I’m given stale milk. I’ll show you how one day, if you like.’
Ryan stood listening to their conversation with amusement, sharing a smile with Sophie. Bertie’s package went into the boot with the wicker basket Daphne had packed.
The journey was uneventful but for Bertie it was exciting.
He asked endless questions and insisted on Ryan stopping when he saw something of interest that he wanted fully explained. Sophie and Ryan were caught up in his excitement, admiring the beautiful scenery and the spotless white-painted cottages along the route. They felt like day trippers as they parked the car and wandered with the rest of the visitors along the narrow streets of the charming and ancient town.
It was early for visiting the hotel – lunch would hardly have finished – and they willingly gave in to Bertie’s request to go down on to the beach. Ryan bought him a brightly painted tin bucket and spade and the three of them found a place to unload their belongings. At once Ryan began to show the boy all he remembered about building castles with turrets and moats, while Sophie slipped off her shoes and wandered along the rippling tide’s edge.
They ate their picnic leaning against the sea wall, Bertie with an anxious eye on the tide creeping ever closer, to Sophie and Ryan’s amusement. Then, carrying the basket between them, Bertie following with obvious reluctance, they made their way to the hotel where Rachel and Tommy were staying.
To Sophie their greeting was less than welcoming. She was clearly a disappointing addition to their son’s visit. Almost ignoring Sophie, Rachel gave much more than the usual attention to Bertie, who chatted away excitedly as he described all they had seen on the journey.
‘Shall we go and look at the sea again, Bertie?’ Sophie suggested after about ten minutes had passed. ‘I think Ryan wants to talk to his mam and dad.’ Ryan smiled his thanks.
He said nothing to defend himself when Rachel and Tommy accused him of indifference, but when Rachel went to join Sophie and Bertie outside to view the sea from the veranda, Ryan handed Tommy the letters he’d received from Owen.
‘But these can’t be all he wrote? He must have told you more about the accident.’
‘You have them all. I was given to understand you and Mam were shaken but not seriously hurt.’
‘What’s he playing at? Could he have been thinking of you, not wanting to disrupt your first term?’
In reply Ryan raised an eyebrow. ‘Doesn’t he want to remind us – prove to us – how reliable and indispensable he is?’
‘He does the accounts and manages some areas of the running of the farm, but your mother and I – and you and Gareth, of course – we’re in overall charge, we make all the decisions.’
‘If Gareth and I stay away more or less permanently, he’d be in a good position to take over when you and Mam want to retire, wouldn’t he?’
‘Rubbish. Owen isn’t like that. He isn’t that devious. Not Owen.’
‘Watch him, Dad. Just watch him.’
‘Besides, I’m not ready to sit back and watch someone else run things, and won’t be for a long time. And then I hope it’ll be you, not Owen.’
‘Don’t, Dad. Don’t hope for that. Neither of us wants to take over. By the way, is Gareth on his way home?’
‘Ask Owen.’
‘Or hasn’t Owen told him about the accident, either?’ Ryan said slowly.
He left his parents with the promise to visit again before heading back to college. Tommy was frowning as he waved them off, Rachel giving Bertie a final hug and a sixpence for sweets.
‘Thank you, Mrs Treweather,’ he said politely, ‘but can I buy chips instead? I’m starving hungry.’
Ryan was relieved to see laughter wipe the worried frown from Tommy’s face, but Sophie wondered how they felt, seeing the boy who could have been a part of their life. Did they feel regret? There was certainly no sign of animosity, thank goodness, and Bertie had enjoyed a memorable day. He fell asleep soon after they started the drive back to Cwm Derw and Sophie and Ryan were able to talk.
‘Owen was brought up on the farm and I suppose he’s bound to feel some entitlement.’ Ryan said. ‘His father, Dad’s brother, was killed in America and Owen came to us when he was very young. But he isn’t heir to the land my father owns and never could be. He must realize that.’
‘He’s had a very unsuccessful life in many ways, hasn’t he? Perhaps he’s resentful and would be better leaving and starting again somewhere.’
‘I don’t think he’ll do that. But I know what you mean. His marriage to Sarah, that hurt him dreadfully. And never being included in business meetings apart from him giving a statement of accounts.’
‘If he doesn’t feel a part of anything it must be hard.’ Sophie’s voice was soft, and Ryan immediately picked up on the slight wistfulness.
‘Is it like that for you? Not belonging anywhere? You never talk about your family, yet you must have one. Can you talk about it? Why you left? Why you cut yourself off from everyone and settled among strangers?’
‘I don’t have a family. There’s no one.’ From her voice it was clear she didn’t intend to discuss it further. He glanced at her, her face turned as she stared out of the window at the hedges, and could only guess at the pain she must have suffered before arriving at Cwm Derw and finding a home in Badgers Brook.
‘I’ll have some work to do in the morning – for one thing I need to examine the books, make sure everything is on a sound footing – then perhaps we could go out again. With Bertie, if you need a chaperone,’ he added in a hoarse whisper. ‘But preferably just the two of us.’
She turned then, and smiled at him. ‘Just the two of us will be fine.’
A sleepy voice from the back seat said, ‘I don’t want to be a chaperone, anyway, and I’ve promised to go with Mr Jones to help him build a bonfire on his allotment.’
‘What’s a chaperone, Bertie?’ Sophie teased.
‘Don’t know but I don’t want to be one. Right?’
The conversation was easy and relaxed for the rest of the journey, but Ryan knew he had to find out what it was in Sophie’s past that so distressed her – although if she wouldn’t talk about it, where else could he enquire?’
He began with Daphne.
‘We served together in the WAAF’s, and I know she’ll hate me for telling you this, but she was about to be married, and he let her down. At the very last minute.’
‘You mean she was jilted?’
‘Afraid so, but please don’t tell her I’ve told you. I’m sure she’ll tell you herself one day.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘All her family were killed by a bomb. I’d been transferred by then, and I lost touch with her. It was remembering that this was an area she knew that made me come here on a cycling holiday. It was sheer luck that enabled me to find her. You cannot imagine how many times I asked about her.’
‘But surely they weren’t all killed?’
‘She never went back and she won’t tell me what happened. Not a word. If I even hint at being curious she shuts up like the proverbial clam. So, because I don’t want her to lose touch again, I never mention anything that happened before she arrived in Cwm Derw. I have the feeling that when she does feel able to talk she’ll be glad of a friend.’
Thinking of Sophie and of his cousin’s unwillingness to tell him about his parents’ accident, Ryan said, ‘I seem to be surrounded by mysteries.’ But he didn’t explain.
There was a further mystery when he went to the desk and tried to find the accounts books. He went out into the shed to find Owen.
‘They’re with the accountants,’ Owen explained. ‘I was puzzled over something, a few hundred pounds that went out with no explanation of when and why, so I took the books in for him to check. Next time you’re home, eh?’ He took his cousin’s arm and pulled him into the back of the shed. ‘Look up there but don’t make too much noise.’ He pointed to where the chimney breast of a long-disused fireplace made a wide shelf.
Standing watching them was the pale shape of a barn owl. ‘Marvellous, eh? He’s been there since last winter. Lost a previous home maybe. Lots of older barns are being replaced as money becomes available. Your father wanted to take this one down and put the new one he plans to build in its place, but I knew about the owl and persuaded him to leave it.’
‘He wouldn’t have needed much persuading.’ He glanced at Owen’s face. ‘Unless that’s something else you didn’t tell them.’ He saw that he was right. ‘Mam and Dad get great pleasure from observing the wildlife around them. Why didn’t you tell us about it? This lovely sight is something to share, surely?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Keeping it to myself added to the magic, I suppose.’
Like problems with the farm accounts, Ryan thought curiously, but he said nothing more.
The phone rang as he went back inside and by good luck it was Gareth. He was shocked when Ryan told him about their parents’ accident and said he would come home immediately. Ryan promised to be there when he arrived, and Tommy and Rachel ended their holiday early to be there too.
Sophie saw him first, as he was walking from the bus with a small rucksack on his shoulders. This time he didn’t bother teasing her that he was Ryan.
‘Why didn’t Owen tell me about the accident?’ he demanded when she greeted him. ‘I was told about Elsie and Ed Connors’s wedding but not that my parents suffered broken bones.’
‘You’d better ask Owen,’ Sophie said.
Less sharply, he said, ‘I understand from Ryan that you and Daphne have been angels.’
‘Hardly! Besides, Daphne has done far more than me,’ she replied. ‘She’s cooking a meal to welcome you home this very minute.’
The two brothers walked around the farm discussing all they had learned. Daphne had a sizeable lunch ready for them when they returned in silence to the house. She had managed to make some pasties with pastry made with suet scrounged from the butcher, and filled them with potatoes, onions and the smallest scraps of minced meat. She had also made a game pie for supper, with pigeon, rabbit, pheasant and a couple of leaves of sage and thyme and a few of Sophie’s dried mushrooms.
They held a family meeting afterwards, excluding Owen, much to his chagrin, but before Ryan could discuss Owen’s secretive behaviour Gareth said, ‘I’m never coming back and, unless Ryan intends to, I think you should sell up. Why don’t you get a small bungalow and enjoy a retirement, do all the things you’ve never had time to, relish the freedom while you still have good health?’ His words were hardly heard as both Rachel and Tommy shouted him down. When Ryan had calmed things he admitted agreeing with his brother. The row went on for a long time, with the boys trying to explain the reasons for their decisions.
Outside Owen listened and muttered aloud, ‘And when will they tell me, I wonder? As the auctioneers arrive to begin the sale?’
It was clear to Ryan that for the present everything was running smoothly, and he was able to return to his studies. But it was with some doubts that he left after three more days, and he made sure his parents were aware of his promise to post a letter every Wednesday and phone the farm on Saturdays at twelve. ‘We don’t want any more… misunderstandings, do we?’ he added, giving Owen a steely stare. ‘And I’ll telephone the accountant on Monday morning so he can explain the problem.’
‘No need,’ Owen assured him. ‘I have an appointment for first thing Monday and I’ll be able to tell you myself.’
A last evening with Sophie was successful. Mainly, Ryan guessed, because he didn’t attempt to question her about her life before Badgers Brook. They found a public house where they served sandwiches, filled surprisingly and probably illegally with rather fat pork, which Sophie declined, and they both settled for salad with scrambled dried egg.
Later, they walked through the wood and sat until late, watching the sun sink down, leaving a beautiful afterglow. Then they waited, Ryan sharing his coat with Sophie as an excuse to put his arm around her shoulders, to see the badgers emerge. He had chosen their spot with care, making sure the light breeze blew towards them so the creatures were unlikely to pick up on the scent.
There were three adults and two young ones, running, playing chase, safe in the belief they were alone. Ryan watched Sophie’s face as she marvelled at the wonderful sight, before the little group trotted off to forage for their supper.
‘They’re beautiful,’ she gasped as they stood to leave.
‘And so are you,’ he said, taking her hand firmly as they walked back to the house.
Although she didn’t pull her hand away from his, he didn’t try to kiss her. Sophie, he decided with growing affection, was more nervous than the badgers.
Before he left after the usual late-night cup of cocoa, they discussed the wedding of Elsie Clements and Ed Connors. She told him of her suspicions about Elsie’s illness.
‘You did right to mention it, but let’s hope it was nothing more than a misunderstanding.’
‘You will come, won’t you?’
He promised he’d be there to escort her to the church.
Owen was at the accountants before the office opened, waiting impatiently, determined to speak to the man who dealt with their business before Ryan could. He insisted that he was the only person he would speak to. ‘I’ll wait as long as I have to but I’m not going until I’ve seen him,’ he said, aggression raising his voice to a threatening snarl. The assistant went into the office and told David Carter that Mr Treweather was demanding to see him and looked like trouble.
David Carter, who had dealt with Tommy Treweather’s accounts for many years, put aside the work he was doing and invited Owen in.
‘Is there a problem?’ he asked, after sending the office girl to make tea.
‘I wish to take my account elsewhere,’ Owen said.
David Carter looked startled and asked why.
‘I don’t intend to go into it. I just want to take my papers and pay any outstanding monies.’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Treweather, but your uncle is my client and I can’t do this.’
‘My uncle is ill and I am carrying out his instructions.’
‘But have there been any discrepancies? I’m sure any queries can be easily explained. There has never been a problem all the time we have been dealing with your uncle’s affairs.’
‘All I know is that I need to ask for the papers.’ He waved away the girl, who had returned with a tray of tea, and held out his hand.
‘This is most irregular. It will take some time for me to get everything together to my satisfaction.’
Owen sat for the first time. ‘I’ll wait.’
‘No need for that.’ Mr Carter looked offended. ‘I’ll bring everything over at lunch time.’
‘And any calls you receive regarding the defunct account will be referred to me.’
Owen went out, leaving a bewildered and concerned Mr Carter staring at the door in disbelief. He phoned the farm at once in the hope of talking to Tommy but the phone rang unanswered as everyone was out.
Sophie saw Owen leaving the accountants, and, when he spotted her, darting behind a lorry and then running into a nearby lane at the side of a shoe shop. It was obvious that he did not want to be seen. Pretending to be unaware of him, she walked on, looking into a shop window, watching in the reflection as he left the lane and ran to where the dirty old van was parked. He stood there for a moment, presumably looking for her, and then went into the bank.
He was behaving so suspiciously that she waited until he had come out of the bank and driven off, and then she went into the accountants. ‘Is Mr Owen Treweather here?’ she asked innocently. ‘Only he left behind a notebook that he intended to bring and I’ve brought it in case it’s important.’
David Carter came out and rather abruptly said that Treweather business was no longer his concern. Not knowing what to say, certain her questions would remain unanswered, she thanked him and went into the post office for a letter card; then she wrote to Ryan explaining what she had seen.
In the B&B, the bride-to-be was trying on her simple outfit, even though the time to leave for the church was an hour away. She’d had to deal with breakfast for five guests on her own that morning, and had dropped Ed’s favourite cup. She had cleared the last of the dishes and told the two people who were staying that night that there wouldn’t be any food that evening, but they were welcome to bring back fish and chips or make themselves some toast.
Many believe that every town, large and small, is a collection of villages. That was also true of Cwm Derw. The area around the main street, with the post office, Elsie’s guesthouse, some large, once-imposing private houses, a garage and a park, and a path that led to the allotments and fields beyond, was an area where everyone knew everyone else. A side street led to Steeple Street, where Geoff and Connie’s ironmongers and paint store and Nerys’s dress shop were located. Most of the locals had lived there all their lives.
In the other direction there were a few more small shops, including Peter and Hope Bevan’s fruit and vegetable shop, a dairy and Mrs Hayward’s grocery, where most people bought their weekly food rations. Whenever anything important happened, everyone was involved. And Elsie and Ed’s wedding was important.
Everyone who could get there planned to attend the wedding. There had been no need for invitations. Ed was well known, working in his sister’s public house for so many years, and all his friends would be there to wish him well.
Although Saturday was one of Geoff’s busiest days, he and Connie were leaving the place in the hands of his seventeen-year-old niece, Joyce, with a couple of lads to help with anything heavy.
Rachel and Tommy arrived with Gareth, and Sophie walked into the church with Ryan, who had come home again after just one day away, especially for the occasion. Daphne stayed at the farm with Owen, having promised to be at the evening celebration, which would take place at the Ship and Compass.
Ryan hadn’t received Sophie’s card, so she explained exactly what she had seen. He said nothing to his father – he needed to talk to David Carter first.
Stella couldn’t close the post office until lunchtime but knew that the evening celebration would be the best part, so she didn’t mind missing the ceremony. She’d hear all about it soon enough. Kitty and Bob Jennings, Peter and Hope Bevan, and many who Elsie and Ed would have been hard put to name, filled the pews. Outside, those who knew neither the bride nor the groom but simply liked weddings stood in the churchyard on graves and walls, and wherever they could get a view of the arrivals.
It was while they were waiting for the bridal car to bring Elsie the few yards from her home that Sophie overheard something that confirmed her doubts about Elsie’s honesty.
Brenda Morris, still in her uniform, having stolen a few minutes to attend the wedding of one of her patients, was sitting beside Hope Bevan. ‘I saw her this morning and she seemed fine,’ Brenda said in answer to Hope’s question. Once again misunderstanding what was a casual enquiry, Brenda added, ‘She’s coping very well with it, but it will get harder for her.’
‘What d’you mean?’ Hope asked. ‘Is Elsie ill?’
At once Brenda changed the subject. ‘Oh, no, not Elsie. I’m sorry, I thought you were talking about someone else.’
But a glance at Brenda’s face convinced Sophie that there had been no error. So what was wrong with the bride-to-be, and did Ed know about it? She felt the terror of past mistakes milling around her head, warning her to say nothing. It was far too late and the safest thing was to remain silent.
Elsie arrived and was joined in matrimony to a proud Ed Connors. Instead of the formal wedding breakfast, they went with a few friends to a restaurant where a simple buffet was prepared. Sophie noticed that the bride firmly refused a drink of any kind. The crowd dispersed, cameras stopped clicking, chatter faded and people went back to their routine, promising to meet later on at the Ship.
Ryan took Sophie back to the farm with his parents. They walked around the fields, checking fences, looking at the animals and the newly ploughed fields, and stopped at the edge of the wood, looking down at the now derelict cottage where Sophie had once made a home.
‘You just appeared one day, and settled, made it a home, and you’d probably still be there if it hadn’t been for the storm,’ Ryan said. ‘Tell me, where did you come from? What brought you to my door?’ he asked, wanting to hear it from Sophie herself.
‘Oh, nowhere in particular. I just wandered after leaving the forces.’ Abruptly, avoiding further questions, she turned away.
‘I have to go back. I’ve made a cake for this evening’s do, and I want to make sure it’s edible.’
‘Will you promise that you’ll tell me one day? Not now, or even in the near future, but one day?’
She hesitated, staring at him, at his encouraging smile, the affection glowing in his eyes. ‘Yes, one day. Now come on, Ryan. I’ve promised to deliver the cake to Betty before six.
Ryan and Gareth made excuses about leaving for the Ship until Sophie and Daphne had gone, then Ryan faced Owen about the change of accountant. They all looked at him for an explanation.
‘I’ll explain more fully when I have the figures set out to show you. Briefly, he’s become unreliable. There was a mistake in the tax we paid, we underpaid and you know what difficulties that can cause, receiving income and omitting to enter it. I get nervous trying to explain to Uncle Tommy when I’ve overstepped my responsibilities, but I think I was justified. Give me a couple of days to make out a report and I’ll explain.’ He knew the story sounded weak, given David Carter’s integrity, but it would give him valuable time to hide the transfers from any but the closest investigation.
The potato cake Sophie had made looked strange: crisp on the outside but very un-cake-like inside. It was made with mashed potatoes, a little flour, a small amount of sugar and fruit, with nutmeg for flavouring. The fat content was lard, which Sophie hated, it being an animal fat. She had made the cake but wouldn’t – couldn’t – eat any. With the cake and a sponge carefully wrapped, she made her way to the pub.
Although the vague plan was for people to arrive around eight, they started coming before six o’clock with offerings of food to swell the feast, and then stayed and gathered around like shoppers queuing at a winter sale. When the doors opened to the rest, the place was stormed and the party began.
It was Ed’s party, but it was clear he was needed on the other side of the bar, and he served drinks alongside his sister. When Daphne arrived with Tommy and Rachel she at once volunteered to help. ‘I can pull a pint, can’t I?’ she announced, and after a few frothy disasters she spent the evening helping Betty, allowing Ed to sit beside his bride.
When Ed was persuaded to give a speech, Elsie reached out to move his drink, and it slipped from her hand. Sophie watched as she grasped one hand with the other, as though sharing the strength. Ed laughed. ‘She’s lovely, my wife – Mrs Ed Connors,’ he said to a ripple of laughter, ‘but heck, is she clumsy!’ Elsie joined in the laughter, which Sophie could see was forced, the woman’s eyes filled with sadness.
The evening consisted of sing-songs and joke-telling and a lot of teasing, but Sophie and Ryan seemed set apart from it all. They sat in a corner near the fire and talked. Or, rather, Ryan did. He explained about wanting to teach, and not staying on the farm, and how he was torn by feelings of guilt that he wasn’t there where his parents wanted him to be.
‘You have to do what’s best for you, don’t you?’ Sophie said.
‘You mean I should stay at college and insist my parents realize that I’ll never want to run the farm?’
‘No, no, I didn’t mean that!’ Sophie looked alarmed. A sudden and painful reminder overwhelmed her of how her insistence that she knew best had resulted in the deaths of those she loved. ‘I can’t tell you what to do, you must make up your own mind! I must never persuade anyone to choose. It has to be your choice.’
A little puzzled by the emphatic response, he said softly, ‘Not ever, Sophie, love? Not even when the decision affects you too?’
‘I won’t advise anyone, then I won’t have to live with my mistake.’
‘Some decisions have to be shared, especially if they affect the lives of two people. Sophie, you know I’m more than a little fond of you. Why does that frighten you so much?’
‘It’s a responsibility, loving someone and telling them what they should do.’
‘Sharing isn’t telling,’ he corrected.
She tapped her empty glass on the table, a tattoo demonstrating her agitation.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘guard my chair while I go and get us another drink. I think it’s time we talked this through.’
When he returned, pushing his way through the lively crowd, Geoff and Connie were sitting at the table. Sophie had gone.
He had to find her, make her talk about what troubled her so much. Was she afraid of being let down again? Did she believe he was capable of leaving her at the church to wait in vain? How could he reassure her when he wasn’t supposed to know about the man who had jilted her? Was it his family’s occupation? His mother had shown disapproval of her, but that was owing to her unsuitability as a farmer’s wife, something he had no intention of making her. He had to see her. Grabbing his coat, offering the drinks to his father and mother, he hurried out. He would go to Badgers Brook and wait for her.