Harriet told no one about Eric’s contribution to Lillian’s welfare. It was extremely difficult for her not to boast about his secret generosity. Eric was a very special man. She felt the glow of pride and began to see why it was important not to tell of kindnesses. Such an honourable man was Eric. She had almost forgotten how he had abandoned her in her joy at his noble act.
It was good sharing his secret. It gave them something in common, an excuse for a shared glance now and then when something bordering on the subject came up. Oh, if only he would show some sign of real affection! She must have impressed him with the way she had dealt with his return with those children of his. Soon Harriet felt sure, he would talk to her and beg to return to his rightful place as her husband.
When Danny was not in Bryn Melinau he was usually in Barry. He lived on an old boat from which all the paint had gone, bleached by the weather to a pale, bare wood. The old craft was fairly sound, apart from a few small holes and one large gash in the hull where the rudder had once been. An examination proved it to be weatherproof, and it was strongly partitioned, so that it was possible to choose his accommodation. He had created a warm and cosy place, safe from cold winds, rain and snow. With a few added comforts he now called it home.
He had money and could have afforded to rent a reasonable room somewhere but until he had that final payment from Jack Roberts he didn’t want to spend a penny more than he needed to.
He was quite comfortable and, considering it was the depths of winter, surprisingly warm. There had been a rusted up pot-bellied stove which, once cleaned up, had lit with minimum fuss and, when it had been going for several hours, glowed fiercely and looked fit to burst. His bed was a shelf that at first had smelled strongly of rotting fish but repeated scrubbing had reduced this to acceptable levels. He bathed regularly in the public baths in the town and hoped the smell did not linger.
He worked in a small public house, doing the menial jobs like cleaning the cellar, organising the empty barrels for collection, restocking the shelves and rearranging the stock when necessary. So far, he hadn’t been allowed to serve in the bar but the work he was allowed to do was already giving him some idea of what running a public house of his own would entail.
Enthusiasm for this occupation had rapidly dwindled, as did his life with Charlotte. Coral, a pretty, red-haired divorcée who worked in the bar, had eliminated all thoughts of marriage to the girl he once thought would make the perfect wife. Coral made him feel strong, capable of anything.
He still planned to find Jack and demand a final payment for his silence. Then he could show Coral what a catch he really was!
Early in March he left his simple home, and caught the train once more to visit Bryn Melinau. A letter to Bertha told her to expect him and he set off carrying a few gifts for Bertha and Lillian. What good fortune that he hadn’t told Charlotte he no longer went to sea: it saved complicated explanations of what he was doing when he wasn’t in the town.
One Saturday afternoon after he had been at Bertha’s cottage for a few days, he set off along the muddy path. Like a rather poor farce, Danny was following Gaynor and he in turn, was being followed by Lillian. The day was dull, a mist covered the mountain and was draped like a sad veil over the town.
Lillian was soaking wet. She had seen Danny set out and without a thought of keeping dry had walked out after him without changing from her slippers or collecting a coat. He had hurried along the path to Main Street and there had stopped and looked around at the scurrying shoppers. He was in luck; Gaynor was among them.
Lillian was puzzled to see him in pursuit of Gaynor. What could he want with her, and, with his long legs, why didn’t he simply catch her up? Her slow mind grappled with the problem and she realised that he didn’t want to be seen. She giggled, eyes as bright as the raindrops sparkling on her hair.
Gaynor, unaware of the two people in her wake, led them through the school grounds and on, past the railway line to a quiet part of town not far from the river.
Jack Roberts came out of a house in the middle of a small terrace and walked quickly towards Gaynor. Lillian saw Danny’s rapid approach. An argument ensued which she didn’t hear, but which frightened her. It was that Jack Roberts from the factory, she realised with a pout of anger. She’d got a job there cleaning once and he’d sacked her, said she was slow.
Danny left the man and walked back towards where she stood.
“You don’t like him, do you?” she said suddenly, startling Danny.
“Lillian, you startled me!” he said, recovering quickly. “What are you doing so far from home – and look at you! You’re soaked!”
“I don’t like that Jack Roberts either. Stopped me sweeping up in Russell’s, he did.”
“Come on, borrow my coat. We’d better get you home before you catch cold.”
Danny walked with her back the way they had come.
“Found her right down past the station.” he told Bertha, who was talking to Harriet. “Going for a walk, she was, would you believe! I gave her my coat and brought her home.”
“Who took you down there?” Bertha demanded, ignoring Danny and shoving the girl’s shoulder. “What have I told you about wandering off? Who did you go with?”
“Not me, I promise you that,” Danny laughed. “I’d have made sure she had a mac and wellies! No, there wasn’t anyone with her. She was on her own.”
“We don’t like him, do we Danny?” Lillian said. Danny shrugged and smiled sympathetically at Bertha. “Poor dab,” Bertha said sadly, as Lillian left them and set off home down the lane. “Will you be all right without a coat, Danny?”
“I’m so wet it doesn’t matter. Charlotte in?” he asked Harriet. “I think I’ll go and see if she’s free of work for once.” He looked at Harriet, sheltering under a dripping umbrella. “What say we have a taxi? You can’t walk all the way back up that hill.” Taking her packages, he ushered her to the taxi rank. “Come on then. If I get any wetter they’ll make me sit on the roof!” Harriet laughed.
“Don’t get tea for me, Mrs Evans. I’m hoping to persuade this charming lady and her daughter to come out with me,” Danny called back.
For once Charlotte agreed to leave her work. The elegant surroundings of the restaurant was a thrill. Charlotte, Danny reflected, was far from beautiful but her manner and dress sense clearly signalled money and good breeding. He envied Harriet’s confidence, her dealings with the waiters. He must get used to such places. He was going up in the world. thanks to that two-faced Jack Roberts.
When it was time to pay, he took out a large roll of notes and smiled at the surprised look in the waiters eyes. If he lacked breeding and manners, money was a good sustitute. He left a generous tip. There would be more money soon; he could afford the fun of throwing it about once in a while and it had certainly impressed Harriet.
It was still raining when they left the railway station and began to look for a taxi to take them up to Mill House.
“We can walk,” Charlotte said. “Don’t spend any more money tonight, it will do us good to walk off that wonderful meal.”
They walked up Main Street and had just reached the taxi stand when Danny saw someone walking ahead of them. He said hurriedly, “Here, you and your Mam go on, I’ll catch you up, there’s someone I have to see.”
“Danny, where are you going?” Charlotte called but Danny was running up towards the lane in pursuit of a man she did not recognise. She got into the taxi and, frowning, watched as both men disappeared into the distance. The rain thrumming on the roof of the car blocked out every sound, the raindrops distorting every sight. Cocooned within the small vehicle, they left the town and climbed the hill.
“Who was it, did you see?” Harriet asked.
“I don’t know. He seemed very anxious to catch him up.” She smiled a reassurance she didn’t feel. “He’ll be joining us in a while and I’m sure he’ll explain.” But Danny was very good at not explaining. she thought with a frown.
Danny ran after the man who was heading towards Bertha’s cottage and caught up with him not far from her gate.
“Looking for me, are you?” he panted as he touched Jack’s shoulder and came threateningly close. “Got something for me I expect.”
“Yes, I have something for you.” Jack spoke calmly, and seemed unperturbed by Danny’s hand pushing against his shoulder, making him step closer and closer to the river.
“Let’s have it then.” Danny held his hand out.
“I have words, not money. There won’t be any more money.”
“Don’t kid me. You can’t risk my telling what I know about you, stalwart member of the community. The police won’t consider it too late to charge you for cheating Mam, mind. That Mr Hazel is still alive, he’ll remember it all.”
“I’m not paying you for silence any more, Danny. I regret many things I’ve done but I won’t regret this.”
“You think I won’t do it, don’t you? You think I’ll say nothing, that I’ve been having you on all this time. Well, you’re wrong.”
“Oh, I believe you, Danny. You’d enjoy it. And in a way I can understand that. Pulling down someone who had no right to be standing upright, someone who should be grovelling and ashamed.”
“I will tell.” Danny’s voice was losing its authority, he was no longer sure how to handle the situation. He racked his brains trying to think of something to add to his previous threats. He moved closer to the man, pushing so Jack’s feet were on the edge of the river bank, slipping and sliding on the wet grass and surface mud.
“It’s no use trying violence either. I’m leaving Bryn Melinau. You’ve won that victory at least.”
“Leaving are you? We’ll see about that. I’m going this minute to see the police.”
“Go then. It doesn’t matter any more.”
Danny shook the man by his lapels and walked off, then, his frustration overflowing, he turned and pushed Jack backwards into the river. He watched as the man swam to the bank.
“I hope you choke on it, you stubborn old fool!” he called before running through the dark lane back to Main Street.
As Jack slowly hauled himself further away from the muddy edge, a shadow emerged from the bushes.
Lillian said: “We don’t like you,” and pushed the exhausted Jack into the water once again. “Danny doesn’t like you,” she called after him, before the splash had subsided.
This time, Jack’s head struck a remnant of the old bridge as he passed. He was carried unresistingly downstream, under the road bridge, past the town and was brought to rest in the garden of the house that had once been Rhoda’s.
Bertha returned from visiting Kath Thomas and sighed as she picked up a soaking wet nightdress and put it in the washing basket. Lillian had been wandering around in her nightie again! She began to fill hot-water bottles to put beside her; the poor child must be frozen. What was going to become of the girl?
“In the spring, you can have some bantam hens, and a fine little cock. Beautiful they’ll be and something for you to look after,” she promised the next morning when, bleary-eyed and sickly, Lillian came down for breakfast.
“Oh, Mam. I’d like that. Perhaps my Dad’ll come then, and make me a proper coop for them. Will he, Mam? Will he?”
Bertha sighed. “No, lovey, I don’t think so. We’ll have to get some boxes from the greengrocers and make it ourselves, like we always do.”
“Mam. can I take Danny’s breakfast up? It’s his last day.”
“No you can’t. He’ll come down and get it. This isn’t some posh hotel!”
Jack had been found late the previous night by the new owners of Rhoda’s house.
His recovery was slow and steady but there was about him an air of sadness, of utter defeat. He seemed no longer to care whether he got well or not. Once, when Gaynor visited him, he whispered, “How would you feel, Gaynor, if you knew someone hated you enough to kill you?”
“What d’you mean?” she asked. “Are you saying someone pushed you into the river? Jack! Who was it? I’ll speak to Constable Hardy now, this minute. Oh, Jack!”
Gaynor had defied her patient husband, who did not want Jack back, and prepared a room for his convalescence. He never used it. On the third day he developed a temperature which led to a fever. That night he died.
“We didn’t like him, did we, Danny?” Lillian said, when Bertha had told him the news of Jack’s accident, and he was amused at the thought of the man being in hospital after floating down the river like a log.
A few days later, when further news reached him of the man’s death, the joke turned bitter and Danny’s mouth filled with bile. He was convinced it was he who had caused the man’s death. He was shocked and very afraid.
“I didn’t know the man very well. I met him at Mill House a few times, that’s all.” he said to Bertha. “Fell in the river you say?”
“Didn’t like him, did we?” Lillian insisted. “Pushed him.”
“Who pushed him? Talking rubbish you are, Lillian!” Bertha said, hushing her daughter. She tutted at Danny. “Too much imagination and not enough sense, this one, for sure.”
Making the excuse that he had to see Charlotte, Danny went straight out. He was in a panic. He couldn’t have killed him! He couldn’t have! He remembered seeing the man swimming strongly towards the bank. He remembered looking back and seeing him standing there, dripping, spluttering, coughing water out of his mouth: remembered calling back “I hope you choke on it, you stubborn old fool.” Whatever had put him back in the river had happened after he left; Jack’s death was nothing to do with him. But the feeling of dread wouldn’t go away.
When Jack Roberts’ will was read it caused quite a stir in Bryn Melinau. When Charlotte walked into the house with Danny, she realised that something momentous had happened.
Her mother was cuddling Petula, her father sitting beside her with Louise and Isabelle on his knees. Rhoda was on the floor between them, Miranda was there too, nursing Matthew and listening to Ellie read her school book. Her parents looked stunned.
“Danny, we’ve been waiting for you.” Miranda stood up, gave the baby to a startled Charlotte and hugged her brother tearfully.
“What’s going on?” Danny demanded of Harriet, who said nothing. Danny turned to Eric for explanation.
“It’s the will, you see.” Eric said. “Jack left all his money to us.”
“What d’you mean, us? Who’s ‘us’?”
“He left it for me to use to make a home for you all.”
“There can’t have been enough to do that.”
“Several thousand pounds,” Harriet said. “Apparently he had a large bank balance as well as owning six houses, in Barry and Cardiff. They are to be sold and apart from a few small bequests, the money is to be used to give Eric and the children whatever they need.”
“Several thousand!” Danny gasped. Damn me, he thought, with a wave of anger. I could have been set up for life with some of that money.
“What bequests?” he asked, dry-mouthed. God, he needed a drink.
“Charlotte is to receive some money and with it goes the hope that she will continue to rebuild the family business. The church and the youth club gets a mention too.”
Charlotte hugged her mother. “Mam, why the long face?”
“I’m tired, that’s all; funerals at this house seem to be becoming a habit. If you’ll all excuse me, I’ll go to bed.” She gently kissed Petula before handing her to Miranda, and left the room. After a while, the others went to their own part of the house and Charlotte went up to her mother.
Harriet was in bed, sitting wrapped in a frilly shawl, a book in her hands. Charlotte guessed she was not reading, from the angle it was held.
“What’s the matter, Mam? Don’t you want them to leave? Is that it?”
“Of course I want them to leave. Rhoda, you and I will be glad to get back to normal. Such a lot of work and muddle their presence has caused us all.”
“You can talk to me, you know.”
“There’s nothing to say! Your father and his brood are leaving Mill House and I’ll be thankful to forget they’ve ever been here. Now go and get me a cup of tea, will you? I need to take my tablets.” She dug around in a drawer, searching for the sleeping tablets she hadn’t needed for weeks and glanced at her daughter. “Go on then, fetch my tea or I’ll be asleep before you make it.”
Downstairs, Danny confronted Eric. “Was he really that rich?” he asked Eric. “I wonder how many others he cheated to get it?”
“Miranda agrees with me that before we do anything else, we’ll instigate enquiries about the previous owners of the houses, in case there were others who had been fraudulently deprived of their homes.” Eric said solemnly.
“That could cost a lot of money.”
“It would be well spent.”
“What will there be for Miranda and me?” Danny asked.
“Miranda will share in whatever I do, but you, Danny, you are not included.”
“That’s not fair.” Danny spoke reasonably. smiling as he added, “I’m more entitled than your children, aren’t I? I was the one thrown out of my home, me and Miranda. I’d have turned out different if it hadn’t been for that.”
“Making excuses now, Danny?”
“Its the truth. He owes me.”
“There was a letter for me, held by the solicitor to be handed to me after Jack’s death. In it he asks me to make certain you do not benefit in any way.”
“And you’ll do that? Cut me out of money that would set me up with a job and a place to lay my head?”
“I think you’ve had your share, don’t you? Jack believed you were capable of taking care of yourself, Danny. I think you ought to leave Bryn Melinau, don’t you? Rumours and talk of someone pushing the man into the river haven’t faded. Ned Hardy is an intelligent young officer… he wouldn’t need much of a hint.”
“You believe I killed him?”
“I think he was pushed into the water that night, yes, and there’s no one else who’d want to, is there?”
“Gaynor’s old man, that’s one for a start off!”
“He doesn’t have your barely contained violence, Danny.”
“You’re threatening me now! You’re no better than me, you aren’t.”
“If I believed that,” Eric said quietly. “I’d shoot myself.”
Harriet didn’t take the tablets and she didn’t sleep. She lay against the pillows wondering how soon they would leave and how she could persuade them to stay without losing her pride completely.
One of her worries was that, moving to a place where she was not a part of his life, Eric might find someone else. He didn’t want her, that was clear, but he did need her. But the situation was precarious. Not wanting her meant there was a chance he would meet someone he did want. Thank goodness the government had withdrawn their plan to make a seven year separation grounds for divorce. At least she still held that advantage.
When Charlotte went down to make her mother’s cup of tea, Danny was dressed, ready to leave.
“Oh, Danny, you aren’t leaving? I need to talk to someone about all this.”
“Tomorrow, Charlotte. I’ll meet you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be at the factory all day.”
“I think I’ll go to Bristol tomorrow then and see if I can find myself a job.”
“In Bristol? But why not here?”
He glanced at the dividing door and whispered, “Best you get away from your Mam while there’s still a chance, my lovely one.”
“No, Danny. I’m needed here, both at the factory and, if my father leaves, Mam will need me at home.”
“Then this might be goodbye.” He walked out and Charlotte gave only token protest. In truth she felt only relief. It was over and she hadn’t had to say the difficult words after all.