Walter sat in the silent living room that mocked him with its empty chairs, and wrote to Lynne. It was a routine to fill a page or two each evening and post it before twelve the following morning so Lynne received one every morning while she was away.
Since her short visit to Gladys May she had spent a few days of every week with her, aware, she told Walter, that the old lady was far from well and needed some extra care. Walter knew the real reason was Lynne’s determination to gradually leave him, so if their secret were revealed she could slip out of his life altogether, taking any blame with her. It was breaking his heart. They had been utterly content throughout their years together, Meriel was an added joy and now the hollow empty house seemed worse than a tomb.
He no longer pleaded with her to come home, but always told her how lonely he was without her and how he missed her. Then he would write a few lines about the trivial events of his day, sometimes even describing the clients, making fun out of ordinary things, and telling her whom he had met on his regular visits to the café. He had given up applying pressure but settled for gentle hints about how she was needed. He knew from the little she told him that her days with her aunt were spent in the garden or helping with some sewing, decorating or cleaning. Mind-numbing tasks that stopped her thinking about where she ought to be, he thought sadly. How can something that happened so long ago come back and create such confusion?
He reported in detail any news he had of their daughter, such news usually coming via Leo, whom he still sent to help as it was the only way of making sure everything was well with her.
Sometimes he wrote on a picture postcard, as though he were on holiday and she was left behind. Other times he pretended she was the one on holiday and how he was longing to see her and hear all about it. He kept the comments light and hoped they made her smile. Every day he posted his message and every day he waited in vain for a reply. She usually wrote back after two or three days but he feared the time spent away from him would increase until she no longer felt the place was her home.
George was worried both about his health since he had collapsed in such a dramatic manner and for the business he was neglecting. His anxiety didn’t help him recover from what the doctors thought was caused by panic and anger rather than a heart attack, which was what they had first suspected. He refused to see Frieda and told the nurse he wanted to see his son.
Teifion had been there constantly whenever visitors were allowed but this demand from his father, now well enough to tell him what he thought of his intention to leave the firm, made him less willing. Reluctantly, he put on his best suit and picked up the items George had asked him to take in. He was going to the hospital this time with less concern for his father’s health and more for the outburst that was sure to come his way. He met the postman at the door as he was leaving and took the letters he offered.
One was from an important client. He got into the car but before setting off he thought he should read it. If it contained bad news he might be able to soften the blow by telling his father before he gave him the letter. When he opened it he groaned. This was the worst news. An important auction promised to them was being taken out of their hands and he knew that there was no way to soften that news.
‘I don’t care what dream you’re dreaming, boy, so far as I’m concerned you can go and be a pot-boy as soon as you like, but you have to stay and see to the big auction next month,’ were his father’s first words when Teifion walked into the room. ‘According to this lot,’ he gestured disparagingly with a thumb, ‘I won’t be well enough to deal with it on my own and temporary staff will need a careful eye. You have to stay, understand?’
‘Calm yourself, Dad, or you’ll be ill again,’ Teifion dared say.
‘I’ll be ill? I am ill! And I won’t get better while you’re playing with the job instead of getting on with it. You can’t leave. It’s your business and you have to be aware of that and look after it. This sale is important.’
‘There’ll be others,’ Teifion said.
‘Not many as big as this one, and what d’you mean “there’ll be others”? If we make anything but a perfect job of this one people will choose other auctioneers in the future. There are plenty looking to take our place. Every sale is important, surely you’ve learned that much?’
With a nervous glance to make sure the nurses weren’t far away, Teifion handed his father the letter that had come that morning. As he might have predicted, his father burst into angry demands and accusations.
‘Have you phoned and asked them why they’ve changed their mind? Promised them a better deal? Extra advertising? More staff to help shift the goods about? Canvas cover if it’s raining? That won’t be expensive to hire. Transport to deliver to buyers at reduced prices?’
‘The letter came as I was leaving the house. I haven’t had a chance to do—’
‘Then what in blazes are you doing here?’
‘You – I – it was you asked to see me,’ he stuttered. ‘I thought it must be important.’
‘Not as important as getting this agreement back, you idiot! Go home and sort it and don’t come back till you have. Right? Anything there you don’t understand?’
He was waving the letter about and Teifion took it, tore it through and left.
‘Come back!’ George shouted, leaping out of bed, grabbing the torn pages. A nurse told him to stay in bed.
‘Stay in bed while my stupid son ruins my business? Get my clothes, I have to go home.’
‘I’m sorry if you have problems, Mr Dexter, I really am, but you can’t go until the doctor’s finished his rounds.’
‘Sorry for him?’ the nurse whispered to a colleague. ‘I’m more sorry for his son!’
Teifion went back home coldly calm. It was as though his father’s anger had released him from any doubts about what he wanted to do. He packed a couple of small suitcases, left his keys on the table and looked around him. It should have been sad leaving the place where he’d lived for most of his life but he could find no regrets, only excitement. He was like a child on the last day of term, nothing but freedom beckoned and he had a job not to shout with excitement. He drove to the pub and knocked at the side door. Betty appeared, wrapped in a waterproof overall and wearing cut-down wellington boots.
‘Hello, Teifion, I won’t be a minute finishing the floor, my cleaner failed to arrive again. Go in and put the kettle on, will you?’
‘I’ve come to make a start if that’s all right with you, Mrs Connors, and perhaps you’ll show me how I can best help.’
‘Put the kettle on,’ she repeated with a grin. ‘Tea first then we’ll talk about who does what, right?’
She spent the morning patiently explaining the system of stock-keeping so everything was used in sequence. He seemed to understand and even suggested moving one or two items so that the most frequently used were nearer the entrance to the bar. He felt satisfied he had made the right decision, at least for the present. And Betty was encouraged to believe he would be a useful and, more to the point, an interested employee.
He didn’t visit his father even though he was told he’d come home. The room Betty offered was small and sparsely furnished, old-fashioned and rather dark, but seemed to him just perfect. About the all-important auction he thought not at all.
George was sitting in the living room staring into space. In his hands he held a letter, telling him that Frieda had left him and he could contact her through her sister in Brighton. He wondered vaguely by how much she had emptied their bank account.
Meriel and Lucy were opening the office when a car drew up and a well-dressed and important looking man stepped out. They watched with surprise as he approached the door and walked in, head down, so the brim of his trilby shaded his face. Then he looked up, said, ‘Good morning, lovely ladies,’ and they saw with delight that their visitor was Harry Power. Meriel and Lucy both stood and offered him a chair.
‘I represent Mr Lewin of Bracken Court,’ he began rather formally then he grinned. ‘I really am here on business. Interested?’
‘You bet!’ Lucy replied.
Meriel picked up a pen and pulled a notebook towards her, looking at him expectantly. ‘Mr Lewin of Bracken Court is looking for someone to organize the auction at Rosebay Farm next month. Are you interested?’ he asked them.
‘Of course,’ Lucy said, with what she hoped was nonchalance, and Meriel took from a drawer details of the auction they had taken over from George. He went out then and a well-dressed man of about fifty took his place, sat in the chair offered and began, ‘I am putting a lot of trust in you, can you reassure me? Are you able to cope with such a large event?’
‘As you can see from this previous sale, we managed to achieve and pass the expectations regarding price and we believe that was mainly down to the right prices, promising people a few bargains, bringing in the crowd.’ Meriel smiled at him, hoping she showed confidence and not too many teeth. ‘And of course we offer our combined expertise, there’s no substitute for experience and enthusiasm, is there?’
‘And this was a last-minute arrangement, remember,’ Lucy said, tapping the auction details with a pencil, ‘when another firm was unable to carry on. Given a whole month we are certain we can do even better.’
The man said very little and as their comments slowed and they tried to think of other telling remarks to make he stood up and offered his well-manicured hand, first to Meriel then to Lucy. ‘I will send my man in with all the information you need and I expect a fast response detailing your plans. Thank you for your time. I look forward to working with you. Good day.’
Shaking with excitement the two friends watched as the man got back into the car and sat there, while from the driver’s seat Harry Power jumped out with a file of papers which he handed to Meriel with a half smile and a nod. To Lucy’s amusement he added a wink and blew her a kiss before retreating back to the car and driving off.
‘Did you see that?’ Lucy said with a grin.
‘Look out, Gerald, our Lucy’s waking up to how attractive she is.’
‘Go on, don’t be daft.’ But the incident flattered her and made her smile for a long time.
So that’s what he’s been doing, snooping around us buying cakes and pretending to be our friend? Checking whether we’re capable of managing an auction!’
‘Assessing our capabilities,’ Lucy joked. ‘How exciting!’
‘What a cheek. Mind you, I don’t mind who snoops if it means a job as good as this one,’ Meriel said happily, glancing down the list of items for sale.
They saw from the details that the auction had been offered to George Dexter but they had withdrawn from the arrangement. ‘I suppose that means he’ll be coming here accusing us of underhand practices,’ Meriel sighed.
‘Ah well,’ Lucy said, ‘he might act like a mad dog but he’s unlikely to bite!’
George didn’t come in and blast away at their underhandedness at taking his client. They expected accusations of deceit and dishonesty and threats that he would complain to the relevant authorities. They prepared themselves for his outrage but in fact he didn’t appear at all. It wasn’t until Lucy went to the post office later that they learned that George had been in hospital.
As usual, Stella Jones had the latest information. ‘Some sort of attack it was, but he’s out now, came out this morning he did, against the advice of the doctors, mind. Typical of George Dexter. He thinks he knows better than the doctors.’
‘What about Teifion? I suppose he’s running the office? Difficult to get help at short notice but perhaps his stepmother will help.’
Stella leaned towards her even though the post office was empty apart from the two of them. ‘Now there’s a funny thing, Teifion isn’t there. The office was closed until George got back and there’s gossip about the fact his wife didn’t visit him, not once.’ In a deeper voice, rich with solemnity, she added, ‘Something’s going on if you ask me.’
Lucy didn’t need to ask anyone about Frieda’s apparent lack of concern, she guessed the reason was George refusing to see his wife, but she did wonder how Teifion was coping. ‘Perhaps I’ll walk past and see if Teifion’s there.’
‘He won’t be.’ Betty Connors had just walked in with letters to post. ‘He’s decided to work for me at the Ship and Compass, what d’you think of that, then, eh?’
For once Stella was speechless.
Harry Power called at the office the following day and filled out the details about the sale, flirting and teasing them both between meticulously clarifying the business arrangements. For several days both girls were occupied with preparations for the important auction at Rosebay Farm. There were buildings and plots of land to sell as well as assorted furniture and fittings and sundry items from homes and farms.
They had posters to design and print, advertisements to place in magazines and newspapers and the complicated catalogues to prepare and order. Selecting what items to illustrate and which to describe was something that kept them out of their beds late into the night on several occasions. They went to see the lots and decided which would be sold individually. For the first time, Meriel wished she could ask her father to advise; with many years of experience his comments would be invaluable.
George was furious when he realized who had been awarded the auction contract but he said nothing. He blamed his son, and also Frieda for being so troublesome that he had been less than attentive to Mr Lewen at such an important time. Walter had heard about the auction being given to Meriel and Lucy and sent word via Leo of how proud he was, offering help if any was needed. ‘Congratulations,’ Leo said to Meriel, after passing on her father’s good wishes. He hugged them both, but it seemed to Meriel that he held her for a little longer than the occasion warranted. She was aware of a slight embarrassment as she clung even longer than he did. There was something very comforting in his warmth and obvious affection, something unsettling in the way he stared at her after releasing her from his arms, his eyes softening in a disconcerting way. She told herself it was because of her stress over the all-important auction and slight apprehension about her ability to cope. She was still hurt he had not told her about her parents.
They willingly took advantage of Leo’s help and he went with them when they went to look again at the items for sale. A couple of assistants were hired for the day, and were instructed on the way the items were displayed or, in some cases, discarded. They made several visits, leaving an excited Kitty and Bob in the office to cover. The well-dressed Mr Lewen appeared occasionally, on one visit offering a photograph of the farm taken fifty years previously, as a suggestion for the cover of the contents catalogue. He said very little but seemed satisfied with their arrangements.
George ran the office as well as he could and, as Teifion was refusing to help, he advertised for a temporary assistant. One of the applicants was Lucy’s friend, Gerald Cook. After only a few minutes George guessed he was not serious.
‘I work for my father and it isn’t a career I wish to spend my life developing,’ Gerald began. ‘I want something different.’
‘What does he do?’
‘He sells cars and also repairs vintage motorbikes,’ Gerald replied, believing a slight exaggeration was reasonable in the circumstances. ‘I do find it fascinating to restore these wonderful machines, but I want something more mentally challenging.’
‘Why property? D’you consider that – challenging?’ George asked with a slight edge to his voice.
‘Yes, and, of course, I hope to make more money than I earn at present.’ Gerald used his most charming smile. ‘I want to make my way in the world. What sort of money d’you make on the average house sale? Better percentage than my father gets, I’m sure.’
‘I’m sure,’ George repeated. ‘But like your father’s business, mine has to be learned. You’d do well to stay with what you know and perhaps develop the business, taking note of the rising popularity of the motor car, don’t you think? What’s the mark up on selling a new car?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘And the cost per hour of repairs?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘A set of tyres for a Norton? A new engine for an Austin Seven? A brake cable for an Enfield?’
Gerald shook his head. ‘In fact,’ he said in an attempt to extricate himself, ‘I leave the office side of things to my father and specialize in getting on with the work.’
George looked pointedly at his stained hands and fingernails and stood up. ‘Thank you, Mr Cook, but I think you’ve come here simply to find out if the job offers an easy alternative to your father’s honourable business. Good day.’ As useless as that son of mine, he muttered to himself, finding an assistant was not going to be easy.
He knew he should see Teifion and ask him to come back, plead with him even, and remind him of what he might lose, but he knew that with his present simmering anger he would only make things worse. With Frieda and his son away and only the morning lady, as he called Mrs Prothero, in the house to provide meals he decided to close the office and eat at the Ship and Compass. He had seen no one apart from a few clients since he came out of hospital but guessed the gossip would be out about his wife leaving, his neighbours laughing at him for believing he could keep a woman so many years his junior. Frieda had taken all her things and was gone. Unless he could persuade Teifion to come back he would be quite alone. He had to face people soon or he’d become a recluse, hiding his shame and embarrassment behind the office door.
That the news was out he did not doubt; one or two people had passed the office and unable to hide their delight at his embarrassment had smiled knowingly through the glass. As though he were a strange animal in a zoo, he thought angrily. The gossip merchants would be having a great time gathered in groups, their shoulders slightly hunched as they shared the latest rumours and guesses, and embroidered the facts. Leaving Mrs Prothero with instructions about taking a message if the phone should ring, he stepped out, shoulders back and wearing a haughty expression he hoped might discourage idle questions, he crossed the road and went to the Ship.
After the bright sun of the early June day it was dark inside and took a moment or two for his eyes to adjust. When they did he gave a gasp of horror. Teifion was behind the bar with Betty, laughing as he served Bob Jennings and Colin Jones. He turned abruptly and walked out. First Frieda letting him down in the most cruel way then walking away, and now his son abandoning him for a job, with Betty Connors!
He went to the café to settle for whatever they had to offer, filled with self-pity. He had never been a popular man. His first wife had gradually become a stranger after Teifion was born, sleeping in his bed but with such obvious dislike that even that familiarity had faded and died.
When she passed away a few years later his feelings had been resentment rather than grief, hating himself for allowing her to waste his best years. He had blamed Teifion. If he hadn’t been born she might have been different, or he could have left her, found someone else. But a son, a promise of continuity for the business had been strong reasons for staying. For what? No son, a second wife who had betrayed him, and between them they had made him a laughing stock. His mind twisted then and he saw clearly that the one who had ruined his life was not his wife, or Teifion or even Frieda. Walter Evans had made everything go wrong for him. All those years ago. He had destroyed any chance of happiness by stealing his girl.
Gerald was not unhappy about George’s curt dismissal of him. He hadn’t wanted the job but, as George had guessed, he had hoped to discover what prospects there were as an auctioneer and estate agent. If he were to accept a life with the boring Lucy Calloway, he wanted to make sure it was worthwhile. Money was a compensation for many things, including being married to someone as dull as Lucy.
Cheerfully he went to Badgers Brook to see whether Lucy was at home. They often went back to the house for lunch, preferring the garden to the noisy café when the weather was kind.
Lucy was at that moment standing at the top of a ladder, thankful she was wearing pedal-pushers to protect her modesty. The house was, for once, without visitors. Stella seemed to sense when they were at home and make an excuse to call, and Bob and Colin often came to work on the peaceful garden they treated like their own.
She handed down the remnants of a squirrel’s nest to Meriel. They had been warned that although squirrels were charming, they weren’t recommended as roof-dwellers. So now the occupants had fled and before they could add to the nesting material ready for the winter, Bob had promised to block up the hole the busy little creatures had found.
When Gerald called to see Lucy, on the pretext of delivering spares in the neighbourhood, there had been no reply to his knocking. The little dog came running around from the back of the house but, after a few short barks, had run back again. Shrieks of laughter, plus the dog’s excited yelps, led him around to the garden.
Seeing Lucy pausing cautiously halfway down the ladder, he misunderstood what was going on and made an offer of help, to be the man of action. ‘Come down, darling, you could fall. I’ll go up and do whatever’s necessary.’
Dutiful expression on her face, Lucy descended the ladder and watched as he climbed up. ‘Now, what do you want me to do?’ he asked looking down.
‘Whatever you like, Gerald, I was on my way down having moved a squirrel’s nest from the roof.’ She and Meriel laughed as he came down giving them a rueful smile.
‘All right, I was showing off, but I do think it’s dangerous for you to do things like that. Please call me and let me help. I can’t have you harming yourself, Lucy, you’re too precious.’ He put an arm around her and a warmth he hadn’t felt before startled him with its promise.
She gazed up at him, her eyes full of mischief and the closeness of her and the look in her eyes excited him. Perhaps she wasn’t the dull, shy creature he’d known. Perhaps she had changed and he had been too self-centred to have noticed. While Meriel was walking towards the kitchen, he kissed her, held her close. ‘Don’t take chances,’ he whispered, running his lips across her cheek, under her chin, down to the pulse beating her throat, before putting his hands on the sides of her face, staring deeply into her beautiful greeny-blue eyes and blending his lips with hers. Breathlessly he said, ‘Precious, precious girl. I care too much to want you hurt, dear Lucy.’
He was sincere for the first time since they had rediscovered each other, but to Lucy the words, although spoken from the heart, sounded false and she doubted him and felt her growing love for him shrinking away, disappointment fused with unexpected relief.
The preparations for the sale were progressing well and Leo couldn’t find many excuses to visit Cwm Derw. One day he phoned and asked if he could bring his mother and take them out to lunch. ‘Or we could bring a picnic, Mam would enjoy that, if you don’t think that’s too miserly on my part?’
‘A picnic will be fun. Yes, we’d love that. It will have to be Sunday, of course. Is that all right?’
‘Of course. It’s the only free day. Er, Meriel, can I invite your father too? Your mother is still spending a lot of time with Auntie Gladys and he’s very lonely with only the cleaner, and she’s usually in the house when he isn’t. Please? It will mean so much to him.’
‘Let’s make it a party. Connie and Geoff, and Betty Connors. Then there won’t be any embarrassing pleas for me to go home, will there?’
‘Sounds good to me. Have you heard from your mother?’
‘No,’ she snapped. ‘I haven’t found out who she is yet!’
‘Silly girl, you know I mean your true mother, Lynne Evans. She’s spending a lot of time with your Auntie Gladys.’
‘She isn’t my real aunt either. More lies.’
Leo didn’t argue. ‘See you on Sunday then?’
‘Sunday.’
‘I can’t wait.’ He tried to put some meaning into the simple phrase but even to him it sounded trite. ‘I’m really looking forward to seeing you,’ he added and that sounded even worse.
As usual, there were more people than planned when Sunday came. At eleven o’clock Kitty, Bob, Stella and Colin arrived with some ancient hampers and new shopping baskets filled with assorted packages and they set off in a convoy of cars. Betty had brought Teifion, and Gerald had heard about it and invited himself.
They headed for Connie and Geoff’s favourite beach, a fairly isolated spot near the village of Sully and the small town of Penarth. The tide was on its way out and at one o’clock, Meriel and Lucy suggested walking across the slippery rock of the causeway and spending a brief time on the island. Leo at once offered to go with them. Gerald assured them he wanted to, but declined. As he wore good leather shoes that might spoil, he decided to walk on the coastal road instead. He persuaded Lucy to go with him and it was only Leo and Meriel who set off, while an anxious Walter watched from the narrow stony beach.
Meriel and Leo confided in each other their concerns about Lucy, probably because it was a safe subject. They were unhappy about Lucy’s involvement with a man neither of them found appealing. The shared worry gave them a closeness that had been lacking. Then the uneven surface, causing them to slip and stumble on the wet rocks, changed the mood. Joking about the tide suddenly turning, or the possibility of facing a monster escaped from Loch Ness, relaxed them. Within a few yards of starting out they were two friends on a fun day out.
There was laughter in the air as Meriel and Leo walked, jumped and made their way to the island’s beach facing them. They couldn’t keep to a straight line, lurching around pools and areas where the rocks were slippery underfoot, stopping occasionally to examine the small creatures waiting for the tide to return, moving briskly at times, even crawling occasionally and holding hands whenever the need was there, and often when it was not. The sun had already dried much of the route but there were places where they had to take care and Leo’s hand was always waiting for hers.
They climbed halfway up the grassy slope in view of the shore, where rabbits hopped about in apparent indifference to the visitors, and waved to Walter and the others.
‘Ten minutes then we’ll start back.’ Leo said, checking his watch.
‘Come on, there’s plenty of time yet.’
‘Once the tide comes around the sides of the island the path is very dangerous and I’m not going to risk anything happening to you.’
‘At least let’s walk to the top and look at the other side.’
‘The cliffs are steep there, not a gentle slope.’
‘Come on. I promise to hold your hand, Uncle Leo,’ she teased.
He stared at her.
She looked at him, he was so familiar yet not the same. Reliable and always there, as before, but no longer the man who had seemed a part of her father’s generation when she had been small, a man who she knew so well, yet didn’t know at all. He smiled at her, his skin flushed into a bronze glow by the summer sun, brown hair blowing in the soft breeze and a shiver of recognition passed through her.
‘It’s a long time since you called me Uncle Leo,’ he said quietly.
‘It’s a long time since I thought of you like that,’ she said. Then to break the breathless moment she ran away from him up to the highest point and he ran after her, his thoughts in confusion, not knowing what to say.
A few minutes later, the crowd on the beach were waving to them as they walked back down the grassy slope, slightly apart.
‘I think it’s time for lunch,’ Leo said, waving back. ‘They have a fire going, Connie brought a kettle and I suspect we’re in for some smoke-flavoured tea.’
They were faster on the return, Leo’s hand was there but she didn’t reach out for it as readily, even when she slipped and her foot went into a pool. Something had happened and she didn’t know how to handle it. She just knew that her body was crying out for something and nothing would be the same ever again.
Lynne read Walter’s latest note in which he mentioned the planned picnic and felt ashamed of her continuing fear of going home. He was so lonely and was being punished for something not his fault. She was the guilty one, even though so many years had passed, that fact remained. She was afraid of gossip, convinced that if she were to open her mouth she would say something that would allow that truth to emerge and ruin everything they had built. If Meriel learned of her sordid part in it all, she’d walk away from them, and that would be more than Walter could bear. Better for her to hurt him by staying away.
She heard the clatter of dishes as Auntie Gladys set the table for breakfast, and she walked into the kitchen and reached for the loaf. ‘Tomatoes?’ she suggested and the smiling face of her mother’s greatest friend nodded.
‘It’s such a treat having you here. I never bother with anything more than toast,’ she said. ‘Although, I don’t want you staying for too long, mind. That husband of yours needs you more than I do. Is that another letter?’
‘Every day, he’s never failed to write, has he?’
‘Go home, lovely girl. It’s where you belong.’
‘I can’t, Gladie, I can’t risk Meriel finding out. Why on earth did she have to live in Cwm Derw? Of all the places she might have chosen, why did she pick on the one place that spelled danger?’
‘That’s life, the only thing you can expect is the unexpected. The only way to deal with it is to face it and that’s what you have to do, my dear.’
‘Tell her the whole story, you mean?’
‘No, there’s no need for that. Just explain about how unhappy you and her father were knowing you couldn’t have a child and how happy you’ve been since you were given the gift of a daughter. Why her family couldn’t keep her is best left for her to guess. She’s bound to be near the truth, that her mother was too young and was offered no support from her family. Tell her that, remind her how much you and Walter love her, and while you’re at it, tell Walter how much you love and need him too.’
While they ate breakfast Lynne was quiet and Gladys said nothing more to distract her. She had said her piece and must now allow it to germinate. Later, she put some newly ironed laundry in Lynne’s room and pointedly placed the suitcase she had brought with her beside the bed.
Walter was at home when the taxi arrived. Uninterested, he listened as the engine idled and door slammed but didn’t leave his chair. Then the sound of the key in the lock made him sit up. Meriel! It must be Meriel, with a smile he opened the door to the hall. Tears welled in his eyes as Lynne ran into his arms.
‘I’m home, darling, and this time it’s for good. No more silly games, I promise. What we have to face we’ll face together.’
Leo knew he was playing a dangerous game by trying to solve the mystery of Meriel’s true parentage. The odd family with their old-fashioned clothes and subdued manner were more unlikely every time he thought of them, how could they be even remotely related to the bright, lively Meriel? But there were questions he was interested in having answered and he needed to be absolutely sure they were unconnected before searching further afield. Although where he would start on a new enquiry he had no idea.
Without much hope he went to the church beside which the Roberts-Price family lived and looked around the gravestones in the churchyard. He didn’t know why, he had no plan in his mind, he was just looking for the name Roberts-Price. Although how that would help he hadn’t the faintest idea, but he looked anyway.
A man wearing the cassock and collar of a clergyman appeared and stood watching as he walked up and down the rows of stones. When the route took him over to the church doorway the man spoke. ‘Can I help, sir?’
‘Not really. I don’t even know what I’m looking for myself!’ He smiled and offered a hand. ‘I’m killing time really and I saw several graves with the name Price and Roberts, and wondered whether they were local names. I know there is a gentleman in the cottage across the lane called Mr William Roberts-Price, that’s all.’
‘They moved here quite recently. You’re a friend?’
‘Not even that. I’m a friend of the young lady, Miss Calloway, who sold their house for them and we’ve met a couple of times.’
‘It seems they’re moving again. Sad when people can’t settle.’
‘Do you know why?’
The man shook his head. ‘It sometimes means people are running away, trying to escape their problems, forgetting that the problem is often within themselves and therefore will travel with them.’ He straightened up as though regretting his remarks and said swiftly, ‘Not that I’m saying this is the case with these good people. I think they want to do something worthwhile with their lives and haven’t quite decided what that should be.’
‘I wish them luck, whatever it is,’ Leo said. ‘Most pleasant talking to you, sir, good day.’ He tilted his hat as he left.
Leo drove back to the office and told Meriel that the Roberts-Prices were moving again. ‘It might be worth calling to see whether you can help find them a house.’ He looked at Meriel. ‘Best Lucy goes as they know her, don’t you think?’
‘I don’t know why their name keeps cropping up,’ Meriel said. ‘Since Teifion had the crazy idea they might be related to me they seem to be hovering around at the edge of my life.’
‘In that case, forget it. They’re probably looking too far afield for you to help anyway.’ He placed his hands on the desk in front of Meriel. ‘Now, how about coming home with me? Mam has promised a casserole and fresh vegetables.’
Meriel was about to decline, she had been uneasy in his presence since the Sunday picnic. But he pleaded and assured her his mother would have been working all day preparing for her visit and would be disappointed.
‘Thank you, I’d love to come.’
‘Lucy?’ he questioned.
Lucy shook her head. ‘I’m meeting Gerald. Besides, Rascal will want her walk and some supper.’
‘I’ll follow you in my car,’ she said, ‘simpler if I can drive myself home.’
‘Not tonight. We’ll go together.’ Excitement showed in his eyes and she tried to avoid looking at him. She must be under some sort of spell, imagining he could be something more than a lifelong friend, her father’s assistant, yet the strange tension that was far from unpleasant wouldn’t be denied.
She didn’t go home and change, just freshened herself in the small washroom behind the office and set off with a slightly uneasy heart. She avoided touching him, dropping the office keys into his palm for him to lock up, refusing his hand to help her into the car. She was afraid his skin against her own would be like electricity, she was so aware of his presence. What was happening to her?
She leapt out before he could come around and open the door for her and ran into the house calling for Mrs Hopkins. At the door to the living room she stopped. Both of her parents were there, Walter’s arm around Lynne, both smiling happily. Walter opened his other arm and waggled his fingers for her to join them. Lynne did the same and by the time Leo appeared, they were hugging as though they would never let go.