A String in the Harp (33 page)

It opened new windows for them. The map showed in detail the lanes, tracks, and footpaths, the mine workings, rivers,
cwms,
woods, and villages; it even showed individual farms and their names. Becky spotted Llechwedd Melyn immediately.

Once they had learned how to use the map and had gotten to know the land around Borth well enough, they felt the freedom of the country and began to enjoy it. David finally had to buy three more maps so they could each have one, instead of wrangling over the kitchen copy.

“Of course,” he warned, as he handed them out, “this doesn’t mean you have my blessing to wander off in all directions by yourselves. You’ve got to use sense about it and never,
never
go far alone. Never—” He looked at Peter.

Grinning, Jen and Becky chorused, “—go without telling someone!”

David laughed, then added, “This is wild country, remember, and you aren’t very experienced yet.”

“But anyway,” Becky remarked to Jen later, “it’s much more fun to go exploring with someone else.”

“Yes,” said Jen, surprised that she agreed with Becky wholeheartedly. It
was
more fun to be with Becky and Rhian, or Gwilym, or even Peter, than to be alone. A couple of months earlier, she realized, she might not have thought so. But they were much more comfortable with each other now, used to being together. Even David was interested in their plans for expeditions; he didn’t quite join the debates and discussions, but he sat listening, instead of shutting himself into the study to work always.

And Peter was positively agreeable these days. Or perhaps, thought Jen with a sudden flash of insight, they were
all
more agreeable.

Besides the day-to-day sort of plans for picnics and hikes and shopping trips, there were two special occasions to be planned during the vacation: the first was David’s birthday on the twenty-first of March, and the second was a dinner party for the Rhyses.

After a good deal of agonizing over it, Jen had finally suggested the dinner to David. Her cooking had progressed a lot—David was the first to say so—and Jen really felt they owed the Rhyses a meal for all their kindnesses. She
wanted
to do something for them.

Instead of saying, “Do you think you can?” David had said at once, “Good idea! You decide when and I’ll invite them for you, if you want.”

“It would be all right, you think?”

“I think they’ll be delighted.”

“I’ll have to figure out a menu,” said Jen.

“You could do shepherd’s pie, like Mrs. Evans,” suggested Becky. “I love it.”

“Or perhaps chicken,” said Peter solemnly.

Jen was about to retort indignantly, when she caught sight of his grin. “Monster!” she said, lobbing a dishtowel at him.

“You could never duplicate your first effort, I feel sure,” said David.

“You should be grateful! I think that’s enough about the chicken.” But she could laugh at it herself now.

Jen chose the last Friday of vacation for the dinner party. David issued the invitation to Dr. Rhys and it was promptly accepted.

But when the subject of birthdays came up, David said he didn’t see why the dinner couldn’t do for that as well. “When you’re my advanced age, you don’t need anything special, believe me.”

Becky wasn’t satisfied, however. When David was out, she said so. “You can’t just not celebrate a birthday, it’s important. He wouldn’t like it if we told the Rhyses, because they’d have to bring something, so it really won’t be a birthday party at all.”

“But he said—”

“I think he’d be pleased if we did something special.”

“I suppose we could take him out to dinner,” said Jen thoughtfully. “What do you think, Peter?”

“In Aberystwyth?” he snorted. “At the Milk Bar? Or a fish-and-chips shop?”

“There’s a good restaurant in one of the pubs, I’ve heard Dad say so,” declared Jen.

“Anyway, if we did that, we’d only be taking him to dinner on his own money.”

“We’ve got allowances,” said Becky.

“His
money,” Peter pointed out.

“But we’d be spending it on him instead of ourselves,” said Jen. “Have you got a better idea?”

Peter hesitated. “Maybe.”

“What?” demanded Becky.

“Well—you probably won’t like it, but what about having an expedition to a place we haven’t been yet? A picnic somewhere?”

“It might rain on Thursday,” said Jen doubtfully.

Peter shrugged. “The world might end, too. I told you you wouldn’t like it.”

“I do,” said Becky. “I think it sounds neat. We could go into Aber and buy all kinds of food and go out all day. Dad’s never gone with us before.”

“Well—”

“We could even ask Gwilym and Rhian.”

Jen glanced at Peter. He said, “Why not?”

“Do you really think he wants to go hiking with us?”

“If he doesn’t, he can always say so,” Peter said.

“He’ll want to,” said Becky confidently. “’But let’s keep it a surprise until the last moment.”

Once his idea had been accepted, Peter began having doubts. He was nowhere near as sure as Becky that his father would indeed want to go. He thought of Cardiff, when they’d all been together for the day. At least with Gwilym and Rhian along, there couldn’t very well be any sort of family disagreement, and Peter realized it was too late to stop Becky now; she had her mind made up.

So the three of them pooled their allowances and went into Aber on Wednesday morning to shop for supplies. They wandered around the little town, arguing agreeably over favorite kinds of biscuits and whether it was better to buy two large bottles of lemonade or six small ones. In the bakery, they decided on pork pies, sausage rolls, and half a dozen fat eccles cakes; in the greengrocer’s, they bought tomatoes and six huge green Granny Smith apples. Becky swore their father liked best the chocolate and orange biscuits called Jaffa Cakes, which Jen and Peter knew were also her favorites, and Peter insisted on a pound of nuts and raisins from Woolworth’s. In the end they got the big bottles of lemonade, and on the way
to the bus stop Jen bought a lump of yellow cheese and Peter a bag of barley sugar candy.

“I’m sure I don’t know how we’ll carry this tomorrow,” said Jen, hefting her shopping bag as they stood in the queue waiting for the bus.

“We’ve got knapsacks,” Peter said. “So’s Gwilym.”

“And Rhian,” Becky added.

“We’ll manage.”

“We still don’t know where we’re going,” Jen pointed out.

They had each come up with a different suggestion and they discussed it off and on all afternoon. Becky had said the Llyfnant Valley, but Peter disagreed because they’d already gone. He wanted to go to Nant-y-moch.

“But you need a car for that,” Jen pointed out. “It’s too far to walk there and back in a day. What about following the river that goes along the Bog and over to Talybont? We’ve never done that, and we can start right here in Borth.”

“Rhian’ll think that’s pretty tame,” Becky predicted. “But she’ll go anyway, she said she would.”

“Peter?”

“I suppose that’s all right. Not very exciting—I agree with Rhian, though.”

“What’s not very exciting?” David wanted to know putting his head around the kitchen door. “And when’s supper?”

“As soon as you clear out and let me get it,” said Jen. “Or better still, set the table first.” She soon had them organized. Privately, she wondered what David would say tomorrow when they told him their plans. No one had mentioned his birthday, and presumably he thought they’d taken him at his word and done nothing special. Perhaps he’d say he had work and couldn’t go. Becky would be dreadfully disappointed if he did. So would she, Jen admitted to herself.

***

Jen woke to find Becky shaking her. “Get up and see! I think it’s going to be a gorgeous day!”

“What time is it?”

“Six.”

Jen groaned and tried to roll over, but Becky ruthlessly stripped off her blankets. “It’s still dark!” she complained, setting her feet gingerly on the cold floor. But beyond the curtains, the sky was a clear dove-gray, stained with rose over the hills to the east. Now that she was beginning to wake up properly, Jen felt a twinge of excitement. “Is anyone else up?”

“I don’t think so.” Becky was already dressed.

It was chilly. Jen shivered hastily into her own clothes then hurried into the bathroom.

Becky met her as she came out. “What about Dad?” she asked in an anxious whisper.

“Here goes,” said Jen, and thumped loudly on her father’s door twice.

“Suppose he’s mad?” said Becky a little apprehensively.

“What?” came a muffled sleepy voice.

Jen gave Becky a conspirational wink—too late for second thoughts. “Time to get up!” she called.

“What on earth—?” But by the time David had struggled out of bed and opened his door, Jen and Becky had escaped, laughing and breathless, to the kitchen, where much to their surprise they found Peter dressed and making tea.

“Good morning. I heard you get Dad up.”

“What if he goes back to bed?” worried Becky.

But a minute later they heard the creak of water through the pipes and soon after David appeared, looking puzzled and unshaven. “What in the name of heaven are you up to?” he demanded.

“It’s an expedition,” began Becky.

“We decided that if today was nice we’d go out for a picnic,” Peter elaborated. “And it is, so we are.”

“Why didn’t you say something last night? Did you get me up just to tell me where you were going?”

“Not exactly,” said Jen. “Gwilym and Rhian are coming, and—we thought you might like to come, too.”

David looked slowly round at his children. “Where are you going?” he asked finally.

“Along the Leri River to Talybont, then back in the hills.”

“You needn’t come if you’re busy,” said Peter quickly.

“But we’d like you to,” Becky added. “We just thought—”

“Well,” said David in an oddly stiff voice. He cleared his throat, and Jen and Becky and Peter waited, their eyes on him. “Well, is there any breakfast first?”

Becky’s smile was broad and relieved. “Gwilym’ll be here in less than half an hour,” she warned. All hands turned to at once and by the time Gwilym knocked, they were actually ready: food stowed in knapsacks, breakfast eaten, dishes soaking, and David had even managed to shave.

Rhian met them at the station in Borth where Aled had left her on his way to Machynlleth with the farm eggs. She and Gwilym accepted David without questions, and by the time they had redistributed the provisions among four knapsacks, everyone was eager to be off. David offered to carry one of the packs, but Becky protested that it wasn’t proper for him to work today, so Gwilym, Rhian, Jen, and Peter ended up with them.

Gwilym took the lead across the Bog, past the tiny church of St. Matthews, isolated on its mound behind the station, ringed with rowan trees. Not many people were about yet, and it felt good to have the new day to themselves. David made no attempt to interfere with their organization, but seemed quite content with his place in line behind Becky.

At first the Leri was very civilized, idling along its canal, past backyards and within sight of the railway tracks. In Dolybont it almost met the main road to Bow Street, and here the expedition crossed it on a hump-backed stone bridge. The sun had climbed a good way up the cloudless sky by this time, and the morning was perfect.

Peter took charge now, leading up a narrow lane to the top of a hill, then to the right through a farmyard gate.

David hesitated. “Is this legal? Isn’t it private property?” He eyed the cow byre from which came the sounds of a motor being coaxed to life.

“The path goes through and out the other side,” explained Becky. “Come on.”

“It’s marked as public,” Jen reassured him. “It’s on the map.”

David gave a shrug. “All right, but if I’m arrested on my birthday . . .”

“Is it your birthday then?” asked Rhian with interest. “How old are you?”

“Ancient.”

“Not so very,” Peter said, swinging the gate shut and latching it.

“Thank you. One rather back-handed compliment!”

The motor suddenly caught and a man appeared in the doorway of the byre. He paused to nod to them, his eyes narrowed against the sun.

Recklessly, Becky called,
“Bore da!”
grinning, and he grinned back, showing jagged white teeth.
“Bore da!”
he answered, and followed it with a long sentence that was unintelligible to everyone.

“Good lord,” said David. “Becky, you asked for that!”

“But all I know is
‘Bore da.’
It means good morning.”

The man returned to his machine. On the far side of the farm they found the path, a neglected green track. It crossed a bare field and rejoined the Leri in a plantation of larch and fir. On their left, before they reached the trees, they passed a steep symmetrical hillock.

“Hill fort,” Gwilym informed them, when David pointed to it.

He nodded. “I thought it might be.”

“Once you know where to find them and how they look, you can spot them all over.”

“And the feeling of them,” put in Rhian. “They have a feel, too.”

“Old, I suppose,” said David, studying the hillock.

“Old as the hills,” Peter said quietly.

“Too many forts and such for the archeologists to bother with,” Gwilym went on. “They don’t excavate unless they’ve found something special. Mind you, there are axes and worked flints to be found, if you look. I’ve some.”

“I wouldn’t mind finding an axe myself,” David remarked.

Almost too casually, Peter asked, “What would you do with it?”

“Keep it for good luck, I suppose.”

“Even if it wasn’t really yours?”

“But it would be yours if you found it,” Gwilym objected. “Museums don’t get excited over axes and bits of pottery any more.”

“They do over brooches and bowls,” said Becky. “Dr. Owen does.”

“Oh, well,” said David. “Dr. Owen’s another matter altogether. Though really he’s quite right about the important stuff—it does belong in a museum.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Jen fancied she saw Peter give his head a very small shake, more out of perplexity than disagreement. He didn’t pursue the conversation further.