Digging Out (12 page)

Seems to be the same in the village for everybody. “No one helping others like before. Too much grief set in stone,” Gram says.

And Evan hovers over me, like he’s afraid something’s going to happen to me. It feels as though he is standing guard over me.

“How do I know if you are all right, Alys? You’ve got to talk about things, not keep it all inside.”

“I’m fine, Evan. There’s nothing wrong.”

“I’m not so sure it’s such a good idea, you spending so much time at the Joneses’.”

I baby-sit for little Niko twice a week. Of course he still misses Hallie, and anyway, he’s used to me being around all the time. At the end of a visit, Mrs. Jones always gives me a pound note. I pretend to hand it back but she won’t take it. “It gives me a break,” she says.

“Why do you think that it’s bad, me being at the Joneses’?” I ask Evan. “I’m thirteen and I need money.”

“It’s not about your age. It’s just that they might be needing a little space now that time has passed. You know, to try and move on. And you, too.”

“It’s not bad for me. Mr. and Mrs. Jones are almost like parents.” In fact I wish Mam and Da were like them. There’s nothing for me to worry about at the Joneses’. When I go over they welcome me. “Alys, come in, come in,” they say. “We’ve a nice pot of tea ready and I’ve just made Niko some toasted cheese sandwiches. There’s one here with your name on it.” No matter that Hallie is gone and they are still so sad—they always make room. No one asks me any questions or makes me talk when I have nothing to say. We are just being together quietly.

“But it must be confusing to little Niko,” Evan says.

“Little Niko is not so little anymore,” I remind him. It’s Evan who is confusing. He turns up at the oddest times, out of nowhere, always worrying. It makes me feel cornered.

Fall is here again and the hillsides are turning from dark green to the dried bloodred of bracken. It’s been five years since the disaster. I walk along the top of the hills, making my own way on the same paths I used to run with Parry before everything fell apart. Sometimes I pretend that nothing has happened and everything is good, like it used to be. Safe. I cling to the familiar sight of smoke from the mine curling into the sky, giving us something to look at besides mile after mile of the dark bracken hills.

I remember Parry asked me once, “Imagine living in a city, Allie, where there are cinemas, restaurants and a dozen bakeries to choose from and not one single solitary hill. Just buildings, skyscrapers and lifts that take you to the top, where you can look out over everything and see right where you are in the world.”

I laughed and said, “No way. That’s not my world. I want to live here forever and ever.”

That was the way I felt then. When life was perfect. Now I am sure the only way I’ll ever be able to live is to turn my back on everything I have ever known. Because nothing else seems to help this intense pain.

I am just coming into the house and see three suitcases queued up next to the door. Beti has on her nice black trousers and a dark green cardigan Mam gave her three Christmases ago. Her black knit beret, all the rage, is clipped to her hair at an angle. As usual, she looks pretty. When I’m twenty-three I want to look like her.

“Oh, Alys. I’m glad you’re home.” She comes right up to me and puts her hand on my shoulder, squeezing it a little. Then she hugs me.

“I’m going to the States, Alys,” she says in my ear.

I don’t believe what she is telling me.

“I’m ever so sorry to be leaving you, your only sister and all. But we’ve got to go. Colin and I have been thinking about it since the disaster and now we’ve decided.”

I step back, away from her.

“Don’t be mad, like. I’ve no choice, believe me.” She puts out her arms trying to move closer to me.

“You save your tuppences and before you know it you’ll have enough to come and visit us.” She grabs me by the arms, pulling me toward her, hugging me. I can feel her heart pounding.

“Don’t cry now, Alys. Colin and I need to start our own lives like, away from here. Far away from all of what’s happened here. We can’t seem to move ahead. We’ve tried, but there’s no way. Not like Evan, who wants to get his teaching credentials and work with children, right here. There’s nothing like that for us. There’s no way you can understand it now. I don’t expect you to. But you will, like. You will, Alys. Someday you’ll understand. Please don’t cry, lovey.”

I do understand. Right this very moment, I understand.

“Let me come with you,” I plead. “Please.”

Months pass and I have been saving all the money Mrs. Jones gives me and I am running extra errands for Gram and Mam. I stuff the pound notes in a pillowcase, storing them until there is enough for plane fare.

“It is such a long way,” Gram says, trying to talk me out of it. “Wait until you’re older.” I’ve not told her yet that it won’t only be for a visit.

Meanwhile, Parry doesn’t go near the mine after the tip slips. After all these years, Da is still convinced he’ll be back. “Da believes with all his broken heart,” Mam says, “that all Parry needs is time.”

“The mine is in him, like it’s in me,” Da says, hopefully. “Work is the only way through this.”

Mam glares at him. “Give it up, Arthur. Parry will never go underground again.”

And he doesn’t. After he quits the mine, he works wherever he can: Blackwell’s Chemist, delivering prescriptions; the Aberfan, pouring drinks. Then he lands a full-time job at the Hoover factory.

“At least it’s regular, like,” Mam tells Gram.

“But the boy’s drinking,” Gram responds. Her eyes so sad. “He needs some kind of help, he does. He doesn’t have it in him to help himself.”

Even I can smell the stout on his breath.

“I think it’s sneaked up on him,” Evan tells us. “I’m not sure he even knows how much he’s drinking.”

Gossip travels back to us. We hear that Parry’s girlfriend, Gillian, who took him in after Da threw him out, has told Parry if he doesn’t stop drinking he’ll have to live somewhere else. Parry’s boss down by Hoover gives him a flat-out warning. He’ll get the sack if he doesn’t stop dead out and right away.

“How can he not know he’s drinking too much if everyone else knows it?” I ask Evan.

“When you wake up drunk and just keep on drinking, it’s hard to know when you’re drunk and when you’re sober,” Evan says.

Later, Gram and Evan think I’m catnapping though I’m really on the staircase eavesdropping. I hear Evan say, “It doesn’t seem he cares. When he gave up his painting, we should have known things were going wrong for him. Sometimes I catch sight of his eyes when he doesn’t know I’m looking. He is so sad and I’m not sure what to do about it. He doesn’t seem to be able to get by the disaster, even a little. No relief, even all these years later.”

“We need to do something,” Gram pleads. “I can’t stand it.”

“I wish I knew what to do,” Evan says.

I beg Parry to come home. “You can have your old room back. It’ll just be temporary, till you’re back on your feet. Gram and I will see to you and fix you up. Please let us help. Da won’t bother you a bit. He’s gone first thing in the morning anyway, and doesn’t get home till way after dark. He’s even said it’s fine for you to come home for a while,” I lie. “He’s sorry, Parry, about chucking you out. He hasn’t said so right out, but he acts like he is. Give him a chance, Parry.”

But Parry won’t come home. Finally, Evan convinces him to stay at his place. But that doesn’t seem to help much.

Evan begins to confide in me like I am one of his peers even though he is now twenty-two and we are eight years apart. “After all you have lived through, you qualify as ‘experienced.’ “He says I’m one of those people others refer to as “wise beyond her years.”

Evan tells me one night, “Parry came in past midnight and fell onto the couch dead drunk. I could smell it on him in the morning when I went off to the mine. His boss has given him one more chance.”

With Parry at Evan’s now, I stop by regularly.

“Parry. Parry.” I rub his neck. “You can’t keep at it like this.” He smiles up at me and laughs, pushing my fringe off my forehead. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head over me, now, Allie. I’m going to start to paint again. Right. That’s what I need to do. That’s what I’m missing.”

Soon Parry just stops showing up at work.

Evan’s continued patience with him doesn’t surprise me. The way he cares about Parry, worrying after him, fixing him meals, getting him up in the morning, is consistent with how he helps me sort through my feelings. And who knows how many others he helps?

At first I am stopping by only once a day. Then I am dropping over before school and again after. Pretty soon I am helping Evan with dinner, because he is studying for the teaching exam. And I am doing Parry’s wash, spending as much time at Evan’s as I can, glad to be away from my own depressing and lonely house as often and as late as possible.

One night while I am at the sink washing up, Parry dead out on the couch, Evan says, “Nothing seems to help him.”

“I know.” I am looking over at Evan, but he is staring at me.

“But it’s incredible having you here,” he says. “I mean, for me. I

didn’t realize how lonely I was, before you … and Parry started hanging about with me.”

I swallow, understanding how he feels but not knowing what to say. Everything is so quiet I hear the clock on the stove ticking. There is something in me then that wants to lean over and kiss him and I almost do. But instead I blurt, “Well you must surely miss your parents and everything.”

“No, Alys, I do not miss my parents.” He throws the towel down into the sink. “I definitely don’t miss my parents. I’m sure we talked about that.” Turning away he adds, “I’ve got to be up early tomorrow.”

The night of my fourteenth birthday is the last night Parry, Evan and I are all together. The two of them are waiting when I come out of school. For a change that morning, I’ve done my hair up in a French twist and put a little rouge on my cheeks, pink on my lips. When they greet me, Parry is quiet. His eyes roam, not focusing. Evan has one arm balancing Parry and the other behind his back, hiding something.

“Give ‘er the flowers,” Parry slurs. “Co on, lover boy, give ‘em to her.”

“For you, Alys,” Evan says shyly, presenting a bunch of flowers. “One to grow on. They’re from both of us, actually,” he says quickly.

My hands fly up in front of my mouth, hiding embarrassment, hiding my smile. It is the first moment I know I love him.

That night the cold chills the bones. Evan lights the fire and serves Parry and me in front of it, the two of us on torn cushions, the stuffing coming out.

“A birthday celebration!” Evan has prepared my favorite meal: leeks and parsnip pie, crème caramel for dessert.

“So easy to please, your sister is,” Evan teases.

“Are you inferring I’m not?” Parry pretends his feelings are hurt.

Afterward, after he clears all the plates away and we drink our white coffee, Evan leans toward me and looks me straight in the eye but says to Parry, “You know, I love your sister, Parry. I will wait forever if that’s what it takes for her to love me back, I will.”

The next night I am home. It has just gone dark when Parry comes round. I know Parry must stand out front of the house and look for telltale signs of Da being gone before he rings the bell.

He is drunk and swirling. He’s come by to see Mam. She is in the middle of putting tea on. He grabs her up as he always does and whirls her around. Even drunk as he usually is, Parry always makes Mam laugh.

“My old mam!” he says. “Still as pretty and sweet as ever. How d’you live with that bastard, Mam? How d’ya put up with ‘im?” His words are all slurred.

“Parry, you mustn’t go on about your da now. Too many years gone by and there’s enough muck between the two of yous as it is. It wasn’t his fault, like. Everyone in town ‘as forgiven him. And now you too must or your anger will eat you alive.”

He puts her down then and kisses her on both cheeks. “You’re the best, Mam. You’re the only chance that murderer has for redemption.”

“Go on now, Parry. Talk to your sister, boy. I imagine she’s missing you as much as any of us.”

I am jealous of Parry. No matter what he says or does, drunk or not, Mam looks at him as if he is some prize. She loves him the way I want her to love me.

Parry sits down in the straight-backed chair next to me, leans over and pushes my hair out of my eyes. “You taking good care of Mam then, Alys?”

I nod. I wonder why he’s acting like I hadn’t just seen him over at Evan’s the night before.

“She’s taking good care of you. I can see that,” he says, looking at me as steady as he can. “You’re as beautiful as the moon, you are. No wonder that cad of a bloke ‘as been tumbling over you since you were toddling. Problem with Evan is ‘e’s never ‘ad any brothers or sisters of his own. You look after yourself with ‘im. The gentle bloke you see and hear is a front. He’s really a wild man, ‘e is.”

“Parry!” Mam says sternly from her place at the sink. “You’re talking about a girl just turned fourteen years old. Alys has as much interest in Evan as she does with the likes of you, she has!”

“It’s not Alys I’m worrying after. ‘Tis Evan,” he teases. “Should have heard him talking at her birthday dinner, then.”

He reaches over and puts both his hands over mine. “Look after yourself, Alys. You’ve always been my heart. You’ve all the possibility I never had. A born poet you are, and the guts to continue at it.
Some-day your poems will be in books, they will. You’ll be reading them in front of large crowds, just like Dylan Thomas did. Gram and Beti, they’ll be there for you. They love you like I do. With everything in them.”

I wonder what Parry is on about. Beti, of course, is long gone from the house and in the States.

“Well, well, if it isn’t our laggard,” Cram says, walking into the kitchen just then. Parry puts his arm out and grabs her.

“Oh Gramo! Come sit on my knee, Cramo. Let me kiss your neck!”

Gram blushes a deep shade of red. He loves Gram as much as I do. Maybe even more. She comes over to the table and says, “You’re not driving, are you?”