Evan Only Knows (3 page)

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Authors: Rhys Bowen

BOOK: Evan Only Knows
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“I think it’s wonderful of you, Barry,” Betsy said, a smile replacing the cold stare that usually repelled his advances. “A true champion of our village, that’s what you are. Not like some I could name.”
“Does that mean you’ll go with me to the dance at the Rhyl Pavilion on Saturday?” Barry asked.
“I might think about it,” Betsy replied, smoothing down her T-shirt. “I think that bravery should be rewarded. We should stand up for ourselves, that’s what I say. My old dad’s been dusting off his shotgun so that he can help too.”
“God help us. Your dad never could shoot straight even when he was sober,” Charlie Hopkins said. “He’s more likely to shoot one of us in the back.”
“Or kill off one of Bill Owens’s prize rams!” Evans-the-Milk added as the men began to laugh.
“Know what I heard, boys? I heard he’s planning to drive his sheep up to the top of the Glydrs,” Evans-the-Milk said with a smirk. “Well, that’s all his land, isn’t it? I can just see those army blokes scrambling over rocks and leaping around precipices trying to round them up! And Bill Owens said that if they make him bring
his dogs up there, he’s going to give them the wrong commands so they just run around in circles!”
The men at the bar broke into more noisy laughter. Evan smiled too, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling of hollow dread in his stomach. This had become a game for the other inhabitants of Llanfair, a kind of Robin Hood quest against the English authority. And he had been instructed to give that outside authority every assistance. He was now one of the enemy.
As soon as he had finished his pint, Evan slipped out of the Red Dragon. The men at the bar had become quite jovial, thinking up more and more absurd schemes to thwart the British army and the Ministry of Agriculture. He couldn’t find it in his heart to warn them that they’d find themselves in serious trouble. He suspected most of the talk was bravado anyway.
He came out into pink twilight. At this time of year the sun didn’t set until after nine, but it had already sunk behind Snowdon, plunging the village itself into gloom. The high slopes above were still bathed in glowing light, and the sheep on them were tinged with pink. As he watched, a buzzard soared out from the high crags and circled against a clear sky. Such a perfect evening would have lured him up onto the slopes to watch the sun sink into the distant sea, but the slopes were now off-limits. He hadn’t realized until this moment how much this crisis would affect his own life too.
Instead Evan began to walk up the village street, past the row of cottages where he now lived, past the shops where Evans-the-Meat and Evans-the-Milk spent their days annoying each other, until finally he came to the low wall of the school playground. A light was shining in the schoolhouse window. Evan pushed open the gate and hurried across the playground.
“Bron,” he called as he opened the front door. “It’s me. I need a hug or a double brandy or both.”
“Wait a second. Don’t open that door yet,” Bronwen’s voice commanded. “I’ve got Prince William in here.”
It had been a day of many surprises, but this one bowled him over. What on earth could Prince William be doing in a village school in Wales? Learning about his subjects for the day when he became the next Prince of Wales? Finding out firsthand about the foot-and-mouth outbreak? But weren’t princes always surrounded by a security escort? So why hadn’t Evan been stopped as he crossed the playground and opened the door?
After what seemed like an eternity Bronwen opened the door. She was dressed in jeans and old checked blouse. Wisps of hair had escaped from the long braid she always wore down her back. She looked a little flurried and not at all like someone who was entertaining a prince.
“It’s okay, you can come in now,” she said. “I’ve got him shut in the kitchen.”
“Prince William? Shut in the kitchen?”
Bronwen looked at Evan with a mysterious smile on her face. “Yes, would you like to come and meet him?”
“Now? Well, I suppose … I’m not properly dressed.” It began to dawn on him that she could be playing a joke. “Should I be wearing my crown, do you think?”
She took his hand. “Come along. Don’t keep him waiting. In you go.”
She opened the kitchen door. Evan stepped inside, looked around an apparently empty kitchen until something appeared from under the kitchen table. He found himself looking at a fat, curly lamb. “But that’s a sheep!” he exclaimed.
“Allow me to introduce you. This is Prince William — Eirlys Lloyd’s pet lamb.” She burst out laughing. “Evan, you should have seen your face! You thought I had the real Prince William here.”
“Only when you first told me. I was caught off guard.”
She put her hands on his cheeks and reached up to give him a kiss. “I thought I told you about Eirlys’s lamb. You know young
Eirlys from Bryn Hyfryd Farm, don’t you? The poor little thing came to me quite distraught today. It seems her father has been told that his flock might have to be slaughtered and that would have included all animals on the property. Well, Prince William has been a house pet all his life, so I told her to bring him down to me and I would look after him until this scare is over.”
The lamb came cautiously to check out Evan’s shoes.
“Bron, are you sure that’s the thing to do?” Evan asked. “I’m not sure exactly how foot-and-mouth is spread, but isn’t there a chance he could be infected?”
“He’s been a family pet, Evan. They’re not going to go around slaughtering all the sheepdogs and farm cats, are they? Anyway, I think they’re overreacting.”
“Don’t you start,” Evan said. “I’ve had a bad day with Farmer Owens shouting at me and everyone at the pub telling me I’m a traitor. What am I supposed to do when I’ve been instructed to give the Ministry of Agriculture every assistance, eh?”
Bronwen slipped her arms around his neck. “You poor thing. It must be beastly for you. Sorry — beastly isn’t exactly the right word, given the circumstances, is it.”
“I’m sure you’ll know a way to make me feel better.” Evan pulled her toward him to give her a kiss. There was a crashing sound behind them. The lamb looked up guiltily from an overturned vegetable basket. Bronwen went over and began putting the vegetables back into it. “I can see I’m going to have to lambproof the house,” she said.
“You really think you can keep him here?” Evan asked.
“Why not? He’s been a house pet up at the farm.”
“Yes, well, a farm, that’s different. They have all the outbuildings for him to run around in. You only have three rooms. I take it he’s not house-trained.”
“Not exactly. I’ve been doing quite a bit of mopping up. I’m thinking of investing in disposable nappies, but I don’t want to make him feel stupid.”
“Feel stupid.” Evan chuckled. “Isn’t is wonderful how women go daft over baby animals?”
“Oh, and men don’t make more fuss of their dogs than they do of their families? Anyway, the important thing is that Eirlys adores him, and I’m just trying to help her save him.”
“You’re a softie.” Evan stroked her cheek. “Now you’ll be paying more attention to him than to me.”
“Ah, so that’s why you don’t want him here — you’re jealous.”
“Listen, Bron, I just want you to do the right thing. What sort of example would you be setting to your children if you show them how to hide farm animals from the ministry? I’ve already had Owens-the-Sheep today telling me that he was going to ship his prize rams off to his cousin in Anglesey under cover of darkness.”
“And why not?” she asked. “If they are not infected, why slaughter them? This whole thing is ludicrous, Evan. They should test each animal, and those that are healthy should be allowed to live. But they slaughter all herds within so many miles of each outbreak.”
“I suppose they must know what they are doing,” Evan said hesitantly. “Look, I feel as badly as you do about this. I think it’s a wretched business. I felt dreadful today telling Bill Owens that he couldn’t count on me to help him. I’ve been instructed to offer all assistance to the ministry and to the army. I don’t have any choice.”
Bronwen looked at him with a half smile. “I seem to remember several occasions on which you were instructed to keep your nose out of murder inquiries and you didn’t.”
“Well, yes, but I didn’t actually disobey. Circumstances just presented themselves … .”
Bronwen laughed. “Oh yes, of course.”
“But this is different. It’s a national emergency, isn’t it? You and I aren’t experts. We don’t know how the disease is spread or if saving one sheep from a flock will have disastrous consequences later.”
Bronwen went over and put her arm around the lamb. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t keep Prince William here? I should send him back to be
k-i-l-l-e-d?”
She spelled out the word. The lamb looked up at her and gave a pathetic
baa
as if it understood.
“You do what you think is right, Bron. You are a responsible person.”
“My children count on me, Evan. They look up to me.” She gazed at him, her eyes pleading. “I can’t let one of them down, can I? Especially not now that—” She broke off. “I had a piece of bad news today, actually. You remember I had a visit from the county education office inspectors last spring. Well, I’ve now seen their official report.”
“They can’t have found anything to criticize in your teaching,” Evan said angrily.
“Well, no. They thought I was doing a good job, considering … .”
“Considering what?”
“That I had to deal with the outdated concept of multiage-level teaching. They feel the children in the village are being deprived of the chance to become world citizens at a young age. The village school is making them grow up with no clear picture of the outside world and its problems. They are being cocooned. So what they suggest is that this school and the one in Beddgelert be closed and the kids shipped down to a new, modern primary school to be built on the outskirts of Porthmadog.”
“But that will be a half-hour’s journey for them. And what’s wrong with growing up sheltered, I’d like to know?’ Evan demanded. “The longer they can be kept away from drugs and violence, the better, if you ask me.”
“Me too,” Bronwen said. “And they’ll be in an environment where not everybody speaks Welsh so they’ll soon think it’s cool to speak English to each other. I think it’s a bad idea all around. It’s not final yet, but this is their recommendation.”
“Stupid,” Evan muttered. “What would happen to you if they closed this school?”
“I dare say I’d be offered a job at the new school on the coast.”
“That would mean you’d lose your house too.”
“Well, I thought I might be moving in with you when we finally get married,” she said, getting to her feet again with a small laugh. “That was the general idea, wasn’t it? And we might find we have to move somewhere else for your work, anyway. You might be assigned to headquarters.”
“And pigs might fly,” Evan muttered.
“Why wouldn’t you?” She looked up at him, startled.
“They’ve postponed all training sessions until the emergency is over. Who knows how long it will take.”
Bronwen moved closer and wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, Evan, I’m sorry. What a horrible blow for you. You were so looking forward to it.”
“That’s not the main thing right now, is it?” Evan said. “Now I’m going to have to betray people who have become my friends. I’m the one who’s going to have to restrain Farmer Owens when they shoot his sheep.”
“That’s just not fair, Evan.”
“I know. But then I’d be petty to grumble about my situation when these poor farmers are losing their entire livelihood.”
Bronwen slipped her arm through his. “Look, we were planning to go and meet each other’s families when your course was over, weren’t we? Why don’t we do it now instead? I’m on holiday after all.”
Evan made a face. “I’m not. They’ve cancelled all leave too.”
“Oh dear. So it looks as if you’re stuck with it, doesn’t it?”
“It looks that way.”
“In which case I’d better open a bottle of wine. We’ll need to drown our sorrows.”
“Good idea.” Evan opened the drawer and got out the corkscrew. “Better get out the large glasses.”
Bronwen lifted a bottle from the bottom of the dresser, then stopped, the bottle poised in her hand. “You know what you could do? Why don’t you ask to swap with a policeman who is usually behind a desk at headquarters. Explain what a lot of harm it will do to your relationship with the community and how much better it would be to send an outsider up here in your place.”
“That would be great,” Evan said. “I don’t think they’d go for it, but it’s worth a try, isn’t it?”
“Go down there and be forceful,” Bronwen said, handing him the bottle.
The lamb trotted up to him and bleated again.
“Oh no. Every time he sees a bottle he’s hopeful,” she said, laughing.
“Well, he’s not getting my Rioja.” Evan turned his back on the lamb. “Oh, and Bronwen, he doesn’t expect to sleep in your bedroom, does he?”
 
The next morning Evan drove his own car, instead of the police-issued motorbike, down the hill to headquarters. As he was getting out he heard his name called and looked up to see a familiar figure in a fawn-colored raincoat crossing the station car park.
“Hello, Sarge, what are you doing here?” he called. “Oh sorry, I meant Detective Inspector, of course. I keep forgetting.”
“So do I,” former Sergeant Watkins admitted. “One of the girls on the front desk just yelled ‘Inspector’ after me three times before I realized she was talking to me. It takes some getting used to.”

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