Finders and Keepers (20 page)

‘My oh my, you don't waste any time.'

‘I'm sure she only invited me because she's bored witless by the lack of social life in the valley.' Harry deliberately tried to sound casual. Even after she had invited him for a walk that evening, he could scarcely believe what was happening between them. And he wasn't at all sure where their relationship was leading, or even if they had one.

‘There's always church this evening.'

‘You're going?'

‘I wouldn't miss it.'

Harry looked sideways at Toby. ‘I wouldn't have taken you for the religious sort.'

‘Oh cynical one.' Toby pulled a packet of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and stuck two into his mouth. ‘The truth is I need to paint a room in the Castle of Corbin – you know the scene where the maiden appears to Lancelot in a dream, shows him the Holy Grail and foretells the achievements of Galahad? Well, there's a corner of the vestry that's absolutely perfect for the castle. It has old stone walls with leaded glass windows set at shoulder-height. They're ideally placed to convey ghostly rays of golden light on the maiden. I asked the vicar if I could use it, and he agreed. Unfortunately his wife overheard me so somehow or other I also found myself agreeing to use their daughter as the maiden.' He lit both cigarettes and pushed one into Harry's mouth.

‘And when are you painting her in the vestry?' Harry drew on the cigarette before removing it.

‘Tomorrow morning. Her father wouldn't allow me to paint her on a Sunday, and her mother, who never, never stops talking, not even to draw breath, is chaperoning us. Join me?' he said hopefully. ‘You could paint your own Grail scene. They're very popular in galleries right now.'

‘Liar. Besides, if I see my grandfather I hope to drive back to Pontypridd tomorrow.'

‘Oh, my good kind Lord.' Toby hung over the side of the car.

‘Get back in before you fall out.' Harry grabbed the bottom of Toby's jacket and hauled him back.

‘Do you see that?'

‘Crai Reservoir. It's the one I told you about and you insisted would never do for your lake. Go on, admit it's pretty.'

‘Pretty?' Toby rolled his eyes heavenwards. ‘Forgive him, oh great creative ones. It's not his fault that he lacks an artistic soul. It's nothing as ugly as a reservoir, you philistine, it's an Arthurian lake.'

‘I saw it marked on a map before I drove down here. It's a reservoir that was built by the town council of Swansea in nineteen o-seven -'

‘Now you sound exactly like Diana Adams.' Toby blew a plume of smoke in Harry's direction but it was carried away by the breeze. ‘Are you going to marry her and breed a column of solemn-faced lecturers who'll think it their duty to bore the world?'

‘You can be an ass at times, Toby,' Harry grumbled.

‘After you've done whatever it is you want to at the farm, bring the picnic hamper down, will you? I'll get a head start on a couple of sketches.'

‘You expect me to haul that hamper all the way down to the reservoir?'

‘I'll give you my spare sketchbook and an art lesson in return. And there is no reservoir, only an Arthurian lake, and it will be known to all as such by the time I've finished with it.' Toby dared him to say otherwise before turning back to absorb the magnificent view.

Harry had only known Toby Ross for a few days, but he had already discovered that there was no point in trying to talk to him while he was creating paintings in his mind's eye, so he concentrated on the road and the majestic, magnificent scenery of sweeping hillsides that rose and fell around them.

But as they approached the Ellis Estate, he couldn't help agreeing with Diana Adams that, for all its beauty, it was a bleak and lonely spot.

Harry dropped Toby off at the entrance to a track signposted ‘Crai Reservoir'. Studiously ignoring it, Toby strode off, haversack on shoulder, sketchpad and pencil in hand and a look of intense concentration on his face as he studied the vista below him. Harry carried on to the farm, but instead of driving into the yard as he had done the night before, he turned the car around and parked on the road opposite the house. Taking the two baskets of fruit, he walked through the arch into the farmyard.

Dogs started barking as soon as he set foot on the cobbles, but to his relief, he noticed they were securely penned. Chickens scratched between the cobbles and wandered in and out of the barn. Ducks waddled around a small pond, splashing water over the weeds that encroached at the sides. Two enormous sows snorted and scuffed in an open sty that fronted the outbuildings at the far right-hand corner of the yard. The doors to a cowshed and milking parlour opposite him stood open, a freshly swept pile of manure heaped in front of them, but the stalls were empty and there was no sign of any of the Ellises. He was halfway to the back door in the hope of finding someone in the house, when he heard a noise in an outbuilding on his left.

He knocked and the door swung open. Mary Ellis was standing in front of a trestle table, turning the handle on a butter churn.

‘I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,' he apologized, when she jumped back nervously.

‘I heard the dogs but there's a puppy that starts them off and he barks at nothing … Mr Evans! Your face! Did I do that?'

He touched his cuts and bruises lightly. ‘They only look this way because Miss Adams put iodine on them to prevent them from getting infected.'

She glanced at him in confusion before looking down at the table. ‘I wasn't expecting you to return.'

‘I saw Miss Adams this morning. She told me that your brother thought that I should pay Martha's wages while she's too ill to work. And I quite agree with him.' He set the baskets down, pulled his wallet from his inside jacket pocket, opened it and extracted two white five-pound notes. He held them out to her.

Avoiding his gaze, she shook her head. ‘We couldn't possibly take that much, sir, Martha only earns seven shillings a week.'

‘It's not just Martha's wages, Miss Ellis. It's also the upset and pain I've caused her and your family. Please.' He folded the notes, placed them on the table and pushed them towards her. ‘Nothing will make me feel any the less guilty, and this is no more than Martha deserves.'

She hesitated, and he sensed her wavering.

‘It's not charity, Miss Ellis; it's compensation for Martha. Sensible people would see it that way.'

‘Perhaps just one, sir.'

‘Please, take both, and my name is Harry, not sir. I'm not that much older than you.' She made no effort to pick up the notes. ‘Miss Adams said that your sister is still suffering from the effects of concussion.'

‘She is.'

‘I am sorry to hear that.' He pointed to the baskets. ‘I brought her some fruit.'

‘That is kind of you, sir.'

‘Not at all.' Aware that he was making her uneasy, he backed out of the doorway.

She stared down at the banknotes before slowly, almost unwillingly, pocketing them. ‘Thank you for the fruit.' She dropped the handle of the churn and picked up the baskets. ‘I'll take these into the scullery and draw some water so Martha can clean them.'

‘Would you like me to carry the baskets for you?'

‘No, sir.' Her refusal was emphatic.

Sensitive to her disquiet, he said, ‘Is it all right if I leave my car parked outside your house for a few hours? My friend has walked down to the reservoir and I'm going to join him.'

‘What has he walked down there for?' There was resentment as well as suspicion in her voice.

‘He's an artist, and he wants to paint a picture of it.' She looked confused, so he added, ‘He wants to put it in a book as an illustration.'

‘Our reservoir? In a book?'

‘You may not realize it after seeing the mountains and reservoir every day, but your house is in a very lovely spot.'

‘We like it,' she bit back defensively.

‘So do I, all the more after living in a city for the last three years.'

Weighed down by the baskets, she joined him in the yard. ‘I've never been to a city.'

It was the closest they'd come to a normal conversation. Wary of provoking further unease or aggression, he settled for a bland, ‘Never?'

‘I went to Swansea a few times with my mother, when she was alive. She used to sell our butter and cheeses to the farmers' wives who had stalls on the market. She used the money they gave her to buy our clothes. But Swansea's only a town.'

Harry glanced at her black cotton skirt and blouse. Both were patched with material of a lighter shade, and she coloured when she saw him looking at her. Hoping to alleviate her embarrassment, he asked, ‘and what did you think of Swansea, Miss Ellis?'

‘It was noisy and dirty.'

‘Most industrial towns in Wales are. They wouldn't be anything else with all the coal mining that goes on here. But they do have their advantages. Theatres, dance halls, picture houses, shops, art galleries …' He recalled how poor the Ellises were and how ridiculous it was to talk about picture houses, plays and the theatre to a girl who couldn't afford to pay her rent. ‘Is there a picture house or theatre in the valley?' he asked, wondering if he dare suggest that he take Martha, and any of the other Ellises who wanted to go as further atonement for knocking her down.

‘There's a theatre in the sanatorium. Madame Patti used to give concerts there. My father and mother took me when I was little. But it hasn't been used since she died.'

‘You don't have any picture houses?'

‘There may be one in Pontardawe, and there are magic lantern shows in the chapel vestry sometimes. But it takes us so long to walk down there and we're so busy in the evenings; we haven't been for a few years.'

‘The farm must take all your time,' he sympathized.

She went into the scullery and left the baskets of fruit next to an enormous stone sink before going to the kitchen door. ‘I have to start making the dinner now.'

He touched his boater. ‘Would you mind if I came up to enquire after your sister again?'

‘There's no need. Miss Adams said Martha will be fine.'

‘Then, if you prefer, I'll make my enquiries with Miss Adams in future.' The girl was obviously frightened of him and he decided that it might be as well if he sent more fruit up with Diana.

‘David, you're back early.' Mary looked past Harry to her brother, who strode into the yard with his sheepdog and Matthew trotting at his heels.

The dog growled when David pointed an accusing finger at Harry. ‘I stopped shearing when I saw his car parked outside the house.'

‘Mr Evans called to give us money.'

‘At least a fiver, I hope.' David glared at Harry and made no effort to silence his animal. Harry had never been afraid of a dog in his life, but after being attacked the day before, he stepped back warily.

‘He gave me ten pounds, David,' Mary murmured.

‘Merlyn!' David snapped, and the dog fell silent. If David was surprised by Harry's generosity he showed no sign of it. ‘It's no more than Martha deserves after what he put her through.'

‘I was just asking Miss Ellis if she would allow me to call and enquire after your sister's health again …' Harry debated what he should call David Ellis. ‘David' was too familiar, boys under sixteen should be addressed as ‘master', but there was nothing of the child about David Ellis. Fortunately, David interrupted him.

‘As long as you know that we expect you to carry on paying for what you did to Martha until she's better.'

‘David, that's bad manners,' Mary said.

‘How much more do you want me to pay?' Harry asked.

‘Her wages.'

‘I think the ten pounds will cover those.'

‘The doctor's bills,' David added.

‘Miss Adams has told me that she won't charge you for her visits.'

‘She's not a proper doctor,' David said truculently.

‘Then when you call a proper doctor, please tell him to send his bill to me.' Harry slipped his card case from his pocket, opened it and handed David one. ‘That's my home address. I'm staying at the inn in Abercrave at the moment. The doctor can leave a message for me there if he calls in the next day or two.'

The boy took the card. ‘He will.'

‘I'll wait to hear from him.' Harry touched his cap again. ‘Miss Ellis, it was good to make your acquaintance. I only wish it could have been under better circumstances.'

Toby added a few lines to his rough sketch of the reservoir and the surrounding hills before shading his eyes and studying the scene for a full minute. Then he closed the book. He glanced across to where Harry was sitting, sketching surrounded by the tins and boxes he'd lifted out of their picnic hamper. ‘It sounds like your young David Ellis is a right charmer.'

‘He's not “my” David Ellis.' Harry gazed critically at the clump of grass he'd drawn in the foreground of his landscape. ‘And I can't say that I wasn't warned. Diana Adams told me this morning that he was going to try and get all he could out of me.'

‘Good for you for fighting back. A lesser man would simply have handed him more money.'

‘You think I should have given them more than ten pounds?' Harry asked seriously.

‘Ten pounds plus a face full of scratches and bruises is more than enough for an accident that was as much the girl's fault for walking in middle of the road in a storm as yours.' Toby opened his knapsack and stuffed his sketchbook inside. ‘So, what are we eating?'

‘Ham and cheese sandwiches, pork pie, pasties, cheese straws, salad, apple turnovers and two of the biggest slabs of fruit cake I've ever seen. Oh, and four bottles of beer.' Harry handed Toby a plate.

‘Thanks, I'll take a piece of pork pie, a ham sandwich, cheese straw, salad and a bottle of beer. You do have an opener?'