Moonlight and Ashes (28 page)

It was Mrs Massey who, after her initial shock, managed to take control of the situation. Grasping Maggie firmly by the elbow, she steered her towards the door.

‘You get off now, love,’ she told her kindly, and then turning her attention back to her husband she snapped, ‘As for
you
, this is neither the time nor the place so shut yer trap, will yer? Even if what you’re sayin’ is true, happen there was a reason for it - but now is not the time to be delvin’ into it. It’s none of our business, and I reckon as how you should apologise to young Jo here. Poor Maggie has more than enough on her plate to be dealing with at present wi’out you adding to her troubles. The lass has just found out that her husband is dead, an’ it’s the twins’ tenth birthday soon, an’ she’s breakin’ her heart over that an’ all because she won’t be able to spend it with ’em.’

Mr Massey had the good grace to hang his head in shame as Maggie stepped past him and closed the door behind her. Once outside in the chilly air she breathed deeply, attempting to calm herself down. What a day this was turning out to be; she wondered if it could get any worse. As she forced herself towards her mother-in-law’s home she prayed that there wouldn’t be yet more bad news waiting for her there. Had anything happened to David, his mother would have received a telegram too. This thought, on top of everything else, was almost more than she could bear.

As Mrs Evans waddled past the smithy she paused. A large horse that was waiting to be shod was impatiently pawing at the ground outside. Poking her head round the door, she was just in time to catch her husband leaning heavily against the anvil. Seeing her, he quickly swiped an oily rag across his mouth.

‘What’s to do then, Father!’ she exclaimed.

Thrusting the rag into the depths of his leather apron pocket, Daffyd gave her a weak smile. Behind him, a wide stone shelf bearing various tools stood above a roaring fire and the atmosphere was sooty and heavy with smoke.

‘Oh, I just thought I’d stop for a breather,’ he told her, none too convincingly.

Stepping into the hot gloom over the square-headed nails that were scattered across the natural rock floor, she asked, ‘Are you not feeling well, Daffyd?’ Her voice was laden with concern.

‘Never felt better,’ he lied. ‘But what are you doing out and about at this time of the morning?’

She grinned. ‘I popped up to the school to take Lizziebright some fruit for her break. It was a pleasure to see her face, so it was. Bright by name and bright by nature, that little one is.’

‘Just so long as you remember that her name
is
Bright.’

‘Why, Father, I can’t think what you could mean,’ she said indignantly, and flouncing about, she stormed from the smithy, leaving him to shake his head with concern.

Just as she had promised, at lunchtime she was waiting at the school gates. Lizzie’s heart sank into her boots when she saw the big woman standing there. She had begged to be allowed a packed lunch so that she could spend her lunch-hour with Danny, but Mrs Evans had almost had a fit when she had first suggested it.

‘Eeh, what are you thinking of,
bach
?’ she had gasped in horror. ‘Why make do with bread and cheese when you can have a good hot substantial meal inside of you? Didn’t I tell you when you arrived that I was going to fatten you up? No,
cariad
, you’ll come home with me where you belong.’

And so Lizzie was marched back though the village and presented with a huge plate of faggots and peas. But worse was still to come. She had barely finished her meal when Mrs Evans threw her hands in the air as if the end of the world had come.

‘Why,
bach
. You’ve got gravy all down your dress, so you have. But never mind. I have just the thing for you to slip into.’

Crossing to a large box that Lizzie had noticed when they first entered the room, she rummaged around in it for a few seconds and then produced a little woollen skirt and a Fairisle cardigan. Holding them against Lizzie, she sighed with satisfaction. They had once belonged to Megan and had languished in the loft for years, but now she could put them to good use again. Luckily, they were an almost perfect fit, for although Megan had been younger than Lizzie when she died, she had been a tall leggy girl, whereas Lizzie was much shorter.

In no time at all, Mrs Evans had whipped the dress over the child’s head and slipped the other clothes onto her. Lizzie shuffled from foot to foot uncomfortably as she looked across at the dress Mrs Evans had discarded. Her mother had made it with love, and somehow when she was wearing it, Lizzie felt closer to her. The cardigan felt itchy on her arms, though luckily her Liberty bodice stopped it from scratching her chest. Too afraid to voice her opinions, she remained silent as Mrs Evans stood back to admire her with tears in her eyes.

‘Ah, my sweet Megan. You look beautiful, so you do,’ she whispered softly.

At that moment, the door opened and Mr Evans stepped into the room, ready for his own lunch. As his gaze settled on Lizzie, the colour drained from his face and he looked as if he had seen a ghost.

‘For the love of God,
whatever
do you think you’re doing, Mother?’ he gasped disbelievingly.

Realising that there was something going on here that she didn’t understand, Lizzie looked from one to the other of them with interest.

Drawing herself up to her full height, Mrs Evans stared back at him defiantly. ‘They were lying in the loft doing no good to man nor beast, as well you know,’ she shot back at him. ‘But I cannot discuss it with you now, Father. I have to get Lizzie back to school. We’ll talk about it when I return. In the meantime, you’ll find your dinner in the oven.’

Once the door had closed behind them, Mr Evans dropped onto the nearest chair, his appetite gone. It was beginning to look as if his worst nightmare was starting, all over again.

 

Accompanied by Gus and Sparky, Danny had found a quiet corner of the playground where he unpacked his lunch. Gus’s eyes sparkled greedily at the sight of it. Today, Eric had packed him great doorstop sandwiches oozing with butter and fresh-made cheese. A rosy red apple and a little bottle full to the top with thick creamy milk were jammed in next to them but Davey barely noticed.

‘I could give yer a hand wiv ’em if yer not hungry,’ Gus offered. ‘What’s up wiv yer, anyway? Yer seem to be miles away.’

‘It’s Lizzie,’ the boy confessed. ‘I just get this funny feelin’ in the pit of me stomach whenever something’s not right with her. She’s the same if something’s not right with me. We’ve been like it since we were babies, accordin’ to me mam.’

Helping himself to a sandwich, Gus grinned. ‘Well, there can’t be that much wrong wiv ’er. She ain’t bin gone that long an’ she’ll be back in a minute.’

Danny supposed that Gus was right. Hesitantly, he picked up the other sandwich. In no time at all they had polished off the remainder of the lunch between them and they crossed to the railings to wait for Lizzie. Sure enough, she soon appeared with Mrs Evans tightly gripping her hand, looking none too pleased at all. At the school gates the woman bent to place an affectionate kiss on her cheek, but the second she released her hand, Lizzie shot across to join Danny.

Hastily unbuttoning her coat, she pointed to the offending outfit. ‘Look what she’s made me wear,’ she complained.

Danny scratched his head in bewilderment. ‘That ain’t one of the dresses our mam packed, is it?’

Lizzie’s head wagged indignantly from side to side. ‘No, it’s not. Mrs Evans made me take my dress off because she said I’d got gravy down it, but I hadn’t. Then she put these on me an’ I don’t like them. They belonged to her little girl who died.’

‘Gerroff!’ Gus exclaimed in horror. ‘That’s really spooky, innit? Why would she do that?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ Lizzie said, looking thoroughly miserable. ‘I know me mam wouldn’t be pleased though. An’ neither was Mr Evans, especially when she called me Megan. I’ve got a funny feelin’ they’ll have a row when she gets back home.’

Danny draped a comforting arm around her shoulder. ‘Never mind,’ he told his twin. ‘They don’t look
that
bad.’

Gus thought that Lizzie would have looked beautiful dressed in a paper bag, but refrained from saying so as the bell heralded the end of the lunch-hour.

‘Come on, we’d better get in,’ he urged as he ushered them towards the school. Lizzie and Danny exchanged a glance before obediently trooping in after him.

By the end of the day, Lizzie was in better spirits. The next day was hers and Danny’s birthday and she knew that her mam would never forget that.

‘Do yer reckon we’ll get a card each through the post?’ she asked Danny excitedly as they shrugged into their coats in the cloakroom.

‘No doubt about it,’ he assured her with a grin. ‘Our mam would
never
forget our birthday. Does Mrs Evans know about it?’

Lizzie shook her head. ‘No, I didn’t tell her.’

‘Why not?’ Soho Gus gasped incredulously. The way he saw it, the more people you told about your birthday, the more presents you got. ‘Did you tell Eric it were
your
birthday, Dan?’

When Danny shook his head too, Gus sighed. ‘Yer a right pair, you are. Fancy not tellin’ anyone.’

Danny regarded him sadly. ‘No doubt we’ll hear from our mam, an’ our grans will probably send us a card too. We don’t need nothin’ off nobody else. It won’t be the same anyway wi’out our mam to share it with.’

Gus stared at him as if he’d lost his marbles but refrained from saying any more until they were walking up the hillside. The air was alive with the sound of bird-song and Danny was enjoying it, until Gus suddenly blurted out, ‘I reckon you ought to at least tell Eric it’s yer birthday tomorrer. Think how he’ll feel when yer cards arrive if you ain’t even told him.’

Danny pondered on Gus’s words. After a while he had to grudgingly admit that he might have a point. As things worked out he didn’t have to tell him, for when he arrived home, Eric pointed to three envelopes propped up on the mantelpiece.

‘They came for you this morning,’ he informed him. ‘And they look suspiciously like cards to me. You haven’t had a birthday and not told me, have you?’

Danny felt himself blushing. ‘It’s tomorrow actually. I was going to tell you tonight - honest I was.’

Eric stifled a smile. ‘That’s all right then. Now come and get your dinner while it’s hot.’

The birthday was momentarily forgotten as Danny sat down at the table and eyed the oven with anticipation. Lamb chops, baked potatoes and carrots, with plenty of gravy and a Bakewell tart to follow. Cor!

The next morning, he opened his cards propped up against his pillows in bed. It had been a great temptation all night to see them sitting there on his little chest of drawers but somehow he felt that it wouldn’t be quite the same if he opened them on the wrong day. Just as he’d thought, there was one from his mam and Lucy, and one from each of his grans. As he stared down at the familiar writing he felt a big lump forming in his throat. In his mam’s card was a ten-shilling note, which was just for him alone. He felt rich and immediately wondered what he should spend it on. Clambering out of bed, he shuddered as his feet connected with the cold floorboards then padded over to his wardrobe and tucked it away in the pocket of his Sunday-best blazer.

Once he’d dragged his clothes on, he hurried down to the kitchen to find Eric standing at the stove stirring a pan of fried bread and mushrooms.

‘Happy Birthday,’ he greeted him, then nodding towards a large parcel wrapped crudely in brown paper he told him, ‘There’s a bit of something over there for you off me. I’m afraid I didn’t get you a card though.’

‘S’all right,’ Danny grinned as he fell on the parcel and started to tear it open. When the gift was finally revealed, Danny became silent as he stared at it in awe.

Taking the child’s silence as disappointment, Eric apologised. ‘I know it’s not much, but I thought it would be a lot easier for you to cart about than a full-size one.’

‘But it’s lovely! In fact, it’s the best present I’ve ever had,’ Danny gasped. Eric had made him a small easel that Danny could use for the canvases Eric had supplied him with.

A smile of pleasure and embarrassment spread across Eric’s face as he ushered Danny to the table, and once again, the little boy found himself thinking, He’s all right really. An’ he’d be quite handsome if it weren’t for all them scars. This was turning out to be not such a bad birthday after all.

His happiness proved to be shortlived, however, for when Mrs Evans dropped Lizzie off at the school gates, his twin ran across to him with her eyes red-rimmed from crying.

‘Did you get a card from our mam?’ she demanded. When Danny nodded, fresh tears started to flow. ‘Well . . . I never did!’

Danny stared at her aghast. Why would his mam, and his grans for that matter, send cards to him and not to Lizzie? It didn’t make any sense.

‘Perhaps yours will come today while yer at school?’ he suggested hopefully.

Lizzie shook her head, setting her fair hair bobbing on her shoulders. ‘I said that to Mrs Evans but she reckons out of sight out of mind. She says our mam is probably too busy to bother about me now.’

‘Rubbish!’ Danny exclaimed. ‘Our mam loves us both an’ she would
never
send one of us cards an’ not the other.’

Gus was watching the proceedings with a thoughtful look in his eye. ‘I reckon there’s somethin’ fishy goin’ on’ere,’ he said. ‘Yer don’t think Old Lady Evans would keep the post from gettin’ to Lizzie, do yer?’

Now that Gus had mentioned it, Danny could see that it might make sense. ‘How could we find out?’

Gus mulled it over for a moment. ‘We could look out for the postman on Saturday when we ain’t at school an’ ask ’im if he’s delivered any mail fer Lizzie to
Ty-Du
. There ain’t
that
many houses in the village so he’d be sure to remember.’