The Lost Days of Summer (19 page)

As she moved along the cliff, searching for a route down, Nell saw what looked like a couple of baskets in the boat’s shadow and remembered her aunt saying that the rocky coast was the haunt of crabs and lobsters, both of which could be sold for a good profit in towns. So it was not just the sale of fish which would increase the cottagers’ meagre income.

Auntie Kath had asked her if she liked crab and Nell had said truthfully that she had no idea since she had never tasted it. ‘Never tasted crab? Well, we’ll remedy that when summer arrives,’ Auntie Kath had said briskly, and explained how the creatures were caught by local fishermen who baited basket-like traps with rotten fish and then harvested the crabs and lobsters who got into the traps and could not get out.

Nell had thought this sounded unsporting to say the least, but had not said so; at that stage she had only known her aunt for a short while and already knew better than to cavil, especially about something she did not really understand.

Even thinking about crabs and lobsters made Nell remember how hungry she was; should she sit down here, on the cliff top, and eat the picnic her aunt had made for her? But even as she looked around her for a likely spot she saw the top of a narrow, winding path which looked as though it would take her safely down to the beach, provided she was careful. Before she started down it, however, she took another long look round, wondering if the young man would reappear. But he did not do so, and Nell descended to the beach alone.

As soon as she reached the shore she went over to the boat hoping to find some clue as to its owner, but there was nothing, though she saw the name
Maud
painted on the stern. She tried to peer beneath the boat but could see nothing, and, shrugging, she went over to the cluster of rocks and tiny pools which she had seen from the cliff top.

She chose a dry ledge of rock, sat down upon it and opened her haversack; her mouth watered at the sight of the hard-boiled egg, the thick cheese sandwiches and the apples, to say nothing of the ginger nuts, and the slice of rich fruit cake. Nell gave no more thought to the watcher who had hidden himself away so successfully, and began to eat.

Replete at last, she gave a satisfied sigh, packed the remainder of the food and cordial into her haversack and looked appreciatively around her. The beach was every bit as beautiful as she had imagined from Bryn’s description, the little rock pools as fascinating. She began to explore the nearest, discovering creatures like living flowers which she knew must be anemones. She poked at them and gave a squeak of delight when their tentacles closed around her finger, then spat it out and curled in on themselves until they were no longer clusters of flowers, but small cushions of scarlet jelly. When she had teased the anemones for long enough – they refused her offering of cake crumbs as disgustedly as they had rejected her finger – she moved on to another pool, shaggy with seaweed, and found that it, too, teemed with life. There were tiny crabs no bigger than house spiders, brilliant shells – orange, yellow and purple – and of course little fish. When she lifted a heavy curtain of dark green kelp, quite a sizeable crab emerged indignantly from its shelter and dug itself into the sand so rapidly that within seconds it had disappeared.

Other pools offered further distractions. Two sea urchins, looking like miniature hedgehogs, swayed to and fro with the movement of the ripples and Nell realised with a start that the tide had turned; very soon these rock pools, the rocks themselves and quite a bit of the beach would probably be under water. She must make her way back up the cliff path, for she knew it had taken her a good while to get from the farm to the bay and even as she began to head for the cliff she saw that the sun was setting, streaking the sky with crimson and gold. She quickened her pace, remembering her promise to her aunt, and also realising that she was not sufficiently familiar with this part of the country to find her way back to Ty Hen in the dark. She reached the top of the cliff breathless and a little worried. She really must not allow herself to be distracted; she must concentrate on getting home. Nevertheless, she could not resist a slight detour in order to see whether anyone was working outside the long white cottage. By the time she reached her former vantage point the light was beginning to fade, so she just took a hasty look, saw that nothing was moving, except for a curl of smoke coming up from the chimney, and turned her face towards Ty Hen, albeit reluctantly. How like a feller, she thought crossly, to spy on you one minute and disappear the next! But I’ll come back one day soon and ask the old man if there’s a boy living there. It would be nice to know someone a bit younger than Auntie Kath. And if he is – was – a friend of Bryn’s, we could talk about him as well.

But now was not the time to linger. She set out for home, finishing off the food her aunt had given her and beginning to sing to herself as she walked. ‘Pack up your troubles in your old kitbag and smile, smile, smile,’ she warbled. She had had a lovely day and she realised, almost guiltily, that for several hours she had forgotten her sadness over Bryn’s death, and her misery over her mother’s defection. But hadn’t that been the reason Auntie Kath had given her a day’s holiday? So there was no need to feel guilty. Her happy day had got things in perspective and she knew she would be better for it.

It was a long walk, but at last she crossed the farmyard and burst into the kitchen, still singing. Auntie Kath was removing something from the bake oven, something which smelled delicious. She turned as her niece entered the kitchen and her eyebrows shot up. ‘So you’re back. I reckon you must have smelled the rabbit pie and it brought you home like reeling in a fish on a line. But why were you singing that old song?’

‘What old song?’ Nell asked, genuinely bewildered. Once she had reached the lane leading to Ty Hen she had sung all sorts of things simply because the rhythm kept her striding out. ‘I didn’t know I was singing an old song.’

Aunt Kath sniffed. ‘If “Keep the home fires burning” isn’t an old song, I don’t know what is,’ she declared. ‘Where have you been, then?’ She pointed to the sink. ‘Wash your hands while I dish up. Since everything’s ready, we’ll eat at once.’

It was the work of a moment to wash and dry her hands and take her place at the table, where she discovered that despite having devoured every crumb her aunt had supplied for her picnic she was still hungry. She began to eat, but her aunt tutted. ‘I asked you a question, young lady! Where have you been, and did you have a good day?’

Nell put down her knife and fork and beamed at her aunt. ‘I had a fantastic day,’ she said. ‘Of course nothing could stop me being unhappy about Bryn, and the way my mother has behaved, but I suppose you could say I’ve come to terms with what’s happened.’

‘What can’t be cured must be endured,’ her aunt said, nodding sagely. ‘When you first lose someone you love you think the pain will never grow less, but it does. Time heals isn’t just a saying, it’s true. With every day that passes, the pain of loss eases; I know it. I still miss – miss Owain, but now I remember the good times and am grateful for them. Now tell me about your day.’

Nell complied, thinking that this was the first time her aunt had actually shown real interest in her doings. She told her story right from the moment she had left the farmhouse that morning to the time when she had crested the hill and seen the cottage in the hollow below. ‘I’d love to know the people who live there,’ she finished. She suddenly remembered something. ‘Bryn said it belongs to you, so I suppose you know them, even though they’re a long way from Ty Hen. Have they got a son of about nineteen or twenty? Bryn talked about a friend and I think I caught sight of him for a moment, but when I tried to catch him up he’d disappeared. I suppose he went into the cottage.’

Auntie Kath shook her head. ‘I doubt it. That longhouse has been empty for the best part of twenty years. Nobody’s lived there since it got too much for the old folk. Though I did have trouble with a gypsy at one time. He moved in . . . but that was years ago. I hope he hasn’t had the cheek to return. I wonder who the young man was? Probably someone like yourself, come down from one of the nearby villages to fish from the rocks, or check his lobster pots. But do satisfy my curiosity. Why did you go all the way to Church Bay – Porth Swtan, the locals call it – when there are many beautiful beaches and bays much nearer to Ty Hen?’

‘Because Bryn loved it there, and I honestly can’t imagine anywhere more beautiful,’ Nell said rather impatiently. Why did her aunt always have to put her on the defensive? ‘But why do you say it’s empty, Auntie Kath? The longhouse, I mean. There was smoke coming from the chimney, and there was a dog, a border collie. I haven’t told you yet, but I was dreadfully thirsty so I had meant to ask the folk living there if they could spare me a mug of water. Only when I saw the dog I remembered the row Fly and Whisky kick up if someone they don’t know comes to the farm. It was such a hot afternoon that I thought the people in the cottage might be snoozing, so I didn’t go down after all. Instead, I went to the well and pulled up a bucket of water to dilute the raspberry cordial. It was while I was sitting by the well that I saw the young man.’

‘Dog? You think there was a dog?’ her aunt said incredulously, ignoring the mention of the young man. ‘And it didn’t bark?’ She gave Nell a pitying glance. ‘Farm dogs always bark, always give warning of a stranger’s approach. Well, I’ll say one thing for you, young lady, you’ve got a great deal of imagination. Unless you’re going to tell me that the dog was deaf and blind.’

Nell smiled perfunctorily. ‘I didn’t imagine it, honest to G— I mean honestly I didn’t, Auntie Kath,’ she protested. ‘Next you’ll be saying I imagined the young man. But actually, I’ve seen him before; he was at the Llangefni Christmas market. I noticed him especially because I’d asked Bryn not to follow me since I would be buying his present, and when I saw him I thought at first Bryn had told him to follow me, so I kept my eye on him. I knew it wasn’t Bryn, of course; this chap was older and quite a bit taller. And Bryn was fair; the man at the market had black hair and sallow skin. Do you know him, Auntie?’

Kath shook her head. ‘I can’t say I do, but then why should I notice one young man more than another? If he was at the Christmas market then I reckon he’d have been wearing a cap, so I wouldn’t have seen his hair. In fact I’m surprised that you did; are you sure it was the same fellow, Nell? Are you sure it wasn’t Bryn at Llangefni, dodging about to tease you? How good a look did you get at him?’

‘Pretty good, and I know it wasn’t Bryn,’ Nell said guardedly. Perhaps because of her aunt’s disbelief, she was reluctant to lay herself open to another charge of imagining things. Abruptly, she changed the subject. ‘Oh, and there was a boat on the beach, with a pair of oars and a couple of lobster pots . . . or did I imagine that as well?’ she added sarcastically.

Her aunt shook her head. ‘No, of course you didn’t. Lots of local people fish from that bay, particularly now, with so many of the other beaches sown with land mines to discourage an invasion fleet. The boat could have been used by anyone who wanted to put down pots for crab or lobster. Come to that, someone might have been net fishing. Did you see a net?’

Nell thought back. ‘No, I didn’t see one, but the boat was upside down, so it might have been underneath. What does Swtan mean, Auntie? I know Porth means bay . . .’

‘It doesn’t have a meaning exactly; it’s the name of a small fish – I think the English call it whiting – which is abundant along the coast round here. It’s good to eat, as you’ll find out now that summer has come. But I’m intrigued that you should have thought the Swtan longhouse was occupied. Are you planning to go down to the coast again? If so, I think you should brave the mythical dog and see for yourself that the cottage is deserted. I’d be interested to know just what made you think it was still lived in.’

‘Well, the garden’s tidy and there are vegetables, and I thought I saw a very old-fashioned, rusty sort of bicycle . . .’ Nell began, then gave an impatient sigh. ‘If you don’t believe me, Auntie, then I could go there a hundred times and come back with my story and you’d still think I was either daydreaming or making it up. So why don’t you go and take a look for yourself? If it’s too far for you to walk, I suppose you could go in the pony and trap.’ She stared defiantly at her aunt, knowing she sounded offended, but not caring; it was always infuriating to be disbelieved, thought either an idiot or a liar. It had been on the tip of her tongue to say that she had seen not only a dog but an old man, and had caught a glimpse of a woman as well, but she had stopped herself in time. It had been the heat haze, she told herself, just the heat haze. Her aunt would simply jeer if she mentioned those barely glimpsed figures.

So it was no surprise to Nell when she saw Kath shaking her head. ‘What, waste my time on a wild goose chase?’ she said mockingly. ‘I’m a very busy woman, as you know, and anyway reaching Church Bay by road is three times as long as cutting across the fields. Incidentally, if you had gone down to the Swtan and offered the cottager five bob for his old bicycle, you could have gone over to Church Bay whenever you had any free time. But as for confirming your story, you’ll have to be my deputy, for I’ve no doubt that having discovered the beach you’ll want to go back, hoping to prove me wrong.’

‘What’s the point of me going back to confirm what I already know to be true, when you’ll only say I’m imagining things?’ Nell repeated, grinning at the older woman. ‘You can’t have it both ways, Auntie Kath.’

Her aunt gave a reluctant chuckle. ‘You’re right there, queen. And of course when I think about it, I’ve not visited the Swtan longhouse for more years than I care to remember, so trespassers might have moved in. But it’s not important. Now, let’s clear away and get to our beds. I’m sure you’ll sleep like a top after your adventurous day; I certainly shall, having had all your work to do as well as my own.’

Nell’s cheeks grew hot. ‘You said I could have the day off—’ she began, but was swiftly interrupted.