The Lost Days of Summer (41 page)

‘What with nursing Owain and running the farm I had no spare time, but Eifion was a tower of strength. I sent him over to the Swtan now and again, just to make sure that all was well there, though I would never have dreamed of letting Nain know we were keeping an eye on her. Eifion said that Bleddyn was usually digging the garden or rounding up the cows for milking, whilst Nain was either pottering around seeing to the pig and the poultry or sitting on the bench beside the door, staring at the path which led to Ty Hen.’ Auntie Kath sighed. ‘I imagine she sat there so that if I suddenly appeared she could either rush inside and lock and bolt the door or simply scream abuse at me, as she had on other occasions.’

Nell opened her mouth to speak, then saw that her aunt had only paused for breath and might, if she interrupted, refuse to say anything further, so she stayed silent and merely nodded her understanding, though she would have liked to say that Nain might have watched for her in order to put things right. However, Kath was talking again.

‘If I’d not been so busy – and so deeply unhappy – I believe I would have dared her wrath and gone to the Swtan to tell her how ill her grandson was, but somehow the opportunity never arose, and though Owain mentioned his grandmother a couple of times, by then he scarcely knew me, let alone her. I knew he was dying, but his death, when it came, was still a dreadful, awful shock.

‘I sent word by Eifion to tell her when the funeral would be held and she came to the church, but when I tried to speak to her she turned her back on me, muttering to another old woman that she would always blame me for Owain’s death. I think then that the iron entered my soul and my dislike of her turned to something very close to hatred. I vowed that I would never exchange another word with her, never so much as put a foot on her farmland, let alone attempt to cross her threshold. And though I still asked Eifion to check on the Swtan occasionally, I never went within a mile of the place, nor ever shall. Not even now, so many years later. I thought then, and still think, that the longhouse should really have belonged to the old woman, but when his will was read Owain had left everything he possessed to me, including the Swtan.

‘When Nain died only twelve months after him, I told Bleddyn he was welcome to move into the longhouse and live there rent free whilst he needed to do so, but I think he left after a few months, by which time the place was already so neglected that no one was willing to take it on. The Jones family might have wanted it, though they never said so, but after the way they had behaved towards Owain and me I most certainly did not want them as tenants. So now you know, my dear, why I’ve never visited the Swtan.’

‘But why not now, when the old lady’s been dead for so long?’ Nell asked reasonably. ‘Hywel told me that Toddy isn’t a gypsy but a respectable man, trying to make a decent living where he can.’

Kath sniffed. ‘I suppose I should speak to the wretched man, tell him he’s welcome to continue to live in the Swtan if that’s the only way he can keep a roof over his head. But why should I? He’s taken over without so much as a by your leave. If I suddenly turn up, he’ll probably think I want rent.’

‘And if he pays rent, you’ll feel you have to spend every penny of it, and more, on rethatching and repairs,’ Nell said cheerfully. ‘Oh, Auntie, what a humbug you are! You try to pretend you’re an old scrooge, when really you’re not in the least interested in money.’

Her aunt nodded. ‘That’s true; money’s only money, after all. But Eifion is rare fond of fresh fish or the odd crab or lobster and still goes over there from time to time and takes the boat out. I don’t ever question him about his visits, but he tells me this Toddy isn’t that old; he was shell-shocked in the Great War and needs a peaceful existence and country living.’ The smile that Kath turned on her niece was suddenly mischievous. ‘I’m told he’s a quiet man, not at all curious like some I could mention, which is one thing in his favour. And now we’d best get to bed otherwise we shan’t have any sleep tonight.’

Nell was happy to obey, especially when Auntie Kath wrote a note for Maggie, telling her to get breakfast for herself and Eifion, and then to start the milking,
by which time
, she had added in her stilted copperplate,
Nell and I should have recovered from our night on the tiles and will be able to tackle the rest of the chores with you
.

When she slid between the sheets, however, Nell’s active mind went on working, refusing all suggestion of sleep. So many things which had been a mystery, a closed book, were now clear. The kaleidoscope and the hidden picture of the man her aunt had once loved, the reason for hiding it, even the connection between Ty Hen and the Swtan had been more or less explained, and so romantically, too. She longed to see the inside of the Swtan, the cottage where so many stirring events had taken place. And what of the vague figure she had seen behind the old man on her one and only visit to the longhouse? Hywel had told her it was a ghost in order, she was sure, to chill her blood. Suppose, however, that what she had seen really
was
the ghost of Nain, who had done Auntie Kath so much harm . . .

Nell sighed and reminded herself that she did not believe in ghosts, though she did believe in the ‘seeing’ of past events, which Hywel had described. But ghosts? Certainly not, Nell told herself, as sleep overcame her.

Despite Nell’s intention, it was not until the spring of 1941 that she actually made arrangements to visit the Swtan. Aunt Kath had tried to keep her promise to see that they all had a day off, but once the cold began to bite Eifion’s rheumatism set in with a vengeance, and from Christmas till the end of February he was unable even to hobble the short distance from his cottage to Ty Hen. Maggie, Nell and Auntie Kath called on him to find him bundled up in his warmest clothing and sitting as close as he could to the kitchen fire. He told them that his wife anointed his joints daily with goose grease, which accounted, Nell supposed, for the rather peculiar smell, and though she and Maggie had secret doubts about the efficacy of goose grease, Auntie Kath said that it didn’t matter what they thought since both Eifion and his wife had a touching faith in its curative properties.

‘Sometimes it’s the believing which helps the cure along,’ she assured the girls. ‘You’ll see. When it gets a bit warmer and Eifion comes back to work, he won’t put his cure down to better weather, but will claim another success for goose grease.’

So days off had disappeared into the realms of the might have been and were more or less unregretted, though the girls worked incredibly hard from dawn till dusk. But the evenings were their own and they soon began to enjoy a varied social life. Nell was almost always partnered by Hywel, or sometimes by Bryn when he was in port. The fellows would pick the girls up in a borrowed car and take them back to Ty Hen when the dance ended, for like Cinderella they were under orders to be home before midnight.

‘You’re an odd girl, Nell Whitaker,’ Maggie said one evening, as the two of them were in Nell’s bedroom getting ready for a dance at a nearby village hall. They both agreed it was more fun to get ready for an evening’s entertainment in the same room, which allowed them to help each other try out different hair styles, pin a flower to the shoulder of a dance dress, or simply chat. ‘Bryn’s the handsomest feller I’ve ever met and he’s nice an’ all. What’s more, when he comes home on leave he’s all over you like a cheap overcoat, but you always push him back. And then you snuggle up to him when you’re dancing—’

‘I do not!’ Nell said indignantly, then softened. ‘Well, I suppose I do, because it would be rude and hurtful to poker up and push him away. But as I keep telling everyone, I really don’t want a serious relationship and Bryn does. He used to be light-hearted and full of fun, but since Dunkirk he’s nagged on about my being his girl and I don’t want to be anyone’s girl. Why should I?’

Maggie sighed. ‘If you feel like that I guess you’re probably right, though I don’t know how you can resist Bryn. He’s so handsome and, if you don’t mind my saying so, Hywel’s no beauty.’

‘Who said anything about Hywel?’ Nell squeaked. ‘He never tries anything on; he’s never even kissed me!’

Maggie laughed derisively. ‘But you like him, you know you do. When he’s dancing with someone else you hardly take your eyes off him, but poor old Bryn could dance with Ingrid Bergman or Jane Russell and you wouldn’t turn a hair. If someone gorgeous danced with Hywel, her perishin’ eyes would be scratched out, sure as I’m standin’ here.’

‘Oh, rubbish,’ Nell said, feeling her cheeks flame. If she were honest, she did have a soft spot for Hywel, though she would never have dreamed of admitting it, either to Hywel himself or to Bryn, far less to Maggie. ‘And as for liking, you’ve given yourself away, old Maggie! You’re keen on blond and beautiful Bryn. Don’t deny it, it’s as plain as the nose on your face.’

It pleased her to see Maggie’s cheeks go pink, but then she felt ashamed. The other girl didn’t have a hope in hell of gaining Bryn’s attention. Even if she herself was sensible and firm and told him that she loved him like a brother and would never feel any stronger emotion for him, she was pretty sure he would not turn to Maggie for consolation. He would start to pursue one of the pretty Wrens stationed on HMS
Bee
in Holyhead and never give the land girl a second thought.

Why Bryn was so attracted to Nell herself, however, she really could not say, for when she looked in the mirror all she saw was a large pair of eyes whose greenish-hazel colour she thought nondescript, an elfin face with a small, pointy chin and a mass of chestnut-brown hair she would happily have swapped for black or blonde tresses. She supposed that it had become a habit with Bryn to claim her as his girlfriend. For her part, she had never quite managed to forget how she had dreamed of Bryn the first time she had visited the Swtan. ‘If you sleep in the shadow of the well, you’ll dream of the man you’re going to marry.’ Hywel had said. She told herself over and over that it was just a foolish superstition which any girl of character would ignore, yet in a way she felt that, like it or not, her eventual fate would be to marry Bryn. But if I really do have to marry him, I mean to have lots of fun first, she told herself. Oh, if only I hadn’t listened to Hywel when he went on about the magic properties of the well; now I feel as though I’m doomed to take Bryn on. But I know it’s silly to even think such a thing, because I didn’t go to sleep by the well at the time of the full moon on purpose, it was pure accident. And the last thing on my mind was finding out the name of my future husband. So I’ll jolly well go out with any bloke who asks me and then I’ll choose a husband. I won’t have one wished on me.

By this time Auntie Kath had managed to acquire a second bicycle, and for once the girls meant to cycle to the village, where the dance was being held in the Memorial Hall. Neither Bryn nor Hywel was able to attend, Bryn being at sea and Hywel busy on his airfield, so Nell had to admit that the dance would lack a certain something. However, she reminded herself fiercely that she was most definitely not in love with Bryn or Hywel, and would enjoy dancing with any of the young men – or indeed all of them – who came across to her, sketched a salute and asked if he could have the pleasure . . .

March came in like a lion, with winds so strong that Nell and Maggie shuddered for Eifion, because despite every effort the draughts found their way round windows, under doors and down chimneys, and the old man felt constantly chilly.

But around the end of the month the weather suddenly changed, as Auntie Kath told her niece was often the case. ‘It’s an old country saying that if March comes in like a lion, it will go out like a lamb,’ she explained when Nell came bouncing into the kitchen with a handful of yellow catkins and Maggie followed her brandishing a bunch of pussy willow. ‘The evenings are drawing out, so when your young men come calling you’ll be able to take them on country walks instead of sitting in stuffy cinemas and dance halls.’

‘We don’t have a regular young man, either of us, do we, Maggie?’ Nell said at once. ‘I know Bryn and Hywel often call for us, but that’s because they’ve got transport.’

‘Transport! Some chance!’ Maggie scoffed. They were in the kitchen, arranging their booty in Auntie Kath’s big green glass vase, and now Maggie stood back to admire their work. ‘Ain’t that just glorious? Oh, I know what you mean by transport; Bryn and Hywel share a motorbike and sometimes have the lend of that old banger they call a car, but if you ask me they’d call for young Nell here if they had to carry her on their backs!’ She sniffed. ‘Why should you have two fellers after you, queen, when I don’t have none? You’re younger than me an’ all.’

‘They’re pals, that’s all,’ Nell said. She turned to her aunt. ‘Shall I take these through to the parlour, stand them on the windowsill in there? Only it’s a bit hot in here for the catkins; they’ll drop that yellow powdery stuff all over the show and you won’t like that.’

Auntie Kath smiled. ‘Good idea. I don’t believe I’ve told you the good news, though. Eifion’s coming back to work tomorrow.’

‘Gosh, he must be really better,’ Nell said, a smile spreading across her face. ‘I’m so glad for him; he’s had a miserable winter. Oh, Auntie, if he’s coming back is there any chance of me having a day off next week? Only Hywel’s been on a course – something to do with aircraft engines – and he’s got at least one day off coming to him.’ She looked hopefully at her aunt. ‘You know he’s promised to take me over to the Swtan and introduce me to Toddy. He says that if it’s a fine day we’ll go out in the
Maud
– that’s the name of the boat in the bay – and see if we can bag ourselves a crab, or even a lobster. He says Toddy will lend us one of his pots. Or we might just throw out a line and see what we can catch.’

‘What a pity I can’t spare the pair of you on the same day,’ Kath said with what sounded like genuine regret. ‘But though most of the ewes have lambed, I still need someone to check up on them.’ She turned and smiled at the land girl. ‘Perhaps they can take you another time, Maggie.’