The Lost Days of Summer (9 page)

‘If he was a thief . . . oh, what’s the point of arguing?’ Nell said dismissively. ‘I’ve said I’m sorry and now I’m sick of the whole subject. Let’s go and meet Auntie Kath, because if we’re late . . .’

She left the sentence unfinished but it galvanised the pair of them into action and they sprinted for the Bull and the hot meal which Kath had promised them. Nell, hurtling in Bryn’s wake, knew her aunt well enough by now to realise that punctuality was almost as important to her as godliness. ‘Wait for me, Bryn, and don’t you mention that I was followed – all right, all right, don’t mention that I thought I was followed, then. Just remember that if we’re not back at the Bull in the next five minutes we’ll be in big trouble.’

‘Aye, you’re right there; your aunt is always on time herself, so we’d best get a move on,’ Bryn agreed.

They reached the inn yard just moments ahead of Auntie Kath, who was also laden with parcels and packages, though when Nell offered to give her a hand she was told severely that her aunt could manage perfectly well, thanks very much.

‘We’ll go into the bar parlour and have a hot meal, then get off home,’ she said. ‘I know you’re spending Christmas Day and Boxing Day with your family in Newry Street, Bryn, so I thought we’d have a bit of a do tomorrow, to exchange our presents before you leave. Is that in order?’

Bryn said it was and Nell, who had not realised her friend would not be spending Christmas at Ty Hen, was a little dismayed and knew she would miss him sadly. However, she did not intend to give him the satisfaction of saying so and merely agreed with her aunt that she would pack up her presents in good time.

‘I’ve got some little things – brooches, actually – to send by post, so I’ll write out the envelopes whilst we have our food,’ she said. ‘They’re for Mam and Auntie Lou, and though I don’t suppose they’ll receive them until after the holiday, I’d like to get them off today.’

‘Good,’ Auntie Kath said absently. ‘I’ll put a line in your envelope, just saying you’re doing well enough and – and wishing Trixie and Lou the compliments of the season.’

Nell’s mouth dropped open but she hastily shut it when her aunt turned in her direction. Fancy Auntie Kath actually volunteering to correspond with her younger sisters! But by now they had reached the bar parlour and the elderly waiter was coming towards them, pad in hand.

‘Steak and kidney pudding do you?’ her aunt asked. ‘Same for you, Bryn? Then that’s three steak and kidneys and we’ll order our dessert later on.’

The meal was excellent, and, putting their argument behind them, Nell and Bryn kept up a constant flow of chatter. Auntie Kath put in an occasional word, and when the meal was over they returned to the pony trap, all pleased with their day. ‘If it’s the war which got all my goods sold, then I suppose I should be thanking Herr Hitler,’ Auntie Kath said as she drove the pony out of the inn yard. ‘Every pat of butter, every piece of shortbread went . . . I’ve made a tidy sum today.’ She smiled at Nell. ‘We’re going to have a good Christmas!’

Nell woke on Christmas morning knowing that this would be a very different day from those she had enjoyed in the past. At home all the aunts, uncles and cousins gathered at one or other of the larger houses, often at the Whitakers’, since their old corner house had a large kitchen and an even larger parlour, quite big enough to hold the whole family, if one was not fussy about sitting on the floor on cushions, or sharing chairs.

Everyone contributed to the Christmas dinner and from an early hour the chosen kitchen buzzed with aunts and older cousins. First they made a huge cooked breakfast, and when those dishes had been cleared away they began preparations for their Christmas dinner, which was usually eaten at around five in the evening. Each aunt would undertake to roast potatoes, prepare sprouts, leeks or carrots, or make bread sauce, to say nothing of a gallon of gravy; Trixie and Lou cooked the birds – the family usually consumed four large capons – and the other aunts, having helped with the breakfast, went back to their own homes and returned later, staggering under the weight of the pans and dishes which contained their contributions to the feast.

Whilst all this activity was going on the children played various games, and it was only after the last morsel of Christmas pudding had been joyfully dispatched that presents were exchanged. No one spent a great deal of money on the gifts they gave, but Nell appreciated that a lot of thought went into their choice.

She had never been disappointed when she unwrapped her own presents and now, sitting up in her bed and contemplating the day ahead, she told herself that if she were lonely and miserable it would be her own fault. She had meant to suggest to Auntie Kath that they might both go back to Liverpool for the festivities, but as they had driven back to the farm after their trip to Llangefni Auntie Kath had said casually that her niece would be meeting some strangers on Christmas Day. ‘I always invite Mr Bellis and Mr Waters; they’re both in their eighties and used to work for us in years gone by,’ she had explained The old men were widowers, eking out a precarious living in two tiny cottages, and did odd jobs from time to time to make ends meet. During lambing they came up to the farm to help out, and then Auntie Kath paid them and gave them all their meals. ‘But Owain always insisted that we should invite them for Christmas Day,’ she finished.

Hearing this, Nell had abruptly changed her mind. In her heart, she had known that it would not be a good idea to try to prise her aunt away from Ty Hen until she knew her a good deal better. Furthermore, now that she knew about the elderly farmhands, she could scarcely suggest that her aunt should accompany her, leaving her invited guests to fend for themselves. Nor could she abandon Auntie Kath to a couple of ancient farm workers and go off to relatives who would probably simply regard her as another mouth to feed. No, she would have to make the best of Christmas at the farm, so, telling herself that the festivities in Liverpool would not be the same with Trixie and Lou both missing, she had decided to do her very best to make this particular Christmas a special one for her aunt.

Now, Nell flipped the curtain back, made a porthole on the icy pane with her breath, and peered out. She could see the yard from her window, though day had not yet dawned properly, and for a moment she contemplated snuggling under her covers once more. When she had complained to Auntie Kath that sometimes she could not sleep for the cold her aunt had fetched extra blankets from somewhere, and now Nell was as snug as a dormouse in its nest and always got up reluctantly. She was about to lie down again when she changed her mind. She would get up as usual, help her aunt to get breakfast – for there were cows to be milked and Eifion would expect a cooked meal as he did every day – and then accompany her to early service. Auntie Kath had told her she always attended early service on Christmas Day as well as midnight communion, and though she had not precisely ordered her niece to follow suit, Nell had gone to the midnight service and had loved it, and felt sure she would enjoy the early service as well, for the church was decked with greenery and such flowers as had withstood the fierce frosts, and everyone was cheerful and jolly. Indeed, the previous evening was the first time that Nell had felt at home, a part of the community, instead of an outsider.

So now she jumped out of bed, flew across the icy floor to the washstand, and began to prepare for the day ahead.

When she climbed the stairs again at the end of the day, Nell realised that though it had indeed been the quietest Christmas she had ever known, she had still enjoyed it. The food had been even better than what her aunts and cousins would have enjoyed, she told herself as she undressed. They had had a turkey – she had never even tasted turkey before – and delights such as roasted parsnips and a dish called ponch mipe, which was swede, carrot, butter and a great deal of black pepper, vigorously mashed until you could not tell one vegetable from the other. Nell knew her aunt had been busy baking for days, and today she had sampled mince pies, the mincemeat soaked in brandy, the pastry enriched with butter and egg yolk. The Christmas cake had not been iced – icing sugar had been banned, and it was one thing Auntie Kath did not keep in her pantry as a matter of course – but it had been rich with fruit, once more soaked in brandy.

Nell, no backslider when it came to eating, had opened her eyes at the amounts the old men had put away. She had whispered as much to her aunt, who had said it was a well-known fact that all Anglesey men had hollow legs. ‘You should have met young Adam, one of the farm workers,’ she had confided. Aloud, she said: ‘Eat for Wales he could! Why, I doubt even the army can cope with the lad’s appetite. Someone told me that on Christmas the officers serve the other ranks, and a good deal of food will get chucked around.’ She had chuckled. ‘If Adam chucks any food, down his perishin’ throat it will go.’

Mr Bellis, who had been listening, had given Nell a tolerant smile. ‘Hard work it is, farming, so we need plenty of good food,’ he had observed. ‘How does it suit you, missy?’

Nell had stared, suddenly aware that despite the cold and the long hours she was beginning to enjoy it. Surely it was better to help a ewe to give birth to her lamb than to work on a factory bench making munitions; better working to encourage life than to end it. But Mr Bellis had been gazing at her, one grizzled eyebrow raised, so Nell had hurried into speech. ‘I hated it at first, hated the cold and the dirt and the hard work,’ she had told the old man. ‘There are still lots of things I don’t like, but I’m beginning to see that there are nastier ways of doing one’s bit for the war effort. I really love the animals, and the sheepdogs are a bleedin’ miracle . . .’

Mr Bellis had tutted and Nell, who had temporarily forgotten where she was, had apologised at once. ‘Sorry. I do know how folk hereabouts feel about bad language, especially my aunt,’ she had admitted. ‘I forgot myself, I suppose, it being Christmas.’

Mr Bellis had glanced quickly round the table, and had then addressed Nell in a whisper. ‘You’ll grow accustomed, lass. Just you think before you speak, and you’ll soon learn our ways. But it don’t do to offend folk.’

Nell had agreed to take his advice and now, curling up in her dormouse nest, she reflected that it had been a far nicer Christmas than she had anticipated. She had missed Bryn, of course, for despite their quarrel he was still her only true friend on the island, but nevertheless she had had a lovely day. Her aunt had accepted the fudge, flushing with pleasure, although she must have known it had been bought with the money she had given her niece as a Christmas box. Then she had handed over a small parcel which proved to contain a dear little brooch, similar to the ones Nell had bought for Trixie and Lou, save that this one was primroses, not pansies.

Over steak and kidney pudding at the Bull Hotel, she had informed her niece that she had taken the liberty of buying a few small presents for Nell to pass on to their guests. Nell had already followed Bryn’s example and bought pipe tobacco for Eifion, and her aunt had bought the same for the ancient farmhands, knowing that Nell had never met them and might buy something altogether unsuitable. Nell had not imagined that the two old men would buy her anything, however, and had been thrilled when they had given her a small diary.

‘Me daughter-in-law give it me to give to you; I paid her for it, of course, sharing the price wi’ me pal here,’ Mr Bellis had said bashfully. ‘We thought it might be useful for you to jot down important events and that.’ He had grinned shyly. ‘There’s a little pencil what goes with it and me daughter-in-law says the binding’s real leather.’

Nell had thanked the old men from the heart and said she would start writing in it as soon as the New Year arrived. By then she hoped that Bryn would be back, for they had planned expeditions to various places which he wanted her to see. Undoubtedly, they would visit the market again and perhaps go to one of the cinemas in the town.

Thinking of Llangefni made her remember the stranger’s odd behaviour, popping up whenever she looked round. With hindsight, she was beginning to believe that he had not been spying on her at Bryn’s request. She knew her friend well enough to know he was no liar and in fact on Christmas Eve, before going off to Holyhead, he had given her a small parcel containing a wristwatch which, he told her drily, he had most certainly not bought on the market.

Nell had felt rather guilty, for the watch must have cost considerably more than the clasp knife, and she determined to be extra nice to Bryn when he returned after his holiday.

But a week later, when Auntie Kath was commenting that it was about time Bryn came back to them, they heard bad news: Bryn had gone to a party given by an old school friend and had developed measles. ‘He won’t be back until his quarantine is up,’ Auntie Kath told her niece, for Eifion’s explanation, in Welsh, was a little too much for Nell to understand. ‘A shame it is, but we know he’ll be off anyway as soon as the
Scotia
has a berth for him, so we might as well get used to doing without him.’

Nell, agreeing rather dolefully, wrote him a letter apologising for calling him a liar over what she referred to as ‘the Llangefni market affair’, and thanked him all over again for her lovely wristwatch. Then she settled down to do twice as much work as the snow started to fall and the gales to blow.

‘It looks like being a hard winter,’ Auntie Kath told her niece. ‘But at least it’s good news for the air force, according to what I’ve heard. Bad weather will keep the Luftwaffe grounded; give us a breathing space. And Bryn will be back with us as soon as he’s well enough, you mark my words. He needs to earn a bit of money until they find him a berth.’

Exactly two weeks after Christmas Day, the first spots appeared. Nell was woken as usual by the alarm and swung her feet out of bed to pad over to the washstand, or start to do so at any rate. Halfway there she stumbled, swayed and fell to the floor, realising suddenly that she felt very odd indeed, not at all like her usual self.

Groggily, she got to her feet, reached the washstand and saw her reflection in the mirror. She was as red as a tomato, and realised suddenly that she was shivering with cold, despite feeling hot – very hot. She continued to peer for a moment, puzzled. Why had she fallen over? She had thought she must have tripped on the edge of the rug, but now she was not so sure. The rug lay flat on the boards, and would not have been on the path she habitually took from bed to washstand in any case. After a moment she gave up the puzzle, shrugged, and heaved her nightgown over her head – then gasped. In the small mirror she saw that her chest and neck were covered with a fine web of small red spots . . . and now that she could see them, as if they had just been awaiting their opportunity, they began to itch.