Finders and Keepers (38 page)

‘The wool market's being held in Pontardawe tomorrow and the merchants have come to buy fleeces. I'm serving my best dinner: choice roast Welsh beef, peas, carrots, roast and boiled potatoes, with apple tart and clotted cream to follow. But you'll have to wait until the second sitting for yours. We would have kept you a seat at the first if I'd known what time you'd be here,' she admonished.

‘That's all right, Mrs Edwards,' Toby said cheerfully. ‘The second sitting will give us more drinking time.'

‘After washing and changing.' Harry looked around when Toby carried his things upstairs. ‘Are there any wool merchants here now, Mrs Edwards?'

‘We've four staying the night.'

‘Could you introduce me to one of them, please?'

‘A wool trader, Mr Evans?' She eyed him suspiciously.

‘Yes, please.' Harry had an idea. He wasn't sure if it was feasible, but if it was, it would result in the Ellises having some money to put into their pockets and solve just one of their many problems.

‘How many fleeces did you say they had?' Mr Hawthorne, the wizened, overdressed wool merchant to whom Mrs Edwards had introduced Harry, enquired in a high-pitched, squeaky voice.

Harry did a rough calculation. He and David had made six trips from the pen to the farm and the first time he had loaded the back of the car he had counted twenty fleeces. ‘About a hundred and twenty, give or take.'

‘Tell me again why they can't bring them down to market?'

Harry picked up the man's glass as well as his own, and held them up to Alf, who nodded as he served customers at the bar. ‘They had to shoot their only horse the day before yesterday because it had gangrene. They are living hand to mouth and can't afford to hire another, not even for a day.'

‘Times are hard. Very hard.' The man took the brandy Alf set in front of him and sipped it through his teeth. ‘But I won't buy fleeces unseen.'

‘I am not expecting you to. I could drive you up there now, so you can check the quality.'

‘Seeing them is no good. If I wanted to buy them I'd have all the problem of transporting them to the station.'

‘Supposing I paid a carter to take them,' Harry offered.

‘Why would you do that?'

‘Because I know the family and I'd like to help them, but they are very proud. They wouldn't allow me to pay a carter. But if you bought the fleeces, they'd have to go along with any arrangements you made to shift them. Please, Mr Hawthorne,' Harry pleaded, ‘they're little more than children.'

‘I won't go on any wild-goose chases,' Mr Hawthorne countered. ‘And I won't pay for any carting.'

‘I've already told you that I will. But you have to swear you won't tell them that I'm footing the bill.'

‘All right, I'll look at them.' The merchant pushed his empty glass towards Harry. ‘But you'll have to arrange a carter first, in case I like what I see.'

‘If you don't, I'll have to pay him a cancellation fee,' Harry protested.

‘And if I do, and you can't arrange for carting, I will have wasted my time to no purpose.'

Hoping that Alf knew a friendly carter, Harry took Mr Hawthorne's glass. ‘The barman's so busy I'll take these up myself. Brandy, wasn't it?'

‘Double,' the wool merchant replied unsmilingly.

Mr Hawthorne left Harry to park the car when they returned to the inn and, having dined at Mrs Edwards's ‘first sitting', he made a beeline for the bar. Harry secured the doors on the barn, washed his hands in the scullery and went into the dining room where Toby was sitting alone, toying with a bowl of apple pie and clotted cream.

‘The wanderer – or is it merchant? – returns,' Toby commented.

Before Harry could think of a suitable retort, Mrs Edwards bustled past him.

‘I put fresh gravy on your dinner, Mr Evans, because it dried in the oven but that's hardly surprising. It
is
nine o'clock.'

‘Thank you, Mrs Edwards.' Harry sat down, reached for the salt and sprinkled it over the potatoes and peas. She was right; his dinner was dry, but he could hardly complain.

‘So, you persist in getting more and more involved with the Ellises.' Toby pushed aside the dessert he'd hardly touched, and reached for his whisky chaser.

‘I happened to meet a wool merchant.' Harry cut into his beef.

‘Happened?' Toby enquired sceptically.

‘All right, I asked Mrs Edwards to introduce me to one,' he conceded between mouthfuls of charred beef and powdery, crunchy potato that had been mashed and creamy an hour before.

‘And then asked Alf to introduce you to a carter.' Toby sat back in his chair. ‘Word's out, Harry. How long do you think it will be before the Ellises find out what you're up to? I've already heard one of the farmers say that Mary Ellis has done well to catch the eye of a toff who can afford to pay her bills.'

‘What farmer?' Harry spoke quietly but there was an undercurrent of anger in his question.

‘Does it matter? You can't stop people from thinking what they want.'

‘I can, if it's damned lies!'

‘Harry, even I'm beginning to wonder what attraction the Ellises hold for you. At first I accepted that you felt guilty about knocking Martha down, but now?' Toby shrugged.

‘I feel sorry for them.'

‘Pity is the worst of all emotions, especially if you're on the receiving end,' he pronounced with all the bitterness of someone who'd experienced bereavement early in life. ‘And although we haven't known one another that long, I'd prefer to think that you're not the type who needs to dole out largesse to the underprivileged to feel good.'

‘Is that what people are saying?'

‘The ones who aren't assuming the worst about you and Mary Ellis, yes.'

Harry dropped his knife and fork on top of his blackened roast potatoes. ‘The last thing I want to do is destroy her reputation.'

‘I believe you, but not many would around here.' Toby finished his whisky and picked up his beer glass. ‘So, was it worth ruining your dinner?'

‘Pardon?' Harry picked up his fork again and poked at a slice of beef that had been baked as solid as shoe leather.

‘Did you manage to sell the Ellises' fleeces?'

‘Hopefully, if everything goes according to plan, David Ellis has sold their fleeces,' Harry corrected. ‘Alf introduced me to a carter who's fully booked for market day, but he offered to pick up and take the fleeces to the railway station first thing on Thursday morning for three pounds, which I think is fair because it includes wages for himself and a helper.'

‘And which you agreed to pay?'

Realizing a denial was futile, Harry said, ‘I gave the wool merchant three pounds to settle his bill. Mr Hawthorne told me that he has agreed to buy the fleeces at a price that suits him and the Ellises.'

‘You didn't do the negotiating?'

‘I stayed in the car while Mr Hawthorne went into the farmhouse. David Ellis might be young but he knows the value of his goods. I can't see him being rooked.'

‘So everything has gone exactly as you wanted it to.'

‘No, it hasn't,' Harry snapped, ‘because it appears that the entire valley knows what I've done. And I had hoped to keep my part in it quiet.'

‘You're involved with the Ellises up to your neck, Harry.' Toby shook his head disapprovingly. ‘And tomorrow you're going to drive David to Pontardawe so they can deliver their dairy produce to the Colonial Stores.'

‘How did -'

‘Matthew told me. He spent the afternoon watching me paint the lake while you played carpenter in the farmyard.'

‘I offered to take the Ellises' produce and poultry down to Pontardawe because they have no other way of getting their goods to market,' Harry said pointedly.

‘And when you and your car are no longer here? How do you expect them to transport their produce then?'

‘I don't know.' Harry was honest enough to accept that part of his anger was rooted in the knowledge that Toby was right. Not only in questioning his motives for helping the Ellises, but also the effect his help would have on the family long-term. ‘All I know is that I am here, able and willing to help them now,' he muttered defensively.

‘I wish you could see that you're not doing them any real favours, Harry.'

‘You think I should ignore them, as you do?'

‘I think you shouldn't start something you can't finish.'

‘Perhaps I will.'

‘How – by marrying Mary Ellis?' Toby parried Harry's glare. ‘She is extremely attractive beneath the farmyard grime and rags. Or haven't you noticed?'

‘I'm surprised you haven't asked her to model for you,' Harry said evasively.

‘I've thought of it, but if she doesn't do a week's worth of work every day on that farm, those children will starve. And it's no good me offering to pay someone to take over because there's no one else within walking distance able to do her chores for her.' He hunched over the table. ‘Believe it or not, I truly hope that your good deeds don't end the way mine did – in tragedy. But I'm beginning to think that's a very slim hope.'

There was sincerity and sadness in Toby's assertion, and Harry had never been able to remain angry with anyone for long without good reason. ‘When are you going to tell me that story?'

‘Never, because it's not the sort of story a man tells his future brother-in-law, but mark my words, what you're doing can only end in disaster.'

Toby's warning came back to haunt Harry the following morning when he and David were unloading Mary's butter, cheeses, eggs and trussed poultry from his car. He could feel the eyes of all the people queuing at the counter of the Colonial Stores boring into his back as he ferried the loads to the stockroom behind the shop. Uneasy, sensing trouble waiting to happen, he was carrying in his third and most fragile load, twelve dozen eggs, when a woman's voice rose above the general chatter.

‘He's paying to stay at the inn with the Edwardses and that says something, the prices they charge, but he spends most of his time up at the Ellis Estate. And there are no prizes for guessing what Mary Ellis has to give a toff like him, with a car, to do her running around for her.'

Harry stopped and glared at the woman who had set the entire queue cackling. She was middle-aged, fat and slovenly, dressed in a grease- and coal-stained work overall, rolled-down stockings and hairnet, unlike her neighbours, who'd donned hats, coats and gloves to do their shopping in the town.

‘Would you care to repeat that?' He was acutely aware of the silence that had fallen over the shop.

‘I'd rather hear why you're happy to do Mary Ellis's fetching and carrying. I like a dirty story.'

David tapped her on the shoulder. She turned, and he squared up to her. ‘That's my sister you're talking about.'

‘And if I am?' For all her show of bravado, Harry detected a tremor in her voice.

‘David, I'm sure this …' Harry searched for a word other than ‘lady' that wasn't derogatory, ‘person is aware of the laws of slander.' He set the boxes of eggs he was holding on the counter and removed the notebook and pencil he kept in the top pocket of his shirt. ‘If you give me your name and address, my solicitor will be in touch and we will see you in court.'

‘It's Mrs Reece Jones.' The assistant closest to them, opened the account ledger and leaned across the counter. ‘I can give you her address, if you like, Mr Evans.'

‘Please.'

‘There's no need for that.' Flustered, Mrs Reece Jones turned scarlet.

‘I think there is,' Harry said, and this time he noticed the woman had difficulty meeting his eye.

‘I believe that Mrs Reece Jones is very sorry for what she said and would like to apologize to you, Mr Evans, sir. And Miss Ellis and young Master Ellis. Wouldn't you, Mrs Reece Jones?' The manager's voice was cold and hard.

‘I -'

‘Would like to apologize for spreading malicious and untrue gossip about Miss Ellis and Mr Evans.'

The woman mumbled an approximation of what the manager had said.

‘You can't say what you did about my sister, then just add “sorry,” and expect her and me and Mr Evans to carry on as if nothing happened.' David dumped the butter he was carrying next to the eggs.

‘What do you suggest, David?' The manager walked out from behind the counter.

‘If she pays for what she said, perhaps she'll think twice before she spreads any more filthy lies.'

‘Who do you think she should pay, David?' the manager asked cautiously.

Given the way David had tried to blackmail him when they had first met, Harry expected David to make a ridiculous demand.

‘She should put half a crown into your League of Pity collecting box.' David pointed to the blue, egg-shaped box on the counter.

The women in the queue nodded collective assent. If David had asked for money for himself there would have been an outcry, but charity was different and the League of Pity held children's parties that benefited almost every family in the valley.

‘Half a crown! I can't afford half a crown!' Mrs Reece Jones exclaimed. ‘I'm a widow -'

‘Who should have thought before she spoke,' Harry said flatly.

‘You can afford threepence a week, Mrs Reece Jones.' The manager picked up the box and held it in front of her. ‘Ten weeks and you will have paid your fine. In fact, that is such a good idea of David Ellis's I think I'll make it shop policy to fine anyone who spreads unsubstantiated gossip about any innocent party in this store from now on.' He turned to Harry. ‘Mr Evans, if you'll be good enough to carry those eggs into the storeroom, I'll get the boy to take them from you.'

Harry left David haggling prices with the manager and went in search of Matthew. The boy had pleaded to be allowed to look around the town as soon as they'd arrived, and Harry found him staring wistfully into the window of a sweet shop.