Living in the Shadows (40 page)

Richard grinned. ‘Perhaps she’ll make him into a nice chap yet.’

‘Don’t hold your breath.’ Linda glanced towards the church. Victoria was sitting alone on the seat by the porch. ‘She’s quiet.’

‘Yeah.’ There was an edge to his voice.

‘She’s learned her lesson, Richard.’

‘Has she? I wonder.’

‘She talked to me last night…’ Linda remembered the increasing horror and sympathy she’d felt as she listened. ‘The lad who got her involved with that group … she called him Seth, but she said they were supposed to call him Master, he— ’

‘Call him what?’ Richard caught hold of her arm, turned her towards him so he could see what she’d said.

‘Master. They had to call him Master.’

‘Huh.’

‘When he got fed up with her he gave her to an older Irish bloke. The bloke forced himself on her. Like I said, she’s learned her lesson.’

‘Bastards.’ Richard closed his eyes but not before Linda saw the rage in them. ‘I’ve a good mind to—’

‘To what? You’ve never believed in violence, so don’t start now. Anyway, they won’t be there; Jackie says the Council and the police are moving them this week.’

‘Is Vicky going to report them?’

‘She says not. She says she just wants to forget it all. But I persuaded her to tell Jackie. She’s had a hard time forgiving your sister. She blames Vicky for what happened.’ She looked back at Peter’s grave beyond which three Council workers waited trying to look inconspicuous.

Richard followed her gaze. ‘I know. I do a bit, too,’ he said.

‘I thought if Jackie knew what Victoria’s been through she might not be so hard on her.’ Linda sighed. ‘Perhaps you should talk to your sister as well, Richard. Time to forgive and forget? If your mum can do it…’

‘I suppose you’re right, Lin.’

‘Good.’

A sharp breeze scuttled leaves around their feet and over the graves. A few caught in the flowers on Tom’s grave.

Linda bent down to clear them away. She shook them from her fingers and looked up at him.

‘What will you do now, by the way?’

‘How?’

‘Your place at university?’

He thought for a moment. ‘Mum says I should carry on in Manchester.’

‘Will you?’

‘If she’s okay. I don’t like the thought of her being down here on her own. We’ll see.’

‘What about Karen?’

‘She wants to be near her mum now Shuttleworth’s gone.’ Richard looked directly at Linda. ‘But she won’t go back to that house; she’s got a flat in Manchester. We’d be okay if I stay here. I could go to see her sometimes.’

Linda straightened up. The road outside the church was empty now. ‘We should go and rescue Karen, she’s looking a bit overwhelmed.’

‘Alun and Alwyn are smashing chaps, but they can go on,’ Richard said. ‘Well, Alun anyway.’

‘And we should ask Vicky if she’s going to come back to the house with us.’

‘Yeah.’

They wandered down the path towards Karen and the men.

‘Alun, Alwyn.’ Richard shook hands with each of them.

The brothers pulled at the cuffs of their black jackets, shiny with age, and straightened matching black ties.

‘We’ve been telling your, er, friend, what a fine man your da was, haven’t we, Alwyn?’ Alwyn nodded, rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles. ‘And what a good friend he’s been to us. Anything we can do for your mam, we will. We mean that, don’t we Alwyn?’

‘Aye.’

‘Anything at all.’ Alun looked earnestly at Richard. ‘You’ll never have to worry about her when you’re not here,
dyn ni’n addo hyn i chi.’

‘Promise,’ Alwyn repeated.

‘We’d better be going now.’ Alun shook hands with the three of them and nodded towards Victoria

‘Are you going to the pub?’ Richard asked.

‘No. We nearly always met with your da for a pint on Fridays. Somehow it don’t feel right to be there without him today. We’ll miss him.’

‘Aye, we’ll miss him.’

They watched the two men amble away.

‘They’ve been friends with Dad since he came to Llamroth,’ Richard said. ‘They will miss him.’

We all will, Linda thought, he’s left a big hole in all our lives. ‘Come on,’ she said, holding out her hand to Victoria, ‘Let’s go.’

Chapter 89: Linda Booth & Mary Schormann

Llamroth: Monday, November 10th

‘It was a lovely service.’ Linda took hold of Mary’s hand. ‘So many people.’

They sat on the low wall overlooking the sea, watching the creamy foam at the edge of the waves, smaller now at low tide.

Gelert ran along the beach, barking and chasing seagulls, which flew effortlessly into the air before he got within yards of him.

‘Yes.’ The tears dripped off Mary’s chin. ‘Mr Willingham retired years ago. It was kind of him to agree to take the service. He married Peter and me, you know.’ Mary was trying hard to keep control. ‘Even though Peter was divorced.’

‘Was he? Divorced, I mean,’ Linda said. ‘I didn’t know that.’ So much she hadn’t known about her family.

‘Oh, yes. Before the war he married in Germany.’ Mary glanced at Linda with watery eyes. ‘It was over almost before it began. She left him for another man while he was a POW. I never questioned him about it. He said he never knew what love was until he met me.’

Linda didn’t know what to say.

There was a small ladder in her tights just above her knee. She covered it with her other hand. She would have liked to have taken off the black suit she’d bought for today, but didn’t want to upset her aunt. She didn’t like black. She would have to wear it again next week, for Gran’s funeral. Then she would throw it away. She’d had enough of black to last a lifetime.

‘Are you okay with Richard going back to Manchester?’

‘Yes it’s what he wants … probably what he needs. And, who knows, he might come back to work at Pont-y-Haven one day.’

A gust of wind lifted a line of sand off the beach, swept it across in light, grainy threads.

Mary shivered.

‘We should go back to the cottage.’ Linda made to stand, calling to the dog.

‘No, I can’t. I can’t face everybody there.’ Mary pulled her back to sit on to the wall.

‘You’re cold.’

‘I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again.’

Linda let go of Mary’s hand and wrapped her arm around her, pulling her closer. ‘It will be all right.’

‘When?’ There was almost anger in the older woman’s voice. ‘When, Linda?’

‘I don’t know…’

A group of shearwater strutted around the rocks, pecking. Linda watched their busyness.

‘Will you—?’ Linda stopped.

‘What?’

‘Are you thinking of going back to Ashford, Auntie Mary?’

‘Going back?’ Mary looked astonished. ‘Why on earth would I want to go back? Peter’s here … and Tom, my mother, Gwyneth. Iori.’ She repeated the question as though she was asking herself. ‘Why would I want to go back?
There
.’

‘So what will you do?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

Then they both spoke at the same time.

‘I don’t suppose—’

‘I was wondering if—’

‘You first,’ Linda said.

‘No, I interrupted you.’

‘I was wondering if…’ Linda didn’t look at Mary; she kept her eyes on the horizon where the clear divide on sea and sky was a bright silvery light. ‘I have to think of my … our future.’ She touched her stomach; the small life inside her was already moulding her own life. ‘It’s early days, I know, but I need to look forward. I’ve spent so much time lately looking back into the past. I wondered what you might think about me moving down here, Auntie Mary?’

‘I was going to ask if that’s what you’d consider doing. Just until the baby … you know?’ Mary scrubbed at her cheeks, wiping away the last of the tears with her handkerchief.

‘I was thinking on a more permanent basis… if you didn’t mind?’

Linda saw a glimmer of hope in Mary’s eyes and closed her own in relief; it was going to be all right.

‘With us?’ Mary tilted her head towards Victoria, who was walking along the shoreline kicking at the sand.

‘Yes.’ Linda knew, even if her aunt didn’t realise it yet, that Vicky wouldn’t stay long in the village. She’d confided in Linda that Llamroth stifled her, and in the post yesterday Linda had seen an envelope with the logo of an art college in London stamped on it.

‘I’d love it, Linda.’ Mary hugged her. ‘And, if we’re going to be living in the same house, I think you should start calling me Mary.’ She looked along the beach for Gelert. He was racing towards a man walking the shoreline. For one heart-stopping moment she thought it was Peter.

Mary looked beyond him. The weak low sun cast a pale light across the sea, emphasising the swirls and shadows of the underwater currents.

Epilogue: Linda Booth

Linda can hear Gelert softly whining.

‘You want to go out, boy?’ she whispers, opening the back door. Stepping outside, she closes it behind her to keep the night air from rushing into the house.

She tries to wrap her dressing-gown around her. Nowadays it won’t fasten. She places her palms over the mound of her stomach. The baby has been a little quiet for the last few days: not long now. And spring is on the way. She feels a thrill of excitement.

Sometimes she worries what he or she will face without a father on the scene. A wave of protectiveness washes over her. It will be all right. She supposes the apprehension must be similar to what Mary and Peter went through with the twins, so soon after the war. And, just like Richard and Victoria, her baby would be okay. She’d make sure of that.

Looking back, the cottage is in darkness.

Mary is asleep; lately she’s been sleeping a little better, crying less in her sleep. But there’s no doubt in Linda’s mind that Mary will always miss Peter.

She walks along the garden path, looking towards the village; the whole of Llamroth is a muted pattern of shadows in the low light of the crescent moon.

The dog is snuffling and whining around the hedge at the top of the garden. Linda hopes he hasn’t found the hedgehog she saw venturing out from the field last evening. She tiptoes towards him, but before she’s even passed the greenhouse Gelert trots toward her and sits by her side.

Resting her hand on his head she gazes upwards, trying to identify the constellation of flickering stars against the blackness.

Clouds move across the sky, first leaving only a thin white streak of light around the edges and then covering the moon completely.

The dog pads away to the house.

Linda is alone in the darkness of the night. But she isn’t afraid.

Also by Judith Barrow

Pattern of Shadows

Mary is a nursing sister at a Lancashire prison camp for the housing and treatment of German POWs. Life at work is difficult but fulfilling; life at home a constant round of arguments. The only light on her horizon is a friendship with one of the German doctors. Then Frank – a guard at the camp – turns up at the house one night and won’t leave until she agrees to walk out with him. Now, not only Mary’s happiness but her very life is threatened by the most dangerous of wartime secrets…

‘
Judith Barrow has not written an ordinary romance but a book that deals with important issues which are still relevant today … an excellent debut novel and one I thoroughly enjoyed reading.
’

Fenella Miller,
Historical Novels Review

‘
Barrow beautifully evokes those raw and edgy days with this well-paced, gritty love story
’

Steve Dube,
Western Mail

Changing Patterns

In May 1950, Britain is struggling with the hardships of rationing and the aftermath of the Second World War. Although the war is over, Mary still has to keep the fact that Peter was a German ex-POW quiet. Her sister Ellen and best friend Jean expect Mary to fix their troubles, too. When tragedy strikes, Mary hopes it will unite her siblings, but it is only when a child disappears that the whole family pulls together to save one of their own from a common enemy.

Welsh Books Council Book of the Month
for June 2013

‘
…an excellent read which has been well researched, and the author obviously has a love for this period. It is well paced and grips its reader from the first few pages’