The Emerald Valley (77 page)

‘Not at all,' Amy interposed.

‘I admire her tremendously. Had I been able, I suppose I would have liked to do what she did. As it is … well, I think myself fortunate to have the time to study the things that interest me – and Mrs Milsom to play a rubber of bridge or whist for relaxation. I'm also very lucky to have a brother like Ralph.'

Amy said nothing. Miss Porter's hands moved slightly in her lap and she noticed that the skin was almost transparent over the blue ridges of her veins.

‘Now we have the introductions out of the way, let us talk. You came to see Ralph this morning.' There was no inflection in her voice, but Amy knew it was a question.

‘Yes.'

‘Because of what happened last night?'

‘Yes. My son …' (How easily those words slipped off her tongue!) ‘My son was one of those responsible and I wanted him to apologise.'

‘I'm sure Ralph will accept his apology.'

‘Yes, but …' Amy hesitated. Unaccountably she was beginning to feel this woman might be an ally. ‘I was hoping to talk to him as well. You see, I am extremely worried as to what the outcome of all this is likely to be. I might as well put my cards on the table, Miss Porter …'

‘Flora,' Ralph's sister interposed. ‘We can use first names, can't we? I really feel I know you as Amy.'

‘Yes, of course.' Amy paused for a moment and then went on, ‘The fact of the matter is, I am afraid that if this comes to court Huw might be taken away from me.'

Seeing the other woman's look of surprise, she realised that however much Flora Porter might think she knew about Amy, this was one area about which she was definitely in the dark.

‘I said just now that Huw is my son,' she said quietly. ‘That is not strictly true. In fact he's an orphan I took in five years ago now. Adoption was not possible, so I have no legal rights at all where he's concerned. Which is why I'm particularly worried that the magistrates might decide I am not capable of bringing him up …' She sat forward, her hands knotting in her lap. ‘Huw's not a bad boy; he shouldn't have been in the shed, I know, but he didn't mean any harm. It was just an adventure to him. And he did stay behind to try to put out the fire … and it very nearly cost him his life.'

A corner of Flora Porter's mouth lifted and the gesture reminded Amy of Ralph.

‘Boys will be boys, you mean?'

‘I suppose so. Oh, I don't want to make excuses for him. I realise the seriousness of what he did. I just want to say how sorry I am and try to persuade Ralph to let the matter rest there.'

‘I shall certainly tell him what you have told me, if you would like me to,' Flora Porter said. ‘I can't answer for him, of course – Ralph is a law unto himself …'

‘I'm sure he is.'

‘ … but I should be very surprised if he did anything to hurt you.'

Amy's mouth twisted into a wry smile and she stood up, about to thank Flora Porter for her time. But the other woman's eyes were holding hers and the shadows in them were tantalisingly deep, full of hidden meaning.

Amy caught her breath, waiting.

‘Yes, Ralph is ten years younger than me, so I have had plenty of opportunity to get to know him pretty well. He is a man who disguises his feelings, but as far as you are concerned …' She let her voice trail away, then stretched out a blue-veined hand towards Amy. ‘I mustn't detain you any longer. You have a great deal to do, I'm sure, and it would be selfish of me to keep you talking. But I promise you I will speak to Ralph about your anxieties. And I hope that perhaps you will come to see me again when you feel you can spare the time.'

‘Yes, of course. And thank you.'

Mrs Milsom appeared in the doorway, so perfectly on cue that Amy wondered if perhaps she had been listening. A strange companion for a woman like Flora Porter, she thought, unless of course she had other attributes besides cooking skills and a liking for a game of cards hidden beneath her flabby exterior.

As Amy followed her back along the hall, she found herself wondering just why Flora Porter had wanted to see her and what, if anything, she had been trying to tell her. That Ralph cared more for her than he ever admitted? If so, he had a strange way of showing it. And though she acknowledged she liked Flora, it occurred to Amy that a woman of her intelligence who was alone so much would almost certainly look for ways of amusing herself. Perhaps the little scene in which she had just taken part had been just that – an entertainment for a bored and lonely woman.

The morning air still smelled of smoke. It hung in the mist that was refusing to lift and Amy thought that never again would she smell it without experiencing a chill of fear, the echo of the terror she had lived through the night before.

She walked back along the drive her head bent slightly. Then suddenly she was upright, eyes crinkled into a frown, lips parting with surprise.

Her car had gone!

For a moment she stood, uncomprehending. It couldn't have gone! But the drive was empty and, when she half-ran out of the gate, so was the lane beyond.

‘Huw!' she said loudly, accusing the open air. ‘Oh Huw, what now?'

But she knew. She did not have to be a genius to work it out. Afraid of having to confront Ralph Porter, he had run again – and this time he had taken her car with him.

But he can't drive, she thought in panic. He doesn't know how! Oh, she had seen him watching when he sat beside her and often he had begged to be allowed to try out the gears and pull on the hand brake in readiness for the day when he would be old enough to take the wheel. But that was not driving.

Anxiously Amy looked up and down the lane. No sign of him. Well, it was unlikely he would have gone
up.
Negotiating the sharp turn out of the drive in that direction would have been beyond him. So he had probably gone
down.

Slipping the handle of her bag over her arm, Amy began to run. Urgency was pointless really – she knew she would never catch him – but the need for action drove her on. Then, as she rounded the bend and the T-junction of the hill with the lower lane came into view, she stopped short again, her hand flying to her mouth.

There was her car, at a crazy angle across the road. And the front wing was crumpled into the bonnet of Ralph Porter's Morgan.

In that first moment, Amy experienced an uncanny sensation of
déjà-vu.
The accident had happened not more than a few hundred yards from where she had run into the Morgan with the lorry years ago. History had repeated itself … almost. But this time the inexperienced driver was Huw – and of him, or Ralph, there was no sign.

Oh heavens, this is all I need! Amy thought in a master-piece of understatement.

The crackle of twigs on the other side of the hedge attracted her attention and she swung round to see Ralph climbing through the iron V-gate into the lane. The collar of his flying-jacket was awry, his trousers stuck with dead leaves and his face dark with anger. Instinctively she slipped her bag off her arm, clutching it to her as if it were a shield.

‘So there you are!' Ralph was breathing heavily, but this did nothing to detract from the cold anger of his tone. ‘Why can't you keep that boy of yours under control?'

‘What happened?' Amy asked foolishly.

‘What
happened?
I should think you could see what happened! He was driving your damned car and he ran into me.'

‘Where is he? Is he all right?'

‘How should I know? He was sufficiently all right to take to his heels and make a run for it. I couldn't catch him; if I had, I would have given him a taste of what he sorely needs – a damned good hiding. Just how the hell do you think you're bringing him up? As if it were not enough to cause all the trouble he did last night, now he's smashed up my car. Something will have to be done about him. And if you won't do it,
I
shall!'

Amy swallowed. Her instinctive reaction to criticism of the way she was raising Huw – indignation – was on this occasion tempered by her own anger towards the boy. If she could get her hands on him now, she'd like to do exactly as Ralph suggested – give him a hiding he would not forget in a hurry.

‘Come on, we'd better take a look at the damage, I suppose.' Ralph's fury was barely under control and as he strode down the hill towards the cars, Amy had to run to keep up with him.

‘Is there much damage? Exactly what happened?'

‘He came swinging round the corner, straight into me. Look, dammit, the head lamp's gone …'

Amy hung back, almost afraid to look. She did not want to see the damage to her own precious car, much less to Ralph's Morgan.

‘I'm sorry,' she said inadequately.

‘I should think you damned well are! What was he doing with the car, anyway?'

‘We came to see you …' she began, but he wasn't listening and she realised he had not expected an answer.

‘Well, we can't leave them here. Let's see if we can push yours back far enough for you to get the starting handle in it. Then if you leave the road clear for me, I can limp home.'

Miraculously they were able to get both cars started, though as she moved off Amy could hear the grating of protesting metal and rubber.

‘You'll be hearing from me!' Ralph shouted above the racket and she felt sick with apprehension. She had taken Huw to see Ralph in an effort to put things right. Now matters were a thousand times worse. If there had been any possibility that he might forgive Huw for starting the fire it was quite certain he would never forgive him for damaging his car.

It was afternoon before Amy had time to think about Huw again and wonder where he had gone when he fled from Ralph's wrath. Her own car had been taken away for repair – she didn't want to be without it any longer than could possibly be helped – and all the details which had arisen from the accident and the fire had had to be attended to on top of the day's normal work. Well, wherever he was he would come home when he was hungry, she supposed. He had wasted enough of her time already with his nonsense for today and she had no intention of allowing him to waste more by worrying about him.

When she reached home, she opened the door to the comfortable rattle of teacups. In the living-room Rita was giving the girls their tea – crumpets freshly toasted and oozing butter, stewed apple spiced with cloves and ‘plain' cake on which she was allowing them to spread some of Charlotte's home-made gooseberry jam. She looked up smilingly as Amy came in, seemingly unaware of the traumas the day had brought, and Barbara and Maureen set up a clamouring.

‘Mammy, you're home! Have you got anything nice for us?'

‘Mammy, did you see the fire? Is it out now?'

‘Mammy – Mammy …'

Amy kissed them, her eyes moving swiftly around the room. ‘Where is Huw?'

‘Don't know, Mammy. Mammy, listen, at school today …'

‘Has he been here, Rita?'

‘I haven't seen him, Mrs Roberts.' Rita lifted the tea-cosy, peeping inside to check the contents. ‘There's a cup of tea in the pot if you'd like one.'

‘No, thank you, Rita,' she said absently. ‘Haven't you seen him at all today?'

‘No. But then he would have been at school, wouldn't he? Perhaps he went home with a friend afterwards.'

‘Perhaps he did,' Amy said, not wanting to go into long explanations that Huw had certainly not been to school.

She went upstairs to change out of the costume she now wore to the office and into a pair of neat casual slacks. Mam hated them – ‘Women were not made for wearing trousers,' she always said, and Amy had to agree she was not really tall enough to carry them off. But they were so comfortable.

Night was falling, the darkness closing in with the swiftness of early spring, and with it the mist was thickening once more. A nasty night – not at all the sort of night to be out as Huw must be in the thin jacket he had been wearing this morning.

He's skulking somewhere, afraid to come home, thought Amy. Well, let him skulk! But by the time it was completely dark, she was becoming really worried. Huw was always unpredictable; in his present mood, heaven only knew where he would go or what he would do.

She put on her coat and boots. ‘Rita, would you stay a little longer? I'm going out to look for Huw.'

The girl – who had already promised the girls a game of ‘Sevens' before their bedtime – readily agreed, and leaving the three of them sitting up around the table with their heads bent over the cards, Amy walked down the road to the Seymour house. The door was opened by Stuart's mother – and she was none too pleased to see Amy.

‘No, I haven't seen your Huw and I don't know that I want to!' she snapped in response to Amy's enquiry. ‘He's a bad boy – leading our Stuart into trouble like he did. I've had the police here today, I suppose you know that? I've never had such a thing before!'

‘I don't think you can blame Huw entirely for that,' Amy said hotly. ‘They were all in it together.'

‘That's as maybe, but our Stuart would never have done such a thing if he hadn't been led. Disgraceful, I call it!'

‘Well, would you at least ask Stuart if he's seen Huw?'

With bad grace she did as Amy asked, but returned with a negative answer.

‘No, our Stuart hasn't seen him all day. And won't either, if I have anything to do with it!'

Amy left, feeling annoyed as well as anxious and wondering whether a call on Gordon Tamlyn would produce the same result. As she walked along the road she saw a group of boys coming towards her, taking up most of the pavement, and recognised several of Huw's cronies amongst them.

When she reached them they split to let her pass and she repeated her question about Huw. Some of the lads shook their heads and went to walk on but one, an undersized lad with a shock of hair in a pudding-basin cut, spoke out.