The Lost Days of Summer (21 page)

Merion grinned, and began to speak. ‘A lot of what we heard was right,’ he said. ‘The bomb which went down the funnel of the good old
Scotia
blew her up all right, with great loss of life. We’ll maybe never know how many, for the ship had just picked up between four and five hundred French soldiers, and of course when the ship went down . . . but enough of that. Bryn was on deck and managed to dive clear of the undertow, but then he was knocked on the head by a chunk of the ship and lost consciousness for a few moments. When he came round again, he was in the water, sick and dizzy, but alive.

‘He can’t remember much after that, save for being picked up by what he now thinks was a fishing boat. They took him to France, where he was treated in a field hospital and then put aboard a ship heading for England. He did try to tell folk he was from Anglesey and that his name was Bryn Hughes, but it wasn’t until they got him into a hospital in Liverpool that they realised his people had not been informed that he had survived. They sent a telegram . . . his mother got it yesterday . . . and of course the news went round like wildfire.’

‘That’s just wonderful,’ Nell said warmly. ‘I expect Mrs Hughes is already on her way to Liverpool. Oh, it will be marvellous to see Bryn alive and well once more!’

‘Yes, indeed,’ Merion Hughes said. ‘And of course it has given hope, where none existed before, that others may yet be found alive.’ Rather to Nell’s surprise, he then cast an anxious glance first at her aunt and then at herself. ‘But you’ve not heard the rest of my news. Bryn’s mother has been posted to Scotland, and though she rushed down to Liverpool she could only stay a couple of hours as her job is an important one and Bryn’s injuries are not life-threatening. So I rang the Stanley Hospital and the sister on Wellington ward said the lad might begin to pick up if he had a visitor who could speak Welsh, and some of his own things.’ He looked apologetically from Kath’s face to Nell’s. ‘And of course none of us Hugheses family know Liverpool, so we put our heads together and we thought . . .’

‘I suppose you’re going to suggest that my niece goes traipsing off to Liverpool to see the young fellow,’ Kath said bluntly. ‘Leaving me and Eifion here to manage as best we can. Well, I know Bryn and Nell are good friends . . .’

Nell sighed. She was delighted that Bryn was alive, pleased to think he would soon be home, but realised that if she agreed to go to Liverpool and take with her some of his personal possessions folk would draw conclusions she had no wish to see drawn. Friendship was all very well; friendship was grand in fact, but she was too young, she told herself, for any deeper involvement. So she looked hopefully at Auntie Kath, expecting that hard taskmistress to point out that she needed all the help she could get on the farm. However, such hopes were soon dashed.

Auntie Kath caught Nell’s eye, but failed to read the message there. ‘I suppose I shall just have to manage for a couple of days,’ she said. ‘After all, Eifion and myself got by before young Nell here came to live at Ty Hen.’ She smiled at Nell. ‘I expect you’re longing to see your old pal again and to have a day or two in Liverpool, so I’ll have to agree to your going off. But don’t imagine you can stretch a couple of days into a couple of weeks; if you do I’ll dock your wages, see if I don’t!’

Despite herself, Nell giggled. For a couple of months now her aunt had been giving her money from time to time, but she had never received a regular wage and indeed had not wanted one, for what would she spend money on? Her aunt provided bed, board and working clothes, paid her library subscription, and bought stamps, writing paper and envelopes, which were kept on the dresser for anyone to use. But this was scarcely the time to remark on it and Nell merely said, in a subdued voice, that of course, if there was no one else free to go, she would be happy to visit her old friend. ‘I promise not to be away for more than a couple of days; three at the most,’ she said earnestly. ‘I can pack my haversack with anything I shall need in two minutes flat, so if someone can meet me on Holyhead railway station with a bag full of Bryn’s stuff, then I can be in Liverpool the same day.’

Old Mrs Hughes cleared her throat and cast a deprecating glance at Nell. ‘If you would agree, miss, I’d like to accompany you to this hospital, whatever it’s called,’ she said timidly. ‘Never crossed the water, me, but with you beside me I’d not be afraid to be blown up by a bomb or smothered in my bed by some foreign seaman. Bryn thought a lot of you; I’m sure he would say you’d look after me.’

‘Gladly,’ Nell said, though she felt secretly dismayed. The old lady would complicate things, for she could not possibly expect her relatives to take in not only herself but a total stranger as well. However, there were cheap boarding houses along the Stanley Road; she and Bryn’s grandmother could doubtless take a room in one of them. But Nell did not mean to give up without a struggle. ‘Don’t you think it might be better if I stayed here and your husband accompanied you to Liverpool?’ she asked. ‘I’m awfully fond of Bryn, but I’m sure he’d far rather see his taid than me.’

‘You’re wrong there,’ Eifion said at once. ‘He’s spoke to the sister on his ward and said to ask if you’d come in particular.’ He gave poor Nell a coy look from under his thick and grizzled brows. ‘Rare fond of you is our Bryn.’

Nell felt uncomfortable. ‘I’m sure he’d much rather see you, Eifion.’

‘No, I’d be lost in a big city,’ Eifion said quickly, and Nell realised that he was actually frightened by the mere idea of a visit to Liverpool. ‘I rode in a tram once. Didn’t care for it. No, Nell, you’ll take care of my old lady a lot better’n I could. And the young cleave to the young, as you doubtless know.’ He chuckled, then leaned across the table and patted Nell’s hand. ‘You needn’t be shy. He speaks of you as his girl; we’ve heard him say so often, haven’t we, Mother?’

Mrs Hughes gave a little bleat of agreement, but Nell cut in at once. ‘I shan’t be sixteen for another week, and that’s too young to be anyone’s girl,’ she said firmly. She turned back to Mrs Hughes and, seeing the anxious look on the older woman’s face, smiled warmly. ‘But of course I’ll be happy to take care of you if you really mean to come with me to Liverpool,’ she added reassuringly, and was glad she had done so when she saw the anxiety leave the other’s eyes.

‘There; Bryn said you was a good girl,’ the old lady said with considerable satisfaction. She pushed her empty porridge bowl away from her and began to sip her tea with obvious pleasure. She beamed at her hostess. ‘Thank you, Mrs Jones dear; this is good.’

Merion Hughes smiled at Nell and thanked Kath for the tea she had just placed in front of him, announcing that he meant to move into Eifion’s cottage whilst Mrs Hughes was away, in order to help out at Ty Hen. ‘As you know, I’m a good stockman and can milk a cow in half the time it would take young Nell here. So if you’re willing, Mrs Jones . . .’

* * *

Nell sat scrunched up in the corner seat of the train which was taking her where she had no desire to go, looked at her reflection in the dirt-smeared window pane and wished herself anywhere but here. How odd it was, she thought, remembering her previous train journey. How very differently she felt about both Ty Hen and Liverpool now. She had never expected to fall in love with the farm, but now that she was leaving it, albeit only for a short time, she realised that her heart was in Anglesey, and she would never, of her own free will, live in the big city again.

‘Sandwich, Miss Nell?’

Nell was abruptly jerked back to the present and to the little old woman sitting on the seat beside her, holding out a greaseproof paper parcel which contained several delicious looking cheese and onion sandwiches. ‘Sorry, Mrs Hughes; I was dreaming. Yes please, I’d love one. It seems ages since breakfast.’ She helped herself to a sandwich, then turned a reproachful gaze on her companion. ‘But didn’t we agree that you would call me Nell, as everyone else does? It feels very odd when you call me Miss.’

‘So we did, so we did,’ Mrs Hughes said placidly. ‘And I’ll try to remember so I will. Where are we now?’

‘Almost there,’ Nell said, peering out of the window at the countryside, dotted now with houses. ‘By the time I’ve eaten this sandwich we’ll be coming in to Lime Street station, so I’d better get our bags down from the rack.’

Ten minutes later, her prophesy was proved correct; the train drew up with much hissing of steam and shrill whistling and Nell donned her trusty haversack, picked up the bag of Bryn’s belongings, and disembarked, turning to help her companion step down on to the platform. To her secret surprise, Mrs Hughes, though her eyes rounded with astonishment, did not seem frightened by the crowds, though she clung on to Nell’s sleeve until they emerged on to the pavement. Then she pointed to a tram. ‘Can we ride on one of them, cariad?’ she asked eagerly. ‘I know my Eifion don’t care for ’em, but I’s different. They’s only big charabancs on a long bit of stick, like.’

‘Well, I was going to suggest that we should hail a taxi, but if you’d really rather take a tram, I’m willing,’ Nell said readily. ‘It’s a good deal cheaper for a start, and if we catch a number 23 or 24 it will take us all the way to the Stanley Hospital. But we’ll get off one stop earlier, so we can book ourselves into a lodging house before we go to see Bryn.’

They joined the queue and Nell had to strain her ears to catch what her companion was saying, for she had quite forgotten how noisy the city was. Everyone in front of them seemed to be shouting. Despite the restriction on petrol, the streets were full of vans, lorries and even a few cars, though the brewers’ drays, the milk carts and several other vehicles were still horse-drawn. Nell found herself longing to stuff her fingers into her ears, but Mrs Hughes’s eyes sparkled with excitement and once they were aboard the tram she demanded to know the name and purpose of every big building. St George’s Hall impressed her mightily with its recumbent lions, statue of Queen Victoria and plateau, and when she glimpsed the rounded dome which housed the Picton Library she announced that she would visit it before returning home.

‘And I mean to see a theatre, and the museum, and that there art gallery,’ she shouted above the rattles and squeaks of the tram’s onward progress and the constant ringing of its bell. ‘Because I don’t reckon I’ll ever get to visit the city again, so I’ve got make the most of it.’

‘Well, I don’t know . . .’ Nell was beginning doubtfully, when the tram drew in at the stop she wanted, and the two of them joined the rush of passengers descending.

It was quieter here, though the pavement was lined with shops and small houses. Mrs Hughes gazed into every window they passed, admiring everything, saying she was sure Liverpool must be even bigger than London, and a great deal smarter.

Nell agreed, more for the sake of peace than anything, since she had never been to any other city. But she did say, quietly, that they were here to see Bryn and not to enjoy themselves, which made her companion go very red about the gills and mutter something which, perhaps fortunately, Nell did not catch. Then she saw a side street where she remembered, in the past, seeing signs in front windows indicating that the occupants took in paying guests, so she steered her garrulous companion into Easby Road and presently found a house displaying a vacancy sign.

She rang the doorbell, which was almost immediately answered by a short, fat woman whose light-coloured hair was pulled into a neat bun on the nape of her neck. She was clad in a cotton frock covered by a large calico apron, and she grinned at her visitors, revealing the fact that she had a fine set of pink gums but no teeth. ‘Mornin’!’ she said cheerfully. Her small grey eyes flickered over them shrewdly, taking in their clothing and their luggage. ‘Wantin’ a room, are you? Aye, I guessed as much.’ Once again her glance swept them, then she jabbed a plump pink forefinger at Nell. ‘Come to visit a sweetheart what’s been wounded at Dunkirk? Or mebbe a brother, seein’ as you’re a bit young to go gettin’ yourself a feller.’ She shot a penetrating glance at Nell’s companion. ‘Mebbe it’s your son you’ve come avisitin’, I’d guess. Aye, there’s folk pourin’ into the Pool these days to visit fellers what’s been brought home wounded. But why am I runnin’ on like as if you were a guessing game? I’ve the first floor front vacant, with the grandest double bed you ever did see, modern mattress an’ all. And it’s right next door to the lavvy, so if you’re caught short in the middle of the night you can nip in there in a trice.’ She drew herself up. ‘No need for a po under the bed in
this
house, I’m tellin’ you. Want to see it?’ She gave a snort of laughter, shaking her head at herself. ‘The room, I mean, not the lavvy! Oh, and I forgot to tell you I provide breakfast – porridge, tea and toast – and I can do an evenin’ meal for an extra half-crown a head. But what am I thinkin’ of? I’m Mrs Trelawney and I’ve not told you I charge ten bob a room, bed and breakfast, that’s for the pair of you. Does it suit?’

Stunned by this gentle eloquence, Nell was speechless for a moment, but Mrs Hughes seemed unruffled. ‘See the room first we will, before we make up our minds,’ she said decidedly. ‘Then we can talk terms.’

‘That’s wharr I like; someone who knows what they want,’ the landlady said, beaming once more. She began to usher them inside, then suddenly clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘I forgot to put me fangs in afore I come to the door,’ she said, her voice muffled. ‘Wharrever will you think of me?’ She delved in the pocket of her apron, turned away from them for a moment, then turned back and grinned once more, showing an excellent set of dentures. ‘There now. Come along in; straight up the stairs and first door on the right. I doesn’t climb the stairs ’cept when I goes to bed or cleans me rooms, but when you come down I’ll have a pot o’ char and some of me homemade shortbread all ready.’

Thirty minutes later Nell and her companion left the house in Easby Road, exchanging meaning glances as they turned in the direction of the hospital. They had booked the room and left their luggage locked inside it, and now Nell put the key carefully in her coat pocket and turned to Mrs Hughes, blowing out her cheeks in an expressive whistle. ‘Phew! You mustn’t think all Liverpudlians never stop talking. I rather liked her, though, and I’m sure she’s as honest as the day and will do everything she promised, though when you tried to beat her down from ten bob I was quite frightened in case she wouldn’t let us have the room.’