Finders and Keepers (35 page)

Giving up trying to call it a reservoir, Harry said, ‘I looked at it in the moonlight, studied the colours, mixed and matched them in my mind's eye with the watercolours in my paint box. Wondered just how much cobalt blue I'd need to blend with white to get the exact shade of reflected light on the water. Then, when I'd finished deciding on the depth of tints I needed to reproduce the radiance and shadow, I planned the painting. Pinpointed the exact spot the Lady of the Lake's arm should rise holding Excalibur -'

‘At night?'

‘A night scene would give the painting more dramatic impact.'

Toby considered the idea for a moment. ‘It might at that. And I'm the one who's supposed to be illustrating
Le Morte d'Arthur.'
He punched Harry lightly on the top of his arm. ‘Just think, the infant teaching the master. You may turn out to be a prodigy after all, Harry.' He lifted his straw boater and bowed as Diana opened the door. ‘Good morning, Miss Adams. How are we this dull and overcast Sunday morning?'

‘Are you referring to my father and myself, or the royal “we”, Mr Ross?' she enquired with a smile.

‘As your father is nowhere to be seen, I was addressing you, Miss Adams.'

‘I know our acquaintance is slight, Mr Ross, but I believe that you are aware that I am not royal.'

‘I stand corrected, Miss Adams. How are
you?'

‘Fine, and too busy to waste time exchanging meaningless banter. Your uncle was bright and alert when I saw him half an hour ago. You can go straight up to his room.' She turned to Harry, ‘Mr Evans, if I might have a word?'

Harry followed her to her car. ‘My grandfather -' he began.

‘Was tired out by the visit your uncles and sister made yesterday. And that is not a criticism of your family. My father examined him when he came back from church this morning. He's noticed that your grandfather will go to great lengths to conceal his exhaustion and any pain he is in, frequently insisting he feels fine when his symptoms indicate otherwise.'

‘He has put other people before himself all his life.' Harry pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and sneezed into it.

‘You have a cold?'

‘No, I just sneezed.'

‘If you have a cold you can't possibly be allowed to see your grandfather. A cold on top of his illnesses could lead to further infection -'

‘Do you want to take my temperature?' Harry had intended his question sarcastically, but Diana laid her hand on his forehead.

‘You don't feel feverish.'

‘Because I'm not. I told you, it was only a sneeze.'

‘But you will limit your visit to five not ten minutes?'

‘Thank you, I didn't think I'd be allowed to see him at all today,' Harry smiled.

She looked at the front door. Toby had already gone ahead into the castle. ‘Your grandfather's condition is worse than he wants anyone to know. And I'm including his doctors as well as his family.'

‘He hates fuss.'

‘Harry, he's dying.'

The fact that she had used his Christian name in the sanatorium jolted him. ‘You told me that he has weeks rather than months last night.'

‘My father thinks it will be days.'

‘Should I telephone my father and ask him to bring all the family down here to say goodbye?'

‘Ask your grandfather what he would like you to do, Harry.'

‘And your strict visiting rules?'

‘My father has agreed to try to accommodate your grandfather's wishes – whatever they may be.'

A stranger might not have noticed the change in Billy Evans, but Harry knew him too well. His grandfather's smile was as wide as it had always been, but it was forced. His eyes had lost some of their spark, and although he was sitting upright holding a book, he was leaning heavily against the pillows. Even his speech was weaker than it had been on Friday.

‘Harry, good of you to come.'

The sky was overcast, the air heavy. Billy's bed had been pulled out on the balcony as usual, but the bed linen had been covered with a rubber sheet to protect it from rain. Harry moved the chair around so he could sit with his back to the sister.

‘It's not good of me at all. This is the highlight of my day.'

‘In that case, poor you. Is Bella all right?' Billy asked anxiously.

‘Apart from being worried about you, as we all were when you were taken ill yesterday.'

‘It was a stupid thing to do.'

‘Miss Adams told me to keep my visit to five minutes because you're tired.'

‘Miss Adams is as much of a fusspot as the nurses.' Billy closed his book. ‘J. K. Jerome's
Paul Kelver,'
he said when he saw Harry looking at the spine. ‘Victor knows I need to smile. He and Joey brought me enough books to keep me going for another week.'

‘You want me to ask Dad to bring you more next Saturday?'

‘He's coming?'

‘I telephoned him this morning; he and Mam intend to.' Harry cleared his throat and braced himself. ‘Miss Adams says you can have more visitors if you like.'

‘I spoke to Doctor Adams. I know the end's close,' Billy said in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘If your aunts and uncles and your father and mother want to come, they can, but only if it's convenient. They all have so many other things to do with their time. But none of my grandchildren, not after what happened to Bella yesterday.'

‘And the books?' Harry tried to concentrate on the practical.

‘I'll let you know later in the week.' Billy's voice dropped to a whisper.

‘Are you in pain?' Harry looked around for the sister.

‘No, just having trouble breathing. And don't go telling my boys that. They are busy with their wives and families, which is how it should be.'

‘They'll want to say goodbye to you.' To Harry's shame, his voice cracked.

The old man's voice might be weak, but his eyes gleamed, bright and alive. ‘I told you I've said all I am going to on that subject, Harry. Do you really think that I've left so much unsaid during my lifetime that I need a great theatrical deathbed scene worthy of Dickens, with my three sons, their wives and all sixteen grandchildren sitting round me here, and every one of you running the risk of contracting TB?'

‘No, Granddad, I don't, because you've always been totally honest with all of us.'

‘Thank you for noticing. Also, I'm too fond of all of you to risk boring you. Even doctors agree that forecasting the time of death is an inexact science. It would be too tiresome if you all stood here, said your goodbyes, ran out of things to say and had to hang around foolishly for hours or, who knows, days or weeks. It's bad enough that I upset two of your sisters by haemorrhaging in front of them. I wouldn't dare risk a repeat performance in front of any of my other grandchildren. So promise me? No worrying telephone calls to Lloyd or anyone else in the family?'

‘If that's what you want.'

‘Promise?'

‘I promise,' Harry agreed solemnly.

‘And if Victor and Megan and Joey and Rhian want to come down with Lloyd and Sali next Saturday they can. But tell them what I have just told you. I don't think that I have any unfinished business left, not with the family.'

‘Or with anyone else, Granddad?' Harry tightened his fist impotently.

‘There are a few colliers walking around the Rhondda who promised to buy me a pint in return for the ones I bought them when they were broke and I wasn't but,' Billy winked, ‘if you see any of them, tell them I'll expect my reward in heaven, and not from the angels. If I manage to get there, and get in, I'll be waiting to meet them at the gate. And if heaven is half as wonderful as I've heard, there's bound to be a bar that serves a nice drop of ambrosia.'

‘I'll make sure it's broadcast from one end of the Rhondda to the other.'

‘Good. Now tell me about your family of children.'

‘Granddad -'

‘Did you see them yesterday after your uncles and Bella left?' The old man shook his head fondly. ‘She's grown into a very pretty girl. A real chip off the old block.'

As Bella's colouring was much darker than his mother's and her features more exotic, Harry guessed that Billy was talking about his Spanish-born Isabella. ‘She is,' he concurred.

‘And she'll soon have the young men chasing after her.'

‘She has some already.'

‘Really?' Billy eyes sparkled.

‘And not just schoolboys in Pontypridd. Toby Ross hasn't stopped singing her praises since he had lunch with us yesterday. He wants to paint her as Morgan le Fay, only as sweet young innocent Morgan, before she did all her evil deeds,' he added.

‘And she's agreed to model for him?'

‘She said she'd think about it. Don't worry if she does, I'll chaperone her. Toby can't stop talking about her. He says his intentions are strictly honourable but Bella is only sixteen.'

‘A year younger than Isabella when I first set eyes on her, Harry. Word of advice, never interfere in true love.' He looked at the photograph of Isabella on his cabinet, pressed the handkerchief he was holding to his mouth and coughed. The linen turned red.

Harry turned and shouted, ‘Sister!' but she was already there.

‘Out, Mr Evans.' She pushed past him and ran to the bed. Two other nurses appeared.

He looked at his grandfather. Blood was seeping from his mouth. He gave a slight but perceptible nod.

Harry nodded back to let him know that he understood – then left.

Chapter Fifteen

Harry was walking through the stables at Ynysangharad House. Toffee, the first horse he had helped raise from a foal, was kicking the back of his stall. Knock – knock. He felt in his pocket for a carrot or sugar lump, but he had none. He searched his other pockets … Knock – knock.

‘Mr Evans!'

He sat up with a start, hit his head on the headboard and a sheaf of papers fell from his bed. They scattered over the floorboards. Disorientated, he stared down at them.

‘Mr Evans!'

The second shout galvanized him. He lurched clumsily from the bed and wrenched open the door. Mrs Edwards was on the landing, a troubled frown creasing her wrinkled forehead.

‘Craig-y-Nos is on the telephone asking to speak to you, Mr Evans.'

Without waiting to put on his shoes, Harry hurtled past her down the creaking staircase and along the flag-stoned passage. He muttered a hurried ‘Sorry' when he barged into Enfys, who emerged from the kitchen as he was about to enter the tiny ‘office'. The receiver was lying on the rickety table. He snatched it up. ‘Harry Evans.'

‘This is Craig-y-Nos sanatorium, Mr Evans.'

He recognized Diana Adams's voice. ‘What's wrong?'

‘Your grandfather has made a temporary recovery. The haemorrhage appeared more serious than it actually was. My father believes that only the upper quarter of the right lung was affected.'

‘Can I see him?' Harry pleaded.

‘Not until tomorrow morning, and then only if he is strong enough to receive visitors.'

‘Please -'

‘Mr Evans has been sedated, he is sleeping and we're not expecting him to wake until tomorrow, but if he should, I will tell the ward sister to pass on your concern and best wishes, Mr Evans.'

The line went dead, and Harry realized that there must have been someone in the room with Diana. He hung up. After the sister had ordered him out of his grandfather's room in the sanatorium that morning, he had tried to sit in the waiting room by the front door to wait for news. A nurse had followed him, and told him if anything happened they would telephone, so there was absolutely no point in him staying there.

He had driven Toby up to the reservoir, dropped him off, turned the car around and returned to the inn to wait for a telephone call he didn't know whether to wish for or not.

‘Not bad news, I hope, Mr Evans?' Mrs Edwards was hovering outside the door.

‘My grandfather has made a recovery – a temporary recovery, Mrs Edwards,' he amended.

‘I am glad to hear it. You didn't come down for lunch or tea, and I didn't like to disturb you. Would you like a sandwich now?'

‘What is the time?'

‘Six o'clock, Mr Evans.'

Harry realized that he'd slept most of the day away. ‘A sandwich and tea would be most acceptable, Mrs Edwards, if it's not too much trouble.'

‘No trouble, Mr Evans.' She wiped her hands in her apron. ‘Would you like Enfys to serve you in the dining room?'

‘The bar will be fine, Mrs Edwards, but I'll go upstairs and wash and change first. I can't believe I fell asleep in the middle of the day.'

‘You were very late last night, Mr Evans,' she said reproachfully.

‘I'm sorry if I disturbed you,' Harry apologized, embarrassed that others besides Toby had heard him arrive back at the inn in the early hours. He ran upstairs and gathered the papers that had fallen from the bed. Too tired after his sleepless night to attempt to draw or paint, and too restless after visiting his grandfather to settle to anything pleasurable, he had returned to his room with the intention of catching up on his correspondence and the monthly reports the trustees of his estate sent him.

He glanced at the topmost page when he stacked the papers and set them on the table. He could recall reading the first paragraph and no more. So much for ‘catching up' on business. He could almost hear Lloyd lecturing him.

‘Wealth brings responsibilities, Harry. You owe it to the people dependent on the wages your companies pay to make sure that every business you own is run fairly and honestly. And the only way you can do that is by monitoring them. It is time you learned everything there is to know about them and the people who labour for your benefit.'

He set his leather writing case on top of the report so he wouldn't have to look at it. Like all the others he had received since his eighteenth birthday, it was crushingly boring, and he wondered if he would ever find ‘business' interesting. He stretched his arms above his head and glanced out of the window at the deserted road. He felt even more exhausted than when he had returned to his room that morning. But he was also unpleasantly warm, sticky and hungry. Taking his towel and soap from his washstand and a clean shirt from his wardrobe, he made his way down to the ground-floor scullery-cum-bathroom, ran a cold bath and plunged into it.