She saw the green in front of her as she slithered across the frozen cobbles, and then there was the cottage directly in front of her. A smile lit her face as she skidded up to it and rapped sharply with the brass doorknocker. She kept her eyes fixed expectantly on the door, but there was nothing, only the faint sound of the waves crashing on the beach some way away.
Lifting her hand she tried again, more loudly this time, but again only silence answered her knock. Frowning now, she glanced about her hesitantly, wondering what she should do. She wasn’t sure exactly what time it was, for it was too dark to make out the face of the cheap wristwatch on her arm, but she guessed that it must be getting late now. Certainly far too late for Lizzie to be out, so where was she?
Reluctantly walking away, she spotted a man with his head bent walking towards her and hurried across to him.
‘Excuse me.’
He started and looked at her suspiciously.
‘I was wondering, would you happen to know where Mrs Evans from the blacksmith’s cottage might be?’
‘And who might be asking?’
Keeping her patience as best she could, Maggie told him, ‘I’m Maggie Bright. My daughter, Lizzie, is staying with Mrs Evans.’
‘Ah, I see.’ He seemed to relax a little as he stared at the dark windows of the cottage. ‘Is Blodwyn not in then?’
Maggie swallowed the hasty retort that sprang to her lips. Surely he had enough brains to realise that she wouldn’t be asking, if Blodwyn were? Fixing a smile to her face, she shook her head.
He shrugged. ‘Then I have no idea where she might be. It’s not like Blodwyn not to be in of a night, unless there’s something on at the church, that is. But I’m pretty certain there’s nothing happening tonight.’
‘In that case, perhaps you would be kind enough to direct me to
Tremarfon
then? My son, Danny, is staying with a Mr Sinclair there.’
He nodded, obviously knowing who she meant. ‘You’ll have to go back through the village and take the road up the hill. You’ll pass
Derwen Deg
, a farmhouse on the way.
Tremarfon
is about a quarter of a mile further on. But I warn you, you have quite a hike in front of you.’
Maggie’s shoulders drooped despondently. She was so tired now that she felt just like lying down in the snow and going to sleep. And oh, what she wouldn’t have done for a nice cup of hot steaming tea. She realised with a little jolt that she’d had nothing to eat or drink since leaving home that morning, so now she was hungry as well as being tired. Still, she reasoned, she was on the last leg of the journey now and she could always come back and see Lizzie tomorrow. Nodding her thanks, she turned and tramped wearily back the way she had come.
When she finally arrived at the foot of the hill he had described, she felt like weeping. It seemed to stretch up and up forever, and she wondered if she had the energy left to tackle it. But then she thought of Danny and renewed her efforts. She had just begun the climb when, to add to her misery, the snow started to come down again. It began as soft white flakes that fluttered gently around her, but within minutes it was coming so thick and fast that she could scarcely see more than a few feet ahead of her. Cursing loudly, she hoisted her suitcase higher and ploughed on. After what seemed an eternity she saw a faint light shining in front of her. As she drew nearer she peered at the gate that led to what appeared to be a large farmhouse to the right of her. Swiping the snow from the brass plate screwed into it she saw the name
Derwen Deg
inscribed on it and sighed with relief. If what the villager had told her was right,
Tremarfon
should be just a little further on.
Each step was an effort now so it was a huge relief when some minutes later she saw yet another light ahead shining out into the darkness. This must be
Tremarfon
. Skirting the house and a large outbuilding, she stopped in front of what appeared to be a kitchen door. She had no need to knock, for suddenly the sharp barking of a dog pierced the air and she heard footsteps approaching on the other side of the door. It swung open and a horribly disfigured man with a black eyepatch across one eye peered out at her, sending her heart plummeting into her boots.
‘Are you Mr . . . Mr Eric Sinclair?’ she asked falteringly.
He frowned and nodded, then seeing that she looked fit to drop he swung the door wider and ushered her inside.
Dropping her case onto the dull red tiles she looked about her. She had no doubt that the kitchen she found herself in would be almost the size of Beryl’s whole house put together, but there was nothing welcoming about it. Dragging her attention back to the man, who was watching her intently, she told him, ‘I’m Danny’s mother, Maggie Bright. I’m sorry to descend on you like this, but I have to see him. I did write to let him know that I was coming. Did he tell you?’
To her horror, he shuffled from foot to foot, avoiding her eyes, saying merely, ‘You look absolutely worn out, Mrs Bright. Why don’t you come over by the fire while I make you a nice hot drink. You certainly look as if you could do with one.’
Smiling her gratitude, she crossed to the fire and held her hands out to the comforting blaze. While he filled the kettle and set it onto the range to heat she slipped out of her sodden coat and slung it across the clotheshorse standing at the side of the fire, where it began to steam.
Next she peeled off her wet boots and stood them on the hearth, and all the while she was aware of him watching her, though he said not so much as a single word. There was a huge tabby cat curled up on the fireside chair and she found herself smiling. Danny had always wanted a pet so no doubt he would love the cat
and
the huge Labrador dog that was also watching her every move from soulful brown eyes.
‘The cat is called Hemily and the dog’s name is Samson,’ Eric told her as he saw her looking at them. ‘I’m afraid Hemily has taken to sleeping on Danny’s bed.’
When she smiled, it struck him like a slap in the face how very much like Danny this woman looked, and how beautiful she was, despite the ravages of the weather. She reminded him so much of someone he had known, but that path was too painful to take so he pulled his thoughts back to his visitor. She looked at the end of her tether.
‘Is Danny tucked up in bed?’ she asked, longing to see her son. Thankfully the kettle began to sing on the hob at that moment and he was saved from having to answer as he hurried across to mash the tea. Finally the moment he had dreaded arrived and he could put off the inevitable no longer.
‘I err . . . I’m afraid I have something to tell you,’ he admitted as he handed her a steaming mug. She looked up at him from beneath long eyelashes and his stomach did an unfamiliar cartwheel.
‘The thing is,’ he went on, realising there was no easy way to soften the blow, ‘Danny has er . . . gone missing.’
‘What do you mean,
Danny has gone missing
!’ Tea spilled across the arm of the chair and Hemily leaped indignantly out of the way. Eric spread his hands helplessly as she glared at him in horrified disbelief. ‘Just when did he go missing? And why?’
Falteringly, he told her of Danny finding the newspaper that reported the Blitz on his home city and the effect it had had on him. ‘He was beside himself with fear that something might have happened to you,’ he finished lamely. ‘And I have an awful idea that he might have tried to get home to check that you were all right.’
Maggie fought back tears as she tried to take in what he was telling her. ‘But he’s just a child,’ she said shakily. ‘How on earth would he manage to get all that way on his own?’
‘I don’t think he is on his own,’ Eric confided. ‘I called down to
Derwen Deg
this morning when I realised he wasn’t here and it appears that Soho Gus, a friend of Danny’s, is missing too. I’ve already spoken to the local police and reported them both missing, then I spent the rest of the day trailing round all the local places where I thought they might be, but other than that I don’t know what I can do. It’s just as if they’ve both vanished off the face of the earth.’
When Maggie stood up and began to pull her sodden coat back on he frowned. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Well, I can’t just sit here, can I?’ she declared angrily. ‘I’m going out to look for my son, of course.’
Eric glanced towards the window where he could see that the snow had turned into a blizzard. ‘There really isn’t much point tonight,’ he told her. ‘It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack in this and I’ve already searched all the places where they were most likely to be. Why don’t you have something to eat and a good night’s rest - then we’ll start to hunt for them again, first thing in the morning.’
She seemed to shrink in front of his very eyes as she saw the sense in what he said.
‘All right,’ she said grudgingly as he hurried away to warm up some stew that he’d cooked earlier. All the while he was pottering about, her eyes stayed firmly fixed on the window. After all that she had endured over the last few months, this was the final straw and she felt as if her heart was breaking. Danny was such a little boy and he was out there somewhere at the mercy of the elements. How would he ever survive?
In no time at all, Eric had her seated at the table with a large bowl of stew in front of her, but somehow her appetite had disappeared and she could do no more than pick at it as she thought of Danny’s plight. Deep inside she was seething. How could the stupid man have allowed Danny to disappear like that? Even so, she was aware that he needn’t have offered to let her stay, so she supposed that she should be grateful to him for that at least.
Had she whipped him with a stick she couldn’t have caused Eric any more pain than he was already feeling, but of course, she had no way of knowing that as, an hour later, she followed him up the impressive staircase. On an impulse, she suddenly asked, ‘Would you mind if I saw Danny’s room?’
‘Of course,’ Eric said. Throwing a door open, he told her, ‘This is where your son sleeps.’
Stepping past him, she entered the room, and the first thing she saw was the family photograph she had slipped into Danny’s case on the day he’d left home. It was standing in pride of place on a small chest of drawers at the side of a neatly made bed. The breath caught in her throat as her hand flew to her mouth, and she almost choked on the sob that was swelling there.
‘It’s funny, isn’t it,’ she said. ‘I was dreading coming here in one way because I have to tell the twins that their father, their grandma and their baby sister are all dead. Their home is gone too and I’m living with my mother-in-law now, as you probably gathered from the address on Danny’s last letter telling him I was coming. And then on top of all that, I arrive here to find that Lizzie is out somewhere with Mrs Evans, and that Danny has run away. Dear God in heaven - it’s like a nightmare.’
Eric lowered his head as he saw her pain, and silently withdrew to stand on the landing. Everywhere she looked, Maggie could see evidence of her son. His presence was so tangible that she expected him to appear at any minute. But he didn’t, and after a few moments she slowly turned and closed the door behind her.
Eric led her further along the landing to a slightly larger room that boasted a sea view in the light of day. She nodded at him and he quietly left her standing there with her suitcase at her feet and a bleak expression in her eyes.
Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, Eric paused before going into the little-used dining room where he switched on the overhead light. The woman’s portrait seemed to reproach him as he stared up into the beautiful face that he had captured for all time on canvas, and he lowered his head and wept. In his mind’s eye he could see the shudder of revulsion that had crossed Maggie’s face as she saw him for the first time. But then he was used to that, for didn’t everyone react that way?
He cursed himself for not being stronger when Miss Williams had approached him about taking in an evacuee. If
only
he’d stuck to his guns and refused, none of this sorry mess would have happened and he would still be enjoying his reclusive life. But it had happened, and now it was up to him to try and put things right again.
With a last regretful glance at the hauntingly beautiful face in the picture he quietly turned and left the room. First thing in the morning he would start the search for Danny again - and this time he swore he wouldn’t rest until he had found him.
Chapter Thirty-Five
‘I don’t like it here,’ Lizzie fretted. ‘When can we go back home?’
Turning to her, Mrs Evans smiled reassuringly. ‘Why,
bach
, it isn’t so very bad. At least there’s a roof on this room to stop the snow from coming in - and haven’t I managed to make us a nice warm fire? Now eat your food and stop moaning, Megan, there’s a good girl.’
Lizzie shuddered as she pulled the thin blanket more closely about her. This derelict cottage high in the Welsh hills wasn’t her idea of a holiday at all, as she had told Mrs Evans earlier in the day when they’d finally arrived there. The journey through the thick snow had seemed to take forever, and as they’d climbed and climbed, Lizzie’s ears had started to pop, which had made her cry. When the row of tumbledown cottages had come into view and Mrs Evans had told her that this was where they would be staying, Lizzie had gasped incredulously.
‘But . . . they’re falling down!’ she said.
‘Nonsense. Some of the rooms still have roofs on them, look. We’ll soon make ourselves comfortable, you just wait and see. And won’t it be nice to be just the two of us with no one else to interfere now?’
Eventually, Mrs Evans had decided on the room they were in now, for not only had it still got a roof on but a door as well, although the bitter wind was rattling it in its frame now. The candle she’d lit was throwing dancing shadows all across the walls and the floor was cold and damp. Lizzie was frightened. Mrs Evans seemed to be acting even more strangely than she usually did, and the child had thought of running away from her and back to the village. The trouble was, the snow was very deep and she had lost all sense of direction on the way so she was too afraid to attempt it.