Moonlight and Ashes Page 19

  She thought of the horribly scarred man that Danny was being forced to stay with, and shuddered with revulsion. What if he was being cruel to Danny? What if he’d locked him in a cellar with rats and no food? Perhaps that was why Danny hadn’t been able to come and see her. Her imagination began to run riot and suddenly she knew that she must see him. Glancing at the door through which Mr Evans had recently disappeared, she satisfied herself that he wasn’t on the way back to the kitchen, then creeping towards the door she opened it as quietly as she could and let herself out into the fast-darkening afternoon.

  She had no doubt at all that she would be in serious trouble when she got back for not asking if she could go out alone. But for now her need to see her twin was stronger than her fear of risking the Evanses’ wrath.

  Chapter Nineteen

  As the cold October air wrapped itself around her, Lizzie faltered and her courage momentarily failed her. It was already cold as darkness crept across the village, and she wished that she’d thought to put her coat on. But it was too late to worry about it now. If she were to go back inside to get it, the Evanses might realise her intentions and then she wouldn’t get to see Danny.

  Throwing her damp hair across her shoulders, she raced down the village street in the direction of the road that led up the hill to where he had told her he was staying. Once out of the village, the dim street-lights stopped and Lizzie felt scared as she began the long climb. Occasionally, she passed a cottage or a house nestling in the hillside, but she didn’t see a single soul. The only sounds were the wind whistling in the trees and the distant crash of the waves. When a fox suddenly shot across the road in front of her, Lizzie’s heart almost leaped out of her chest with fright. It was getting darker by the minute and for the first time she began to wonder if this had been such a good idea. After all, she wasn’t even sure that she was going in the right direction. Forcing herself to stay calm, she tried to remember the name of the house that Danny had told her he was staying at. It began with a T, she was sure of it. It was T . . . Tr . . . Tremarfon. That was it!

  She stumbled along the bumpy road. When shortly after, she saw the lights of a house twinkling in the gloom, she breathed a sigh of relief, but when she came level with the gate, her heart sank. The name of this house was Derwen Deg. Something about it sounded familiar . . . and then she remembered. This was where Soho Gus had said he was staying. She couldn’t be that far away now, for Danny had told her that Soho Gus lived just down the road from him. With a renewed effort she hurried on, her breath hanging on the air in front of her, and sure enough, she soon saw the lights of another house up ahead. It was a huge house, surrounded by trees that seemed to be standing guard over it, but there were no lights shining from the front windows. Cautiously, she crept around the side of it past a huge outbuilding. There were lights on in there but when she sneaked up to the window and tried to peep through, she was prevented from doing so by the heavy blinds that had been lowered across it.

  Picking her way across the gravel, she approached the back of the house, and as a dog began to bark somewhere, she was rewarded with a light shining from what she supposed to be the kitchen window. On tiptoe she peeped inside. Her heart almost exploded with joy when she saw Danny curled up in a chair at the side of a roaring log fire. Not caring now who might hear her, she began to hammer on the door and when it was opened seconds later by Danny himself, with Samson at his side, she flung herself into his arms, laughing and crying all at the same time.

  ‘Lizzie! What are you doing here?’ he gasped, drawing her inside. ‘You’re freezing!’ As the warmth of the room hit her like a slap in the face, her cold cheeks began to glow.

  ‘I . . . I had to come,’ she gabbled breathlessly. ‘I just got this feeling that you were sad an’ you needed me.’

  Danny shook his head in amazement as he glanced back across her shoulder. ‘How did you get here? Did Mr and Mrs Evans bring you?’

  ‘No. I came on my own. I dare say I’ll be in terrible trouble when I get back, but I don’t care. I just had to see you.’

  ‘Oh, Lizzie, I—’ When a large shadow suddenly fell across the bare floor, both children looked towards it with terror burning in their eyes.

  ‘What’s this then?’ Eric demanded as he looked across at the two guilty faces.

  Lizzie pressed so close to Danny that she nearly melted into his side as she stared in horror at the black eye-patch on the man’s scarred face.

  Danny immediately drew himself up to his full height as he shielded Lizzie defensively. ‘This is Lizzie. She’s me twin an’ she’s staying down in the village with the Evanses.’

  ‘I’m well aware of that,’ Eric told him coolly as he closed the door behind him. ‘What I want to know is, what is she doing here?’

  Lizzie opened her mouth to reply but no sound came out. Eric was staring at her and she felt herself shrivel to half her size beneath his scrutiny.

  ‘She was feeling a bit homesick so she came to see me on the spur of the minute,’ Danny told him.

  ‘Does that mean Mrs Evans doesn’t know where you are?’ Eric asked, and Danny was relieved to hear that his voice was not unkind. It would have been very hard to be under the circumstances, for Lizzie was a sorry sight. Her hair was hanging in damp rats’ tails and she was dressed in a little dress and cardigan that were nowhere near warm enough for this weather, and she was shivering uncontrollably.

  When she whispered, ‘No,’ Eric walked towards her and, drawing her gently away from Danny’s side, he led her to the seat that her brother had recently vacated at the side of the fireplace.

  ‘I think we’d better get you wrapped up and something warm inside you, otherwise you’re going to catch your death. Danny, put some milk into a saucepan to warm, would you? I’ll only be a minute.’

  Danny breathed a sigh of relief as he scurried away to do as he was told, and seconds later, Eric reappeared with a warm blanket that he laid loosely around Lizzie’s heaving shoulders. He then carefully poured the warm milk into a mug, keeping a watchful eye on his uninvited visitor all the while.

  By the time Lizzie had swallowed the drink, a little colour had returned to her face but she still looked mortally afraid. Eric was not offended. He knew the effect his scarred face had on people, which was why he preferred to shut himself away on the hillside.

  ‘Look, I think we ought to get you back to Mrs Evans now,’ he told her gently. ‘She’ll no doubt have a search-party out for you by now, and I don’t want to be accused of harbouring you. If you just wait there with Danny for a minute I’ll go and get the car out.’

  ‘Mr Sinclair - I mean Eric - couldn’t she stay here just for tonight?’ Danny pleaded.

  Feeling totally out of his depth, Eric said irritably, ‘I just explained to you why we should get her back. Now please let me go and get the car and let that be an end to the matter.’ So saying he turned about and strode away, slamming the door behind him.

  Lizzie instantly began to cry again. ‘I don’t want to go back to the Evanses’, Danny,’ she sobbed.

  ‘Why? Are they cruel to you?’

  ‘No, no, it’s not that. It’s just that I miss you . . . and Mam and Lucy. Why won’t they let us go home? I wouldn’t cry if the bombs fell again and we had to go into the shelter, really I wouldn’t.’

  Danny bent to wrap his skinny arms around her. ‘I know you wouldn’t,’ he soothed. ‘But it ain’t as simple as that. You’ve got to try an’ look at it from our mam’s point of view. She didn’t send us here because she wanted rid of us. She loves us, but while we’re here she knows we’re safe. While we’re at home she’s worried all the time that something’s goin’ to happen to us. We’ve got to stick it out for her, Lizzie. Try an’ cheer up. It won’t be forever. This war can’t go on fer much longer, can it?’ The words sounded empty even to his own ears but for now they were all he could think of to say. ‘An’ another thing - tomorrow we’re startin’ at the village school. We’ll be together all day from M
onday to Friday then, so it won’t be so bad, will it?’

  ‘I . . . I suppose not.’ Lizzie sniffed doubtfully as the sound of Eric’s car pulling up outside the door reached them. Taking her hand, Danny hauled her to her feet.

  ‘Come on. Let’s go an’ face the music. An’ try to remember what I said. We could even be home fer Christmas.’ He led her outside and bundled her into the car, and soon they were on their way down the steep hillside. Lizzie sat silently. She had always longed to have a ride in a car but tonight the experience held no pleasure for her. She was mortally afraid of what Mrs Evans was going to say when Eric delivered her back to the cottage, and terrified that Danny would be in trouble because of her misdemeanour.

  Her worst fears were realised as they drove along the village street towards the blacksmith’s. It seemed that half the villagers were out looking for her, and torches blazed into the darkness. The door to the Evanses’ cottage swung open in the biting wind and Mrs Evans was running up and down the road like someone demented as she searched every nook and cranny.

  ‘Uh, oh!’ Eric murmured as he drew the car to a halt.

  Instantly, Mrs Evans ran towards it and peered through the window, and when she saw Lizzie she wrenched the door open.

  ‘Why, Eric Sinclair. Shame on you, man!’ she screeched. ‘To take a defenceless child off like that without telling us your intentions. I’ve been half out of my mind with worry, so I have.’

  Hearing the commotion she was making, the villagers began to approach the car, and when they saw the missing child safe and sound they melted away back to their homes. Meanwhile, Mrs Evans yanked Lizzie unceremoniously out of the back seat as she wagged a furious finger at Eric.

  ‘It wasn’t his fault,’ Danny declared indignantly as Mrs Evans ranted on at the innocent party. ‘Lizzie was feelin’ lonely so she took it on herself to come an’ see me. There ain’t no harm done, is there?’

  His words fell on deaf ears as Mrs Evans ushered Lizzie towards the cottage.

  ‘Leave it, Danny,’ Eric told him wearily. ‘She’s in too much of a lather to listen to reason tonight.’

  He was just about to reverse the car when Daffyd Evans appeared at the window.

  ‘All’s well that ends well, man,’ he said by way of an apology. ‘You mustn’t take too much notice of the wife. She was terrified that something had happened to the child. No doubt she’ll give you an apology tomorrow when she’s had time to calm down.’

  Eric nodded, his lips set in a hard line, then without a word he turned the car and roared out of the village.

  ‘I’m sorry, Eric.’

  When the small voice sounded from the back seat, Eric shook his head. ‘It’s not your fault, Danny. Nor Lizzie’s either, if it comes to that. And don’t worry about the tongue-lashing I just got. The villagers make no secret of the fact that I’m not welcome here, which is why I tend to keep myself to myself. I am to blame for this as much as anybody. I should have realised that, being twins, you and Lizzie would want to see each other. If I’d thought to invite her to the house all open and above board, none of this would have happened. But er . . . thanks for trying to stick up for me.’

  Danny felt his cheeks flame in the darkness. Eric could be really nice when he wanted to be.

  Once they were all safely back inside the cottage, Mrs Evans hugged Lizzie fiercely. ‘Eeh, Megan, you gave me a rare turn then, so you did,’ she almost wept.

  Her husband, who was looking on, said firmly, ‘Mother, the child’s name is Lizzie.’

  ‘Oh yes, so it is,’ she flustered.

  From the second that the girl had stepped through the door he had feared that this would happen. Blodwyn seemed to think that Lizzie could take the place of the child they had lost. But somewhere was Lizzie’s mother, and one day, God willing, Lizzie would return to her. Perhaps it would be best for all concerned if that day was to come sooner rather than later, for Daffyd Evans was beginning to think it might all end in tears.

  Once his wife had shepherded the little girl upstairs, he sank into the fireside chair as yet another coughing fit overtook him. Hastily snatching a handkerchief from his trouser pocket he held it to his mouth until the spasm had passed. Then, holding it away from him, he gazed at the stain on it in the light from the fire. More blood. Hearing Blodwyn’s step on the stairs, he flung it into the roaring fire where the flames quickly consumed it. Stifling a wry smile he wondered how long it would be before he completely ran out of handkerchiefs. But then it didn’t really matter. What Blodwyn didn’t see wouldn’t hurt her.

  When they’d moved to the blacksmith’s cottage less than five years ago, Daffyd had hoped that it would be a new start for both of them. It certainly had been for him. After years of living in a tiny, tied miner’s cottage up in the hills, this new home had seemed luxurious, and not to have to go down into the bowels of the earth each day to earn a living was an added bonus. He had learned the trade of blacksmith from his father many years ago as a boy, but then he had married Blodwyn and gone into mining as so many of the Welsh menfolk did.

  He’d thought he had finally escaped the mines and all they represented, but he hadn’t allowed for the legacy that his years down the pit had left him: the blood on his handkerchief each time he coughed. And the cough was getting worse, though he would never have admitted it to his wife.

  His worried eyes strayed to the stairs door. From above, the sound of Blodwyn fussing over the child like a mother hen floated down to him.

  He shook his head in bewilderment. Blodwyn had changed already in the short time since the child’s arrival, and if he were any judge, not for the better.

  On Sunday, for the first time in more years than he cared to remember, she had failed to make her ritual trip to the churchyard with flowers for Megan’s grave. It was just as if she saw the child reincarnated in Lizzie. Burying his face in his hands, the sick man shook his head from side to side. Why did things always have to be so difficult?

  Back at Tremarfon the mood was not much lighter. Danny hurried away upstairs and slipped into his pyjamas, then quietly made his way back downstairs to say goodnight. He found the kitchen empty except for Samson and Hemily, who was curled up in a ball fast asleep in the fireside chair.

  Stepping back into the hall, he noticed that the library door was slightly ajar so he tiptoed towards it and inched it open. The room was in darkness save for the light of the moon that was flooding through the window. Eric was standing with his back to him, staring up at the painting of the woman Danny had admired the day before. Something about the stoop of his shoulders told of a great sadness, and Danny suddenly felt as if he were imposing on something that he shouldn’t see. Quiet as a mouse, he crept back up the stairs and slipped into bed, shuddering at the cold sheets. It had been a funny old night, one way and another, and he for one would be glad to see the back of it.

  Like Lizzie in the blacksmith’s cottage down in the village, he wondered what his mother would be doing now. In his mind’s eye he could see her, sitting at her sewing-machine with the firelight playing on her hair, turning it to the colour of wheaten gold. If he closed his eyes tight and really concentrated, he could almost smell the sweet, clean scent of her.

  We could be home for Christmas, he had told Lizzie, and he clung to the thought, for he didn’t know what to make of Eric at all. One minute he felt as if he was in the way, and the next minute the man would be kind to him. It was all very confusing and once again he wondered at the complexity of adults.

  Sneaking out of bed, he crept towards the window and stared out into the starry night. A silver moon was sailing high in the sky and the sea in the distance looked as if it had been sprinkled with fairy dust. The wind was bending the trees, making them appear as if they were trying to pull themselves free of their roots, as they swayed erratically to and fro. The vast spaces made the small terraced house in Coventry where he had come from appear even tinier and cramped than it was. And yet, he would have given all this up there and then
to be tucked up back in his own little bed at home with Lizzie curled up beside him.

  His troubled eyes returned to the moon as a thought suddenly occurred to him. That very same moon was shining down on his mother. ‘Will you tell her I miss her?’ he whispered to the bright shiny orb, then he climbed back into bed where he tossed and turned until sleep finally claimed him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Early the following morning, as Maggie snatched up the cards from the doormat, she almost sobbed with relief. At least now she knew that the children had arrived safely at their destination. It was a crying shame that they had been split up. She had prayed that Lizzie and Danny would be placed together, but those prayers had gone unanswered.

  ‘Any news?’ her mother shouted from the kitchen.

  ‘Yes, the cards with the addresses have turned up, but Mam, they’ve been split up. How do you think Lizzie will cope with that?’

  Ellen sighed. ‘You’d be surprised, love. Children are a lot more resilient than folks give ’em credit for. Just so long as they can see each other from time to time, I’ve no doubt she’ll manage just fine.’

  Maggie wished that she could believe her, but somehow she didn’t. In the short time since the twins had gone, her mother had been venturing over to see her a little more, and the last thing Maggie wanted to do was upset her, so she wisely said nothing.

  Ellen tried to cheer her up. ‘You did the right thing letting them go, love. Look what’s been happening in London this last few days. The poor sods there barely know what’s hit ’em, an’ who’s to say it won’t be our turn again next? They’ve hit the Woolwich Arsenal, a gas station an’ the docks, an’ that’s not to mention the devastation they’ve caused in the city itself. They reckon three hundred bombers and six hundred fighters were flyin’ over the Thames at one time. Nearly a thousand enemy planes! Anyway, that’s enough o’ that. At least the twins are out of it now.’