A Sixpenny Christmas (25 page)

She had opened her mouth to speak, meaning to tell him tauntingly that there was no way round the deep cleft in the rocks by which they stood, when, to her very real astonishment, she heard voices. Her captor gasped, then started to shout, words bubbling from his mad lips like water from a mountain stream. The words didn’t
make much sense; they seemed to be threats of some sort of reprisal jumbled up with promises of future good behaviour, but whilst he was still shouting a black and white sheepdog, ears pricked, tongue lolling, came round the corner of a bluff and Nonny knew it was Feather, and saw that she was closely followed by two figures. One, the taller, Nonny instantly recognised as her brother and knew the other must be Lana. The pair stopped for a moment and Nonny saw how white their faces were and guessed that they realised how dangerous the confrontation might be.

Her captor shouted suddenly that they were only a couple of kids and must promise to guide him down the mountain and back to civilisation or he would throw Nonny – only he called her Lana – into the gorge before which he stood. He grabbed her arm and began to pull her nearer that ominous drop, then let her go, clearly believing the bond between them still held firmly, though Nonny knew that the least little jerk would cause it to part. Then, even as he opened his mouth and began to utter more threats, Nonny pulled away from him and the twine parted and at the same moment Lana broke free from Chris’s hand on her shoulder and charged across the intervening ground. The man shouted at her to keep clear, screaming that he would hurl her pal into the depths behind him if she did not retreat, and seeing that his attention was fixed on her friend Nonny gave her captor the hardest push of which she was capable in her weakened state. He roared a blasphemy, reached for Nonny’s thin little jacket, wavered, tried to right himself . . . then he was lurching backwards towards the edge, still trying to catch hold of Nonny, and such is human
nature that for a moment she stretched out a hand to him, offering the only succour she could.

Then Lana reached them and shoved him away from her friend and the two girls fell into each other’s arms, their backs to the lip of the gorge, so that they did not see their enemy claw desperately at thin air as he fell, screaming, the sound echoing off the narrowing rocky walls until it ended abruptly, leaving only the howl of the wind and Feather’s frightened whine.

For several moments after the man’s terrible scream had faded into silence, Chris and the two girls, with Feather beside them, simply sat staring towards the lip of the gorge. Then Nonny, who had not shed a single tear throughout her ordeal, began to cry. She did so almost silently, but Chris heard and pulled her into a rough embrace.

‘It’s over, it’s over,’ he crooned. ‘I don’t know why that horrible man kidnapped you – he left a note in the ruined cottage but the rain had washed most of the words out – though I suppose he wanted money. I guess it was the tramp, the one who stole the loaf of bread, but you foiled him, you clever girl. Dropping the chicks so that we could follow your trail was an act of genius.’ He pulled one of the chicks out of his pocket and rubbed it against his sister’s tear-wet cheek. Then he put an arm round Lana too, pulling her close. ‘We’re proud of you, Lana and me, and so will Mum and Dad be, when we tell them about it. And now stop crying, because we got wet enough last night! And as soon as you’re ready, we’ll make for home.’

Nonny gave a tremulous smile. ‘I got the idea of laying a trail of chicks from one of those ancient Greek stories
they made us read in school. It’s the one where Ariadne goes into the labyrinth and unreels a ball of thread so she can find her way out again. I’d had the chicks from Mrs . . .’ A hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, goodness! If you collected the chicks, Chris, then the thread that would lead us home is in your pocket! It took us hours and hours to get here – I only had two chicks left when we reached the gorge – so how will we find our way home?’

Chris was beginning to say that they would simply have to descend into the nearest valley and then search for a farmhouse when Lana interrupted. ‘Feather will take us,’ she said. And Chris realised that her faith in the old dog was absolute. ‘I know Nonny’s chicks were a great help, but if it hadn’t been for Feather I doubt if we’d have caught up with that horrid man in time to stop him doing something dreadful.’

Nonny nodded vigorously. ‘Of course, Feather will take us home as soon as we’re ready to leave,’ she said. ‘But shouldn’t we just take a peep into that gorge? I know it’s silly, but I keep imagining him crawling up the rock and appearing over the edge to drag me down with him . . .’ She gave a convulsive shudder. ‘I know it’s silly,’ she repeated rather dolefully.

Chris began to say that it was impossible, that no one could crawl up walls of rock which were completely perpendicular, then stopped and got to his feet. ‘Impossible or not, I’ll just check,’ he said, and knew a moment of shame. He knew the mountains, dreamed of becoming a mountaineer one day, yet he had not made sure that the man was beyond help before turning away to comfort his two young companions. He had drawn them some
way from the lip of the gorge but now walked to within six feet of it, then lay down on his stomach and squiggled towards the very edge. He looked down, and saw that after perhaps a hundred feet or more the gorge narrowed into a cleft. Chris lay for moments, motionless, just watching. Nothing moved below. He lay there for another two or three minutes, then retreated to where the girls sat, both with an arm round Feather’s narrow shoulders, both staring hopefully at him.

‘Well?’ It was Nonny, her voice only shaking slightly. ‘Is he there?’

Chris shrugged. ‘It’s too deep to see a body, but one thing is certain: no one could possibly survive a fall like that. Later, when we get home, I expect they’ll send a team up here with all the right equipment. They’ll go down and bring the body up for burial.’ He realised that if he didn’t do something the girls would simply sit, staring towards the gorge. ‘Look, if you’re up to it, the pair of you, I think we ought to get going. Just imagine how worried Mum and Dad and Auntie Ellen must be by now. So if you’ve rested for long enough . . .’

Both girls rose to their feet with alacrity and Chris realised that they were as eager as he to leave. They had seen a man die – well, if they had not seen him, they had certainly heard his dying scream – and it was only natural that they should want to get away from the place. He turned to Feather who had got to her feet as the girls did. ‘Home, old lady,’ he said. ‘Take us home!’

The Robertses and Ellen did not arrive back at Cefn Farm until midnight, so were not particularly surprised to find
the house in darkness, and the dogs slumbering quite happily before the still glowing range. Molly hobbled across to a chair and flung herself into it, stretching her legs out with a sigh of relief, for she had begun to feel cramped and uncomfortable, stuck in the little car for so long. ‘Oh, I’d give a hundred pounds for a nice hot cup of tea,’ she said yearningly. ‘Pull the kettle over the flame, Ellen, there’s a dear.’

Ellen grinned and did as she was bidden whilst Rhys made up the fire and then collapsed into the chair opposite his wife’s. Suddenly he sat up straight and eyed the dogs, a puzzled frown creasing his brow. ‘Where’s Feather? Oh, I dare say she went off on a rabbit hunt and got shut out by mistake. Still, it’s odd . . .’

Ellen, who had gone into the pantry for milk, came out again. She looked puzzled. ‘Rhys, the kids haven’t et the mutton pasties I left for them,’ she said. ‘They’re still in the meat safe.’

Molly got out of her chair and swung over to the scribble board on her crutches. ‘Chris’s left a message,’ she said, and read it aloud. ‘
Gone to keep Nonny company. Back soon, C.
’ She turned round to face the other two. ‘That wasn’t written ten minutes ago,’ she said slowly. ‘Something’s happened.’

‘I’ll go and wake Chris, ask him what’s up,’ Rhys said, heading for the stairs. The two women stared at each other across the firelit kitchen, but had no chance to utter a word before Rhys was thundering down again. He crossed the room in a couple of strides, seized his waterproof from its hook by the door and replaced his smart walking shoes with a pair of black and muddy wellingtons. ‘They’re still out somewhere; their beds
haven’t been slept in,’ he said briefly. ‘Wait here, you two. I’m going to drive up to the Pritchards’, see if they’re there. Don’t worry, I shan’t be long.’

It was weeks before Ellen, Molly and Rhys managed to untangle the story as it had happened to the three youngsters, but at least they knew that it had been Sam O’Mara who had kidnapped Nonny, in mistake for Lana. Nonny’s description of his one blind milky eye was sufficient to identify him, for though Ellen had not seen him for years she knew that he had lost the sight of his eye in a dockside brawl. At first neither she nor the other two could understand the reason for Sam’s weird behaviour, until they learned that the authorities, after years of failed attempts to discover precisely where he was, had managed to track Sam down, and sent him a letter telling him that he owed five years’ child maintenance.

Knowing Sam as she did, Ellen realised immediately that his twisted brain would first blame her for the demand and second search for a means of revenging himself upon her. Now, the scribbled note in the ruined cottage made sense. He wanted her to tell the authorities that he had sent the money directly to her. When she did so he would return her daughter unharmed. She shuddered to think what form his rage and hate might have taken had Chris and Lana not caught up with him when they did. The children had played down Sam’s fall but both Ellen and Molly knew that it had affected their offspring deeply, knew also that it might be some considerable while before Sam O’Mara no longer haunted their dreams.

All attempts to recover his body, however, were unsuccessful, largely due to the fact that neither Chris nor the two girls could recall any detail at all which might lead the mountaineers to the particular spot where Sam, they assumed, had plunged to his death. Chris explained that when they had been following what they called ‘the chick trail’, they had been concentrating completely upon the way ahead, and on the way home they had been too exhausted to do anything apart from follow Feather.

Men who knew the mountains like the backs of their hands knew also that there were many clefts deep enough to hide a body from any but the most diligent search. And without some idea of where the youngsters had been taken, they knew that the chances of finding one particular gorge were slight indeed.

Molly would not have blamed Ellen had her friend wanted to shake the dust of Cefn Farm from her feet and return home to Liverpool after such a dreadful experience, but this did not prove to be the case. Ellen said, stoutly, that she felt safer than she had done for many years, knowing that Sam O’Mara was no longer around to plot and plan against her. She would stay with Molly as long as she was needed. She admitted that she missed her home, her relatives, and her many friends in the city. ‘If it hadn’t been for you, Moll, I think the peace and quiet here would have driv me mad,’ she had said honestly. ‘At home, there’s always a neighbour popping in either offering to do my messages or suggesting I might do hers. Then our Lana has only got to set foot in the jigger and she’ll be dragged off to skip rope or play relievio or gerron a tram headin’ for Princes Park or Seaforth Sands. Of course, she loves the hills and the streams and the
animals, but I reckon she wouldn’t swap lives with your Nonny, happy though she’s been here. Why, she’s already asked me if we can invite your kids to come and stay with us, perhaps over Christmas, when the shops is at their best.’

Soon after this conversation, Molly had taken Lana aside to find out how the experience had affected her, and whether she could bear to remain at Cefn Farm. Lana assured her that she felt exactly as her mother did: relieved that her father, whom she could scarcely remember, no longer posed a threat, so that she might enjoy the countryside without fear. ‘I love the farm and the animals, and Chris’s going to teach me all sorts of things,’ she told Molly. ‘Isn’t it odd, Auntie Molly? When I went up into the mountains, following the chick trail, it was as though I got stronger and braver with every mile we went. When we started out I was scared of everything: the dark, the storm, even the sheep. Yet by the time we were coming down again, and I could see Cefn Farm below me in the valley, I felt there was nothing I couldn’t do so long as Chris and Nonny were beside me. So if Mum wants us to stay, I’m real happy to do so, honest to God I am, Auntie Molly.’

Molly was vastly relieved in one sense, since she was finding the work of the farm, which she had always taken for granted, more than she could cope with while her leg was still in plaster. Nonny was as helpful as she had always been, but for a long time now Chris had been as useful as any man on the farm, and could not be expected to turn his hand to housework as well.

Happily, therefore, the extended family worked, and by the time the summer holidays were over Molly was
able to cope. Ellen said that though she hated the thought of leaving Cefn Farm she was looking forward to seeing her friends and neighbours once more, and she agreed, with enthusiasm, that she and Lana would return to Cefn Farm the following year.

The two women were in the kitchen at the time, doing the weekly bake, and Molly said that perhaps she and Rhys might take a couple of days off near Christmas. She kept to herself the lurking reflection that Lana and Chris were being thrown together in a way of which she could not wholly approve. Although it was only at the back of her mind, she could never quite forget that evening, long ago, when someone might, just might, have switched her baby and Ellen’s. That Chris and Lana might one day fall in love was a possibility which she preferred not to contemplate. If it happened, what should she do? Ellen would wonder why she had kept silent all those years, would probably think it was an excuse to stop Molly’s darling Chris from marrying a girl with no land of her own, no foothold, so to speak, in the farming community. Yet if she let a marriage between the two go ahead what might the consequences be? Molly knew her bible, knew that a union between siblings was expressly forbidden. Yet here she was, agreeing to Ellen and Lana’s spending at least some of their summer holiday every year at Cefn Farm, and suggesting that her own children should visit Liverpool. How devoutly she wished that she had told Rhys what the ward maid, Flossy, had told her! But she had not done so, so it was up to her to do her best to keep the friendship between Chris and Lana as just that: friendship.