The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy (23 page)

Dafydd’s eyes remained closed, but he managed to whisper one word before he lapsed back into unconsciousness, ‘Awel.’

Gwyn sat down heavily, still holding his father’s hand.
Who was Awel? Did he mean Anwen?
Gwyn racked his brain, but the name was unfamiliar.
Perhaps Dai would know.

Dai
returned to his seat and noted Gwyn’s hand in his father’s. ‘Any change?’

‘No, still out cold.’ Gwyn leaned back and released his father’s hand. ‘D
ai, who is Awel?’

Dai
raised a bushy eyebrow. ‘Awel Ddu, you mean?’ Gwyn guessed so and so he nodded. Dai leaned back into his chair and folded his ankles. He lowered his voice, ‘Awel Ddu or as we know her, Awel Chan-y-Bant, is sister to Aeron Ddu, The Winter King. She is well known to us in the Valley. She, more than the others has taken time to get to know us, as people, not just as … well, you know.’

Gwyn didn’t know. He had never been to a Solstice or joined the Harvest, he wasn’t sure what it entailed. Gwyn looked at his father again.
Did he mean
this
Awel? Were there any others by that name? What did his father want him to do?

‘I’m no use here
,’ Gwyn sighed, ‘I need to get home, help with finding Anwen and Nerys, feed the animals.’ Dai tipped his head to the side and watched Gwyn for a moment. ‘Sounds like a good idea. You can drop me off as you collect Bara, she’s at mine.’

They made ready to leave. ‘Gwyn,’
Dai hesitated a moment, ‘if you were looking for Awel Chan-y-Bant, you’ll find her in the forest between our two lands. Go past the tree where we found your father and head into the forest. You’ll see a lone standing stone, that’s where you’ll find her, not that I know anything.’

‘Thanks, D
ai. I mean, thanks for everything.’ Gwyn seemed embarrassed and Dai chuckled, cuffing him on the back of his head. ‘Daft sod,’ he said, ‘we’re friends and neighbours, aren’t we? Anyway, being here saved me having to listen to my wife droning on and on about our son’s bloody wedding. It’s ages away yet! Come on, let’s go rescue Bara, I bet my wife’s talked her ears off!’

Gwyn smiled, a small smile that just creased on
e side of his mouth, but it was a start. Hopefully Dai was right, everything would turn out fine.

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

Anwen had lost sight of the coast as she dropped down the hill into the lower fields, but she had a good sense of direction and knew exactly where she was heading.

She was still wearing her sodden church shoes and they were rubbing mercilessly against her heels and little toes. She’d thought about discarding them altogether but better to keep them, at least until she could replace them. She thought she would look ridiculous walking into the train station barefoot, if she got that far.

Her feet hurt, the cuts on her legs stung, she was tired, tearful and hungry, the few berries she’d found had not satisfied her hunger and she craved for a bacon sandwich and a mug of tea. That thought sent a jolt of longing, she missed Ty Mawr and she missed her family.

She scrubbed angrily at her moist eyes.
Not even a day’s walk away from the farm and I’m already homesick. How pathetic!
She wasn’t sure why she was still running away. She wondered whether she should turn back, whether she should find the nearest farm and phone home, but a nagging, uneasy feeling made her press on.

She checked the position of the sun, it was well past noon, Anwen guessed it must be heading towards four o’clock
. She’d have to pick up her pace if she wanted to be out of the countryside by nightfall. Another night running through the dark was too much to ask; her energy was ebbing, her knees were bruised and the pink tracksuit was already muddied. No, she needed to be as far away as possible by nightfall as that was the time the Helgi would hunt for her.

She was head
ing towards another gate and she could see a patch of tarmac between the bars, dare she use the roads? As she approached she listened for the tell-tale sound of a car, but the road remained silent. The only thing she could hear was the chirping of birds in the hedgerow and then another sound she’d nearly missed. She held her breath and listened, straining to hear the sound again. There it was – a giggle, coming from the opposite side of the road.

Crouching down she scurried to the side of the gate and peeped through. She could see an orange Volkswagen campervan pulled into the layby opposite the gate. She heard the giggle again, but the campervan looked empty.

Anwen’s heart was pumping in her ears as she scaled the gate and dropped silently on the other side. Checking up and down the road she darted to the side of the campervan, keeping the van between herself and the field beyond. Peeking into the passenger side window she could see the keys dangling from the ignition. Her breath caught in her throat.

As s
lowly and silently as she could she scampered to the driver’s side and pinched open the door handle, wincing as it clunked open. She paused, listening for the approach of the owners, but the giggling continued, a man’s low voice joined in the mirth.

Anwen had driven a tractor plenty of times but had never actually driven a car, not by herself. When she was younger her father would allow her to jump on his lap and she would steer the car and change the gears all the way up the lane home, her father would press the clutch in and shout “change” and she would ram the gearstick into first or second. He would sometimes make her laugh by pressing the accelerator sharply so the car would chug and judder
. “You’re a bloody useless driver!” her father would shout and laugh along with her. Another wave of homesickness crashed down on her, but she pushed it away as she slipped into the driving seat.

She locked herself inside the van and turned the ignition. The engine purred to life. Dipping the clutch she rammed the gearstick into first, dropped the handbrake and she was off, the gearbox screaming to be changed into a lower gear.

Anwen looked into the rear view mirror as two half-dressed people burst from the field.
Oh, my god!
Anwen’s jaw dropped open,
that’s PC James Mallard and Ellen Richards! Oh, and she’s soon to be married to Dai Jones’ son, Gary!

Anwen flicked a
‘v’ sign with her fingers in the rear windscreen.
Serves them right, the sneaky sods! They’ll have a long walk back to the village now, Ha!
Anwen liked Gary Jones … shame.

By the time she reached the outskirts of Abergele she’d decided to park the campervan on a narrow side street. She had considered driving as far as the van would take her, but there was something wrong with the engine, it had begun to smell like burning rubber and wisps of steam were beginning to escape from under the bonnet, anyway a bright orange campervan was hardly inconspicuous.

Once the van was ditched, she grabbed her belongings, checking the mirror and the bracelet were still in place and helped herself to a black padded jacket she’d found in the back of the van, along with a bag to shove her stuff in, then she set off towards the station.

Anwen had never been on a train by herself, there had never been the need. She
’d always had her father or Gwyn with her and she suddenly felt exposed, unsure of herself.
How difficult can it be? Just get on and get off, but get off where?

She suddenly realised she had the whole world in front of
her; she could go anywhere, any place she chose, except home. She couldn’t go home. Fighting with her trembling lips, she took a few deep breaths and entered the station. There was no ticket office, no station master, just a few benches and a couple of tubs containing wilting flowers.

Looking around, she found a timetable stuck to the wall. The next train was in six minutes time and went as far as
Chester:
Caerlleon
, she thought to herself,
it was called Caerlleon until the English stole it from the Welsh
.

Anwen found an inconspicuous spot to stand on the station platform. From where she stood she could see anybody who entered the station and if necessary she would be able to escape if anybody recognised her, but there was no
-one else there, just her, standing alone and forlorn waiting for the next train to arrive.

As the train squealed to a stop
, Anwen stepped forward and jumped on as soon as the nearest door opened. She found an empty seat and sat down, shielding herself with her bag of belongings, hiding her face from the window.

She only realised she was holding her breath when the train started up again and began to chug away from the station. She had made it! She was on her way to
Chester. Leaning back, she finally let the tears fall. Part relief, part sorrow, she allowed herself time to cry, to release the tension and fear she’d been holding inside since her aunt had shouted,
‘Run Anwen!’

Anwen wasn’t a religious woman, not like her
aunt, but she closed her eyes and said a prayer, hoping someone would hear:

‘Dear God, please protect my family. Let everyone be okay. Don’t let my mistake get them into trouble. Bless Dad and Gwyn and Nerys, let them all be safe and happy
… Please watch over me. Protect my baby and keep us safe, oh, and I know you’re not on speaking terms, but could you watch out for Taliesin? Amen.’

Anwen opened her eyes to the conductor
.

‘Where to young lady?’

‘Chester, please,’ she said with a faint smile.

‘Return or single?’

‘Single.’ Her heart sank.
One way ticket.
She paid her money. ‘Is there a buffet car on this train?’

‘Yes, next car down,’ the conductor replied
, as he handed her a ticket, ‘they’ll be closing after Prestatyn, so you best be quick.’

Anwen looked down at the money she had stolen. It wouldn’t get her far, but she had enough to get something to eat and drink and pay for a couple of days
’ bed and breakfast until she sorted something out. She squared her shoulders and made her way to the buffet car, making a promise to ring home as soon as she found somewhere to stay.

The bacon bap wasn’t as good as home’s, but Anwen gulped it down leaving nothing but an empty wrapper. The tea was tepid and weak, but it tasted like heaven. She’d bought a couple of bars of chocolate too, tucking them away in her bag for later.

The train journey had been uneventful. Her stomach had fluttered every time the train pulled into a station and only relaxed once it continued on the journey.

‘The next station we arrive at will be
Chester where the train terminates. All alight at the next stop.’ The nasal voice over the tannoy fell silent and Anwen stared out of the window. It was nearly dark and the street lights had begun to flicker into existence. Anwen watched as houses and businesses slid into view and vanished again to be replaced by sandstone walls and then an expanse of dirty rail tracks snaking off into the darkness.

The train slowed and then came to a stop at the platform. There was a bustle of activity as the passengers pulled on their coats and grabbed their bags and belonging
s, shuffling in file as they made their way to the nearest exit.

Anwen hopped off the train and looked around her. The station was enormous compared to the station near her village. Her eyes gazed across platform after grey platform, across black rails and footbridges. She didn’t know where the station exit was and so she followed the crowd, like a lost sheep.

She followed the mass of men and women over the footbridge. She was surprised that the men hadn’t offered to help an elderly lady with the suitcase she was obviously struggling with, they instead simply side stepped past her.
How rude
, she thought, but she didn’t offer to help either, she felt too small and shy to be of any real assistance.

The footbridge led to the entrance of the station. People rushed in and out, some smartly dressed in suits and office clothes, others dressed more casually, some were wearing jeans and jumpers, but none of them looked as bedraggled as Anwen.
I bet I look like a country bumpkin
. Anwen felt self-conscious and unsightly standing in a pink tracksuit and black jacket that were far too big for her, damp shoes and wayward hair, clutching a plastic bag that carried all her worldly possessions.

What do I do now?
Anwen hesitated at the mouth of the station.
Where do I go? I don’t know what I’m doing.
Anwen felt a flush of embarrassment give heat to her cheeks. Her eyes became misty and a lump in her throat made her want to sit down and cry. It took a few moments to steady herself as she looked around the station and then she found what she was looking for: a telephone.

Fishing into her pocket she withdrew two ten pence pieces. Picking up the handset while placing her bag between her feet, she began to dial her home telephone number, remembering to dial the area code first.

Her heartbeat quickened as she heard the first
burr-burr
, but as the seconds ticked away, so did her expectations: nobody was home. She replaced the receiver and put the coins back in her pocket. Her heart felt as heavy as her bag.
I’ll try again in a few minutes, I’ll get a nice hot cup of tea from the café and then I’ll try again.
Anwen dragged herself away from the phone and into the warm glow of the station café. It was dark now and that made her feel more alone than ever.