Page 30 of Echoes on the Wind (Borrowed Time #2)

“I can’t believe this is going to be our last breakfast together,” Betty said as we gathered around Nellie’s kitchen table the following morning.

I flashed her a smile, which turned into a yawn as I pulled her into a hug from the seat next to me. It had been past three by the time we’d gotten into bed the night before, and Nellie had us up at dawn to make sure we could all eat together before she went off to work, so both Gwyn and I were struggling to stay awake as we waited for breakfast to be served.

“We’ll be back here all the time, don’t you worry. We’ll need the break from Mair’s cooking.”

“I’ve actually made some extra for you to take down there today,” Nellie said as she placed a bowl of boiled eggs on the table. “There’s an extra loaf in the oven, too.”

“This is why you’re my favourite,” I replied, grinning. “Are you coming after work? Joseph and Gethin said they’d help carry some things down, and Mair wants us to all eat together.”

“That sounds lovely,” she replied. “We can toast to the new house. In fact, if I’ve got time, I’ll make– ”

She was brought to a stop by a loud banging at the front door that sounded like it could take it right off its hinges.

“Who on earth is that at this time of the morning?” she said as she threw her tea towel on the table and hurried down the hallway fixing her hair.

I paused with a mouthful of food and turned to Gwyn, knowing that he was feeling the same rising dread in his stomach. It had to be the constables, here to drag us away for what we’d done the night before.

He got to his feet as footsteps marched down the hallway at an alarming pace, but when the kitchen door flew open, it wasn’t a constable who stood before us, but Mrs Hopkin. Judging by the look on her face, I didn’t know whether that was actually better.

“Pack your bags, young lady. You’re coming home with me,” she said, making a beeline for Betty.

Beside me, her daughter shrunk back into her chair, but she had nowhere to hide from her oncoming mother. “Mama, what are you doing here?” she cried out, but she knew exactly what had brought her mother to Bryncoed. We all did.

When she got around the table to her daughter, Mrs Hopkin reached out and pulled away Betty’s shawls to reveal her ever-growing baby bump.

“Mama, stop,” Betty cried, pushing away her mother’s hands.

“And you,” Mrs Hopkin shouted, turning to Nellie with a pointed finger. “How could you let this happen to your sister?”

Gwyn and I sat silently, afraid to move in case Mrs Hopkin noticed us and directed her anger our way .

“Where is he?” Mrs Hopkin demanded. “I want to meet the man who saw fit to get her into this state.”

“Mama,” Betty cried out again, her face soaked with tears.

“Gwynfor. Go and fetch him.”

Without saying a word, and knowing better than to argue, Gwyn rose from his seat and left the kitchen. A moment later, the front door slammed shut, and Mrs Hopkin turned her attention back to her daughters.

“You silly, silly girl,” she said. Her voice was softer now, and she leaned down and wrapped her arms around Betty, who sobbed into her mother’s breast. “Nellie, put some tea on.”

She looked over at me as she rocked her daughter, offering the faintest of smiles to greet me. Her eyes were filled with tears, and her anger seemed to have subsided, replaced with fear and concern for Betty.

As Betty’s sobs eased, she raised her head to face her mother, her eyes red and puffy, and asked, “How did you know?”

“I think it was me,” Nellie said from the stove. “I mentioned it in my last letter home.”

Betty clenched her jaw and wiped the tears from her face, now reddening with anger. “How could you?”

“You promised me you would tell her,” Nellie said firmly. “Twice! I stupidly assumed that you’d kept your word. If you didn’t lie to me, this wouldn’t have happened.”

She took the seat opposite Betty, and Mrs Hopkin moved to the head of the table between them. Betty still looked furious, but she couldn’t argue with her sister’s point.

“Is he a good man?” Mrs Hopkin asked .

“I love him,” Betty replied.

“That’s not what I asked. Thomas? Is he?”

I looked up, wishing she hadn’t brought me into it, and tried to force a smile in her direction. “I really think so,” I replied, nodding, and I could feel Betty’s eyes boring into me as I spoke. “He’s never given me a reason to think otherwise. And I think he has good intentions, even if they’ve been a little… careless?”

I tried hard to find a word that would fit the situation without condemning the man. It would be easy to hold him responsible, but it took both of them to get into this situation, after all.

“Does father know?” Nellie asked.

Mrs Hopkin’s eyes went wide at the suggestion. “Of course he doesn’t. It would put him in his grave.”

“Well I’m not coming back,” Betty said, straightening herself up and attempting to sound confident. “I want to stay here. I want to stay with Joseph.”

“Oh. Joseph , is it?” her mother snapped back, raising her eyebrows. “And why is it that Joseph hasn’t seen fit to make an honest woman of you, eh?”

“Well, actually, Mama,” Nellie began, but the sound of the front door swinging open stopped her from continuing on.

“I’m back,” Gwyn shouted down the hall.

Mrs Hopkin turned in her chair and folded her arms across her chest, waiting for the arrival of the man who had gotten her daughter pregnant.

Gwyn reached the kitchen and stepped inside, leaving Joseph standing nervously in the doorway. He tore off his hat and held it tightly to his stomach, anxiously wringing it between his fingers as he looked around at us all staring back at him.

“Mrs Hopkin, this is Joseph.”

Mrs Hopkin clasped her lips tightly, exhaled a deep breath that made her nostrils flare wide, then rested her elbows onto the table and sank her face into her palms.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Hopkin,” Joseph said, barely above a whisper.

For what felt like an eternity, the only noise in the room was Mrs Hopkin’s heavy breathing.

“Mama, aren’t you going to say something?” Betty asked, looking like she might start crying again.

Finally raising her head up, Mrs Hopkin composed herself and stood up, leaning her hands on the table as she stared at Joseph. “Where is your family?” she asked.

“Back home. In Mauritius, ma’am.”

“Is that far away?”

“Quite far, ma’am. Yes.”

We sat around the table as though we were watching a tennis match in action, our heads moving back and forth between Joseph and Mrs Hopkin. She was a formidable woman on any given day, but was doing well to remain calm as she questioned him. He, meanwhile, was a bag of nerves, alternating his gaze between her and the floor.

“And what if you take it upon yourself to go back, leaving my daughter with a baby and no wedding certificate? What then?”

“I love your daughter, ma’am,” he said, straightening himself up and saying it with confidence. “I have no plans to ever go back. ”

“Then I need someone to explain to me, any one of you, why she’s in this state without a single sign of being married. Are you trying to bring shame to yourselves? Are things so different here that you just don’t care? Well? Anyone?”

Every one of us remained silent. None of us had an answer that would appease her concerns, and as her eyes scanned the room and burned into every one of us, one by one we dropped our gazes towards the floor.

“I take it this Godforsaken town has a church in it?” she said, turning to Nellie.

“Yes. And a chapel,” her daughter replied. “Down on the main road.

“Do you want to marry my daughter, Mr…?”

“Bérenger, ma’am,” Joseph replied. “My name is Joseph Bérenger. And yes. I do. Very much.”

“Well, then,” Mrs Hopkin said as she stood upright. “It looks like I have some work to do.”

Twenty minutes later, all of us, minus Nellie, were standing outside the chapel on the high street. Mrs Hopkin, who’d spent several minutes standing on the pavement looking up at the building with her nose scrunched up, seemed less than impressed by it. In contrast to the church she worshipped at back in Cwm Newydd, built several centuries before, this new modern building had little character, with tall concrete walls and just two stained-glass windows on either side of the wooden door.

“It’ll do,'' she said, pushing the door open and letting herself in .

In the months since I had moved to Bryncoed, I’d never been inside, and I was struck by how large, and yet unremarkable, it was. There was a long aisle down the centre that split through several rows of pews, and two windows on each wall that let in hardly any light because the buildings on either side had been built so close.

The only other item in the room was a lectern, standing lonely at the front of the building. The whole place felt cold and unwelcoming, and even after only a few seconds inside, I couldn’t wait to leave.

“Hello?” Mrs Hopkin called out, her voice bouncing off the bare walls.

The room remained silent for a moment, until a lock latched, and a door at the back of the room opened. An old, portly man popped his head out and greeted us with a warm smile.

“ Helo. Ydych chi'n siarad Cymraeg? ” Mrs Hopkin said, but the priest pursed his lips together and shook his head. “I’m sorry,” she continued, “I just thought… never mind. My name is Mrs Hopkin, and my daughter is in need of marriage. Could you help us?”

The vicar cast his eyes towards Betty, who despite her best efforts, was no longer able to convincingly conceal her bump, then he gave me a disapproving look.

“It’s not mine,” I said, perhaps more defensively than I’d intended

He then turned to Gwyn, who also shook his head, before he finally set his sights on Joseph. The alarmed look on his face turned to utter contempt, and he looked back to Betty, then to her mother, and began to shake his head. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I cannot help you.”

He clasped his hands together and bowed his head slightly, probably thinking that would be enough to make Mrs Hopkin turn heel and leave, but instead, she took a step towards him, closing the already small gap between them.

“I’m sorry?” she questioned, as though daring him to say it again. “This is a chapel, is it not?”

“That is correct, but I still cannot help you,” he replied, and his mild manner seemed to be replaced with annoyance at being challenged. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“I certainly will not excuse you,” Mrs Hopkin replied.

“Mama, let’s go,” Betty said, tugging on her mother’s arm.

“No. You have every right to be married in front of God. Isn’t that right, Father?”

“I’m afraid you can’t just come in here and demand to be married. That isn’t how it works.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be today. We just wan–”

“It won’t be any day,” he snapped. “Now, I really must return to my work.”

“Oh, I see what this is,” Mrs Hopkin said, and I couldn’t help but smile at her defiance. “Standing there all superior. I know for a fact she isn’t the first woman with a condition to stand before God, and she won’t be the last, let me tell you.”

“Mrs Hopkin!” the priest shouted, and it echoed around the room. He stamped his foot into the tile and squared up against her, and both Gwyn and I stepped forward to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. “ Your daughter's condition is not the problem here.” He gave Joseph another look of scorn, making it clear what the issue really was, then brought his attention back to Mrs Hopkin. “I will not be marrying them in this chapel, and that is the end of it.”

“Hey!” I said, digging my finger into his collarbone. “You’re being out of line.” I looked to Joseph, willing him to defend himself from the obvious discrimination, but he kept his eyes trained on the floor. “Say something,” I said, but he shook his head, then turned around and stormed out of the chapel.

The priest looked down at my hand poking him and took a step back, but not without casting me a look of disgust, as though I was the one who was being inappropriate.

“I wish you all a blessed day. Please leave.”

Before any of us could speak further, he turned around, his robes twirling around him, and scurried off back to the room he had come from.

“That’s no man of God,” Mrs Hopkin said, clutching her purse close to her chest and marching to the exit.

When we got back out into the sunshine, Joseph was waiting for us on the pavement, pacing back and forth, and filled with anger.

“Wait here,” Mrs Hopkin said, then she marched off down the street and disappeared into the post office.

“Why didn’t you say anything, Joe?” I asked.

He wasn’t a man of many words at the best of times, but I couldn’t understand why he hadn’t defended himself .

“You don’t understand, Tom,” he said, rubbing his hands down his cheeks. “Things aren’t the same for me as they are for you. When you argue back, you’re just defending your honour, but when I do it, they say I’m causing trouble, that I’m not showing enough respect. Men like him, they don’t accept me. They tolerate me, just as long as I stay quiet and out of the way. Do you think I didn’t want to say something? That I didn’t know what his problem was? You said your piece and he waved it off. If I’d have done the same, he’d have called the constables. I hate having to look away and stay quiet, but I have to, because if I don’t, bad things happen.”

I stood there stunned, feeling foolish and ignorant, and as Betty put a comforting arm around his shoulder, two passing women began to whisper and stare.

“Right,” Mrs Hopkin shouted. She was powering back towards us, red-faced from rushing, but with a smile on her face that assured me that wherever she’d been, she’d gotten her way. “If you can’t get married in front of God, then you’ll do it in front of a magistrate.”

“How?” Betty asked, stepping towards her mother. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ve sent a telegram to the town hall requesting their earliest date. A registry wedding is as good as any other in the eyes of the law. I’ll return this afternoon to check for a response.” She then sidestepped her daughter and put herself in front of Joseph, and when she couldn’t get his eyes to meet hers, she took hold of his chin and held him firm until he met her stare.

“I can only imagine that you’re quite used to what happened in the chapel just now, and I’m sorry for that, Mr Bérenger. I take measure of a man by how he treats others, and how you treat Elizabeth is what’s important to me.”

“I love your daughter, Mrs Hopkin. Truly. And I promise I will always take care of her.”

“Then I can’t really ask for much more,” Mrs Hopkin said, finally giving him a warm smile. “I won’t pretend that you didn’t take me by surprise, and I’m certain you’ll set tongues wagging when you visit the village, but if you mean what you say, then you have my blessing. I’d have preferred if you’d both seen fit to follow a more traditional path, of course, but we won’t get far by trying to change what’s done. Now, where will I get some tea without having to walk back up that hill?”

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Nellie said as she pushed through the door to Mair’s house later that day. “I had a terrible time trying to get here from the infirmary. I’ve never seen so many constables.”

“Constables?” Gwyn asked, rising from his seat at the dining table to offer it to her.

She unwrapped her scarf and took off her hat, setting them down on the dresser under the window, then plopped herself down in the chair that Gwyn had vacated, looking exhausted.

“Yes, they’re everywhere, and they’ve blocked off the road I usually take, so I had to go all the way around. It seems that something is going on down in the field.”

She pointed in the general direction of the field we’d run through with the body, and I knew immediately that Graham had been found. It was bound to happen eventually, of course, but I thought we might have had at least a couple of days.

I cast glances at my accomplices, but every single one of them refused to meet my stare, as though it might implicate them somehow. Gwyn eventually moved for the door, needing to see for himself.

I could see him outside, hand up to shield his eyes as he stared down to the field, and when I could take the curiosity no more, I got up to join him, slowly followed by everyone else.

We crowded onto the pavement, and some of the neighbours had done the same, watching as four uniformed constables walked in a slow line across the field. Other officers stood dotted around, too, including one at the end of the road, keeping people back.

“What are they doing?” Betty asked, looking around at us all for an explanation.

“Combing,” Lee replied. “I’ve seen it before. They’ll be looking for evidence or footprints or a missing child or something.”

“How awful,” Tish replied.

Mair, shorter than everyone, pushed through the crowd outside her door until she was standing at the front and brought her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun. “I wonder what’s happened,” she said, playing dumb but sounding entirely convincing.

I, meanwhile, was too terrified to open my mouth, afraid I’d say something wrong, or my tone would give me away, and everyone would automatically know that I was somehow involved.

“Look,” Mrs Hopkin cried out, bringing her hands to her mouth in shock .

We couldn’t see the treeline from the house, but two policemen came from that direction, crossing the field with a stretcher.

“Maybe the ladies would like to go inside,” Gethin suggested, trying to usher them through the door. Everyone but Tish turned and cast him an unimpressed glare, unmoving, and he straightened his shoulders in a huff. “Scenes such as this are unfit for a woman’s constitution.”

Mair rolled her eyes and tutted. “I’m sure we’ll cope.”

“I hope they catch the killer,” Joseph said, and I turned my head to face away.

“What makes you think he was killed?” Zack asked, almost a little too defensively.

“Well they wouldn’t bring out the whole force if someone had a heart attack,” Lee replied.

The group parted as an officer brushed past us, heading for the field, and Mair reached out to tap his shoulder. “Hey, you. Come here a minute.”

The young man, in a uniform that was clearly too big for him, looked barely out of his teens. He cast a nervous glance at Mair, hesitating for a second before rushing back to us and straightening up, trying to look authoritative. “You’ve nothing to be concerned about, miss,” he said, but the shake in his voice made him sound totally unconvincing.

“What’s going on down there?” she asked.

He looked around nervously, as though he was looking for help with Mair’s interrogation, then dropped his voice down low. “I’m not sure I can say. I don’t even know very much myself. It’s only my third day.” He turned around to face the field, and when he turned back to us again, his face was as white as a sheet. “I’m just to make sure nobody goes down there.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility,” Mair said. She looked up at him with a huge smile, and he straightened his shoulders up a bit, looking quite proud of himself. “But what’s happened?”

She wasn’t subtle in her approach, but I understood her need for information. It obviously had the desired effect, because after another quick glance to the field, the young officer turned back to us and leaned in close.

“A body was found on the tracks just north of here,” He whispered, to shocked gasps from some in our group. “That’s all I know so far.”

“So he was hit by a train!” Lee declared, as though he’d just solved the case all on his own.

“The inspector doesn’t seem to think so,” the boy said nervously. “He thinks it’s suspicious. But I’ve already said more than I should. I really must go.”

He turned away and tripped off the kerb, sending his hat flying into the road, then he tripped again as he attempted to pick it up and nearly tumbled to the ground. He flashed an embarrassed smile as he looked around to see if anyone noticed, then once his hat was firmly back on top of his head, he rushed off down the street.

“Ghastly business,” Gethin said, and he brushed his hands together as though the news itself was dirty. “If it was foul play, I hope they catch whichever reprobate was responsible and give them the rope.”