Page 6 of Echoes on the Wind (Borrowed Time #2)

The carriage sped through the lanes faster than any omnibus that I’d travelled on, and the bumps in the dirt roads left me feeling sick for much of the journey.

I’d expected that we’d travel south along the coast, as I had when I’d driven the route, though obviously with no motorways to speak of, our driver had other ideas, and he’d instead taken us east into the hills.

We’d stopped at inns along the way to change horses twice before finally spending our first night in a guest house in a small town called Builth Wells. Mrs Jones, the owner, provided us with food upon our arrival and a small hamper to take with us the following morning, and we were soon on our way once more.

Our second day of travels was smoother, and we crossed onto what was probably considered for the time to be main roads, though they still left a lot to be desired. It was the snow that slowed us down however, and the horses were brought to a stop earlier than we’d expected in the town of Brecon.

Having done the journey before, Mair had provided me with a list of places to stay along our route, but the unscheduled stop left us fending for ourselves, so I booked two rooms at a hotel that overlooked the river. It wasn’t particularly lavish, and the smell from the cattle market lingered in every room, but it was warm and dry and did the job that we needed it to do.

The following day, the snow had eased sufficiently enough for us to continue on our journey, and we set off on the final leg of our trip just after breakfast. As we wound through the hills and valleys towards South Wales, the nerves began to kick in, and while Betty watched the scenery from the carriage window, I ran through a hundred different scenarios in my mind of how my reunion with Gwyn would play out.

When I was younger, I had a tendency to excite myself into anxiety, building things up to a point where I would either be sick or get so overwhelmed with nervous energy that it would spill out in ways that I had never intended. Around our thirteenth birthday, I’d overheard my mum and aunt planning a surprise party, and I became so pent up with excitement about it that by the time the day came around, and everyone jumped out to yell ‘surprise’, I burst into tears and ran from the room.

A similar thing happened years later, after my first term away at university. I hadn’t seen Lee for months. It was the longest we’d ever been apart, actually. I spent the whole train ride home excited to catch up and spend time with him again, but the excitement eventually overwhelmed me, and within five minutes of being back we had a huge argument. He hadn’t done anything wrong, and I couldn’t explain why I’d gotten so worked up, but I picked a fight and we had a blazing row, and it spoilt the whole day .

I couldn’t let that happen with Gwyn.

“There’s buildings up ahead,” Betty said, pulling her head back inside the cab momentarily. “Huge chimney stacks.”

We tilted back in the carriage as it climbed another hill, then as we reached the top, the horses slowed, and Betty let out a sudden high-pitched squeal, shooting back from the window with such force that the whole cab rocked sideways.

“Betty, what’s wrong?” I asked, worried that she might be getting ill, but she brought her hands up to her mouth, shaking her head as her cheeks began to turn a shade of red nearly equal to that of the upholstery.

Curious, I took her spot at the window and let out a small chuckle as I saw what had left her so dumbstruck. Just across the hill, not quite as concealed amongst the ferns as they probably would have liked, was the bobbing arse of a man with his trousers around his ankles. Wrapped around his waist were a slender pair of legs adorned with a dainty pair of shoes that had blue and white ribbons hanging from them.

“You wouldn’t see that in Cwm Newydd,” I said, returning to my seat.

The look of embarrassment on Betty’s face only served to make me laugh more, and for the first time all morning, I managed to forget how nervous I felt.

“Nearly there,” the driver shouted from up front, and I pulled the curtain open as we descended the hill towards the town, leaving the countryside behind.

In stark contrast to Cwm Newydd, Bryncoed was loud and busy, with carriages filling the streets and people moving to and fro as they went about their business. The air was thick with smoke, which cast a strange hue over the town that the sun struggled to break through, and everything seemed like it was caked in a layer of dust. Even the snow looked dirty.

Our carriage pulled right, taking us over a bridge onto a main road filled with stores and grocers, and at least a dozen streets branched away from it, each lined with rows of red-brick terraced houses and even more shops. At the far end of the main road, the ground seemed to fall into blackness as the rolling hills made way for a huge mine that sprawled into the distance as far as the eye could see.

The black, scarred landscape was filled with dust-covered buildings, some climbing into the sky at least three times as high as the nearby houses, and dotted around the site, huge black tips of waste and spoil rose from the ground into peaks, dominating the landscape and making the town seem even darker.

“It’s so exciting, isn’t it?” Betty said as she stared out at her new surroundings. “Look how big everything is.”

“It’s certainly quite something,” I replied as I watched a group of miners filing into one of the buildings.

When I was a child, the news was filled with stories about miners’ strikes and government takeovers. By the time I’d reached adulthood, nearly all the mines had closed, the industry dead, and I’d never actually seen one up close. I’d always imagined a simple hole in the ground that people would be lowered into, with everything up top looking innocuous and normal, but here in front of us, its dominance was obvious, and the size and scale of it was beyond all expectations .

The carriage took a turn to the left, steering us away from the mine, and made its way up one of the hillsides, climbing a zigzagged road past even more buildings until it reached the top and turned into a single row of houses that looked down on the village below. The air was clearer here, and with less smog to block our view, we could see right across the valley to the hills on the other side. It was actually quite pretty, in an overly industrialised sort of way.

“This is you,” the driver called out, coming to a stop at the far end of the street, just before the road gave way to the tree line.

Betty shot me an excited glance and then practically burst out of the carriage onto the road, and I followed her out, slow and stiff, grateful to stretch my legs and stand upright.

Our driver stayed exactly where he was, leaving us to fetch our own bags from the compartment at the back. I didn’t have much in the way of luggage, just some clothes that Mair and Mrs Hopkin had saved for me, but Betty travelled as though she was bringing all of her worldly possessions with her, and in her weak state, it was left to me to handle them.

The lack of help from the carriage man made me resent the half-crown I had ready as a tip, but as it was the only coin I had to hand, and not wanting to seem ungenerous, I handed it over. Without so much as a ‘thank you’, he pulled off, leaving us standing in the middle of the road.

“Which one is it?” Betty asked, and I fished the note from my pocket that Mrs Hopkin had given me with the address on it .

I read it aloud and then scanned the long row of large houses, looking to see if any of them had names or numbers on them that would match up. “I don’t even know if we’re on the right street,” I replied. “We’re looking for Church Street, but there’s no church up here.”

“Does there need to be?” she asked.

“Well, you’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

She came over and snatched the paper, gave it a glance over, and then stared along the street. “There. It’s that one,” she said before rushing off and knocking on the door of a house about ten metres away.

I’d barely managed to pick up all of her bags before the door swung open, and Nellie stepped out onto the stoop.

“Betty, what are you doing here?” she asked as she scooped her sister into a hug. There was shock in her voice, but her face lit up at the sight of her sister.

“I’ve brought a surprise,” Betty said, and they both turned to me as I walked along the pavement like a packhorse.

“Thomas!” Nellie called out warmly, her wide smile welcoming me immediately. As I walked through the gate, she threw her arms around my shoulders, and the tightness of her hug nearly caused me to drop the bags. “It’s so good to see you. What brings you here? Nobody wrote to say you’d be coming. Come in, come in.”

The small, tiled hallway had three doors leading off it. I took the first on the right, stepping into the living room, only to come upon a man I didn’t recognise .

“Oh, hello,” I said, the surprise bringing me to a stop in the doorway before Betty came up behind me and pushed me further into the room.

“Hello,” he replied cheerily.

He stood much taller than me, with dark hair and a clean-shaven face. He flashed me a handsome smile as he extended a hand, before quickly bringing it back when he noticed the bags I was holding. “It looks like you’re going to be quite busy,” he added as Nellie followed us in. “I’ll leave you to your guests.”

“Thank you so much for today,” she replied, clutching her hands together at her waist, and he reached out and took them into his own.

“It’s no bother at all. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

He smiled at me again and doffed his cap to Betty, then disappeared down the hallway and out onto the street.

“Mr Angove,” Nellie said as though she was sensing my curiosity. “The chemist. He lives along the road and was dropping off some supplies. Anyway, come. Sit. You must be exhausted.”

I put Betty’s bags down near the doorway, then took a seat in the armchair in front of the big bay window while Nellie and Betty embraced for another hug.

“I’ll make us some tea,” Nellie said, “and then you can tell me everything. I’ve just boiled some water, so your timing is perfect.”

She disappeared into the hallway, and Betty took a seat on the sofa opposite the fireplace, staring around in amazement at her sister's house.

Everything was furnished to the highest standard, a sign of the wealth that Gethin had grown up in, and in stark contrast to the farm in Cwm Newydd that Nellie had come from. Large rugs covered the floors, complimenting the leafy wallpaper. The armchairs and sofa were ornately designed, padded and upholstered in expensive fabrics. They even had gas lamps, discreetly hidden on the walls by little glass chandeliers. The fireplace, though burning brightly, was polished like a new penny. If it didn’t have flames roaring up the chimney breast, you’d be forgiven for thinking it had never been used.

“Isn’t it wonderful, Tom?” Betty whispered. “Have you ever seen anything so fancy?”

“It’s lovely,” I said, smiling at her innocence. After eighteen years tucked away in a tiny village in the middle of nowhere, a place like this must seem extraordinary.

“Now,” Nellie said, returning with a tray and placing it down on the table in the centre of the room, “what brings you all the way out here? Not that it’s not lovely to see you both, but it is rather unexpected.”

“Tom’s looking for his brother, and I’m moving in,” Betty said matter-of-factly, taking both Nellie and me by surprise.

“That’s not what you told your mother,” I said, already dreading the earache that Mrs Hopkin was going to give me.

She sat upright, straightening her back defiantly, and stuck her chin out. “Well, she would never have let me leave otherwise.”

“And don’t I get a say in this?” Nellie asked.

There was something different about her since we’d last seen each other. A maturity, perhaps? Not that she wasn’t already mature, of course, but married life and running her own home appeared to have brought extra confidence with it.

“Oh please, Nellie. I won’t be any trouble, I promise.”

Nellie cast me a glance as though she wanted me to step in, but I instead rolled my eyes and hid my face behind my cup, taking a long sip of sweet tea and letting them come to that decision on their own terms.

“You must write home at once. If it’s alright with them, then I suppose it’s alright with me. I’ll have to discuss it with Gethin, of course, but I’m sure he won’t have much to say on the matter. He’s hardly here these days as it is.”

“And if Mama says no?” Betty asked.

“Then you can stay for two weeks and be grateful for your holiday. And what of you, Tom?” she asked, turning her attention to me. “I suppose you will be looking for space, too?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” I said. “Just until I find my brother and work out what’s happening next.”

“It’ll be a squeeze, and you’ll have to bunk with Gwyn in the small room, but I suppose I can’t see you on the street. You are like family, after all.”

“I really do appreciate it, thank you.”

“So, what’s this of your brother?” she asked, taking a sip of tea and perching herself right on the edge of the couch next to her sister, just enough so that she didn’t fall off.

“We got separated on the way to your parents' farm. Zack said he’d come up this way. Well, to Cardiff, actually, and I was hoping that Gwyn could help me find him. Is he around? ”

“That’s quite a separation,” she said, bringing the cup to her lips and glancing at me over the rim. “As for Gwyn, he’s at work, I should expect. I was out earlier than everyone this morning, but he never ventures far from home or the mine.”

“And how is Gethin?” I asked, realising that I’d not enquired about her husband since we’d arrived.

She straightened her back and reached up to adjust her already perfectly immaculate hair. “He’s well. It’s taken some adjustment, but he loves the new position. He’s the headteacher now, down at the council school. You will have passed it as you came up the hill.”

“And what about you?” I asked. “How are your studies?”

Suddenly, her eyes lit up, excited by the change of topic. When we’d last seen each other, Nellie had just been told she could begin her nursing training at a hospital in Aberystwyth, a role she was born to do, and I was sure by the look on her face that it was going well.

“Oh it’s wonderful,” she said, setting her cup down on the table and becoming more animated as she spoke. “I had to transfer to a local infirmary when we moved, but it’s just made it all more interesting, and I’m constantly learning new things from Dr. Lamont. And that mine keeps me busy,” she said, pointing out the window. “There’s always some accident or another to tend to. I come home blacker than the miners most days, with all that soot and coal dust all over me, but I love it.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m really pleased for you.”

“Can I go and see where I’ll be staying?” Betty asked, diverting the conversation .

“Of course. I’ll bring your things up. Tom, would you like more tea?”

“I’m going to go for a walk, actually,” I said, rising to my feet and setting my cup down. “I want to try and get my bearings. Is it the mine at the bottom of the hill where Gwyn works?”

“That’s the one. Though they don’t like people on site, and they won’t let you go down if he's in the pit.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you won’t catch me down there. I’m far too claustrophobic for that.”

“Well, let yourself in when you return. The door’s always open.”

We said our goodbyes as they headed upstairs, and I made my way out to the street. There was a pavement outside of the houses, but the road itself looked like compressed muck, and on the opposite side was a railing, presumably to stop people and wagons from going over the edge and rolling down the hill into the town below.

It seemed odd having the houses set so far back from the rest of the town, but it was obviously where the people with a bit more money chose to live, away from the noise and the grime of the mine.

The terraced houses that lined the streets off the main road looked like tightly packed cottages, with little space to spare, but on Nellie’s street, the houses stood taller and wider, semi-detached, with large bay windows and ornate decoration. Even the gutters looked expensive.

There was a row of similar houses on a street near where I grew up in Cambridge, but investors had come in the ’80s and turned them all into flats, splitting each house into three. These, by contrast, were still fairly new, each with a small yard out front, though few could be described as a garden, and most had concrete and fancy tiles instead of grass or flowers.

At the end of the street, the road curved back down the hill. The further I went, the louder things became, until the hustle of the town surrounded me. Off to the right was the main street through town, wide and cobbled to accommodate the traffic and pedestrians who were going about their day. It was mostly women and children who were browsing the stores, though a few men were about, too, dressed for work or heading home from their shifts, their faces black with soot.

Heading for the mine, I turned left, away from the high street, and cut across some grass to enter behind some buildings. Even without heavy machinery and vehicles, the workers had managed to wear tracks into the land between all the buildings and pit entrances, and I followed them as I wandered around, hoping I might spot Gwyn amongst some of the men who were gathered nearby.

The smell of coal was thick in the air. Though I tried my best to cover my face with my hand, I could feel the dust from the mines filling my throat and nostrils as I walked. If it was this uncomfortable above ground, I could only imagine how miserable it must be below, and I hated the idea of Gwyn being down there every day.

I circled another building and scurried past a mass of ponies that were grazing on the few blades of grass that had managed to poke through the dust-laden ground, then followed the track around a corner that opened up onto a cobbled yard. In its centre was the tallest structure I’d seen yet, and it rose from the ground like a giant windmill, except that instead of rotors, it had a huge wheel at the top, with ropes coming off it that seemed to stretch out right across the land.

At its base stood a brick hut, and leaning against it was a man smoking a cigarette, which struck me as a somewhat dangerous practice given the location, but I walked over with a smile to greet him.

“Excuse me,” I said, and he turned to face me. His big white eyes looked terrifying against the blackness of his soot-covered skin. “I’m looking for Gwynfor Griffiths. Do you know him?”

He didn’t speak back, but pointed with his cigarette towards a building on the other side of the yard that looked like a stable, so I nodded my head in thanks and followed his direction.

The nerves and excitement began to fight it out in my stomach as I made my way across the yard, and I had to stop twice for fear that I might be sick or that my shaking legs would give out on me.

The massive doors at the centre of the building were wide open, and I leaned in, glancing down the dim row of stalls lined with hay. From the furthest stall, the scraping sound of a shovel echoed into the room, and the top of someone’s cap peeked out above the wall.

My heart raced as I crept slow, trepid steps towards him, terrified to speak in case I threw up. There he was, the man I loved, and the one I’d crossed time to be with again, right in front of me once more.

“I’m almost done,” he called behind him, hearing my approach but not looking up from his task.

I took another step and grabbed hold of a feeder hanging on the wall for support .

“You’re not going to keep me waiting after all this time, are you?”

At the sound of my voice, his body tensed up and fell still, and I became suddenly fixated on my hands. First I slid them into my pockets, then I crossed them over my chest. By the time he finally turned around, bringing us face to face for the first time in almost two years, I’d hidden them behind my back, clenching them together so tightly that my fingernails were digging into my skin.

“Tom?”

“Hello, Gwyn.”