A Million Tears (42 page)

‘Not for me, thanks. I’m swimming in the stuff. You just go on with what you’re doing,’ I sat next to the door; Meg picked up her pen and went on writing. She held her head slightly on one side in her concentration. At thirty-seven she had matured into a great beauty. She wore a dark grey business suit, with a skirt to just below her knees, and a short coat reaching her waist. After a while I got up. Time was marching on and I had a lot to do.

‘Going so soon, Uncle James? Why not have a coffee and come home with me in an hour?’ Her smile lightened my heart and nearly made me tell her what had happened. I couldn’t talk because of the frog in my throat so I shook my head, managed a smile again and left. For a moment I thought she was going to come after me and I knew that if she did I’d have told her. I wasn’t strong enough. I cursed myself for my weakness.

Evan was down on the floor by the dairy produce counter. I stood and watched him for a while talking to Sonny, oblivious of my presence, half hidden by a rack of shelves. At thirty-nine he was a fine figure of a man who had a commanding presence about him but somehow managed to seem approachable as well. The men were never too slow to tell him their problems. He was a born leader and for some time I had hoped to see him as one of the State Congressmen and perhaps even a Senator one day.

I wanted to hear him talk. I wanted very much to see his smile and hear his voice, not just the mumble coming my way. With a sigh I turned away and left the building. It took me a while to find a cab but finally I got one. I knew if I hurried I could see Sion before he went out after school. He had been talking about a new kite or something. I shook my head, my memory was getting worse.

I was too late. I could see he had been and gone. It was a bitter blow. I sat in the study to write my letters. I addressed them both to Evan. The second I marked ‘TO BE OPENED FIRST.’

I wrote:
My dearest Evan Meg, Sion and David, This will no doubt come as a great shock to you but when you read this I’ll be dead. Evan bach, don’t go running upstairs or upsetting everyone, just sit down and finish reading. I’m now with the angels and I’ve no doubt our lovely Sian is the loveliest of them all. I’ll tell her how much you all miss her and think of her. Believe me, my mind isn’t wandering. I really do think there’s life after death. Upstairs is my body with not a spark of anything in it. My soul will have gone to another place and that’s what matters.

I had a man from a detective agency come up to me today. He had papers to have me sent back to Wales as an undesirable alien. All to do with that night when we escaped from Llanbeddas. I don’t think you ever did understand when I said that I’d nothing before me except loneliness and now I had a reason for living. Remember, Evan? You see Bach, I was going to shoot myself which was why I had the gun handy. Instead I put it to better use. So you see every day since then has been a bonus and every day has meant more to me than the day before. It’s been so exciting hasn’t it? All the things we’ve done. I hope I’ve been able to contribute a little bit towards it. I’ve loved you more than I can say on paper. You know me, I never was all that good with words. Evan, my son – that’s the way I think of you and that’s the way I like it, like Meg is my daughter and the boys my grandsons. See how lucky I’ve been? No man has had such a family like mine. Evan, with me gone there’s no way they can get you back to Wales. That was their idea. They knew if I was taken back you’d come and try to help me. That way they would have got both of us and I would have been hanged and you’d have ended in jail which wouldn’t have done any good for Meg or the boys. The other letter by the way says that I did everything that night. I don’t know whether it’ll help if there is any question of them trying to get you as well but I have stated that it was me at the mansion, not you. I also state that . . . well, you can read it and give it to the detective. I left him in a coffee house on Pennsylvania Avenue fast asleep. Those pills the doctor gave me are pretty powerful. A box of them and I won’t wake up but die nice and quiet in my own bed. Don’t grieve for me I beg you. I want you to have a real good wake. In fact a great wake. Hans and the others will come, I know. I’m sure they know how to send a man to his grave properly. Well, my dears, there’s nothing more to say. I want to write all night but if I go on much further you and Meg will be home and I won’t have the courage anymore. I love you all dearly, God Bless and tell David it’s time he started back to church.

Goodbye, my dears,

Uncle James.

BOOK 4

The Story of Sion

1899

30

‘Evan dinner won’t be long,’ Meg called. ‘Sion, go and see where Uncle James is.’

Sion called upstairs and then went out back. Evan went into his study to leave some papers and saw the two letters sitting on his desk. He picked them up, recognising Uncle James’ hand writing. For some reason he was struck with foreboding. He tore open the letter marked ‘TO BE OPENED FIRST’, the first sentence made him sit down in shock. For a moment he could not, would not, believe it. When he finished the letter he knew it was true and that Uncle James was dead. In a daze he stood up. Over and over in his mind was why? Why? Why? They could have fought it. And if they could not have beaten it they could have gone elsewhere. It was a big country. There must have been another answer. Walking towards the door, he heard Sion call something but it took a few seconds to realise what he had said.

Sion was bounding up the stairs when Evan shouted for Sion at the top of his voice, but he was too late. Evan saw his son come to the banister, a sickly white look on his face. At his shout Meg had hurried in from the kitchen.

‘What on earth . . .’ she began and stopped, seeing the look on her husband’s face as he stared up at Sion. Evan suddenly ran up the stairs and into Uncle James’ room. The old man was laying on his bed, looking as though he was asleep. For a second Evan hoped but even as the spark flared it died within him. Meg was right behind him.

‘Oh my God, Uncle James!’ she ran to the bed just as Evan finished checking for his pulse.

‘It’s no good love,’ he said softly, ‘he’s dead.’

Meg put her arms around Evan, crying, as Evan led her from the room. Sion was standing on the landing, white faced and also on the verge of tears.

‘Go and tell the marshal, son, and tell him Uncle James is dead. Ask him who we have to notify, will you? Oh, and . . . and,’ Evan cleared his throat, ‘ask him if it makes any difference that it was suicide.’

Meg and Sion gasped. ‘Suicide?’ Sion asked. ‘But it can’t have been, Dad. What would Uncle James want to commit suicide for?’

‘To save me going to prison, that’s why. Now hurry up, Sion,’ Evan said more harshly than he intended.

Meg looked at Evan in horror. ‘What on earth do you mean? Why should you go to prison? You haven’t done anything,’ she paused. ‘Evan, what on earth’s going on?’

‘Let’s go down to the study and I’ll tell you. There’s a letter there from Uncle James which explains it all. Damnation,’ he cried, ‘why didn’t he come and talk to me? Why didn’t he come and say something?’

‘Don’t be silly Evan. If you hadn’t gone back in the first place Uncle James would have been long dead and we wouldn’t have had his company for so long. It’s not your fault. Goodness, he was a wonderful old man. I wondered why he’d been so strange this afternoon. I almost stopped him leaving. God, why didn’t I stop him?’ Meg began to cry again.

They talked for a while, waiting for Sion to return. Finally they heard him galloping back. It wasn’t long before he arrived breathless in the study.

‘The marshal says he’ll tell the coroner and he’ll come out tomorrow if we’re sure he died of either natural causes or by his own hand. That’s how the fat slob put it.’ There were no more tears with Sion now, just an undirected anger. ‘What did you mean, Dad, about saving you from going to prison? Thanks.’ Sion took the proffered glass of whisky and gulped at it. Unused to strong liquor he was left half choking and gasping. He found a bottle of his mother’s lemonade and poured it into the glass until the whisky colour had turned a bright yellow.

‘Do you remember about nine years ago, when we left Wales?’ Evan asked.

‘Some, but not all. I seem to remember we went to Uncle David’s place before leaving for the ship the next day. You and Uncle James turned up at the last minute. You were in a bit of a state I seem to remember. Hadn’t you hurt your leg or something?’

‘Yes, I had. I’d been shot.’

‘Good grief,’ Sion looked at his father with wide eyes.

‘Do you remember Grandad and Grandma dying in a fire?’ He waited for Sion to nod. ‘That fire was meant for me . . . to kill me. The murder – as it would have been

– was ordered by a man named Sir Clifford Roberts . . .’ Talking steadily, Evan relived that night and told Sion exactly what had happened. When he finished he handed Sion Uncle James’ letter. Evan reached behind him and picked up the other letter, which was still unopened. He held it as though weighing it in his hands and then tore it open.

Dear Evan,

This isn’t going to be very long. I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any inconvenience but you remember what I told you I’d done that night back in Llanbeddas when I got away to you in Cardiff? I told you about me going up to the manor house that night and how I was going to set the place on fire. What I hadn’t told you was I killed Sir Clifford that night too. I have no regrets as I shall curse his memory from my grave, the black hearted son of a bitch. I won’t go into the details here about why I did it and all that happened. Today a detective was going to arrest me and send me back to Wales. He talked some rubbish about getting you too because you’d go back to help defend me. I didn’t really understand what he was talking about but it doesn’t matter now because I’m dead. It’s the best way. I couldn’t stand the thought of going back to stand some sort of trial. We know what justice means over there – under British tyranny it’s a matter of wealth is right. I want to thank you all for what you’ve done in the last ten years that have made my life so enjoyable. I’m sorry again if my actions that night cause you any trouble now. Evan, I swear here and now you had nothing to do with it.

I shall take fond memories away with me, to keep me happy through all eternity. I love you all.

My last will and testament is with my lawyer, John Driscole.

Uncle James.

Evan handed the letter to Meg who read it and passed it to Sion. Sion handed it back to Evan and grimaced. ‘Could they really have done it Dad? I mean send him back as an undesirable alien?’

‘It seems like it. Or else why did they spend so long looking for him? And me too come to that. There’s another point which I don’t know whether they’re aware of or not. We entered the country illegally. I don’t know whether the relevant authorities know about that, but if they ever found out,’ Evan shrugged. ‘Who knows what it could mean. And I know what you’re going to say. There’s tens of thousands of immigrants coming in every year illegally and nothing is done about it.’ He sighed. ‘We had better make the funeral arrangements tomorrow and send a telegram to David. Thank God he’s finished his exams. It would have been very hard on him to have this on his mind when he was taking his finals. He should be able to come home in a few days.’ Evan looked sadly at his glass and then drained it. ‘I don’t think I’ll bother with any food tonight,’ he said getting up and refilling his glass. He refreshed Meg’s as well.

‘You?’ he offered the bottle to his son who shook his head.

‘No thanks, Dad. I think I’ll go for a walk. I won’t be long.’ Sion wandered over to the stable and went in to stroke his horse. He gave him a rub down with a fist full of straw. ‘Well boy, he’s gone,’ Sion spoke to the animal, the horse’s ears pricking up at the sound of his voice. ‘He never did get around to taking a stone from your shoes, eh?’ Sion patted his rump. ‘I’m going to miss him. It was special between us, somehow.’ Sion looked over his shoulder, to the corner of the house he could just see through the open door. ‘Uncle James you shouldn’t have done it. Me and you could have gotten away,’ he spoke softly, the horse whinnied and turned his head to nuzzle Sion’s hand. ‘Mam and Dad would have understood and helped. We had the whole of the States to choose from, Uncle James.’ The tears started filling his eyes and then he was sobbing, leaning on the back of the horse. Sion was nearly seventeen, well built, his shoulders filling out. He was of medium height, not as tall as David, but stockier. He had a winning way with him, full of charm.

Sion had not heard the buggy pulling up nor saw the two men climbing down. Nor did he hear them knock loudly on the door or see Evan answer. The little man in front of the marshal said something and then Evan was on him. He had him by the throat, shaking him like a terrier shakes a rat, the marshal trying ineffectively to pull him away. Sion heard the commotion and ran to the door. He recognised the marshal, a man he detested, ran back to his saddle and drew out his rifle. Meg appeared and screamed at Evan to put the man down. Sion had never seen his father in such a blind rage. The marshal pulled out his gun and raised it to hit Evan over the head with. Sion pointed his rifle in the sky and fired. The marshal stood still, his gun raised, hesitating. Evan stopped shaking the man and Meg fell silent.