Shoes for Anthony (30 page)

They had let me sleep. When we were first found, I had been in too much shock to be of use. Worn out, I had slept, and for a moment after waking up, I had forgotten it had all happened. I was curled in a ball, as I always was, and as I opened my eyes, there were the smart shoes stuck on the bedroom wall. And then the image of Ade's tatty plimsoll, falling into bracken, flashed up, hard and sharp.

And I remembered.

Who knew I had so many tears in me? The slightest kindness and there I was, off again, my cheeks hot and red, the swell of grief ebbing and flowing, as sure as the tides. My mother had held me tight. It wasn't the time for admonitions. I would punish myself later without anyone else's help. They just wanted to know what had happened and how.

I had finished telling the story, the linear version of how events had unfolded. Captain Willis had been kind and patient, taking care to ask his questions gently and without reproach. But it was time for me to tell everything, and I had to steel myself.

‘So you're not sure Adrian saw anyone at all?' said Captain Willis, his pen hovering above official yellow-coloured paper.

I shook my head. ‘He said he saw a leg, but there was nobody there when I looked. I heard a cry, then the rifle, then him.' My voice trailed off.

‘But there might have been someone there?' he persisted. ‘Because of the stones falling?'

I gave a small shrug. ‘Dunno. Maybe. But it could have been a sheep.'

Captain Willis gave a small, encouraging smile and let his pen fall to the paper. We all watched him, every time he wrote something down. The words etched the matter into stone.

‘And you had gone up the mountain thinking you might find this German on your own?'

This was it.

‘Sort of,' I said, quietly. ‘But that wasn't all of it.'

I felt my mother's eyes upon me.

‘There was a radio,' I began. ‘It had come from the plane. And it was broken. And then Piotr had fixed it for us. To play with, like.'

‘This is true,' said Piotr, coming to my defence. I felt his hand lift from my shoulder. ‘A basic thing. I fixed crystal for him. I didn't think anything of it.'

Captain Willis paused and let his gaze settle on Piotr, hand floating in mid-air. ‘You fixed the radio? So it could be used?'

Piotr nodded. ‘This was before we knew there was someone up the mountain, of course.'

‘Yes.' Captain Willis nodded. ‘Of course.'

‘Except we couldn't use it because it went missing,' I said, sitting on my hands. ‘And whoever took it wasn't one of us.'

‘Where do you think the radio went?' asked Captain Willis, watching every shift of my face.

‘I don't know. But then it was back again. And our den was all done over. Like whoever took it was looking for something.'

‘Looking for what?' pressed Captain Willis.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the hooked metal tube. ‘I think for this,' I said, holding it up. ‘I think it's a key.'

Captain Willis laid his pen against the top seam of his notepad and took it from me. He frowned.

‘You yank the hook at the end,' I explained, pointing.

Squeezing the tube at its middle, Captain Willis crooked his little finger into the hook and pulled. There was the familiar click and out came the corrugated rectangle.

‘Well, I never,' he said. ‘Curious. Seen this before, Captain Skarbowitz? See any of them use it on the plane?' He held it out for Piotr to take.

Piotr shook his head. ‘No,' he said, tilting his head sideways. ‘How do you open it, Ant? Show me.'

I took it from him, pulled the hook and twisted.

‘I agree with Anthony. I think it's key,' he added, taking it back from me. ‘But as to what it opens, your guess is as good as mine.'

‘So you took this up the mountain to try and work out what it might open?' continued Captain Willis, his gaze falling back on to me.

I nodded. ‘We wanted to work out what it fitted. But we couldn't. We knew someone had been up the den. Ade reckoned it was the German, and that he'd be hanging about. That's why he asked me to get the rifle.'

I shot a glance towards Emrys, but he turned his eyes away.

‘For protection?' asked Captain Willis, his head down, writing. ‘Or to kill the German?'

‘Both, I think,' I said. ‘But Ade wanted to kill the German. He wanted to be a hero, save the village, like.'

‘And do you think he would have killed him, if you had found him?'

It was the first time I'd thought about it. Ade flashed into my mind, his ever-smiling face, dirt smeared on a cheek, sunlight kissing the tips of his hair, standing, gesturing for me to follow.

I shook my head. ‘No,' I said, quietly, ‘I don't think he would.'

Captain Willis gave another small nod and looked up towards Piotr. ‘Would you mind?' he asked, gesturing towards the metal key. ‘I'll have our fellows take a look at that.'

‘Sorry,' said Piotr, handing it back. ‘Trying to work out what might be for.'

‘When the radio came back,' I said, ‘it was pretty bashed up. We thought it might have been that. But we couldn't find a hole, like.'

‘Hmm,' said Captain Willis, tucking the device into his inside pocket. ‘Perhaps we should have that radio back, too? Apart from anything, can't run the risk of this chap using it to send messages back to Deutschland.'

‘I can fetch it,' said Piotr. ‘If it's back in den?'

I nodded.

‘Thanks awfully,' said Willis. ‘Safe rather than sorry, and all that. Well, Anthony, thank you for being so honest.' He took the lid of his pen and screwed it back on. The questioning, it would seem, was over.

‘He's a murderer now,' said Mam, as Willis tucked the yellow notepad into his attaché case. ‘You make sure they know they're looking for a murderer.'

‘Well,' said Willis, his brow furrowing slightly, ‘it's still not clear exactly what did happen to Adrian. He may have fallen of his own accord.'

‘You tell them he's a murderer,' said Mam again, her voice quiet yet firm.

Captain Willis let his face soften, his mouth turning a gentle smile about the room. He stood, placing his cap squarely on his head, and took the attaché case by its handle.

‘It's never pleasant,' he began, ‘having to deal with such matters. Thank you for the tea, Mrs Jones. Take care of yourself, Anthony. You mustn't blame yourself. It was Adrian's scheme to head up into the mountain. You must remember that.'

‘But I didn't stop him,' I said, standing.

‘Sometimes,' Captain Willis said, his voice steady and true, ‘it's not our place to stop others. You did what was asked of you. Soldiers have to do it all the time, and sometimes, brave men don't come home. Honour your friend by living your life well. That's all you can do.'

He held his hand out and I lifted mine into it. His shake was firm and sincere, and as I looked up into his eyes, I felt the boy in me fade, a shadow I once was slipping away from the light. His eyes turned to Piotr. ‘I'd be grateful if you could retrieve that radio. I can come back tomorrow for it. Would that be convenient?'

Piotr nodded and held his own hand out. ‘I shall make sure it's here.'

‘Good. Then, until tomorrow. Anthony, Mrs Jones, Sergeant.'

Arthur Pryce rose and gave a small, polite nod, and we all stood in silence waiting for Captain Willis's footfalls to slip into the distance. ‘I'll write up the report, my end,' Arthur said, fingering the rim of his helmet as the quiet descended. ‘Word is, Captain Pugh is putting up a reward for the fella. Two hundred pounds, I've heard.'

‘Two hundred quid?' repeated Alwyn. ‘If I'd known there was that much money in sewing, I'd have packed up underground long ago.'

‘Don't make jokes, Alwyn,' said Bethan, wiping her eyes again. ‘It's not the time.'

‘It wasn't a joke,' protested Alwyn. ‘I mean it. Two hundred quid! Christ. I always thought old Pughsy was doing all right, like, but that's proper minted.'

‘It's very good of him to do it,' said Mam, picking up the tea things from the small wooden table next to Father's chair. ‘Everyone wants this man caught. Money concentrates the mind.'

I looked over towards Emrys. ‘I'm sorry I took the rifle,' I said, trying to catch his eye. ‘I thought it was the right thing to do.'

‘Well, it wasn't,' he replied, his voice low and brooding.

‘If it puts your mind at ease,' said Piotr, ‘why don't you lock rifle in Bethan's wardrobe? It has small key. That way, it's out of temptation's way, whoever is thinking of borrowing it.'

Emrys nodded. ‘Not a bad idea,' he said. ‘You all right with that, Bethan?'

She gave a small shrug and blew her nose. ‘You boys make your own minds up,' she said. ‘I'm going to help Mam.' She wandered off into the kitchen.

Arthur Pryce was hovering, awkwardly, not quite sure whether his cue to leave had been and gone. ‘It's all right, Arthur,' said Alwyn, reaching down to throw a lump of coal onto the fire. ‘You can get off, if you like.'

‘I'll get off, then,' he said, ‘I need to check on Mrs Jenkins, anyhow. Dr Mitchell's been with her, but …' His voice trailed off, not wanting to discuss the state of Adrian's mother in my presence. ‘Yes. I'll get off.'

Nobody said anything for the longest time. The official bits were done. Now, somehow, we had to carry on.

As if we didn't have enough to deal with, news from the field hospital in Pontypridd was not good. Pneumonia, the dark unseen enemy of everyone who worked underground, had settled itself into Father's chest. It wasn't our way to have our own die anywhere other than home, and now, with the risk running high, Mam wanted Father back.

‘I can ask Hughes the Grocer to lend us his delivery van, Mam,' said Alwyn. ‘We can fetch Father back in that?'

‘Don't be daft,' said Bethan. ‘Honestly, Alwyn, you need your head screwing on. The Americans can send him home in an ambulance. Or would you rather Father came home in a bag of turnips?'

‘Yeah, all right,' replied Alwyn, tense and testy. ‘No need to be sarcastic. I was thinking out loud, that's all.'

‘That'll do, you two,' said Mam, her face worn and sunken. She was reaching into her handbag for her purse. ‘When do you get paid, Bethan?'

‘Two weeks on Friday,' she replied, ‘but we had kit to pay for. So it'll be about half than usual.'

Mam nodded and silently pressed her purse shut again. It struck me that Mam, having been told that Father might die, was still as practical as she ever was. I had never seen my mother cry, not once. Even when people we knew had died, she seemed to bear the burden, her natural stoicism battening everything down. I had no idea whether she was an emotional woman. I had no idea who she was at all. I knew she was our mother, my father's wife, but as to who Emily Jones was, deep down in that tiny corner that was just for her, I had not a clue. I had come home from school early once with a sudden and unexpected toothache, and had found her and Bopa waltzing together in the parlour, wireless on, faces set and serious. My mother had jumped when she'd seen me, and they'd sprung apart, as if it wasn't the done thing for women of a certain age to enjoy themselves. I'd shown her my tooth and she'd quietly led me off to the kitchen, unrolled a length of twine, wrapped it round the wobbling tooth and told me to go and stand in the parlour. Next thing I knew, there was a slam of the back door, a sharp pain in my jaw, and my toothache was gone. There was never any mention of dancing again.

Alf had volunteered to fetch Father home. He'd walked over, when he heard about Ade, and had taken me down to the bottom of our back garden. We had stood, staring up at the mountain, and he told me about his younger brother and how he'd shoved him down a spoil tip when he was little, for a lark. It had ended badly. He hadn't meant to hurt him, but he'd broken his back.

‘It's what a boy intends that matters,' he said. ‘What's in his head, his heart. A boy can't go through life with caution forever on his mind. It's not what pumps through the blood. A boy is built for the muck, scrapes, close calls, flying on any passing wind. If I'd been a lad, with this German up there' – he nodded upwards towards the towering hills – ‘I'd have not rested at home. I'd have been scouring the green bits, the brown bits, the yellow bits, the purple bits and the black bits till I found him. You didn't go out that night thinking you wanted your friend to be killed, did you?'

I shook my head.

‘No. You did not. And neither did he. Look at what happened underground. Four men dead. They didn't wake up that morning thinking they'd not bother because sometimes accidents happen. An accident doesn't announce itself. It just whips the rug from under your feet. And in that blink of an eye, you're gone.'

‘What if it wasn't an accident, though, Alf?' I said, scuffing at a patch of rough grass at my feet. ‘What if it was the German?'

‘Then his withered soul will know no peace.'

He fell silent, his face turned upwards towards the morning sun. ‘A grand day,' he said, closing his eyes. ‘Look at us,' he added, giving me a nudge. ‘Alive. On a day such as this. That's rare luck, little man. Rare luck.'

I tried to muster a smile, but everything still felt raw. I knew Alf was being kind, trying to lift my spirits, but I wasn't quite ready to receive it. I hadn't left the house since bringing Ade down the mountain. It suited me. I didn't want to face anyone, to have to explain again.

‘Alf!' It was Piotr, standing in the arch of the back kitchen doorway. ‘I've got delivery van from grocer! I can give you lift to Pontypridd, if you like?'

‘Good man!' cried Alf back, raising his hand into the air. He turned towards me. ‘That's me, then. Off to fetch your father. Remember what I said, little man. You'll be all right, you know. Trust me on this.'