Authors: Rhys Bowen
He passed the chapels, with their respective vehicles parked beside them, and continued up past the Everest Inn until he stood at the top of the pass. Here the wind was blowing strongly with the tang of salt in it, and dark clouds raced across the sky. Out at sea the horizon was a hard line. It would rain before long. The Indian summer was finally over.
It’s not a bad place to be, he told himself. His gaze scanned the green hillsides. The burned-out cottage stood like a dark wound amid the green. Watkins was right. Those English people would never be back . . . which started him thinking. What would happen to a ruin like that? Would it be too hard to rebuild? It already had water and electricity and a good solid foundation, and the walls were still standing . . . The wheels in his head started to turn and his gaze wandered involuntarily down to the school house.
At that moment the rain began, falling as isolated drops that spattered on the asphalt to begin with; then came more and more of them until the heavens opened. The rich creosote smell of wet macadam rose up to his nostrils. He turned to walk back.
As he passed the schoolhouse the front door opened and Bronwen ran out, holding a large umbrella over her. “Evan,
you’re soaked to the skin. What were you doing up on the pass? Is something the matter?”
“No,” he said, looking down at her anxious face. “Everything’s just fine. I went for a little walk.”
“Come inside. I’ll make you a cup of tea,” she said, “and if you’re very good, you can try a slice of the baguette I’ve just made.”
She led him across the playground and in through the open door. The kitchen smelled of freshly baked bread. Bronwen pointed proudly at the table. “I learned a lot while Janine was with me. I think I’ve turned into a pretty good cook.” She poured a cup of tea from the brown earthenware pot. “What were you doing up on the pass?”
“Just thinking,” Evan said. “Trying to clear my head.”
She nodded. “We’re lucky where we live. You can’t get too upset by little problems when you’re surrounded by mountains. They keep everything in perspective.”
Evan took the cup and drank. “Bronwen,” he said after a sip. “Do you think this is such a bad job for a man? Stuck up here, I mean. Not applying for promotion?”
Her eyes flashed. “A bad job? You’re needed up here, aren’t you? If you hadn’t been here, Bryn would likely be in jail by now and his whole future would have been wrecked.”
Evan looked surprised. “You know about Bryn?”
“Terry told me. Bryn told him.” She saw the alarm on his face. “Oh, don’t worry. They won’t tell anyone else. Those two are as thick as thieves—sorry, bad metaphor.” She smiled then put her hands on his shoulders. “You’ve done some good things while you’ve been here,” she said. “You’ve touched lives.”
She leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. His hands closed over hers and she rested her cheek against his.
“You’d better get out of those wet clothes,” she said, “before you catch pneumonia.”
“You’re sending me home?” Evan got to his feet.
“Not if you don’t want to go. I could always run you a nice hot bath and I’ve got big fluffy towels and a bottle of wine in the fridge which we could drink after—”
“After what, Bron?” His eyes were teasing.
“I was going to say after you’ve dried off, but I’m open to suggestions.” She shot him a challenging look over her shoulder as she walked ahead of him down the hall.
There was quite a crowd in the Red Dragon on Friday night.
“Here he is now, the man himself,” Charlie Hopkins announced. “What are you drinking, Evan
bach
?”
“Guinness tonight, thanks, Charlie.” Evan squeezed in beside the bar.
“Guinness for Evans-the-Law, Betsy
cariad
,” Charlie said. “He’s getting his strength up tonight, for some reason!” He winked at Evan as he chuckled.
Betsy gave Evan a quick glance. “It better not be for a visit down to Caernarfon,” she said.
“Caernarfon?” Evan looked puzzled.
“I heard there’s a young policewoman down there,” Betsy said smoothly. “It seems she’s been asking questions about you.”
“Only doing her job, Betsy love,” Evan said. “She’s familiarizing herself with the personnel. She’s about to be promoted.”
Betsy drew the pint and put it down none too gently in front of Evan. “You tell her not to familiarize herself too much with this personnel,” she said. “In fact you tell her if Bronwen Price ever falls off a cliff while she’s birdwatching, I’m next in line.”
Evan grinned as he heard the chuckles around him. Charlie put a hand on his shoulder. “How about our Bryn, eh, Evan
bach?
A hero—that’s what the newspaper called him. His grandma’s sent copies of the article to everyone she knows. Who’d have thought it, eh? Frankly we never thought the boy would amount to much, but he’s gone and surprised us all.”
“You never know what a person’s capable of until you give them a chance, do you, Charlie?” Evan said.
“Too true,” Charlie said. “And talking of that, I had a word with Owen Gruffudd—you know, he runs the Gegin Fawr café down the hill. He was asking me about the French lady—upset something dreadful, he was. Then it all came out. He wrote her that note, telling her to get out and all. He thought she’d take away his trade, you see. But it had been preying on his mind ever since.”
“So he wrote the note.” Evan chuckled. “It looks as if there was no extremist group at work after all.”
“Of course there wasn’t,” Charlie said. “We’re all live and let live up here in Llanfair, aren’t we?”
At that moment there was a deafening crash outside—the sound of metal hitting metal and glass splintering. The bar emptied instantly as the men poured out into the street. The road ahead was completely blocked by the collision of two vehicles. As Evan hurried toward the scene, he could
see that one of the vehicles was a gray van, the other a green bus. Apparently they had just backed into each other and the drivers were climbing out, rolling up their sleeves and ready to fight.