A Small Country Read online

  Tom came over from the window, knelt by his mother and stroked her knees. He couldn’t bear to look at her. He knew she was crying. And he couldn’t bear to see her in tears, her face red and shapeless. He stayed where he was, his head on her knees, till she seemed to grow calmer.

  ‘I’ll try to be a good son to you,’ he said. He felt uncomfortable at having to say such trite words. His being a good son was as inevitable as his being a good farmer, but he knew that she appreciated the expression of even the most obvious truths.

  ‘I know you will.’ She seemed relatively composed. But as he tried to rise from his knees, she suddenly grasped him about the shoulders again in a grip which hurt. ‘Oh Tom, I want him back. I want you to get him back. I suppose you think I should have some pride, but I haven’t any, Tom, none at all.’

  He had to use some force to get away from her. She thought it was his sympathy for her which made him rush out of the room, and indeed he did feel a tearing, humiliating pity. But his strongest feeling was anger. He was angry with both his parents.

  He went up to his bedroom at the back of the house, shut the door and leaned against it. He could hear the cows lowing gently as they were turned out of the milking-sheds. After a few moments he went over to the window and raised it as high as it would go. He could hear Davy shouting as the cows loitered under the low branches of the elder trees in the lane that led to Cae Gwyn. He could smell the heavy sweetness of the elder flower. There was thunder in the air.

  ‘Confound everything,’ he said. He was amazed at the whirlwind of anger and self-pity in his head; he always thought of himself as calm and reasonable. He remained staring out of the window until the sky darkened and the first rain came.

  ‘Could you let me have twenty pounds?’ he asked Miss Rees the next morning. He had convinced himself that it was of the utmost importance to let his father have the money he owed his mother as soon as possible.

  ‘I could,’ Miss Rees said, ‘but I know that if it was money you ought to have, you’d ask your mother for it, so I won’t.’

  ‘You’re a hard woman, Nano. I’ll have to go to a money-lender, and he’ll probably ruin me.’

  ‘Have your breakfast first.’

  She thought he was teasing her, and in a way he was. He hadn’t expected money from Miss Rees, would probably not have accepted it had it been offered. He wanted her sympathy, he supposed; wanted to interest her in his financial problems. But she wasn’t having any of it. She sailed across the room with his bacon and eggs, quite above money matters.

  ‘You’re the only one in the world I love, Nano,’ he said, seizing her large, rough hands in his.

  ‘I don’t want any of that nonsense, Mr Tom,’ she said severely, pulling away from him. ‘For shame. A grown man.’

  Catrin came in to the morning-room and Miss Rees left her to pour out Tom’s second cup of tea.

  ‘What a storm last night,’ Catrin said. ‘Did you sleep? I was up with Mother. She’s terrified of thunder. We were awake half the night. She’s asleep now, though, I think.’

  Tom stared at Catrin. ‘You’re very patient with her,’ he said. ‘You’re much better to her than I am.’

  Catrin drank a cup of tea and stared back at Tom as though not recognising him.

  I fell in love with Edward because he was there, she told herself. Because I needed to be in love, not because it was fated or because he was anyone special. I wanted to feel. I wanted to suffer. I was in waiting. I needed him. As the earth needs rain, I needed him so that my awakened senses could root and leaf. I love him. I love him.

  ‘Do you want marmalade?’ she asked Tom. ‘Or gooseberry jam? Lowri made this from the first little berries. The young fruit sets without needing too much sugar. Isn’t the colour lovely? Goosegog green. Like little frogs.’

  She held the glass dish up to the window.

  ‘It’s too sour for me,’ Tom said. ‘I tried some yesterday.’

  ‘Lowri got a prize for it in the Henblas Fruit and Vegetable Show. One pound of gooseberry preserve. I’ll tell Nano you don’t like it. She will be pleased.’

  She got up, fetched a tray and started to load it.

  ‘I don’t understand you,’ Tom said as she was leaving the room. ‘You seem light-headed.’

  ‘Isn’t it the limit, though,’ he said to Miss Rees later on. ‘She’s nagged about going to Art School ever since she left school and the moment Mother and I agree to her going she seems to have got cold feet.’

  ‘Better to change her mind now than go all the way to London and change afterwards. It’s seeing a bit of sense she is, if you ask me.’

  ‘Is it because Mother isn’t very well?’

  ‘It may be that, it may not.’

  Miss Rees was the only one who had guessed about Edward Turncliffe’s part in Catrin’s change of heart.

  ‘Isn’t Mr Turncliffe supposed to be coming back for the harvest? Has he said when he’s coming?’

  ‘No, he hasn’t given a definite date. Why?’

  ‘He’s a pleasant young man, Mr Turncliffe. Is he rich, say?’

  I don’t think so. Not Lady Harris rich.’

  ‘Does a lawyer get more money than a doctor?’

  ‘You can’t generalize. Are you match-making, Nano, by any chance? Because if you are, I think you ought to know...’

  But as Tom was about to tell Nano about Rose Fletcher, Edward’s fiancée, Catrin came back, a little breathlessly, to ask whether the postman had been.

  ‘Yes, he’s been,’ Nano said. ‘Nothing for you, though. Nor for Mr Tom either. Nothing but a parcel of linen for Mrs Evans.’

  Catrin went out again without another word.

  ‘What’s the matter with her?’ Tom asked. ‘Has she got a sweetheart? Or is she expecting a letter from Father?’

  ‘Why don’t you ask her, Mr Tom? Why don’t you talk to her? She’s worried about something, that I do know, she’s eating almost as little as Mrs Evans; we could keep both of them on a preacher’s salary. Why don’t you take the two of them to Tenby for a few days, now that the hay is in? Miss Owen, Bodlondeb, would be so pleased to see you again. And wasn’t there a bit of courting going on there last year? Not that old Nano expects to know anything except from hearsay and guessing.’

  ‘There was nothing, Nano, nothing at all. If there was, you’d be the first to hear of it, I promise you. Yes, all right, there was a young lady staying at Bodlondeb last year, a Miss Bevan-Walters who was the daughter of some big coal owner and so of a certain interest to my mother. She wasn’t ugly or crippled apart from that I remember nothing about her very clearly except for the extraordinary way she ate grapes; she made a little tunnel of her hand and shot the pips out through it on to her plate. Very fancy.’

  ‘She went to Horeb morning and evening according to Mrs Evans. Mrs Evans was very impressed by that. It’s very unusual, she said, for any young lady nowadays to go twice a Sunday while she’s on holiday. Unless she’s very devout.’

  ‘Or unless she takes a fancy to the minister. Idris Williams, Horeb, is a handsome man, Nano, and a bachelor.’

  ‘So is Thomas Evans, Hendre Ddu.’

  ‘You want to find a wife for me, is that it?’

  ‘No hurry in the world, Mr Tom. Having a nice young lady would do for a start. Just a bit of excitement for us all. Though I must say I do want to see a wife and heir here before I shut my old eyes.’

  ‘Let me know, then, if there’s someone you think might suit. No, I mean it. I’d appreciate your help.’

  ‘Who do I ever see, Mr Tom, of the right standing for you?’

  ‘Never mind about the right standing. A bit of money behind her is what I want, and the look of a breeder.’

  ‘If you’re going to talk like that, I’ll get on with my work. You go after Miss Catrin and draw her out a bit. And keep the talk decent, now; she doesn’t need any encouragement.’

  Tom had no intention of following Catrin, but almost immediately came across her in the orch
ard where he had gone to do some scything. She was sitting on the seat there, her hands in her lap, looking so utterly miserable, so frozen and immobile with grief, that his heart lurched with sympathy. ‘Catrin,’ he said. ‘Whatever is the matter? You must tell me.’

  ‘There’s nothing the matter. Nothing at all. I’ve got a bit of a headache. Nothing else.’

  She got up and left him.

  Perhaps it was just a headache, Tom thought, that and the strain of the past weeks. He wished she would confide in him as she did in Edward. Why did she no longer want to go to college? If only Edward would come back as he’d promised to. They hadn’t heard a word from him. Was it because he had appeared rather curt and unfriendly towards him? Surely he’d have realized that it was the pressure he was under. He’d write to him again.

  Before he had finished sharpening the scythe, he heard the doctor’s car in the drive and hurried to catch him before he went upstairs to his mother.

  ‘I’m a bit worried about Catrin,’ he said. ‘She’s looking terrible and Miss Rees has been complaining that she doesn’t eat. I wish you’d see her.’

  ‘Send her up to me.’

  ‘What will I say? You know how stubborn she is.’

  ‘Tell her I want a word with her about Mrs Evans.’

  After Doctor Andrews had spent five or ten minutes with his patient, he went in to the morning-room to look for Catrin. Miss Rees heard him there and came in from the kitchen.

  ‘Where is Miss Evans? I’d like to see her a moment.’

  ‘I’m not sure. She’s out somewhere. I’ll send one of the girls after her.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll wait.’

  Doctor Andrews sat on the window-seat, pulling out his watch as he did so. He had several calls that morning; all the same he would stay to see Catrin.

  Not that he was worried about her. It was natural for young girls to take things badly, to lose their appetites, to fret and pine and languish, especially highly-charged, emotional girls like her.

  The previous winter he had seriously considered asking Catrin to marry him; he was a widower and not getting any younger, and she was both lovely and accessible. They had met on several occasions, dinners and parties, around Christmas time, and it was only the over-emotional streak in her nature which had made him decide against it. He felt that she would be too much for him to take on, would prove more than he could manage. He was a hard-working man who loved his profession and what he wanted above all was companionship. No, that wasn’t true, he wanted love, too, but a moderate love. He felt that she would either claim too much of his life, or complicate matters even more by falling in love with someone else. And nothing by halves.

  Since knowing of her father’s disastrous misalliance, he felt doubly sure that he had made the right decision; Hendre Ddu was all right but the Evans blood was intemperate. All the same, he had retained an affectionate interest in her. He sat and waited.

  ‘I’m, sorry to have kept you,’ she said when she came in a few minutes later, ‘I didn’t know you were here. How is Mother?’

  ‘How are you? Come here, I want to have a look at you.’

  He turned her towards the window. How unfair it was that young girls looked even more beautiful when they were miserable and unable to sleep, whereas their mothers became haggard and ugly.

  ‘Are you going to Art School in September?’

  ‘No. I’ve decided against it.’

  ‘Why?’

  She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’ve decided that the world can do without my artistic gifts,’ she said lightly.

  Then her mood changed. ‘I want to be a nurse. Do you think that’s possible?’

  ‘I’ve no idea whether your parents would allow it. It’s very strenuous work. Whatever made you think of being a nurse?’

  Doctor Andrews sighed. He guessed it was a gesture of self-sacrifice; an Irish girl would have been thinking of taking the veil, he supposed.

  ‘I want to do something worthwhile. I enjoy painting and drawing, but I’ve got no real talent. It wouldn’t do anyone any good.’

  He looked at her for a long time without speaking. Who did she imagine herself in love with?

  ‘I think there’s more to it than you’re prepared to tell me.’

  ‘Perhaps there is. But I really want to be a nurse. Could you help me?’

  She laid her hand on his arm and turned her eyes on him with anguished appeal. It was the sort of exaggerated emotion which had warned him off.

  ‘I’ll speak to your mother and Tom. I certainly think you’d make a good nurse if you could stand the hardship.’

  ‘Oh, I could. When will you speak to them?’

  ‘I haven’t any time now, my dear. I’m already late.’

  ‘Could you come to dinner tonight? Or tomorrow night? Tom is free, I know.’

  ‘Very well. Thank you. Tomorrow night. I’ll see what I can do for you then.’

  ‘I’d rather she went to Art School if she has to go anywhere,’ Tom said. He had eaten well. Cold salmon and steak and kidney pie. Fresh, wholesome food, well-cooked and not messed about, that’s what he liked.

  He looked at Catrin. She was wearing a plain, dark blue blouse as though to impress them with the seriousness of her intentions, Even her hair had been scraped back as though to fit under a nurse’s cap.

  ‘What do you think, Mrs Evans?’ the doctor asked.

  His mother had on one of her beautiful lace dresses, in honour of the doctor, perhaps. Her face was paler than the dress.

  ‘I don’t know. Nursing is a wonderful job, but she’d see some terrible sights.’

  ‘Shall I tell you why I think she’d make a good nurse?’

  Doctor Andrews was playing for effect. He let them wonder for a few moments. Everyone looked at Catrin. Her spoon rattled nervously against her glass bowl of raspberries. She tried to smile.

  ‘Because her mother is such a good nurse.’

  Catrin almost clapped her hands with pleasure.

  Rachel Evans coloured delicately. ‘I am?’

  ‘You. A very devoted and dedicated nurse. I shan’t forget how you nursed Miss Rees through pneumonia a few years ago. And against my orders too. Do you remember? When I said the night nursing was too much for you and arranged for Mrs Prosser to take it over, do you remember what happened? I do. Mrs Prosser was trusted to do a few hours morning and afternoon when the patient was easier, and you stayed up every night for a week. Yes, and I remember you when Tom had concussion too and when Catrin had scarlet fever. A born nurse, I’ve said so, many times.’

  ‘You’re trying to get round me,’ Mrs Evans said.

  ‘Perhaps I am, but only with the truth.’

  ‘It will have to be thought about very carefully. I’m not at all sure if she’s strong enough to bear the long hours. It’s very good of you, Doctor Andrews, to interest yourself in Catrin’s future.’

  Tom would have been much happier had the doctor’s interest in his sister’s future taken another direction. The last time he was home he’d felt sure the fellow was in love with her. He looked at them both. What had happened? Had she turned him down? Catrin was a complete mystery to him. One moment she seemed as giddy as a schoolgirl, the next she was begging to be allowed to dedicate her life to nursing.

  The talk turned to other subjects, but when Catrin could see that her mother was getting tired, and realized that she would at any moment excuse herself from the company, she made another effort to advance her cause.

  ‘Could I train at Carmarthen Hospital, Doctor Andrews? So that I’d be near home.’

  ‘Cardiff General Infirmary would be the place. They have a well-established training school there.’

  ‘Cardiff is very far away,’ Mrs Evans said wearily. ‘I really don’t know what to say.’

  When Catrin had taken her mother to bed, Tom sat waiting for the doctor to begin working on him, but to his surprise he remained silent.

  ‘Of course, I’d much prefer it if she just stayed hom
e,’ Tom said, to start the ball rolling.

  ‘Let her go away,’ Doctor Andrews said. He lowered his eyes and pulled his chair closer to Tom’s. ‘How soon before she comes down?’

  ‘She’s usually about a quarter of an hour. Why? What’s the matter?’

  ‘I’ve got some bad news for you, Tom. Tom, I’m afraid your mother is dying.’

  Tom said nothing. The certainty in the doctor’s voice stunned him. All he could do was to stare unblinkingly in his face.

  ‘She can’t live more than six months. It will probably be considerably less.’

  Tom still said nothing.

  ‘I’d like Catrin to be away. Do you understand? Tom?’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘There isn’t any doubt, I’m afraid. I got Harcourt-Jones, the top man, out here a few months ago when I wasn’t absolutely certain. He confirmed my diagnosis. By this time, though, any first year medical student could tell you the same thing.’

  ‘Are you equally certain about... ?’

  ‘Yes. Equally certain. Three to six months. I’m sorry to have to break it to you tonight, but she’ll soon be unable to get up at all and it will be time we talked about getting a nurse.’

  ‘I think Catrin should stay with her.’

  ‘I think she should be away, Tom, and I know best about that.’

  ‘So she won’t be told?’

  ‘Not until much nearer the end.’

  Tom was suddenly struck by a vivid memory of his mother as a young woman. He was out walking with Nano, probably two or three at the time. His mother had appeared in front of them. On horseback. Riding side-saddle. A dark blue costume. She’d waved at him, smiled, and ridden on. He could remember the anguish he’d felt as she had disappeared round a bend in the road. He could remember screaming and kicking. He could remember Nano recounting the incident later, ‘He can’t bear to let her out of his sight.’ He could still feel the hard, convulsive sob, the pain in his throat.