The Day Aberystwyth Stood Still Read Online Free PDF Page B

cloud darkened her brow. ‘Of course, that’s the light way. There’s a darker way, too, where you put a poisonous spider in the jar and it kills the chick. Then you collect the lamentation of the mother, the Stabat Mater .’ She brought the teacups over to the table.
    ‘We were wondering who the house belonged to back there,’ I said.
    ‘Which house?’
    ‘Where we first met you.’
    Auntie Pebim thought for a second. ‘A house, you say? I suppose it’s possible; but I can’t say I notice things like that, too quick for my old eyes, you see. One minute here, the next gone. I tend to notice slower things like the rise and fall of the mountains, the changing levels of the sea and the ice ages – things like that. Even the growth of trees is a bit quick for me.’
    Calamity and I resisted the temptation to exchange glances. ‘That’s a shame,’ I said. ‘It must have been there quite a while; there’s lots of masonry lying around.’
    Auntie Pebim’s voice took on a dismissive tone. ‘Masonry! To me stone is no more substantial than the fluff of a dandelion on a windy day.’
    ‘Most people find it quite substantial,’ I persisted. ‘Enough, at least, to build houses lasting hundreds of years.’
    ‘I wouldn’t trust it myself,’ she said.
    I looked around at her croft, which seemed to have followed convention in being made from stone.
    ‘We heard Iestyn Probert used to live there,’ said Calamity.
    ‘Iestyn Probert? Oh yes, so he did. Nice boy. The family moved after they hanged him.’ She tutted and opened a packet of digestive biscuits, letting the contents fall onto a plate with plinking sounds like sonar.
    ‘How awful,’ said Calamity.
    Auntie Pebim peered at her and considered for a while, then said, ‘If you have a little bird in a cage and you release the bird, does it matter if you damage the cage?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ said Calamity. ‘Probably not.’
    ‘There you are, then. Iestyn’s spirit is free now of the prison of the flesh; it has passed on to the real world. His body was just a broken beaker, no longer needed. I don’t imagine he pines too much for a moment’s pain when they stretched his neck and made him free. Would you like some jam to take back with you?’ She stood up and hobbled over to the pantry and brought back a jar of dark-coloured jam.
    ‘Isn’t this the real world?’ asked Calamity.
    Auntie Pebim smiled indulgently at our spiritual impoverishment. ‘Oh Lord, no, who could bear it if it were? The only thing that makes our travail bearable is the knowledge that this – the material world, as you people from the city call it – is a chimera.’
    Calamity looked confused. ‘I thought the material world had to exist because it’s made of . . . material.’
    ‘Is that what they teach you in school these days!’ Auntie Pebim turned to me. ‘You’ll have to do something about these schools when you are mayor.’
    ‘I really have no intention of becoming mayor.’
    Auntie Pebim smiled. It was clear that my thoughts on the matter counted little against the opinion of Eightball. She wrapped the gift of jam in some muslin and showed us out. ‘You know, it’s funny you asking about Iestyn Probert. Some travellers were asking about him last week. They looked Norwegian, with four fingers on each hand. I couldn’t tell you much about them – it was Eightball who answered the door.’

Chapter 5
     
    That evening I went to Jezebels. There was a twinge of melancholy or some other unease in my heart, or wafting on the night breeze, and I struggled to construe it. Spring nights sometimes have this haunting quality, when the brightening day, having promised the joys of summer, still ends shipwrecked on the cold shoals of night. At such times hopes mingle in the soul with old memories of times better forgotten. Unease can stalk the heart. Or perhaps it was just something about this case that seemed out of joint. It appeared to be unfolding according to an