The Dylan Thomas Murders Read Online Free PDF

passed to me no hang ups about sex or related matters. From my early years, I was always encouraged to think for myself, and to care little for convention.”
    Rosalind paused. I wasn’t clear whether she was having difficulty in recalling events or whether she was looking for courage to continue.
    â€œMy first full sexual encounter was with a Baptist student called Mansel, whilst we were on a painting excursion in Snowdonia. It was a chilly experience. Thereafter, there were a number of men, mainly students, or others interested in the arts. We saw ourselves as part of the bohemian rainbow, and this sharing of our bodies was perfectly natural. I want you to know this because I would want no-one to believe that, when I went to London to visit Dylan, I was a sweet and innocent country girl who was cruelly exploited by a rapacious poet. On the contrary. As I remember things, it was I who did the taking to bed, and when I got him there, I found that I was more experienced, or at least adept, in these matters than was he.”
    â€œWhen was this?”
    â€œEarly in 1938. After that, we met once or twice a year, and then quite frequently when he moved to Talsarn.”
    â€œAnd Eliot? How did that begin?”
    â€œWe became good friends on his visits to Tyglyn. I was always in and out of the Faber house. He liked to walk with me along the river, and he would write whilst I sketched. He would always take his binoculars in case we came across an interesting bird. My father was a twitcher too, and Eliot helped him log the kites. They got on quite well, and Eliot loved talking in our front room with Dad.
    â€œThey argued a lot about Germany and what was happening in Europe. I remember vividly one occasion in 1940. They had talked all afternoon. They came out of the front room after tea. My father took Eliot to the door. Both looked flustered and over-wrought and shook hands rather stiffly. Eliot walked down the path without looking back. My father shouted after him: ‘Mr Eliot, why do you and Mr Pound sneer at us so?’ It was as if the world had ended. All those church services and eisteddfodau for nothing!
    â€œWhen Eliot came down the next year, I sensed there was something different about him. He certainly seemed more approachable, less guarded. I was a little frosty after what had happened the previous year, but I found, to my dismay, that I also wanted to ingratiate myself...I think I must have felt our future was in his hands.”
    â€œHow was he different?”
    â€œHe seemed more inclined to touch me, which was extremely unusual for Eliot. He would take my elbow over a stile, tap me on the shoulder to draw my attention. That definitely hadn’t happened before. One day we went out along the Beech Walk and turned up the hill. It’s quite a steep climb, and when you get there you can see the sea. We were about half way up when I lost my footing and slipped. Eliot put out his arm and caught me round the waist. His hand stayed there until we reached the top. I turned to thank him, and kissed him on the cheek. He held my hands and said: ‘This is our last summer together. They’re selling the estate.’
    â€œThe next day he asked me to go to New Quay Fair with him, and Oaten drove us over. We walked around the booths, and I put my arm through his, though he took no interest in me or the booths, and seemed to be searching for something else. It turned out to be the boxing ring. Well, actually it was nothing of the sort, just a patch of grass squared off with rope and fence posts. We stayed there most of the afternoon. Some big bruiser from Bristol was taking on the local farm lads. Eliot was fascinated, he screamed and shouted for all he was worth. The man from Bristol made short work of most of the lads. Except one.
    â€œI felt someone pushing their way through the crowd from the back, and the people making way for him, almost respectfully. He was quite young, stocky like