The Lost Days of Summer Read Online Free PDF Page B

was obvious that English no longer came readily to the older woman’s tongue. But no doubt she’ll find it easier once we’ve spent time together, Nell told herself optimistically as she climbed the stairs in her aunt’s wake. And you never know; maybe I’ll pick up the Welsh language quickly too. On that thought she followed her aunt into the room which was to be hers whilst she lived at Ty Hen.
    Having seen her niece off to bed Kath went quietly down the stairs again, put on her thick winter coat, wrapped a scarf round her head and a muffler round her neck and headed for the back door. She was hot and bothered simply by another’s presence in her house; now she needed the cold freshness of the farmyard to recapture the peace which had gone with the wind when Trixie’s daughter had stepped into the cart.
    Cautiously, Kath opened the back door. The cold rushed to meet her, so she went right into the yard, shutting the door behind her. After the comparative warmth of the house the air actually stung her nostrils, squeezed her lungs, but she told herself that a little cold never hurt anyone and pulled her muffler over her mouth to dull the chill. Then for a moment she just stood there, getting acclimatised, looking up at the arc of the dark sky, at the twinkling stars and the moon, whose light cast half the yard into brilliance, the other half into velvet shadow. Kath sighed with pleasure, and it was only then that she began to think. What had she done? She, who had for so long been sensible, had cast sense aside and agreed that Trixie’s wretched brat might come to Ty Hen. She, who had deliberately cut the bonds between herself and her family and even friends who lived in the crowded courts off the Scotland Road, had not only opened and read the letter from her youngest sister, but had agreed to that sister’s request, which was to take in her daughter for the duration of a war that was already complicating Kath’s life quite enough.
    It was all very well telling herself that it was not the girl’s fault – Kath knew that. A girl of fifteen did as she was told and must damned well continue to do so, Kath thought with more than a trace of spite, no matter what Nell might think. I can cope with her, she told the unheeding stars above her. It’s Trixie who might cause trouble. Her sister might think having her daughter actually living at Ty Hen was the thin edge of the wedge, might start insinuating herself into Kath’s quiet but busy life. Kath could just imagine Trixie turning up at Ty Hen one day, all smiles and apologies, saying she simply had to see Helen, or Nell, or whatever the girl called herself. Blood was thicker than water Trixie would say, with the sweet, crooked smile which had made her so popular with the boys two decades ago. And then, because she was Trixie, and leopards, as is well known, do not change their spots, she would start interfering, making suggestions, charming people. And pushing Kath aside.
    Well, I shan’t have it, not this time, Kath told the indifferent moon. This is my house and my business and no one tells me what to do or how to do it. The thought gave her a pang; Owain had not been grudging with his knowledge when first she had come to Ty Hen. He had taught her everything she needed to know with all his usual generosity, insisting that his workers treated her as the boss when he was not available, never instructing or contradicting her when others were present. He had taken her side when the Jones family had shown their disapproval of this strange English girl he had foisted upon them, never blamed her when she had refused, at first, to learn Welsh, had finally taught her the rudiments of the language in the long winter evenings and as they worked around the farm.
    But Owain was dead and his family had disowned her long ago, and now all the responsibility was hers. She had managed well enough when she had had the young men working for her, but now she and old Eifion often found