The Runaway Page 15

  There was always the woods. Callum has never liked Dyrys much. He prefers to be at home, near a television and a fridge filled with beers, than out in the countryside. But it would provide him with some cover from the cold, and a place to hide until morning.

  As he starts to hobble his way up the hill that leads to the woods, Callum reflects that he would never have expected the day to end like this. He makes slow progress, because he cannot bear to put much weight on his left foot, but eventually he reaches the edge of the forest.

  “Well, here goes,” he mutters to himself, taking a deep breath as he steps into Dyrys.

  Chapter seven

  Dyrys

  Callum wakes up to find himself slumped under an oak tree, cold and in pain. Confused and disorientated, he tries to stand but cannot, and immediately remembers what happened to his foot last night. With that, all the other memories come racing back.

  He needs to find out what has happened to Ifan. He cannot go back to the village yet, in case the reports are bad. He takes his phone out of his pocket – the battery icon shows ten per cent left. He cannot call Tom. Though probably his best friend, he is also a policeman, and likely taking sides against him right now. He scrolls through his contact list, looking for someone to call. Not his mam – she will be too emotional right now to be any help. He doesn’t need someone to cry down the phone to him; he needs information. Then he spots the number for the Evanses’ guest cottage. He helped with some of the renovation work on the building last summer. There was lots of coming and going, and he ended up with the landline number saved so that Ifan could call him while he was out buying hardware for the house. Maybe Adam or Grace will help him. It seems like his best chance, so he presses the button to call them.

  “Hello?” Adam’s voice answers.

  “It’s Callum. Any news about Ifan? Is he alive?”

  If Adam is surprised to hear Callum, his voice does not give it away. “They aren’t back yet from the hospital. Grace is going to see Nia later this morning. We will know then. Would you like me to call you back when I have an answer?”

  “No, that’s no good; my phone battery won’t last much longer.”

  The line crackles, and Callum tries hobbling around to find a place where the reception is better. If he leans against a tree trunk, he does not have to support his weight on the foot that is in pain.

  “Well, you could call them yourself now.”

  “What? Call Nia? After what I did! Are you joking?”

  “Not at all. I’m very serious about helping you come back home. Are you somewhere nearby? Can I come and meet you when I have news?”

  Callum pauses. It could be a trick, to get him to give up his location. Maybe Adam will call the police immediately after this conversation.

  “There’s a path that leads west of the village, into Dyrys Wood. Do you know it?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “The first crossroads after that path enters the woods. I’ll meet you there, at midday. But don’t bring any police with you. I’ll be watching to make sure you don’t.”

  “Understood. Midday then. I hope I’ll be bringing you good news.”

  Callum hangs up. Now he will make his way to the crossroads and hide somewhere nearby to watch the path until Adam arrives. He limps forward. His foot might need medical attention, but he has no idea if that will be possible. He takes a few steps and then steadies himself against another tree trunk.

  It crosses his mind that he may not yet be safe, and maybe because this thought makes him more alert, he thinks he can hear someone, or something, approaching. He tenses up and looks from side to side, well aware he can hardly run away if the police have already found him.

  A few dry leaves crunch underfoot, and his eyes dart about frantically as he tries to pinpoint the source of the sound. For the third time in less than twenty-four hours, his hand goes to the pocket knife he has been carrying, his only defence now. Then he sees what the noise was.

  A girl stands almost knee-deep in brambles. In one hand she holds a long stick, like a wizard’s staff, and in the other is a bundle of something that looks heavy. Her face is more gaunt than when he last saw her, which makes her look older. She eyes him with an expression of wariness and disappointment.

  “Oh,” she says, “it’s you.”

  For a moment Rhiannon observes him leaning against the tree, then turns to leave.

  “Were you expecting somebody else?” he snaps crossly. His surprise at seeing Rhiannon fast turns to annoyance that his predicament is of so little interest to her.

  “What do you care?” she retorts. He does not find an answer to this, so she adds, “What are you doing here anyway?”

  “Avoiding being arrested or beaten to within an inch of my life.”

  At this, her knuckles tighten as she checks her grip on the staff she is carrying. Callum sees the effect his words have had, but Rhiannon’s reply does not betray it.

  “Then you’ve come to the wrong place. There’ve been more police in these woods in the last month than in all the time we’ve lived round here.”

  “Wasting time and effort looking for you,” he accuses, as it occurs to him that Rhiannon’s decision to run away might have worked against him, if it means that the police already know the surrounding countryside better than he does.

  “I didn’t ask them to. Anyway, what did you do?”

  “What d’you mean?”

  “Well, if you’re on the run from the law and afraid for your life, you must have done something.”

  “Thanks for having so much faith in me. Didn’t it occur to you it could have been a case of mistaken identity, or a false accusation?”

  “Well, was it?”

  “No.”

  “There you go then. So what did you do?”

  He grimaces, not wanting to acknowledge last night’s events. “I got into a fight.”

  Rhiannon

  Now that the initial shock of finding Callum out here has worn off, I relax a little. Everyone knows Callum gets loud and antagonistic after his team loses a match. That must be what has happened.

  “Who with?”

  “Ifan. Remember him?”

  Of course I remember him. Does he think I would forget everyone in the time I’ve been gone?

  “I can’t imagine he’s hiding from the police though,” I say.

  “No, he’s in hospital, fighting for his life.”

  “What?” I gasp, instinctively taking a step backwards, away from Callum. This doesn’t sound like a post-match quarrel any more.

  “Yeah,” he says, and I can tell he wants to sound nonchalant, but it isn’t working. “Guess I don’t know my own strength.”

  I think about this. If Callum really is unable to go back to the village, then he can’t tell anyone he saw me, and I am safe. Then again, if the police are after him, they’ll be patrolling the countryside around here even more, just when I thought they were going to call off the search. My food-gathering trips will be more risky. Even lighting a fire might become impossible.

  “Well, you can’t stay here,” I say.

  “What? I didn’t think you were so attached to Ifan. Didn’t you call him a hypocrite to his face, along with several other people, at that event at the school?”

  Of course he’d have to bring that up. I scowl involuntarily at the memory of it.

  “I’m not the one who tried to kill him though, and then ran away.”

  Callum raises his eyebrows and pulls a horrible mocking face. “That second bit was me following your great example.”

  He is making fun of me. This is exactly why I am happier out here. I don’t have to put up with stupid people like Callum, who think they are funny but have no idea what they are talking about. I want to walk away and leave him here, but it occurs to me that he might have more information about other
s from Llandymna, so I linger a little longer.

  “Got anything to eat?” he asks suddenly.

  “Nothing that I would want to give you.”

  “I see life away from home has done nothing for your manners. Don’t you care about a hungry fugitive, all alone? It could be your good deed for the year, if you like.”

  My expression tells him that I do not care in the slightest about his welfare.

  “Well, how about a trade, then?” he carries on. “I’ll tell you everything you’ve missed. You’re a girl, you like gossip. Give me some food, and I’ll tell you all about Aunty Di, all your friends, Maebh, Nia, and two strangers who turned up recently.”

  I had intended to refuse this bargain, until he mentioned the two strangers, who must be Adam and Grace. Something about them interests me.

  “Wait here,” I say, and head back to my house.

  “Don’t worry,” he calls after me. “I won’t be going anywhere.”

  On the walk back, I realize that he has never thought very highly of me, and now is my chance to prove to Callum that I can look after myself. I fill a clay bowl with a stew I made from some of the vegetables I took from the farm. I take this back to the oak where I found him, but walk along a different path this time, to show him how well I know my way around.

  I give him the food and he takes it without thanking me.

  “Not very good, is it?” he says, after tasting the stew. Now I wish I had not wasted the best of my supplies on him. He eats it all anyway, and I sit down, a good distance away. I can see no reason why I have to trust him, or pretend to be friendly.

  “The news, then?” I remind him as he finishes the last mouthful.

  “Oh yeah. Let’s see. There was a lot of fuss about your disappearance at first. Your aunt convinced Nia to go on TV and ask you to come home, which was clearly a waste of time unless you have a satellite dish attached to a tree somewhere round here. The best thing about that was seeing Nia of all people stand up to Diana and say what she thought was right, not what your aunt told her to say. You should have seen Diana’s face after that! Tom’s been kept busy, having an actual interesting case to deal with for a change, instead of investigating whose dog is knocking over bins, or telling the Bryndu kids that drugs are bad.”

  “What about Maebh?”

  “What about her? She’s Maebh. She hardly ever leaves her house. People visit her, and she talks nonsense to them.”

  “She doesn’t talk nonsense!”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot. You two speak the same language, don’t you? All that stuff about stories and imagining and everything being very noble, right?”

  “What about the two strangers?” I quickly change the subject.

  “Their names are Adam and Grace. They’re brother and sister. I thought maybe they were a couple when they first arrived, but they’re not. They look foreign, but they aren’t actually, but their mam was from somewhere in Africa – can’t remember where. They’re pretty cool, really. Be a shame when they leave.”

  “What are they like?”

  “Like? Dunno, really. He’s good at building things, she’s more the clever type. Studies something to do with trees, I think.”

  “But what kind of people are they?”

  “What kind of question is that? You look too deep, Rhiannon. That’s why you hate everyone.”

  “I don’t hate everyone!” I snap back.

  “So when you scream at people and break things, it’s meant to be a friendly gesture?” he asks, looking pleased with himself. He wasn’t even at the fundraiser at Llandymna School. He must have heard about it from his mother, Angie Rees, who runs the local shop and is the worst gossip in the village. I bet she made it sound far worse than it was.

  “A lot can change in a month.”

  “Like your character? Yes, it’s like you’re a different person. All warmth and welcome now, aren’t you?”

  I had forgotten how sarcastic he could be. All this scorn is more than I can stand, so I turn my back on him and march away. He doesn’t call anything after me, but I feel as though I could drive a knife straight through him just to get rid of that horrible jeering smile.

  Lleu meets me on my way back, and flies ahead of me, knowing which way I will go. I start to wonder if I was too rude to Callum, given that he is only the third person I have spoken to since leaving home. Maybe I shouldn’t have let him goad me like that. But he deserved it. No wonder I left Llandymna, if it’s full of people like that.

  Llandymna

  It is almost noon the day after the fight before anyone thinks to tell Maebh what has happened to Ifan and Callum. After she puts down the phone and takes in the news, she sits in her armchair with her head in her hands for several minutes.

  “Not another,” she whispers sadly. Then she gets up slowly and goes to the hallway to look for her shoes. She takes her walking stick and her coat from their place by the front door, and leaves the house with the determination and purpose of a woman on a mission. She knows it will take her a long time to reach her destination, but she has nowhere else to be today, and the weather is good for walking.

  “Now then,” she says to herself, “let’s see what we can do about all this mess.”

  On her way through the village, she passes Diana and waves cheerily to her. I’ll get to you later, she thinks as they smile at one another and remark on the clear skies.

  It takes her nearly an hour, with several breaks to sit down and rest wherever there is an available bench, but at last she knocks on the door of the farmhouse.

  “Maebh!” Nia is understandably startled.

  “I thought I’d visit the patient and see if I could be any help to you.”

  “Maebh, did you walk all this way?”

  “Yes. I felt like some fresh air. Don’t look so worried, dearie. I’m not going to collapse and give you another invalid to nurse.”

  Nia invites Maebh inside, and immediately apologizes that she has so little to offer her guest by way of food and drink. “I’m in such a muddle today, with looking after Ifan and trying to keep everything going on the farm.”

  “How is he? I’m surprised to hear you’ve come back from the hospital so soon.”

  “It’s almost miraculous, Maebh. They said somehow the blade didn’t touch any vital organs. There was a doctor there last night who was able to stitch him up straight away. They kept him in overnight for observation, but this morning they said we could come home. Apparently they’re going to send out a nurse to change the bandages until it’s all healed up. If you’d been there last night – when it all happened – you wouldn’t believe it was possible he wasn’t more seriously hurt.”

  Maebh smiles to see Nia’s relief. “That’s wonderful news. Now, you go and see to whatever you need to. Don’t stop on my account. I’ll make us all a cup of tea for when you get back.”

  Nia thanks Maebh for understanding, puts on her wellies and heads out to the fields. Maebh pours three cups of tea and puts one on the kitchen table for Nia to find. The other two she places on a tray and carries out. At the foot of the stairs she looks up, like a mountaineer viewing Snowdon, and begins her slow ascent.

  Ifan is lying in bed, propped up on pillows. He seems drowsy, which Maebh suspects will be courtesy of some powerful prescription painkillers. He turns his head towards the door as she enters with the tray of tea.

  “Maebh,” he slurs, “worrayoudoinghere?”

  Maebh sets the tray down on the bedside table and sits herself in the chair by the window.

  “Here you go, my lad. Some of the finest medicine you’ll ever drink. They’ve stitched you up and sent you home, then.”

  Ifan gives an affirmative grunt and reaches over for the mug. He winces as he moves.

  “Slowly now, don’t spill it. In a lot of pain, are you? Well, I hope you’re not trying to blame anyone but yours
elf.”

  “Wascallum,” Ifan insists, earnest if not articulate.

  Maebh looks out through the window to the fields where the Evanses’ sheep graze.

  “In my day, we took responsibility for our actions. But I’ve noticed something about your generation. You’re all desperate for it not to be your fault. And it’s not because you’re especially afraid of the consequences of your one action. You’re afraid of what that action might say about you to other people. You’re afraid that if you’re wrong about one thing, it will build up with all the other things you’ve got wrong, to make you look weak, or bad, or unkind, or whatever you don’t want to be. Most likely weak, in your case.

  “And I bet no one has dared tell you the truth about what really happened yesterday? Mmm. Yes, that’s right. I know something you don’t, and I wasn’t even there! It was never about you, Ifan. Callum’s words were meant for Diana. The boy wanted to be treated the way you are, to be listened to instead of patronized. But in the end he found it easier to be angry at Diana than to wait for her to approve of him. You see? None of that ever took you into account. And don’t think I don’t know who landed the first blow in that fight.”

  Maebh has no idea how much of this will stick in Ifan’s drug-muddled brain. She hopes enough of it will sink in to make some kind of difference. Ifan’s expression is too vacant to indicate any epiphany. Maebh sips her tea.

  “One more thing,” she says, more sternly this time. “I will not have any more of this village’s young people run away and never come back. Do you understand me? As soon as you’re up and about, you’d better drop all charges against the boy. We both know the fight was your idea and your doing, and you’ll only get the police involved to save your pride over the fact that you lost it. Well, you’ll have me to answer to. And I may have the reputation of a kind grandmother figure in this village, but believe me I am tired of playing along.”

  She gives him her fiercest stare and then leaves the room. As she returns to the kitchen, Nia also reappears. “All well?” Maebh asks.