Free Time to Move On by Grace Thompson

attempt at it in a light-hearted way. Elsie wouldn’t live into old age, but Betty knew that Ed would never regret the time he spent with her and was building happy memories to comfort him after she had gone.
    She sipped her tea and listened to them laughing about some of their more unusual guests, watching in delight at the way Ed jumped up the moment Elsie needed even the slightest help. She marvelled at the change in her brother. When he had helped at the Ship he had been unwilling to do more than the basic tasks, and managed to talk himself out of many that he should have done with easily found excuses.
    She remembered once when the cleaner had failed to turn up and a delivery was expected and a phone call from one of his friends had him running through the door ignoring her demands that he stayed and did what she paid him for and be there to open up. She watched now as he helped Elsie with her food, doing more than was necessary and she delighted in his attentions, at the way they looked at each other. Their affection for each other was strong and she wondered at the power of love to change people so remarkably.
    Alun had left Betty at the turning for the guest house and went on past a group of people waiting for a bus. He wore a heavy waterproof coat, wellingtons on his feet, a rather battered trilby on his head. A large man, he moved fast through the wet streets and headed for the lanes. He greeted those he knew with a lift of his hat and with long strides soon left them behind.
    The drizzly rain didn’t affect his contented mood. On the branches and leaves as he entered the wood he saw the glitter of raindrops and likened them to diamonds. Underfoot, the slippery mud in which the debris of long dead plants was revealed in the hint of many colourspleased his eye, and he even found the smells of winter exciting. Cwm Derw was a good place to live.
    He stopped to look at the badgers sett that had given the stream and the house their names. He paused again to pick a few branches of the chestnut that was showing the first hint of sticky buds, beauty waiting in the wings to perform its spring drama. Betty would enjoy watching the buds unfold.
    There wasn’t time to go far but he had half decided to walk through the lower part of the wood from where he could look down on the old farm buildings and the new bungalows that had replaced the animals in Treweather’s fields. Wandering idly he came close to the edge of the trees on the road opposite Badgers Brook. On impulse, he walked up the path to the door and the kitchen window intending to leave a few of the branches for Seranne.
    He knew Seranne was working at the café so he was curious to see the silhouette of someone inside. Probably Kitty, who he knew looked after Seranne by getting fires lit, or opening windows on mild days to freshen the house. This wasn’t Kitty, though, it was definitely a man. It was probably innocent but he knocked on the door anyway. No harm in checking.
    A man opened the door, someone he hadn’t seen before.
    ‘Oh, hello,’ Alun said. ‘I just wondered whether the lady of the house was home. He stepped inside and put the branches on the kitchen table.
    ‘No, I’m sorry, she’s at work.’
    ‘I see. And you would be…?’ he questioned.
    ‘I’m her father.’
    ‘Oh, hello, I’m Alun Harris, I work at the Ship and Compass. I’ll tell Seranne you’re here if I see her, shall I?’
    ‘Thank you.’ The man stood holding the door obviously wanting him to leave.
    Still doubtful, but realizing he could hardly ask the man to leave his daughter’s home, Alun stepped outside. ‘Nice to meet you,’ he said but the man didn’t reply. The door closed swiftly behind him and Alun turned away from his intended walk and hurried back to the main road. He ought to tell Seranne, describe the man, reassure himself that the man was really her father. He headed for the café, after a glance at his watch with the aid of a torch. He needed to hurry,