Free Rhiannon by Carole Llewellyn Page A

complained from behind.
    â€˜Sorry. Come on, Mair,’ Rhiannon said.
    A young girl not much older than Rhiannon held out her hand. ‘Tickets, please.’ On taking the tickets she did an immediate double take, her eyes darting from them to Rhiannon and then to Mair. Then, as she flashed them a friendly smile, she said, ‘Please follow me.’
    The young girl led them through a doorway, then up a few stairs to a small private seating area at the side of the stage.
    â€˜Here we are, then. Please ... take your seats,’ the young girl said.
    Inside the box there were four gilt chairs with red-plush seats, each facing the stage; so close Rhiannon could almost touch the elaborate gold-fringed red curtain that hung across it from the high proscenium arch.
    She caught her breath and could almost taste the scent of wood, tobacco, stale beer and hair-oil, all combined – pungent and yet strangely pleasurable.
    â€˜Rhi, did you know it was going to be as lovely as this?’ Mair whispered as the girl in her neat black-and-white dress waited for them to take their seats.
    â€˜No. I’m as surprised as you, but isn’t it great? It’s another world,’ Rhiannon said.
    â€˜Are you sure these are our seats?’ Rhiannon enquired.
    The girl smiled. ‘Miss Grayson booked this box for her “special guests”.’
    Rhiannon nodded. ‘Oh I see.’ She didn’t really. If it were true then it meant she and Mair were somehow special; surely that couldn’t be?
    Mair was first to take her seat, leaving Rhiannon to sit next to her.
    â€˜You might like to place your suitcase under the seat, miss, there’s plenty of room.’
    â€˜Thank you, I will. You’re very kind.’
    â€˜Miss Grayson gave strict instructions to look after you. So enjoy the show. I’ll come and see you at the interval.’ Then handing Rhiannon a free programme she turned and left. Like Rhiannon’s, Mair’s head was on a swivel in an attempt to take in the vastness of the auditorium, the
flurry of flowered hats, feather bonnets, straw boaters and bowler hats, so many beautiful people, all dressed up to the nines, filling every seat of the stalls and all three tiers above.
    â€˜Look at the top balcony, Rhi. It’s packed with ordinary folk like us – you can tell they’re not toffs. Are you sure we shouldn’t be up with them? Mind you, I don’t know that I’d fancy being that far up. Why, it’s as high as the sky!’
    â€˜You heard what the girl said; we’re definitely in the right seats. Maybe that floor’s the one the man on the door called the gods? It makes sense when you think about it.’
    â€˜Rhi, do you think my mother could be here?’
    Mair hadn’t mentioned Nellie for a long while, most of the time she made out she couldn’t care less, but Rhiannon knew it must have really hurt when Nellie had upped and left.
    â€˜It’s possible, I suppose. But you have to remember Cardiff is a very big place, she could be anywhere.’
    â€˜Good riddance, that’s what I say. It wouldn’t worry me if I never saw her again!’
    While Rhiannon doubted this to be the truth, she let it pass, sensing that it was probably Mair’s way of coping.
    Â 
    Mair Parsons searched the auditorium, looking for her mother, while at the same time wondering what she would do if she found her. It was obvious that her mother wanted nothing to do with her. Why else would she have abandoned her? And it didn’t stop with her mother. When her father had been due to be released from prison she had written to her grandmother in Nantymoel; it had done no good, not one of her family had ever attempted to make contact.
    For a long while she had no idea where her mother had gone. Then, by chance, one of the valley gossips bumped into Nellie in Cardiff and couldn’t wait to tell Mair how well she looked and how she’d