The darkness is continuing to lay waste to all those who aren’t able to fight it. Mr Mallow needs help. Sophia will have to wait for the time being. He needs Mr Mallow in the right frame of mind before they can continue.
Graham looks up as a car pulls into the driveway. It’s impossible to miss because whenever cars drive up the road towards his cottage, especially in the dark, the lights illuminate the kitchen. But it isn’t Mr Mallow’s car.
Curious as to who his uninvited guest is, he opens the door onto the yard. A man he recognises as the owner of the pub in the village steps out.
‘Noswaith dda, Mr Williams. Sorry to disturb you, but I’ve had to escort Mr Mallow back here.’ As he speaks, the passenger door opens and a weary Mr Mallow climbs out of the car, holding onto the door for dear life. ‘He’s a little disorientated, but otherwise seems fine.’
Graham rushes out to his friend. ‘What the hell happened? Was he attacked?’
‘Attacked? Good heavens, no. He's drunk, Mr Williams. Passed right out on the table while he was talking to Frank. He hit his head but doesn’t appear to have a concussion. Just needs to sleep it off.’
Graham supports Mr Mallow’s weight. ‘Thank you for bringing him back.’
‘No worries. He was a fool to try and keep up with Frank. That man can drink for Wales.’
Graham nods his thanks and holds on to Mr Mallow while they watch the barman get back into his car and drive up the road.
‘Good grief, man. How much did you have to drink?’
Mr Mallow shakes his head. ‘Not enough to make me pass out.’
‘Then what …’
‘Help me inside. I’ll explain. I have something to tell you.’
‘That makes two of us.’
Chapter 39
SOPHIA
Bethgelert, Wales, 2015
I came up with a plan instantly; the second I walked out of his room and closed the door after putting everything back exactly the way I’d found it. There was no way I was going to be able to steal my dad’s keys from him without him finding out, so it was pointless in attempting to do so. No, I had to come up with a better plan, so I asked if I could join him at the village council meeting instead later the next day.
His immediate answer was a resounding no.
I was too young and I didn’t need to concern myself with the village goings on until I was older and out of school. No children were allowed.
Fine. Whatever.
Plan B.
I would follow him there instead, then sneak in and listen. Yes, the book held vital information, but listening to a real live council meeting would be like striking gold.
A monthly village meeting was held at the town hall for all the residents to come and share their opinions, thoughts, feelings on whatever was happening. It was alsowhere my dad could share any news and updates regarding building works, family fun days, and general all-round information. Coffee and cake were provided and everyone had a lovely time.
Then there were the weekly gatherings, which only my dad and a select few committee members attended. Why they needed a separate meeting, outside of the monthly one, I was yet to understand. The thing about the weekly council meetings was that they changed location every week. Not like the monthly one, which stayed the same. It was a secret that apparently only a select few were allowed to know.
Black coat and hat donned, I kept my distance on my bike as he walked through the village, meeting and greeting the community. Some shook his hand. Others merely nodded. My father was a well-respected man and people looked to him for advice and guidance. When my brother died and Mum left, the whole community gathered around him and ensured he had everything he needed. No one cared about me. As long as my dad was okay.
He always told me it was an honour to be a part of the Hammel family; an honour we had to uphold no matter what (meaning the embarrassment of having a past family member end their own life, even if it was almost a century ago).
Eventually, my father moved away from the busy street and into a small side alley. I parked my bike and waited a moment before popping my head around the corner,catching a glimpse of his back disappearing through a door at the end.
Checking behind me, I ducked into the alley and approached the door. There was no way for me to enter the building that way, but perhaps there was a window further round the side where I could climb through. I checked, but there was nothing, so I had to return to the door and keep my fingers crossed that the meeting wouldn’t be held directly behind it. The building was part of a main shop, but I’d never been round the back before.
The door wasn’t locked, so I pushed it open as gently as I could, keeping my ears pricked for any sounds. There were voices emanating from somewhere in the building, but not close enough to warrant a panic.
