Facing the World by Grace Thompson Read Free Book Online Page B

sets his mind on it.’
    ‘What d’you mean? Are you saying that I—’ The rest was lost as the door slammed behind them.
    Valmai stared at the chaos of her garden. Was Walter right? It did seem an impossible dream. She closed her eyes and imagined the new building with the strong workbench and the tools all set out conveniently , the lathe nearby, and Gwilym sitting on his chair patiently working on the figure of a small animal. It would happen. It must be possible. ‘Gwilym,’ she said as she shrugged off her raincoat, ‘I think we need two sheds.’
    ‘Don’t be daft, love.’
    ‘All right, one new one but something can be done about the old one, surely? Just for storage. I can’t throw that lot out.’ She gestured at the window where rain was running down and completely blocking the view of the chaos of her treasure. Flower pots, paint tins, picture frames, curtain rails and lasts of many sizes from when her father used to mend shoes. Panes of glass from a long-gone greenhouse. Nails and screws and drills of every imaginable size. ‘I can always find something I need. It’s a muddle to you but I know what’s there and usually how to find it.’
    ‘Hush now, love, the news is coming on.’
    ‘Netta and Walter are having a television. They say we can go and watch it when there’s something we’ll enjoy.’
    ‘No need. The wireless is good enough for us. Besides,’ he added with a smile, ‘I don’t fancy sitting listening to Walter moaning for hours. I don’t know how Netta puts up with him, d’you?’ 
    Valmai could have replied that Netta didn’t know how she managed to live with a man who had given up on everything. But she didn’t.
     
    Eric walked away from the post office with his pension. As usual he had divided it up into two envelopes. One paid his rent for the room, the rest was what he had to manage on for the week. He put the two envelopes in his jacket pocket then set off for a walk. The rain had finally relented and a weak sun was drying the ground, making misty patches in places. He felt the warmth on his back and slipped off his jacket, tucking it carelessly under an arm.
    David Gorse was watching as the envelopes slipped out and fell to the ground. He was smiling as Eric wandered over the field towards the stream. There was no one in sight as he picked them up and turned away. ‘Serve him right, the stupid old fool,’ he muttered. ‘Perhaps his bad luck will be my good luck.’ He made for the betting shop and a search for a coincidental name.
    It wasn’t until he reached home that Eric missed the money. He called the landlady and put his hand in his pocket to pay her, then gasped when the pocket was empty.
    ‘I – I seem to have – um lost my pension, Mrs Godfrey,’ he said, taking off his jacket and searching fruitlessly in every pocket. ‘It must have fallen out. I took off my jacket and carried it because it was so nice and warm, you see.’
    Mrs Godfrey’s expression hardened. ‘I’m very sorry, Eric, but you know the rules. No money, no room. I’ve been kind to my tenants in the past and later found out the missing money had gone to the local pub or the bookies. I remain firm. No, I’m sorry but whatever the excuse the rule remains.’
    ‘Until next week then, Mrs Godfrey.’
    ‘I’m afraid so.’
    Eric wasn’t too upset. He had blankets in his room and extra clothes. Thankfully the weather was warmer and it was far from the first time he’d had to sleep under the stars. Food was the problem. He had very little money left from the previous week’s pension but he knew that calling on friends would keep him from starvation and the bakers often gave him a few leftover pies and cakes. He went to see Gwilym but determined not to tell him about the loss of hisweek’s money. People soon tire of moaners, even good people like Valmai and Gwilym, he thought.
     
    David Gorse was attracted by the commotion around the back lane behind the Martins’ house. The