under control,” Mr. Owens said. “On my own land, too!”
“I knew we were in for trouble when Rhodri sold his cottage to foreigners,” Evans-the-Meat said angrily. “I told you, didn’t I? No good can come of it, letting foreigners into the community. It’s not as if they patronize the local shops, do they? Only once I think she’s been in to my shop, and then she had the nerve to ask me if I spoke English and she waved her arms around as if she was speaking to an idiot.”
“Perhaps she thought you were Evans-the-Post’s brother,” the milkman chuckled. “Perhaps she thought daftness was in the family.”
Evans-the-Meat put down his glass with a bang. “If anyone’s related to that daftie, it’s you!”
Evan had been standing at the bar, downing his drink, too tired and relaxed to feel like joining in the conversation. Now he stepped out between the two men, just as Evansthe-Meat raised his fists.
“Easy, Gareth bach. I’m an Evans, too, remember,” he said lightly.
Evans-the-Meat lowered his fists. “I just wish I’d known Rhodri’s cottage was for sale. I’d have bought it myself.”
“And gone to live up on the mountain? Don’t be daft, boyo.”
“Anything to stop foreigners buying it!”
“Too late now, anyway,” Farmer Owens said. “They’ve put a lot of money into that place. They’re not going to leave in a hurry.”
“Unless somebody makes them,” Evans-the-Meat muttered.
“Well, they’ve gone now for a while,” Farmer Owens added. “And they won’t be coming back so often when the weather turns nasty. A few good rainstorms and that track will be a rushing stream. Let’s see him get his Jaguar up there then!”
“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” Betsy said. “They don’t bother us. It’s not like they’ve ever been in here.”
“There you are, that’s what I’ve been saying,” Evansthe-Meat said triumphantly.
Everyone looked up as the door was suddenly flung open. A young man came in, his sandy hair windswept and his freckled cheeks glowing from the wind.
“Well, if it isn’t young Bryn,” Charlie Hopkins exclaimed. He turned to the other men. “You know my daughter’s boy, don’t you? He’s just joined the fire brigade. I told him now we’ll have to call him Bryn-the-Bell.”
“Where’s the fire then, boyo?” Barry-the-Bucket called, chuckling loudly.
“Don’t just stand there. Come and have a pint,” Charlie began, lifting his arm to slap his grandson on the back.
The young man shook him off. “Not now, Taid. I need a telephone. I’ve got to call the station right away. There’s a fire on the mountain!”
Chapter 4
Instantly the pub emptied out, the occupants scrambling up the steep mountain track in their polished Sunday boots.
“It’s Rhodri’s cottage!” Evans-the-Meat shouted. “What’s the betting those bloody English people left the gas on?”
Flames were already consuming the cottage, shooting out through shattered windows and the partially collapsed roof. Sparks shot into a clear night sky.
“What a sight. This is better than Guy Fawkes night!” Barry-the-Bucket exclaimed.
“The fire brigade better get here in a hurry or the whole mountain will go up.” Farmer Owens glanced nervously at his meadows full of sheep.
“All right everybody, not too close,” Evan yelled over the roar of the flames and the excited shouts of the men. “Keep well away from the track so that the fire engine can get up here. Come on. Move over, please.” He ushered the spectators to one side.
“Shouldn’t we see if we can start putting it out, Mr. Evans?” Farmer Owens asked. “I’ve got spades at my place . . .”
Evan hesitated. There was a real danger of the whole hillside going up, but he didn’t want to risk putting inexperienced people in harm’s way.
“Let me get to it.” Bryn pushed past Evan. “Don’t worry. I’m trained to do this kind of thing, Constable Evans.” He was halfway down the path when he called. “They’ve got a tap here with a hose on it, Constable Evans. Now let’s just hope they haven’t turned the water off.”
A feeble stream of water came out of the hose. Evan didn’t believe it could possibly do any good against the raging inferno a few yards away, but Bryn stood there, steadfastly wetting down the ground around the cottage until the sound of a siren echoed up the pass, then the fire engine lurched up the track. It was followed by a tanker whose powerful hoses rapidly extinguished the blaze.
“At least it didn’t spread.” A gray-haired fireman came over to Evan as the men dragged their hoses away from the ruined cottage. “Thanks for keeping