Inside the barn, people had already made a start tucking into the food and drink. Several of the residents had made pies and pastries, loaves and stews and there were two large urns filled with cider made from apples grown in the village. A separate table had been set aside where offerings were collected for the church and Mr Davies from the pub sat beside it playing tunes on his recorder while people clapped along. For the first time in weeks, everyone seemed to be having fun.
I sat at a table with Gwyn and Mair, Nellie, Gethin and Betty and tried to relax while Arthur cast glances in our direction for the duration of the evening. He had placed himself in the centre of the barn not eating, not drinking and not really engaging with anyone, and I was left to wonder why he’d even bothered to show up. A woman had sat with him for a while who seemed to enjoy his company and when she finally left his side she made a beeline for our table.
“Noswaith dda, Ms Griffiths,” she said to Mair as she dragged a seat from the next table and sat down in the gap between us.
“Noswaith dda, Mrs Wilkes,” Mair replied, but her tone was blunt and she didn’t make eye contact, instead sitting with her arms folded and her eyes trained on me. Mair’s face had a way of perfectly expressing whatever thought happened to be in her head at any given time. Right then it was telling the world that she had no patience for Mrs Wilkes but the woman either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
She was dressed in all her finery, head to toe in black and her skirt ruffled outwards taking up much of the space between us. Had it been any other colour it could have passed as a ball gown and its elaborateness stood in stark contrast to everyone else’s modest attire.
“A phwy efallai y byddwch chi?” she said, extending a hand to me and my eyes darted around the table for help.
Mair rolled her eyes back and shook her head. “She wants to know who you are.”
“I’ve heard so much about you.” the woman said, switching to English.
“Then you know he doesn’t speak Cymraeg,” Mair snapped and Gwyn turned away to mask a laugh.
“Doesn’t he speak for himself?” she asked, letting out a small chuckle. “How peculiar.”
The wrinkles around her eyes and mouth lifted as she smiled and her long nose and angular features reminded me of the Wicked Witch of the West, the thought of which caused me to involuntarily smile back.
“I hope it’s good things you’ve heard,” I said.
“Well…,” Mrs Wilkes trailed off, offering no further explanation. “I should imagine you’ll be leaving us for London again soon.”
Mair looked furious and opened her mouth to speak but Gwyn immediately yanked her arm to stop her. Mrs Wilkes just continued to stare at me, studying my face as though trying to work me out and the more I stared back the more she continued to grin at me.
A commotion in the corner of the barn pulled both of our eyes away and without a word to any of us, Mrs Wilkes darted from her seat to go and investigate. I recognised the sound of the shouting immediately and watched as Mr Hopkin stood up and dragged Teddy from the room by his scruff in front of everyone.
Teddy still didn’t particularly like having to speak to me and for the most part I kept out of his way, but I’d noticed on the days where I helped out around the farm that his relationship with his father was particularly strained and his Mr Hopkin had given him more than his fair share of clips around the ear when he spoke back.
I didn’t know if it was just the angsty awkward attitude of a fifteen-year-old or if there was something more deep-rooted, and it wasn’t my place to ask, but whenever the two of them were in a room together it was almost certain that sparks would fly and it seemed this evening was to prove no different. His feet barely touched the ground as his father dragged him across the barn and threw him through the door.
Their voices trailed off as they got further across the field and Nellie and Betty both sat in silence looking embarrassed. “I better go and see what’s wrong,” Nellie said with exasperation and both she and Gethin got up to go after her father.
Mair leaned in close to me and whispered into my ear, “He’s a good man, Mr Hopkin, but he’s not half hard on that boy. He can do no right.” When she pulled her head away again Sophia popped her face in between ours.
“Are you two going to kiss?”
Mair recoiled looking disgusted and Betty and Gwyn both broke out into laughter.
“Mam says he’s sweet on you and that’s why he keeps coming around to your house all the time.”
I cast my eyes towards Gwyn and then immediately looked away when I spotted him staring back.
“He comes to my house,” Mair said, scooping Sophia into her arms and tickling her, “because he hasn’t got any friends and I’m the only one who will put up with him.”
“I’m his friend,” she replied, smoothing back the long blonde hairs that had come loose when Mair attacked. “It’s not his fault that he’s English.”
“Well thank you very much,” I said as everyone around the table began to laugh. I sort of admired her lack of filter, even if I did seem to catch the brunt end of it more often than not.
“Come on,” Betty said as she rose to her feet. “They’re about to light the fire.”
It didn’t take long for the barn to empty and we were soon sat in groups around the bonfire as Mr Davies stepped up to light it. It took a few tries but the wood eventually caught, bringing warmth to the crowd and casting an orange glow over everyone as embers floated skyward.
An older man, who had been propped against the door of the barn knocking back pints of cider for much of the evening, took advantage of the break in the music and began to sing. By the time he’d hit the second line of his song most of the people sitting around us had joined in.
“You know they’ve had too much to drink when they start singing,” Mair said, getting up from the ground. “I’m going to get more food before I end up throwing myself on the fire.”